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A Parting Gift

by Midnight_Sun 

Posted: 24 May 2011
Word Count: 140


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We swept floors of oceans, shifting sands
with mechanical hands in sifted piles.
Decimated rainforest creatures’ homes
to feature ornate furnishings in our own.
Quantified life, through cathode rays, on couches,
while carbon dripped away. On stripped beaches
we drifted to sleep, amongst pillars of glass;
grains that once measured time.

Then the oceans crept up and swept us away
for we’d trawled all life from their raging laps;
sucklings torn from salty breasts, ripped up
through swelling crests. Guts plucked out
through their chests; a glut for gluttonous mouths,
espousing to know good husbandry.
The winder’s gone on Cosmos’s watch
as choking smokescreens dissipate; nuclear winds

blow dust in dollar-marked eyes; blinded
by indifference. Sold out for thirty silver pence,
our necks bedecked in jewelled ropes;
and as a parting gift; the smallest token:

- we leave no hope.






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Comments by other Members



clyroroberts at 16:16 on 24 May 2011  Report this post
Hello MS

There are some great lines here.

[quote]Quantified life, through cathode rays, on couches,

. . . . . .

we drifted to sleep, amongst pillars of glass;
grains that once measured time.[quote]

I felt the second and third stanzas cold be trimmed a little to make them flow better.

It's very powerful stuff though. We need more of this (compassionate fury!) in these times as far as I'm concerned.

Are you familiar with www.dark-mountain.net?

If this is your thing you might be interested.

J


<Added>

dammit - I can never get the quote thingies to work!

Oh, I missed the forward slash - sorry!

James Graham at 19:28 on 24 May 2011  Report this post
Hello MS - Welcome to the group. First impressions of your poem are very good. I'll post a more detailed comment soon.

James.

James Graham at 12:10 on 25 May 2011  Report this post
A very accomplished poem. So far I don’t see any obvious weak or awkward lines but I’ll give that some more thought. Technically the outstanding features are your ‘sound effects’: shifting/ sifted, sands/ hands, creatures/ feature, cathode rays/ carbon...away, dripped/ stripped/ drifted etc. More in the second stanza. These internal rhymes and assonances can, depending on the subject, be very gentle and subtle; yours are more dense and robust - as they should be. They convey anger. There’s a strong sense that the language of the poem is wrestling with the atrocities it describes.

All this is complemented by the violent images in the second stanza:

sucklings torn from salty breasts, ripped up
through swelling crests. Guts plucked out
through their chests; a glut for gluttonous mouths


The combination here of ‘sound effects’ and violent pictorial imagery brings the poem to a climax, then it levels out towards the quieter but telling last line. These are some of the reasons I think the poem is very accomplished - I wonder how long you’ve been writing, because you do seem to have the tricks of the trade at your fingertips.

One place where I think the rhythm trips up is

blow DUST in DOLlar-MARKED EYES, BLINDed


- I’ve shown where there are strong stresses, especially where three follow in consecutive syllables. Maybe this would be better:

blow DUST in DOLlar-PRINTed EYES, long BLINDed


I feel the closing lines should move smoothly, in regular rhythm, towards the final statement of the last line. I hope I’ve explained this clearly.

I’ll keep working on this poem, because it certainly deserves attention. If I see any other possible improvements I’ll post again.

James.

Midnight_Sun at 14:40 on 25 May 2011  Report this post
Thanks very much for the feedback Clyro and James,

it is very much appreciated, and very constructive. I wish I had found this site sooner! I only stumbled across it by accident whilst browsing for some more writers forums.

I am about to wrap up my first serious creative writing course, (Open University level 2), and have been encouraged to post work to a number of online forums in order to give, and receive honest feedback from a wider source. From the age of fourteen i've been writing on and off. Only now in my early thirties have I decided to let my scribblings see the light of day.

I hope to be able to give such constructive feedback as you have given me.

Thanks again,

Patricia


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