Poetry Forum

I'm learning to lean on the welfare estate:
my buddies have crutches, we congregate
to spray on authentic public space.
The sweepers arrive before sleepers awake
to scrape off another layer of paint
from every conceptual surface.
Bookcases are loaned out to the homeless,
self portraits renovated as sofas;
heaven's drifting in and out of my focus;
we're squinting where the roof was at the cosmos,
and I'm almost up to my ankles in twilight -
somebody's sleeping on my DIY manual.

Friends and family fail to notice
how our houses have grown so much fatter
and yet diminished in stature and value.

First impression: this sticks out as being too literal. The words "hamfisted delivery in an otherwise much more artfully delivered composition" come to mind. But I won't use them for fear of being thought haughty and insulting. And I'm trying hard to avoid that perception in this particular instance. Also, I'm pretty sure I've used that phrase more than once before.

But yeah, it just seems too bluntly stated and less poetic than the other lines.

Constructively,

Me

You're right, mate, those 3 , well 2 lines, are hamfisted. The last 2 lines ain't up to much either. The rest I quite like, though. Thanks for your thoughts. Appreciated.

Hm, I actually thought this was very good. I like the careless rhyme which does hold the poem together. Just some minor nits from me -

I'm learning to lean on the welfare estate:
my buddies have crutches, we congregate
AND spray on authentic public spaceS.
The sweepers arrive before sleepers awake
to scrape off another layer of paint
from every conceptual surface.
Friends and family fail to notice
how our houses have grown so much fatter
and yet diminished in stature and value.
Bookcases and pictures are shifting their focus,
squint(ing) where the roof (was at) aligned with the cosmos,
I'm almost up to my ankles in twilight - love this line
(and) these fingers fumble with wall switches -
AND still (I) can't decipher this DIY manual.

Hi, Ray

These lines are great:

The sweepers arrive before sleepers awake

I'm almost up to my ankles in twilight

but tbh I haven't a clue what is going on. Adoption, going round in circles, filling in forms?

Geoff

What's it about? Oh dear. Well, I tried to imagine Top Cat and the gang as rather cerebral conceptual graffiti artists. I expect that what I see in my head is not quite making it to the page.Thanks for the suggestions, Clarabow. I like the aligned with the cosmos thing.I think I must be rid of lines 7-9 but can't stop now, here comes Officer Dibble.

Ray

I wonder if the reason you are unhappy with the “Friends and family” section is because it comes at a change point in the poem? From a performance point of view, at least, there appear to be rhythmic stressed endings for all lines previous to this point. So there’s a change of pacing in the next lines, as well as subject.


I love the surreal nature of

I'm almost up to my ankles in twilight

but feel that the poem fizzles out, rather than ending with a bang (as an incompetent DIYer might).

og

Hello Ray

I was with you until Bookcases.

But wasn't that where all the lines previous were shot down as being too literal?

I'm still with you until Bookcases....



J.

Hello Ray,

I like the first few lines of this one but I'm getting lost at 'bookcases' too. It's like a poem of two halves and I'm having trouble fitting them together.

'almost up to my ankles in twilight' is an absolutely fantastic line though.

Cheers,
Nash.

just a thought on the title - adapt or die ?

when it come to to crit somebody's work im a bit of a bush pilot flying through pot holes and air borne culverts

when i do crit work i do mean what i say if people think that person is in a fragile state where he or she will jump from a 10 story of bad manners
so be it, they are better dead,

the rush to modernise can baffle the person left behind, as could happen to ray miller;

i do not see why i get shut down when i crit;

by taking me off ray did not see who face was on the hand grenade or who through it;

i believe you cannot watch a great poet such as ray slowly drown under a sunny Mediterranean sky;

if that light dose not shine on him at the present moment, you bitch slap them to bring them back in to the light of reality,

a man is a man on matter how tortuous it can get;

you people observe my susage making to closely;

Gavin. There is much that baffles Ray Miller, pretty much everything you utter is just one of many.He fails to see how or why crits that you post about his poems might be removed by anyone other than yourself. He isn't contemplating suicide, he knows very well that he isn't a great poet and he definitely isn't under a mediterranean sky, drowning or otherwise.He would think more than twice if he felt a crit of his might prompt someone to jump off a 10 storey building. But then he knew little about self-righteousness until he began frequenting online poetry forums.

I'm not sure that losing lines 7-9 has helped that much. It still feels like a poem of two halves with little bridging between them. The two halves both work well individually but I can't seem to make them work together.

Steve

Thanks to those who've commented. Yes, I'm afraid it's still a poem of two halves. This DIY is a bugger.