~ Critique Series ~
And now I'm having crazy notions about Vietnam War themed Christmas carols.
But .............. that's what happens when you examine the poetry of others. You get ideas. You also develop an inherent sense of what path you should take to actualize those ideas and what forks in road would be best for you to avoid.
But .............. that's what happens when you examine the poetry of others. You get ideas. You also develop an inherent sense of what path you should take to actualize those ideas and what forks in road would be best for you to avoid.
JohnnyBlaze said:And now I'm having crazy notions about Vietnam War themed Christmas carols.
But .............. that's what happens when you examine the poetry of others. You get ideas. You also develop an inherent sense of what path you should take to actualize those ideas and what forks in road would be best for you to avoid.
And then I run off with the best of those ideas, leaving Johnny to write mostly goofy raps.
But .............. that's what happens when you examine the poetry of others. You get ideas. You also develop an inherent sense of what path you should take to actualize those ideas and what forks in road would be best for you to avoid.
And then I run off with the best of those ideas, leaving Johnny to write mostly goofy raps.
Is this somewhat better?
Christmas in Vietnam
1964 - Second Tour
Christmas lights in Vietnam
were automatic weapon fire
blinking within the perimeter,
while back home in America,
I broke the leg of my first Barbie
bending it too far back.
My cowlick standing at attention
transmitting code-aviation
across a cracked oatmeal bowl,
crippled doll, divided country
ocean, continent, peninsula
and Vietnam border to intercept
bullets aimed for my father,
who was watching over a munition's
crate desk from his makeshift tent
while writing me about duty and love.
His feet rotting from jungle and words
trailing with irony at the beauty
of those sparks hopping toward him
like a warm holiday memory -
or childhood nightmare of captured
fireflies: forgotten POW's dying
in a foreign country of glass jar
beneath dirty clothes on his bedroom floor.
~
Christmas in Vietnam
1964 - Second Tour
Christmas lights in Vietnam
were automatic weapon fire
blinking within the perimeter,
while back home in America,
I broke the leg of my first Barbie
bending it too far back.
My cowlick standing at attention
transmitting code-aviation
across a cracked oatmeal bowl,
crippled doll, divided country
ocean, continent, peninsula
and Vietnam border to intercept
bullets aimed for my father,
who was watching over a munition's
crate desk from his makeshift tent
while writing me about duty and love.
His feet rotting from jungle and words
trailing with irony at the beauty
of those sparks hopping toward him
like a warm holiday memory -
or childhood nightmare of captured
fireflies: forgotten POW's dying
in a foreign country of glass jar
beneath dirty clothes on his bedroom floor.
~
Ahavati said:Is this somewhat better?
It's all good. I can breathe.
You could probably fudge around the wording in Stanza 3 like so to add in more dramatic pause
of those sparks hopping toward him
like a warm holiday memory -
or childhood nightmare: POWs
dying
forgotten fireflies captive in a glass jar
beneath dirty clothes on a bedroom floor.
It's all good. I can breathe.
You could probably fudge around the wording in Stanza 3 like so to add in more dramatic pause
of those sparks hopping toward him
like a warm holiday memory -
or childhood nightmare: POWs
dying
forgotten fireflies captive in a glass jar
beneath dirty clothes on a bedroom floor.
"I am so amazed by those who write poetry with forms and rhymes. I am really struggling in this area.... I am worried that my poems sounded like an essay in stanzas instead of a poem. One office mate even said that my poetry is loud, I honestly do not understand what he meant.
So if you may, please have a look in one piece that I wrote. I have been meaning to edit it to remove the article-ishhh sound. But frankly, I.just don't know how and where to begin..."
==============================
Now Serving: Double Death Sentence
( A Murder Of Crows)
©All Rights Reserved
Empathy as scarce as water in a desert
Eluding the hearts of most men in our society
For self preservation, all are guilty
Of a crime that is far worse than robbery
Not knowing, we assumed
Assuming we knew better
The breathing we ignored
The fallen we feast upon
Men are scavenger's Monarchy
Feared by all especially those that falls prey.
Who would dare revolt against their tyrany,
When Social Media stood as the head of the army?
Indignant cowards!
For feeling taller than those who are lesser
Stomping the lifeless just seconds after severance
Then claiming victory when all they did was spit on the corpses.
Like an addict they can't help but indulge...
Who better to kill than those
Who are already left alone
Bleeding, left for dead if not that just yet?
To murder those who was slain by others
Is a crime unwritten, left unpunished
Glorified even by those whose malice matched their own
Who will serve justice then and to whom?
Karma, it seems you are on your own.
~ Written by OxyMoronicMe
So if you may, please have a look in one piece that I wrote. I have been meaning to edit it to remove the article-ishhh sound. But frankly, I.just don't know how and where to begin..."
==============================
Now Serving: Double Death Sentence
( A Murder Of Crows)
©All Rights Reserved
Empathy as scarce as water in a desert
Eluding the hearts of most men in our society
For self preservation, all are guilty
Of a crime that is far worse than robbery
Not knowing, we assumed
Assuming we knew better
The breathing we ignored
The fallen we feast upon
Men are scavenger's Monarchy
Feared by all especially those that falls prey.
Who would dare revolt against their tyrany,
When Social Media stood as the head of the army?
Indignant cowards!
For feeling taller than those who are lesser
Stomping the lifeless just seconds after severance
Then claiming victory when all they did was spit on the corpses.
Like an addict they can't help but indulge...
Who better to kill than those
Who are already left alone
Bleeding, left for dead if not that just yet?
To murder those who was slain by others
Is a crime unwritten, left unpunished
Glorified even by those whose malice matched their own
Who will serve justice then and to whom?
Karma, it seems you are on your own.
~ Written by OxyMoronicMe
Now Serving: Double Death Sentence
( A Murder Of Crows)
©All Rights Reserved
Empathy as scarce as water in a desert
Eluding the hearts of most men in our society
For self preservation, all are guilty
Of a crime that is far worse than robbery
Not knowing, we assumed
Assuming we knew better
The breathing we ignored
The fallen we feast upon
Men are scavenger's Monarchy
Feared by all especially those that falls prey.
Who would dare revolt against their tyrany,
When Social Media stood as the head of the army?
Indignant cowards!
For feeling taller than those who are lesser
Stomping the lifeless just seconds after severance
Then claiming victory when all they did was spit on the corpses.
Like an addict they can't help but indulge...
Who better to kill than those
Who are already left alone
Bleeding, left for dead if not that just yet?
To murder those who was slain by others
Is a crime unwritten, left unpunished
Glorified even by those whose malice matched their own
Who will serve justice then and to whom?
Karma, it seems you are on your own.
You are preaching, but you are not communicating.
What you are saying may make perfect sense in your mind, because you are privy to events that inspired the sermon. However, the details of those events are absent from the poem. I personally am a frog in a bucket as what you are preaching about.
I could read it a hundred times and would still be left speculating as to what the inspiration was or even how the title ties into the poem. You've got the average reader's attention for perhaps a few reads before they wave the white flag of surrender and move on.
I think the reader would benefit from more "direct" information, as opposed to "divine" inspiration that often propelled prophets into ... well ..... giving us Old Testament Bible passages that leave us scratching our heads wild with diverse interpretations, as opposed to New Testament parables leading us by the hand towards mass agreed upon conclusions.
I myself have been in this exact situation, which was when the phrase frog in a bucket was first introduced to me. I was withholding information from the readers necessary to filling in gaps of understanding.
As for the term "Social Media" ...... I associate it with a group of people diverse in their likes and dislikes, beliefs and opinions. If they were to head an army, I imagine that army having no singular enemy. Those soldiers would be on the battlefield in no particular formation with no apparent strategy other than whomping on every and anything that moves, including one another.
( A Murder Of Crows)
©All Rights Reserved
Empathy as scarce as water in a desert
Eluding the hearts of most men in our society
For self preservation, all are guilty
Of a crime that is far worse than robbery
Not knowing, we assumed
Assuming we knew better
The breathing we ignored
The fallen we feast upon
Men are scavenger's Monarchy
Feared by all especially those that falls prey.
Who would dare revolt against their tyrany,
When Social Media stood as the head of the army?
Indignant cowards!
For feeling taller than those who are lesser
Stomping the lifeless just seconds after severance
Then claiming victory when all they did was spit on the corpses.
Like an addict they can't help but indulge...
Who better to kill than those
Who are already left alone
Bleeding, left for dead if not that just yet?
To murder those who was slain by others
Is a crime unwritten, left unpunished
Glorified even by those whose malice matched their own
Who will serve justice then and to whom?
Karma, it seems you are on your own.
You are preaching, but you are not communicating.
What you are saying may make perfect sense in your mind, because you are privy to events that inspired the sermon. However, the details of those events are absent from the poem. I personally am a frog in a bucket as what you are preaching about.
I could read it a hundred times and would still be left speculating as to what the inspiration was or even how the title ties into the poem. You've got the average reader's attention for perhaps a few reads before they wave the white flag of surrender and move on.
I think the reader would benefit from more "direct" information, as opposed to "divine" inspiration that often propelled prophets into ... well ..... giving us Old Testament Bible passages that leave us scratching our heads wild with diverse interpretations, as opposed to New Testament parables leading us by the hand towards mass agreed upon conclusions.
I myself have been in this exact situation, which was when the phrase frog in a bucket was first introduced to me. I was withholding information from the readers necessary to filling in gaps of understanding.
As for the term "Social Media" ...... I associate it with a group of people diverse in their likes and dislikes, beliefs and opinions. If they were to head an army, I imagine that army having no singular enemy. Those soldiers would be on the battlefield in no particular formation with no apparent strategy other than whomping on every and anything that moves, including one another.
Johnny,
I feel the same, that is why in the original posted poem the picture prompt (a group of crows) titled murder by crows, I included an Author's note....
A/N
"A Murder Of Crows"
This phrase instantly fetch an imagery of people pointing fingers and uttering self righteous opinions to people who's at the lowest of their life, society's favorite past time — the butchery of those already broken.
No less gruesome than the imagery of crows scavenging a rotting body already dead on the ground.
Do you think, this helps balance it all out?
I feel the same, that is why in the original posted poem the picture prompt (a group of crows) titled murder by crows, I included an Author's note....
A/N
"A Murder Of Crows"
This phrase instantly fetch an imagery of people pointing fingers and uttering self righteous opinions to people who's at the lowest of their life, society's favorite past time — the butchery of those already broken.
No less gruesome than the imagery of crows scavenging a rotting body already dead on the ground.
Do you think, this helps balance it all out?
OxyMoronicMe said:Johnny,
I feel the same, that is why in the original posted poem the picture prompt (a group of crows) titled murder by crows, I included an Author's note....
A/N
"A Murder Of Crows"
This phrase instantly fetch an imagery of people pointing fingers and uttering self righteous opinions to people who's at the lowest of their life, society's favorite past time — the butchery of those already broken.
No less gruesome than the imagery of crows scavenging a rotting body already dead on the ground.
Do you think, this helps balance it all out?
I honestly think it would be better go a step further and incorporate those crows into the poem itself. Plucking away at those who can't defend themselves - kicking them when they are down.
Nothing against author notes, but we're looking to improve the poem rather than compensate for its shortcomings.
Oxy, thank you for the opportunity.to critique this. It has given me insight in how to proceed with a new poem idea I have been working on.
I feel the same, that is why in the original posted poem the picture prompt (a group of crows) titled murder by crows, I included an Author's note....
A/N
"A Murder Of Crows"
This phrase instantly fetch an imagery of people pointing fingers and uttering self righteous opinions to people who's at the lowest of their life, society's favorite past time — the butchery of those already broken.
No less gruesome than the imagery of crows scavenging a rotting body already dead on the ground.
Do you think, this helps balance it all out?
I honestly think it would be better go a step further and incorporate those crows into the poem itself. Plucking away at those who can't defend themselves - kicking them when they are down.
Nothing against author notes, but we're looking to improve the poem rather than compensate for its shortcomings.
Oxy, thank you for the opportunity.to critique this. It has given me insight in how to proceed with a new poem idea I have been working on.
thank you Johnny, I understand what you meant. the poem should include some metaphors directly relating to the prompt so it wont feel detached and incomprehensible as it is. I tend to title my poems in vague fashion. thank you for the critique. I will have a lot of considering to do from here on.
Oxy and Johnny - thank you both so much for participating! We have a few more coming in which have requested critique and we will honor those here. We are now going to move on to demonstrate how to NOT critique a poem and how to NOT respond to a negative critique in the Speakeasy "Critique Series" forum.
Here's my piece that I want to get critiqued. I would appreciate friendly feedback (as I suggested when I originally posted it).
Our Push and Pull
I never know whether I want to completely give
Up or to keep trying harder to make
This work. I am not sure if I could live
Every day without you here. You take
My heart, love and kindness as your own.
I hope that you are not making this all fake
Just to please me. I hate that I feel alone
Without you and what makes this so genuine.
You could have chosen to have everything blown
To pieces, but you decided to have the thicker spine
And the audacity to put up with me. You could
Have left all the clouds and taken the sunshine
Away, but you were the one who always stood
Right there even in moments when I tried to
Not need you. You were stronger than the wood
In the forests I got so lost in. When I pushed you
Away, we always came back and a part of me
Still does not understand that. I threw
You off the edge and yet you came to be
Someone who saved me no matter how many
Times I hurt you before. Instead of feeling free
I feel burdened and weighed down by the heavy
Feelings I have. I used to believe in this one
Hundred percent, but now I have plenty
Of uncertainty. You better come with the gun
Blazing and have the ability to pull me in closer.
I do not have the capacity to say if I am finally done
With you because you still run me over like a bulldozer.
I am not so worried about protecting you, but
Never being able to get the full closure
That I needed. I am afraid that this cut
Would not be able to entirely heal this time. On
This road there is every bump, bend, and rut,
But I have to believe that there is a new dawn.
Every day there are new chances and
Opportunities. Nothing is ever quite gone.
Sometimes time runs away from us like quicksand.
Whatever comes out of this I will always
Try to reach out that helping hand
When we always manage to navigate the maze
Together like in the forest. You pull me alongside
You just like you consistently find ways
To surprise me. All of my words have dried
Up and everything is together; jumbled and tied.
Our Push and Pull
I never know whether I want to completely give
Up or to keep trying harder to make
This work. I am not sure if I could live
Every day without you here. You take
My heart, love and kindness as your own.
I hope that you are not making this all fake
Just to please me. I hate that I feel alone
Without you and what makes this so genuine.
You could have chosen to have everything blown
To pieces, but you decided to have the thicker spine
And the audacity to put up with me. You could
Have left all the clouds and taken the sunshine
Away, but you were the one who always stood
Right there even in moments when I tried to
Not need you. You were stronger than the wood
In the forests I got so lost in. When I pushed you
Away, we always came back and a part of me
Still does not understand that. I threw
You off the edge and yet you came to be
Someone who saved me no matter how many
Times I hurt you before. Instead of feeling free
I feel burdened and weighed down by the heavy
Feelings I have. I used to believe in this one
Hundred percent, but now I have plenty
Of uncertainty. You better come with the gun
Blazing and have the ability to pull me in closer.
I do not have the capacity to say if I am finally done
With you because you still run me over like a bulldozer.
I am not so worried about protecting you, but
Never being able to get the full closure
That I needed. I am afraid that this cut
Would not be able to entirely heal this time. On
This road there is every bump, bend, and rut,
But I have to believe that there is a new dawn.
Every day there are new chances and
Opportunities. Nothing is ever quite gone.
Sometimes time runs away from us like quicksand.
Whatever comes out of this I will always
Try to reach out that helping hand
When we always manage to navigate the maze
Together like in the forest. You pull me alongside
You just like you consistently find ways
To surprise me. All of my words have dried
Up and everything is together; jumbled and tied.
eswaller said:Here's my piece that I want to get critiqued. I would appreciate friendly feedback (as I suggested when I originally posted it).
Our Push and Pull
I never know whether I want to completely give
Up or to keep trying harder to make
This work. I am not sure if I could live
Every day without you here. You take
My heart, love and kindness as your own.
I hope that you are not making this all fake
Just to please me. I hate that I feel alone
Without you and what makes this so genuine.
You could have chosen to have everything blown
To pieces, but you decided to have the thicker spine
And the audacity to put up with me. You could
Have left all the clouds and taken the sunshine
Away, but you were the one who always stood
Right there even in moments when I tried to
Not need you. You were stronger than the wood
In the forests I got so lost in. When I pushed you
Away, we always came back and a part of me
Still does not understand that. I threw
You off the edge and yet you came to be
Someone who saved me no matter how many
Times I hurt you before. Instead of feeling free
I feel burdened and weighed down by the heavy
Feelings I have. I used to believe in this one
Hundred percent, but now I have plenty
Of uncertainty. You better come with the gun
Blazing and have the ability to pull me in closer.
I do not have the capacity to say if I am finally done
With you because you still run me over like a bulldozer.
I am not so worried about protecting you, but
Never being able to get the full closure
That I needed. I am afraid that this cut
Would not be able to entirely heal this time. On
This road there is every bump, bend, and rut,
But I have to believe that there is a new dawn.
Every day there are new chances and
Opportunities. Nothing is ever quite gone.
Sometimes time runs away from us like quicksand.
Whatever comes out of this I will always
Try to reach out that helping hand
When we always manage to navigate the maze
Together like in the forest. You pull me alongside
You just like you consistently find ways
To surprise me. All of my words have dried
Up and everything is together; jumbled and tied.
Did you know there are song lyrics in this?
Sometimes, if we are struggling with a poem, it helps to recite it differently. One of the best ways to do this is to start singing it.
As I began to sing your poem, I got an immediate sense of extraneous wordage that could be jettisoned without making any drastic alterations to your original wording.
I only removed unnecessary words.
Any word additions I made are in bold.
Our Push and Pull
I never know whether to
completely give up or keep trying
harder to make this work, unsure if I could
live every day without you
taking my heart, love and kindness
as your own.
I hope that you're not faking this
just to please me - I hate that feeling of being
alone without you. What makes this so
genuine? You could have
blown
everything to pieces
But you had the thicker spine.
Audacity to put up with me. Leaving clouds,
you could have taken the sunshine.
Always stood right there even when
I tried to not need you.
Stronger than the wood In forests
I got so lost in.
I feel that your poem and your writing in general would benefit from being more efficient with your words.
########################
You mention being run over by a bulldozer. What do bulldozers do? Push.
You mention time running out like quicksand. Sand in an hourglass is a typical representation of time running out. Quicksand is something people get stuck in. You can pull a person out of quicksand.
Gun? Pulling the trigger.
Pushing tree branches out of your way as you navigate the forest.
You can use these symbols involved in acts of pushing and pulling to reinforce your overall theme.
########################
I hope these are helpful suggestions, Eswaller. Feel free to ask me any questions. And thank you for trusting me with this.
Our Push and Pull
I never know whether I want to completely give
Up or to keep trying harder to make
This work. I am not sure if I could live
Every day without you here. You take
My heart, love and kindness as your own.
I hope that you are not making this all fake
Just to please me. I hate that I feel alone
Without you and what makes this so genuine.
You could have chosen to have everything blown
To pieces, but you decided to have the thicker spine
And the audacity to put up with me. You could
Have left all the clouds and taken the sunshine
Away, but you were the one who always stood
Right there even in moments when I tried to
Not need you. You were stronger than the wood
In the forests I got so lost in. When I pushed you
Away, we always came back and a part of me
Still does not understand that. I threw
You off the edge and yet you came to be
Someone who saved me no matter how many
Times I hurt you before. Instead of feeling free
I feel burdened and weighed down by the heavy
Feelings I have. I used to believe in this one
Hundred percent, but now I have plenty
Of uncertainty. You better come with the gun
Blazing and have the ability to pull me in closer.
I do not have the capacity to say if I am finally done
With you because you still run me over like a bulldozer.
I am not so worried about protecting you, but
Never being able to get the full closure
That I needed. I am afraid that this cut
Would not be able to entirely heal this time. On
This road there is every bump, bend, and rut,
But I have to believe that there is a new dawn.
Every day there are new chances and
Opportunities. Nothing is ever quite gone.
Sometimes time runs away from us like quicksand.
Whatever comes out of this I will always
Try to reach out that helping hand
When we always manage to navigate the maze
Together like in the forest. You pull me alongside
You just like you consistently find ways
To surprise me. All of my words have dried
Up and everything is together; jumbled and tied.
Did you know there are song lyrics in this?
Sometimes, if we are struggling with a poem, it helps to recite it differently. One of the best ways to do this is to start singing it.
As I began to sing your poem, I got an immediate sense of extraneous wordage that could be jettisoned without making any drastic alterations to your original wording.
I only removed unnecessary words.
Any word additions I made are in bold.
Our Push and Pull
I never know whether to
completely give up or keep trying
harder to make this work, unsure if I could
live every day without you
taking my heart, love and kindness
as your own.
I hope that you're not faking this
just to please me - I hate that feeling of being
alone without you. What makes this so
genuine? You could have
blown
everything to pieces
But you had the thicker spine.
Audacity to put up with me. Leaving clouds,
you could have taken the sunshine.
Always stood right there even when
I tried to not need you.
Stronger than the wood In forests
I got so lost in.
I feel that your poem and your writing in general would benefit from being more efficient with your words.
########################
You mention being run over by a bulldozer. What do bulldozers do? Push.
You mention time running out like quicksand. Sand in an hourglass is a typical representation of time running out. Quicksand is something people get stuck in. You can pull a person out of quicksand.
Gun? Pulling the trigger.
Pushing tree branches out of your way as you navigate the forest.
You can use these symbols involved in acts of pushing and pulling to reinforce your overall theme.
########################
I hope these are helpful suggestions, Eswaller. Feel free to ask me any questions. And thank you for trusting me with this.
Anonymous
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