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Two years ago they fled
grew legs and abandoned (me!)
those oracles of insanity
my fatherless children
songs and sighs,
and pseudo sinister promises
of course, I'm going to die!
I couldn't die, I didn't write
Made of my piss poor poetry,
deliberate orphans,
in drawers with misplaced keys
unwanted and useless
without her having a read
Yes, Mother's Ghost...
I am still not me, not her, not she
you delighted in, laughed at and with
never mean, never shrill, accepting
of every chronic painful thing
making sport of hardships
and leaking boats. O captain my captain!
Mama, come back to me.
So, okay. It doesn't work that way
and I protest, am a protester now
find appealing certain handwritten signs
I've seen and resentful memes
origin and intent, never you mind
it's the angst that counts, the reverie.
I'll abandon those as well, those
not mine things. My words tap tap
My works, crap crap
My muses, ironed flat, now beckon
but a painting first, the lake, the trees
I promised for the wall of your study.
I made a mess of posting, I see.
how do I remove two, or will someone pretty please do it for me?
thanks and sorry!
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Pondering a critique. But in the meantime, to edit...
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 Non-practicing atheist
Posts: 70
Threads: 9
Joined: Jun 2019
I rather like this, especially the voice. S2 nicely shifts S1 into metaphor A few suggestions, if I may. Bold indicates what I’ve changed.
Two years ago they fled
grew legs and abandoned me
those oracles of insanity
my fatherless children
songs and sighs,
and pseudo sinister promises
of course, I'm going to die. deleted the !
I couldn't die, I didn't write
Made of my piss poor poetry,
deliberate orphans,
in drawers with misplaced keys
unwanted and useless
without her having a read
Yes, Mother's Ghost...
I am still not me, not her, not she
you delighted in, laughed at and with
never mean, never shrill, accepting
of every chronic painful thing
making sport of hardships
and leaking boats. O captain my captain!
I wish you were here now*
Mama, come back to me.
So, okay. It doesn't work that way
and I protest, am a protester now
find appealing certain handwritten signs
I've seen and resentful memes
origin and intent, never you mind
it's the angst that counts, the reverie.
I'll abandon those as well, those
not -mine things. My words tap tap
My works, crap crap
My muses, ironed flat, now beckon
but a painting first, the lake, the trees
I promised for the wall of your study.
*Not a very good line lol, but wanted to demonstrate a change. You’ll write a better one.
I think the punctuation could be evened out a bit, making it clearer where you want the reader to pause or come to a full stop, but that’s just me. I look forward to seeing where this goes.
Oh. I struck out two lines because I thought they were unnecessarily telling the reader too much and interfered with the flow of the poem.
Not for comparison purposes or commentary, but just because I think you’d appreciate ‘Samhain’ by Annie Finch
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/53066/samhain
There is no escape from metre; there is only mastery. TS Eliot
Posts: 703
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Joined: Oct 2017
.
Hi lass,
enjoyed the read. And am broadly in agreement with Seraphim
(particularly about the voice and in what could be cut).
I think you could find a better title, one more likely to hook a passing reader.
A rather blunt edit, just suggestions, no more.
Two years ago they grew legs, I think this would make a more intriguing opening line.
abandoned me, those [empty] oracles
of insanity, my fatherless children:
songs and sighs, and pseudo sinister
promises, of course, I'm going to
die!
I didn't write, I couldn't die,
[nor make] deliberate orphans, like 'deliberate orphans'.
[of them] in [their] drawers
keys misplaced, unwanted,
useless and without her
having read [a word] you did mention you liked untidy endings 
Yes, Mother's Ghost...
still, I am not me, not her, not she
you delighted in, laughed at, [laughed]
with, [She was] never mean, never shrill,
[never un] accepting of every chronic painful thing
making sport of hardships
and leaking boats. O captain my captain!
- these last two lines seem to be in a different voice, which, along with the Whitman, doesn't work for me - though the meaning does.
Mama, come back to me.
So, okay. It doesn't work that way
and I, a protester now, protest,
appealing certain handwritten signs
I've seen, [here and there,] resentful
memes, never you mind [what]
[their] origin, [their] intent, it's the angst
that counts [against ... ], the reverie.
- not making the leap from resentful to reverie.
I'll abandon those as well, those
not mine things. My words tap tap
My works, crap crap
My muses, ironed flat, now beckon
but a painting first, the lake, the trees
[a promise redeemed upon] your study wall. (change the order to avoid ending on a rhyme,)
Best, Knot
.
Posts: 7
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Joined: Jul 2019
(07-07-2019, 11:21 AM)dukealien Wrote: Pondering a critique. But in the meantime, to edit...
-Log in to the site and view your poem.
-Click the "Edit" box at the lower right of the frame around it.
-This produces a drop-down. Click "Quick edit."
-Make your changes (including minor deletions) within the edit frame this produces.
Click "Save changes" and you're done.
Thank you so kindly-
one lass, or rather, C.
as in, Coleen. I answer to all and any whimsy might lend you.
(07-07-2019, 11:21 AM)dukealien Wrote: Pondering a critique. But in the meantime, to edit...
-Log in to the site and view your poem.
-Click the "Edit" box at the lower right of the frame around it.
-This produces a drop-down. Click "Quick edit."
-Make your changes (including minor deletions) within the edit frame this produces.
Click "Save changes" and you're done.
(07-07-2019, 11:21 AM)dukealien Wrote: Pondering a critique. But in the meantime, to edit...
-Log in to the site and view your poem.
-Click the "Edit" box at the lower right of the frame around it.
-This produces a drop-down. Click "Quick edit."
-Make your changes (including minor deletions) within the edit frame this produces.
Click "Save changes" and you're done.
Read each critique with great interest and gratefulness. I'd answer each independently, but for lack of my glasses and intense peering.
Will remedy that soon enough and work on this poem to spec, which in each case are highly likely, spot on. It's been years, folks.
time to write. many close to home familial deaths practically insist on it. weird reason, right? but it is, what it is.
don't let that get in the way of any crits. I am not overly sensitive that way. best of the best to you each. C
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