Upgraded from basic to moderate. Thank you to CRNDLSM for moving the old comments, but the new draft was accidentally deleted, so I'm reposting. I'm not sure about my title, I may want to rework it. From the previous edit, I have also tried to cut the poem down for a clearer focus, while keeping the core. Thanks in advance for the feedback!
A stuttering ocean, Saltless and sunless It is beating on the steepled head Of a shingled roof-drum Clouds darkly grumbling secret thoughts
They are speaking I am not listening, but somewhat watching They are washing the world anew Water is coloring the canvas of earth The dusty soil, the thirsty trees, Cinder blocks and sand Like ink on a parched page Tones darkening, they flow together
Are the raindrops cold?
The drumbeats crescendo A lightning flash answering Presciently The crack of a thunderous question
Time is passing by.
Monitors glow softly, icy blue-white Warmly inviting A magic mirror of distraction There is no need to dream To wonder how the wind feels To hear the quietness of an empty house Really hear it.
The storm abates unheard The minutes stand unnoticed Distractedly pushed aside As if to be reclaimed Noise chosen to drown the other noise No presence Little peace
Until
the gently
interrupting
Staccato song of the river-sky Persistently calling me, I am listening Now Sound not selected Simply found I am stepping out the door Smelling wetness and frosted breath blow by
I see the scenery inked over A page, now full An invested moment The gentle patter of the clouds above Secrets I find I understand I drop my hood, Toss back my head, and let the raindrops land.
Edit 1
A stuttering ocean, Saltless and sunless It is beating on the spired heads Of my fortress’s roof-drum Clouds darkly grumbling secret thoughts
They are speaking I am not listening, but watching They are washing the world anew Water is coloring the canvas of earth The dusty soil, the thirsty trees, Cinder blocks and sand Like ink on a parched page Tones darkening, they flow together
Are the raindrops cold?
The drums are beating louder Calling for a fight A lightning flash answering Presciently The crack of a thunderous question The winds are picking up now
Tiny rivulets, small invaders Slamming sideways, over, through? They always seek unguarded hallways Any point they can march inside Break my castle’s panes of glass To sink beneath my skin And make my colors run This, I am seeing through the cracked window shade
Time is passing by.
My screen glows soft, icy blue-white Warmly inviting A magic mirror of distraction There is no need to dream To feel the wind To hear the quiet Really hear it.
I am a voluntary prisoner Of a lack of presence Contained within my castle's corridors Diverting my attentions From thoughts too numerous, Jostling, elbowing Crowding my fragile skull
The storm is waning Is it inside? My over-full mind is A roaring battalion I am dry I am drowning Am I breathing? Silence, for an eternal Moment…
Until
the gently
interrupting
Staccato song of the river-sky Persistently calling me, I am listening Now Rolling my drawbridge down Zipping my water-proof armor Stepping out from shadowed spires
As I see the scenery inked over A page, now full An invested moment The gentle patter of the clouds above Secrets I find I understand I drop my helm, Toss back my head, and let the raindrops land.
Original
A stuttered, saltless ocean
Beating drums on a rooftop's head
Clouds percuss their with their long-held secret, sacred thoughts
Dreaming aloud,
They wash the world anew
As water colors the canvas of earth
The dusty soil, the thirsty trees,
Cinder blocks and sand
Like ink on a parched page
Tones darken and flow together
Tiny rivulets slyly slink over and through
Seeking always the hidden hallways
Across my fortress walls of glass
To sink beneath my skin
And make my colors run
This, I once thought I knew
Until one day,
While trapped within my castle's corridors
With my thoughts too numerous, jostled and elbowing
For my small and fragile skull
I heard the call of waters falling
I rolled down my drawbridge
I slunk in careful, cold-resistant, water-proofed armor
Until
The gentle
Interrupted
Stacatto song of the river-sky
Beckoned more deeply than I could stand
I threw off my hood,
Tossed back my head,
and let the raindrops land.
stuttering sounds better, unless you want to hang back and consider the meaning of stuttered
Beating drums on a rooftop's head
the repeated -ing would even work
Clouds percuss their with their long-held secret, sacred thoughts
something is off with the line
Dreaming aloud,
They wash the world anew
As water colors the canvas of earth
The dusty soil, the thirsty trees,
Cinder blocks and sand
Like ink on a parched page
Tones darken and flow together
Tiny rivulets slyly slink over and through
Seeking always the hidden hallways
Across my fortress walls of glass
To sink beneath my skin
And make my colors run
This, I once thought I knew
those two stanzas work when I don't pay attention to the meanings of the words
the second of which could use a meaning-rhyme in the last line. By meaning-rhyme, I don't mean an actual rhyme, but some play of glass, like "saw" instead of knew, a subtle play of glass and 'seeing through'. Why? Simply an idea to deepen and layer.
Until one day,
While trapped within my castle's corridors
With my thoughts too numerous, jostled and elbowing
For my small and fragile skull
I heard the call of waters falling
I rolled down my drawbridge
I slunk in careful, cold-resistant, water-proofed armor
Until
The gentle
Interrupted
Stacatto song of the river-sky
Beckoned more deeply than I could stand
I threw off my hood,
Tossed back my head,
and let the raindrops land.
Thank you for the feedback! Could you elaborate on the note about the rushed/forced nature of the back end of the poem? Were there ideas you wanted more development of? Thank you again!
(01-11-2025, 03:46 AM)Quicksilver Wrote: A stuttered, saltless ocean The stuttering of a saltless ocean drums beating on a rooftop's head inverting offers a sort of delayed enjambment. Though could cut beating as could be implied
Clouds percussingtheir with their long-held secret, sacred thoughts long-held seems unnecessary
Dreaming aloud, I like the dream reference but not sure this line is working as well as it could They wash the world anew washing? Depends on how you rework the previous line As water coloring the canvas of earth- earth's canvas?
The dusty soil, the thirsty trees,
Cinder blocks and sand
Like ink on a parched page
Tones darkening and flowing together
Tiny rivulets slyly slink over and through the cut parts are redundant. don't like slink, too personifying, run, maybe? still a little personifying but not so much.
Seeking always the hidden hallways always seeking, avoid yoda speak
Across my fortress walls of glass this line confuses me, specially given the lines that follow later.
To sink beneath my skin
And make my colors run
This, I once thought I knew actually this whole stanza is a little confusing and the turn into the next stanza is also obscure
Until one day,
While trapped within my castle's corridors With my thoughts too numerous, jostling and elbowing cut to tighten too numerous for my small and fragile skull
I heard the call of waters falling hear.....falling waters
I rolled down my drawbridge
I slunk in careful, cold-resistant, water-proofed armor
Until
The gentle
Interrupted
Stacatto song of the river-sky good rhythm, but seems overly poetic
Beckoned more deeply than I could stand beckoned not a very interesting word, a little cliche.
I threw off my hood,
Tossed back my head,
and let the raindrops land. the ending is relatable and provides a clear image.
Hi Quicksilver,
Overall I like the feel and the starting with water, but I think your overall message isn't as effective as it could be. What I get is the rain being avoided, problems?, until its relentless drumbeat is hard to ignore, maybe? The set up is good but the turn lacks clarity and development, ie the reader doesn't know what the narrator knew or what changed. Resist being cryptic. Compelling language is what drives the narrative, not its complexity (ie obscurity). So most of my suggestions are regarding language, but I haven't really addressed the narrative. That is up to you
I look forward to your edits.
Bryn
(01-11-2025, 03:46 AM)Quicksilver Wrote: A stuttered, saltless ocean
Beating drums on a rooftop's head
Clouds percuss their with their long-held secret, sacred thoughts ('their' seems off... I'm not sure I understand this line. Is that supposed to be them?)
Dreaming aloud,
They wash the world anew
As water colors the canvas of earth
The dusty soil, the thirsty trees,
Cinder blocks and sand Like ink on a parched page (great line... creative and unique metephor)
Tones darken and flow together
Tiny rivulets slyly slink over and through Seeking always the hidden hallways(again great line!)
Across my fortress walls of glass
To sink beneath my skin
And make my colors run
This, I once thought I knew
Until one day, While trapped within my castle's corridors (the sudden castle reference feels a bit jarring... maybe instead of "rooftops" in the first stanza you could talk of spires or something, just to ready the reader a bit)
With my thoughts too numerous, jostled and elbowing
For my small and fragile skull
I heard the call of waters falling
I rolled down my drawbridge
I slunk in careful, cold-resistant, water-proofed armor
Until
The gentle
Interrupted
Stacatto song of the river-sky (great line as well... have to point them out when I see them!)
Beckoned more deeply than I could stand
I threw off my hood, (maybe helmet hence the armor?)
Tossed back my head,
and let the raindrops land.
Great poem! You have a knack for creating really impactful lines with strong and unique metaphors.
(01-11-2025, 03:46 AM)Quicksilver Wrote: Upgraded from basic to moderate. Thank you to CRNDLSM for moving the old comments, but the new draft was accidentally deleted, so I'm reposting. I'm not sure about my title, I may want to rework it. From the previous edit, I have also tried to cut the poem down for a clearer focus, while keeping the core. Thanks in advance for the feedback! I hope it's useful
A stuttering ocean, i think I sense what stuttering is, but stuttering is kinda like unsure, unconfident, and oceans to me are unrelenting and bold Saltless and sunless It is beating on the steepled head beating and stuttering Of a shingled roof-drum is it not the ocean then hitting a roof? Powerful waves sure will cover them Clouds darkly grumbling secret thoughts nice image, dark clouds grumble darkly
They are speaking I am not listening, but somewhat watching They are washing the world anew is they a new character? Water is coloring the canvas of earth The dusty soil, the thirsty trees, Cinder blocks and sand Like ink on a parched page Tones darkening, they flow together maybe not an ocean but severely heavy rains
Are the raindrops cold? Tears
The drumbeats crescendo the rooftops? A lightning flash answering Presciently nice word The crack of a thunderous question are the raindrops cold?
Time is passing by. Always
Monitors glow softly, icy blue-white Warmly inviting inviting monitors? Gamer? Cubicles? Lizards? A magic mirror of distraction There is no need to dream To wonder how the wind feels To hear the quietness of an empty house these three lines from there is not need to empty house could stand alone Really hear it. I think i get it
The storm abates unheard The minutes stand unnoticed Distractedly pushed aside As if to be reclaimed Noise chosen to drown the other noise No presence Little peace the storm leads to the quiet
Until
the gently
interrupting
Staccato song of the river-sky ah, ocean sky Persistently calling me, I am listening Now I like this turn Sound not selected noise chosen to drown other noise Simply found I am stepping out the door Smelling wetness and frosted breath blow by
I see the scenery inked over A page, now full An invested moment The gentle patter of the clouds above Secrets I find I understand no longer grumbling but gently pattering those secrets I drop my hood, Toss back my head, and let the raindrops land. Hmm I didn't realize you were outside but it makes sense now. I wasn't expecting these last three lines
Edit 1
A stuttering ocean, Saltless and sunless It is beating on the spired heads Of my fortress’s roof-drum Clouds darkly grumbling secret thoughts
They are speaking I am not listening, but watching They are washing the world anew Water is coloring the canvas of earth The dusty soil, the thirsty trees, Cinder blocks and sand Like ink on a parched page Tones darkening, they flow together
Are the raindrops cold?
The drums are beating louder Calling for a fight A lightning flash answering Presciently The crack of a thunderous question The winds are picking up now
Tiny rivulets, small invaders Slamming sideways, over, through? They always seek unguarded hallways Any point they can march inside Break my castle’s panes of glass To sink beneath my skin And make my colors run This, I am seeing through the cracked window shade
Time is passing by.
My screen glows soft, icy blue-white Warmly inviting A magic mirror of distraction There is no need to dream To feel the wind To hear the quiet Really hear it.
I am a voluntary prisoner Of a lack of presence Contained within my castle's corridors Diverting my attentions From thoughts too numerous, Jostling, elbowing Crowding my fragile skull
The storm is waning Is it inside? My over-full mind is A roaring battalion I am dry I am drowning Am I breathing? Silence, for an eternal Moment…
Until
the gently
interrupting
Staccato song of the river-sky Persistently calling me, I am listening Now Rolling my drawbridge down Zipping my water-proof armor Stepping out from shadowed spires
As I see the scenery inked over A page, now full An invested moment The gentle patter of the clouds above Secrets I find I understand I drop my helm, Toss back my head, and let the raindrops land.
Original
A stuttered, saltless ocean
Beating drums on a rooftop's head
Clouds percuss their with their long-held secret, sacred thoughts
Dreaming aloud,
They wash the world anew
As water colors the canvas of earth
The dusty soil, the thirsty trees,
Cinder blocks and sand
Like ink on a parched page
Tones darken and flow together
Tiny rivulets slyly slink over and through
Seeking always the hidden hallways
Across my fortress walls of glass
To sink beneath my skin
And make my colors run
This, I once thought I knew
Until one day,
While trapped within my castle's corridors
With my thoughts too numerous, jostled and elbowing
For my small and fragile skull
I heard the call of waters falling
I rolled down my drawbridge
I slunk in careful, cold-resistant, water-proofed armor
Until
The gentle
Interrupted
Stacatto song of the river-sky
Beckoned more deeply than I could stand
I threw off my hood,
Tossed back my head,
and let the raindrops land.
I found your poem interesting in that it's about a person indifferent to what surrounds them, until THAT person comes to "light the candle" of they're existence.
Like a cold and grey paysage suddenly colored by a warm presence. You refer to music with "crescendo" and staccato", because relationship are about tensions, just like music. This poem looks from a person who is waiting to find (again) a spark of joy with a beloved, or more a new beloved.
This is just my humble interpretation.
Nietzschean freak
Classical music pianist
Artist painter
