Tightrope

[alonso ramoran]

Hi Yjack123, I enjoy reading your poems for their rhythms and the ways it carries itself with the rhyming, but while the rhyming is not distracting in this poem, I feel like you let it hinder you from writing in the way you naturally speak.

Tightrope


I have shunned the white July sun and shivered in the unkind December. You've ignored the July sun? It's a fine description of the sun, but when put in context of a sentence that has no context, I'm left cold on the imagery as you'd be in the unkind December ;-)
I have known too well the hard ground and the bitter night. This line doesn't read naturally b/c of the rhyme. I wouldn't sacrifice sounding natural for a rhyme. Also, why is the night so bitter? In what way is it bitter? Obviously those nights experienced must've been bad, but what made them so bad?
I have learned, but there is only so much that can I remember. Learned what
Will I ever do things right? So this is what the narrator's struggle is. What has he been doing wrong?
 
I have attempted the long, straight and narrow. Long, straight, and narrow what? Tightrope, I'm assuming?
I have prayed hard with bowed head on icy knees for kingdom come,
I have with hope fletched, drawn and loosed my crooked arrow. I like how you describe hope as being the thing to carry a crooked arrow, which is fated to miss it's target.
My tortured truth is that I am not like some.
 
Reach for my heart with your sweet redemption,
But touch my soul with a 10 foot pole,
I have always been that one maddening exception,
As I perform my hard won but well cast chosen roll. This reads like a word salad, possibly for lack of punctuation, and beginning each line with capital letters doesn't seem to help the reader. Also this stanza seems to be the opportune moment for the narrator to reveal the reason he is not like some, and this being described as a "tortured truth" kind of hypes me up! But alas, I'm left knowing that it's just some hard earned role that separates you from the rest. Also, I think "role" is the word you're looking for.
 
You are warned; I stand a confessed devil,
And when it counts I will show myself as Satan’s boy,
So much a noteworthy hour when I am on the level,
My wicked tongue, sharp and twitchy, is just his toy.
 
There are those who can walk the tightrope.
There are those, lithe and clever, who never fall. Not enjoying the "There are those..." cuts.
When I am flying on that pipe smoke,
I am assured that I know it all.
 
Some do quite well upon that tightrope,
But there’s no balance in my soul.
I am flying on that good dope. I like the phrasing of this line. It has a sort of playful undertone
It seems the only peace I know.