A Glass Half Full (formerly 'Burden', revised)

[Helen Bywater]

Young dreams turn in their graves;
new dreams are seeded, and miscarry.

There are little joys, small beacons,
high notes of laughter that breeze
through dusty rooms.
But sneaking from the corners
comes the dread
of eyes grown dull, fixed
on lacklustre lives.

Cradle the half full glass
to warm the contents;
savour the bouquet.
Life is cruel, kind, then cruel again:
the torturer's trick, the quickest way
to break a man.
We conjure gods to intervene.
Life doesn't notice.



Original:

Sometimes
I feel myself a burden.

I do not want to be.

Young dreams turn in their graves;
new dreams are seeded, and miscarry.

There are the little joys,
those small bright beacons,
high notes of laughter
that scamper through dusty rooms.
But sneaking from the corners
comes the dread
of seeing eyes grown dull, fixed
on lacklustre lives.

Life is kind, cruel, kind, cruel:
the torturer's trick, the quickest way to break a man.
Man conjures gods to intervene.
Life doesn't notice.

Kick out the death-dealers, hope-stealers!
Living eyes should dance, connect, reflect, well up, or blaze!
Look at me.
I ask only that what I see be real.

[JustShirls]

I like the way you capture what you perceive, and whether it is indeed real. Asking for validation? I sense the relentlessness of the 'cruel V kind' theme too.

[David]

Hello Helen. Nice to read you again.

This seems very heartfelt, and in places rather wears its heart on its sleeve - the first three lines, for instance, could perhaps either be dropped or made less direct. The mood seems to change throughout the poem, which is interesting but - for me - quite hard to follow. One of the lines - "Living eyes should dance, connect, reflect, well up, or blaze!" - seems to have been taken complete (almost) from Dylan Thomas - "Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay". I bet that was at the back of your mind, at least.

I like the ending, but I'm finding it difficult to see how we've arrived at that from the rest of the poem.

So, intriguing, but a bit opaque for me as yet.

I hope that helps, even if it's only my honestly expressed and well-meaning bafflement.

Cheers

David

[penguin]

I'm a bit baffled too, mostly by the ending. Most of the poem the voice seems to be that of an elderly person, maybe in a rest home, reflecting ruefully on the end of things. But then the last verse comes from somewhere else altogether. Or so it appears. Though I wonder why young dreams die, rather than old.
Best bit was this, I thought.

Man conjures gods to intervene.
Life doesn't notice.

[Helen Bywater]

Thanks, Shirls, David and Penguin. I shall think about what you've said.

I always seem to baffle you, David. I think that may have been why I picked my signature "perplexing poster". But you're not alone in your bafflement.
I hadn't noticed the similarity to Dylan Thomas - this is a first draft that was quite spontaneous - but I'm sure you're right.

Honest opinions always appreciated.

Cheers,
Helen

[brianedwards]

.
Best bit was this,

Man conjures gods to intervene.
Life doesn't notice.

I'd second that.

I think you could top and tail this and be left with something quite interesting. To illuminate:

There are the little joys,
those small beacons,
that sweep through dusty rooms.
But skulking from the corners
comes the dread
of eyes grown dull, fixed
on lacklustre lives.

Life, a metronome, clicks
from cruelty to kindness:
the torturer's trick, the quickest way
to break a man.
We conjures gods to intervene.
Life doesn't notice.


Just putting that out there, see if something works for you. Spit or swallow at will.

B.

[Arian]

Something of a curate's egg, for me, this.

It begins with, to my ear, a cliched tone of self-pity (first 3 lines) which transitions into one of slightly twee sentimentality (though I liked the dreams line, very good).

But, suddenly, in the second half, the piece jumps alive with fresh, and sometimes excellent imagery and expression. I agree with Ray and Brian about that gods/life sequence - excellent, indeed.

For me, the poetry is in the final 8 lines. They're pretty good.

BTW, something seemed oddly familiar about the dance/blaze line, a familiarity which only took shape when I read David's comment. It's uncannily similar to the Thomas line.

Cheers
peter

[Helen Bywater]

Many thanks, Brian and Peter.

I like your ideas, Brian. Thanks for taking the time to come up with some suggestions. Metronome.. effective, but perhaps too regular. Life is more random. I suspect the torturer is, too - predictability might not work so well.

I agree, Peter. The first three lines are shite. The similarity to Thomas is annoying. I like that bit, too. How much does it matter? I don't know.

I can see a couple of possible directions to take. Mulling it over.

Cheers,
Helen

[Arian]

How much does it matter?

Well, I guess it matters not a jot, just so long as you're happy with every other reader thinking you've bastardised Thomas. You (and now we) know the line's original to you, but others won't. As the prosies say - sometimes you just have to kill your babies.

Cheers
peter

[Helen Bywater]

Cheers, Peter.

@ Penguin: Why young dreams, not old? It could be old dreams. The point is that though we age, our dreams do not. (Well, some don't. Most people grow out of wanting to be a train driver!)

Helen

[JohnLott]

Hi Helen

First I would use the phrase a glass half full - but that's a me thing.
Second I would lose the last line.

As for the rest of it, I think it is very good.
A revision that has worked and worked well.



J.

[Helen Bywater]

Hi John,

Thanks. I've had trouble deciding about the glass, which is why it's one way round in the poem and the other way round in the title.

Losing the last line.. hmm.. not sure. I agreed with those who said those two lines were the strongest, but ending there does mean ending on a rather negative note. I'll think about that.

Cheers,
Helen