After many seasons of empty victories—
grey green scenes and second hand dreams—
I went away within myself. I created a world
made of cast iron flasks and plexi-glass masks: To obscure
myself and bottle up my hopes for the reserving, to drink when
my piss went thick.
I had friends, or so I called them, in far off lands channeled
by like isolation—by not so unique frustrations. Kismet they
called it
but really it was just a step above dial-up. But it turned out
to be a myopic utopia. One wanting of sun and three dimensional
intercourse—rich with vision, but lacking in touch.
Beleaguered and pallid, I disconnected. Stepped outside my cocoon,
took a deep breath,
felt invigorated alive stimulated
and then,
fell fifty
flights
to my
death.
An ideal world
the line breaks in the penultimate stanza works well, like a time-delayed punchline.
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Be much better without the last line, I think. Death is a great ending.
Sentences which begin close to line endings make me uncomfortable though.
I have a strong desire to change the shape of this poem.
Couldn't you go for more natural line breaks? Ted hughes was very good at it (and line breaks).
C
Sentences which begin close to line endings make me uncomfortable though.
I have a strong desire to change the shape of this poem.
Couldn't you go for more natural line breaks? Ted hughes was very good at it (and line breaks).
C
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Break the line at a punctuation point: comma, full stop, semi c, colon or where you would pause when reading it aloud.
In addition, even with free verse, I always prefer stuff which is laid out in couplets/triplets or quatrains as it just looks so much more visually appealing.
However, the short lines at the end work well I think.
In addition, even with free verse, I always prefer stuff which is laid out in couplets/triplets or quatrains as it just looks so much more visually appealing.
However, the short lines at the end work well I think.
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The second stanza is in my opinion the best. The rest isn't bad but sometimes seems a bit repetitive to me. Overall not bad but I think you should make something out of the 2nd stanza. It's the most interesting. In my opinion.
Thanx for the read.
Thanx for the read.
I'm still unclear as to what the poem is about - dreamworld, internet world, descent into insanity - can't make up my mind.
No matter. Your use of language embroidered quite a surreal image; the word dropping at the end gave it a nice finishing touch.
Good advice by Cameron was well heeded.
cheers
No matter. Your use of language embroidered quite a surreal image; the word dropping at the end gave it a nice finishing touch.
Good advice by Cameron was well heeded.
cheers
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After many seasons of empty victories—
grey green scenes and second hand dreams—
I went away within myself.
I created a world made of cast iron flasks
and plexi-glass masks: To obscure myself
and bottle up my hopes for the reserving,
to drink when my piss went thick.
I had friends, or so I called them, in far off lands
channeled by like isolation—by not so unique frustrations.
Kismet they called it but really it was just a step above dial-up.
But it turned out to be a myopic utopia.
One wanting of sun and three dimensional intercourse—
rich with vision, but lacking in touch.
Beleaguered and pallid, I disconnected.
Stepped outside my cocoon, took a deep breath,
felt invigorated alive stimulated
and then,
fell fifty
flights
to my
death.
ps don't normally do this but thought it might be helpful. I'm aware that I haven't even commented on the content.
grey green scenes and second hand dreams—
I went away within myself.
I created a world made of cast iron flasks
and plexi-glass masks: To obscure myself
and bottle up my hopes for the reserving,
to drink when my piss went thick.
I had friends, or so I called them, in far off lands
channeled by like isolation—by not so unique frustrations.
Kismet they called it but really it was just a step above dial-up.
But it turned out to be a myopic utopia.
One wanting of sun and three dimensional intercourse—
rich with vision, but lacking in touch.
Beleaguered and pallid, I disconnected.
Stepped outside my cocoon, took a deep breath,
felt invigorated alive stimulated
and then,
fell fifty
flights
to my
death.
ps don't normally do this but thought it might be helpful. I'm aware that I haven't even commented on the content.
I think the poem is strong in structure, and do not feel the last few lines need to be separated. The use of the the string of words is one of the stronger areas of the piece as the visual aspect of the change of style as well as the pace change, created by shorter lines, adds impact to the 'punch line' of the piece.
I do think that the third stanza is a little clustered, which is made a little more confusing by the punctuation. Perhaps working on the flow of this would make the piece a little less viscous
I do think that the third stanza is a little clustered, which is made a little more confusing by the punctuation. Perhaps working on the flow of this would make the piece a little less viscous