09-06-2011, 11:01 PM
Hi Jack,
This is a painful piece. It feels like its meant to grab you and ring you out. I don't have many nits but the ones I do have I'll share. Here are some comments for you:
Best,
Todd
This is a painful piece. It feels like its meant to grab you and ring you out. I don't have many nits but the ones I do have I'll share. Here are some comments for you:
(08-28-2011, 03:23 PM)Heslopian Wrote: for my motherThis is strong work Jack. It's painful, ironic...I liked what you did here. Hopefully, some of the comments will be helpful.
One day I may return to the place I first remember knowing you,--lines this long make you strain for breath as you read them it makes me wonder if that is deliberate intent on your part to mimic an interenal strain
near as it is to my current dwelling.
Just to stare at the door and wonder if the fireplace still works,--optionally, you could do a break after wonder
if the spare bedroom now has one bed,
not the bunk and single it did when we were a Young Family.
The memories I have are like a blooper reel of pain,--I would consider cutting of pain. You don't need it the next few lines demonstrate that it's painful
in which the actors don't fumble and laugh,
but scowl at each other's mistakes.
Hatred filling the silence between lines.--I like this
You, mum, hissing at me from your nest on the floor,--hissing is a nice touch, and nest is ironic
holding a textbook I failed to learn,
while dad watched like a sad servant,
a disembodied face hovering over your shoulder.--great image
The ghost and the insect, glimpsed through the doorway,
as I retreated to the room I shared with my older brothers.
There have been times when I've wished I could return to that place,
that time frozen like a lost mountaineer,--frozen and mountaineer work well together
and murder you all with four bullets.
Avenging babe among the wreckage.--not sure you need this line it tends to take away the impact of the previous line. You may want to insert a strophe break after bullets to place a pause and allow for the moment of reflection of the next line
But I look at you now as you rot among
your faded chairs, stained nick-nakcs,
Betty Boop more rough edged than a car mechanic,--nice detail
and love blossoms from the soil of hate,
the stinking carcass you've become.--you could also optionally cut hate and drop of down to the beginning of this line.
Best,
Todd
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
