08-18-2015, 10:22 AM
Hey AP,
I was interested by the first lines, but less than halfway in I didn't feel like finishing. That's bad. I don't want to rip into you or this poem, but here are some thoughts on how to continue with this...
1) You have some cool imagery here, but you don't make it work for you. Imagery is there to pull the reader in, make them connect to what you're saying, and make the idea you're sharing vivid. The point of poetry, or at least sharing poetry, is to make your reader feel and connect to something. For instance, maybe you were trying to tackle the imperfection of humans in this one, but the way you've arranged and written this poem is so disjointed and abstracted that it's pretty much impossible to feel connected to it. You can't have catharsis or anything of the sort without hitting us where it hurts, where we feel. Make your imagery work for you and make it resonate with us.
2)Consider what you want to communicate by your arrangement. A crit wrote before, in looking at your last line, that what you may be after is a disgust for conformity (or something along those lines). If so, why are your lines fitted the way they are. If you want to display the malevolence in conformity, why not fit all this black tar imagery in nice perfect little boxes, or a classic rhyme scheme or poetry form, perhaps. There's a contrast there that's really valuable and can clue us in on what you're saying. Just thoughts.
3) Finally, Mark A. Becker wrote that he's sure you DO have a way with words (paraphrasing), and I'd say I agree with him. These images are not dead ends, just severely disconnected. Rework them into what you want to say, cut where it's necessary, and make something really though provoking. It's very possible, so don't be discouraged by these first critiques of your work. There's promise here.
That's the farthest I'll go for now, this being in Mild, and I hope I didn't bash too hard. There were just some things I thought should be voiced to give a little direction going forward.
Don't shy away from this, it could be really dope.
Best,
Cousin
I was interested by the first lines, but less than halfway in I didn't feel like finishing. That's bad. I don't want to rip into you or this poem, but here are some thoughts on how to continue with this...
1) You have some cool imagery here, but you don't make it work for you. Imagery is there to pull the reader in, make them connect to what you're saying, and make the idea you're sharing vivid. The point of poetry, or at least sharing poetry, is to make your reader feel and connect to something. For instance, maybe you were trying to tackle the imperfection of humans in this one, but the way you've arranged and written this poem is so disjointed and abstracted that it's pretty much impossible to feel connected to it. You can't have catharsis or anything of the sort without hitting us where it hurts, where we feel. Make your imagery work for you and make it resonate with us.
2)Consider what you want to communicate by your arrangement. A crit wrote before, in looking at your last line, that what you may be after is a disgust for conformity (or something along those lines). If so, why are your lines fitted the way they are. If you want to display the malevolence in conformity, why not fit all this black tar imagery in nice perfect little boxes, or a classic rhyme scheme or poetry form, perhaps. There's a contrast there that's really valuable and can clue us in on what you're saying. Just thoughts.
3) Finally, Mark A. Becker wrote that he's sure you DO have a way with words (paraphrasing), and I'd say I agree with him. These images are not dead ends, just severely disconnected. Rework them into what you want to say, cut where it's necessary, and make something really though provoking. It's very possible, so don't be discouraged by these first critiques of your work. There's promise here.
That's the farthest I'll go for now, this being in Mild, and I hope I didn't bash too hard. There were just some things I thought should be voiced to give a little direction going forward.
Don't shy away from this, it could be really dope.
Best,
Cousin
(08-18-2015, 01:49 AM)AckeleyPhillips Wrote: This is the first poem I have posted for critique, I look forward to hearing feedback.
Black Ooze
He smiles scarred tracks on ice, cracks in the earth’s crust, cut into brown dust cheeks, protected in a barbed wire moustache.
Black treacle gathers in the skin cracks of his chin.
Tar dribbles at the sides of his mouth, strains onto his chest, madness circles into his nostrils, black smoke in his brain, a charred bird’s nest. "black smoke in his brain, a charred bird's nest" is the one line I could really picture. Out of all of these disjointed images, this is the only one that doesn't feel repeated/that I'd really like to see in the further steps you take.
His melted and burnt form, gritty grease gets caught in his teeth.
A caustic sour chemical tangles his mouth, his tongue, his hair. Hot melted black bin bag stretched over his forehead, mat shining plastic, boarded with a crusted smear of black gravel.
His tongue sinks in a thin pool of ink, bubbles on his teeth cause fierce pain under his ripped lips.
The skating smile from his hole razors through his face, slashed spirals, twirls, dots and blotches, deep stains through the skin’s soul.
A tearing of plate territory, violence cuts into features.
Fluid flows as charred lava inside his husk. It rides the slopes to his eyes. Through the veins of his white domes it soaks into his pupils, black clouds in dusked water.
His dead face, pleased of any sensation. Rotting clotting black, gushes out his portals.
The stretching aperture holes of his Halloween mask smile with lunacy, they tare as its chin falls off, creating piles of singed plastic.
The lacerations, argue its face, collided to cause further physical distress.
His blade smile a compulsion, a nervous sickness. The black gold of the ocean, spewing out a rig. Severed arteries out of his neck create this repulsion.
Black ooze spews, unable to break monotony, convulsions out of a mass.