12-13-2025, 11:05 AM
[quote="howl" pid='276095' dateline='1764273447']
Prize the new night ahead,
under neon’s cool moon-sky.
Our soft migrating urges,
still monkey-guided, confused.
______________________________
I don’t know why, but the first line reads a little oddly to me. Maybe it’s the ze to th transition that sticks out, cause it’s hard to say (at least in my accent). Or because it’s a six-syllable line surrounded by seven-syllable lines. It’s interesting to hear the guttural gs (g’s?) throughout this poem, in a poem that is about romance. The hard g is a bit forceful, like you’re reinforcing this idea of physical awkwardness between lovers.
Vin et chocolat, Ben?
At the table, tugging thoughts.
We’re practically alive,
cradle-mourning time.
_________________
Not sure about the last two lines. Alive, yes I can follow that. Not sure about the mourning part - it seems to suggest you’re not really alive yet, but you’re also mourning time? To mourn something implies familiarity with it.
Oh sun, abate your eye-
crude, reeking servant.
Nighttime, my vivid cavity,
linger raw among us.
_____________
Visceral imagery! Maybe change “among” to “between” because (I think) you’re talking about two people here.
Ben - claws or cleaver now?
Our sun has lost entitlement.
His last cues, unclear still,
yet echo in my ears.
_________________
I like that this last bit expands focus a bit from the lovers, and goes back to a wider perspective. It jolts a bit, but I think it’s also effective with the rest of your poem. “Yet” does feel a bit like it’s doing a lot of lifting work - placed to make the phrase six syllables again.
I like where this poem is heading. I like your mixture of free-verse and almost magical realism paired with a more traditional meter and four-stanza layout.
Prize the new night ahead,
under neon’s cool moon-sky.
Our soft migrating urges,
still monkey-guided, confused.
______________________________
I don’t know why, but the first line reads a little oddly to me. Maybe it’s the ze to th transition that sticks out, cause it’s hard to say (at least in my accent). Or because it’s a six-syllable line surrounded by seven-syllable lines. It’s interesting to hear the guttural gs (g’s?) throughout this poem, in a poem that is about romance. The hard g is a bit forceful, like you’re reinforcing this idea of physical awkwardness between lovers.
Vin et chocolat, Ben?
At the table, tugging thoughts.
We’re practically alive,
cradle-mourning time.
_________________
Not sure about the last two lines. Alive, yes I can follow that. Not sure about the mourning part - it seems to suggest you’re not really alive yet, but you’re also mourning time? To mourn something implies familiarity with it.
Oh sun, abate your eye-
crude, reeking servant.
Nighttime, my vivid cavity,
linger raw among us.
_____________
Visceral imagery! Maybe change “among” to “between” because (I think) you’re talking about two people here.
Ben - claws or cleaver now?
Our sun has lost entitlement.
His last cues, unclear still,
yet echo in my ears.
_________________
I like that this last bit expands focus a bit from the lovers, and goes back to a wider perspective. It jolts a bit, but I think it’s also effective with the rest of your poem. “Yet” does feel a bit like it’s doing a lot of lifting work - placed to make the phrase six syllables again.
I like where this poem is heading. I like your mixture of free-verse and almost magical realism paired with a more traditional meter and four-stanza layout.