A Dead Man’s Poem
#1
Dead Man’s Poem

Sound’s ephemerality:
sweet graveside singing.
Deceased, stone vitality
reverberates the ringing.
A choir of crying crickets
click in the dark thicket
raining tears of pitches
washing away the grey picture.
Black and white youth:
decomposing sinew.

A silent, grateful ode
lost in the cracking of bones.

Worms churn buttery bodies,
erupting tendrils squirm,
young ones ask, "Where's Wally?"
red and white turned to dirt.
Bodies stay baby-still
to the knelling of the bells,
widows weep, sons still
the unspoken word: a spell:
necromantic static
as deep as a well.

A silent, grateful ode
lost in the cracking of bones.

CRRRRRR-
ackalackadacking
flutey skeleton,
“I never touched a celibate.
Life, I was content with it.”
Xylophone bones,
Jamaican vibes,
“We all go alone,
even Bob Marley died.”
Fiesta la vida!
Un poco loco!
“For you to think,
I would still want to blink…”
Coconut milk dribs,
empty satisfied ribs,
“I speak through the dust,
eternity is death.”
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#2
Overall, this comes across as a list of over-modified - sometimes confusing/sometimes cliche-ish - images, too heavy on the alliteration, which attempts to come to an anti-climatic epiphany. It took a couple of attempts to wade through the lines. It took a bit of effort.

I wish I could be more enthusiastic.
There is no escape from metre; there is only mastery. TS Eliot
Reply
#3
(07-06-2019, 06:16 AM)Seraphim Wrote:  Overall, this comes across as a list of over-modified - sometimes confusing/sometimes cliche-ish - images, too heavy on the alliteration, which attempts to come to an anti-climatic epiphany. It took a couple of attempts to wade through the lines. It took a bit of effort.

I wish I could be more enthusiastic.

It’s good you’re thinking about my poem but by analysing it in such general terms you fail to provide constructive criticism. You say my imagery is confusing when you don't attempt to look at what style it is written in (impressionist), which has a specific way of communicating concepts. I don't see how using the image of 'Where's Wally' to express the decaying of flesh and bone in such a smooth way is cliché. Even if it is cliché you didn't look at what I was trying to do and didn't include a single sentence on how I express my themes.

To better understand my style of writing read 'The Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock' by T.S Eliot.
Reply
#4
(07-06-2019, 10:26 AM)Oden Prufrock Wrote:  
(07-06-2019, 06:16 AM)Seraphim Wrote:  Overall, this comes across as a list of over-modified - sometimes confusing/sometimes cliche-ish - images, too heavy on the alliteration, which attempts to come to an anti-climatic epiphany. It took a couple of attempts to wade through the lines. It took a bit of effort.

I wish I could be more enthusiastic.
It’s good you’re thinking about my poem but by analysing it in such general terms you fail to provide constructive criticism. You say my imagery is confusing when you don't attempt to look at what style it is written in (impressionist), which has a specific way of communicating concepts. I don't see how using the image of 'Where's Wally' to express the decaying of flesh and bone in such a smooth way is cliché. Even if it is cliché you didn't look at what I was trying to do and didn't include a single sentence on how I express my themes.

To better understand my style of writing read 'The Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock' by T.S Eliot.
Please “Do not critique or attack the poet or critic.”  Only the poem is to be critiqued. The critiques of the poem are not to be critiqued. 

Also, please “do not cry or argue if you don’t like the feedback given.”  Especially in the Intensive forum.  If you don’t find the critique helpful, then simply do not use it.

-Quix/mod
The Soufflé isn’t the soufflé; the soufflé is the recipe. --Clara 
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#5
As requested, I’ve reviewed the Eliot poem. My observations to this poem do not apply to his, so I admit to not understanding the comparison. Constructively, I can’t think of anything to offer for improvements to the poem, which would amount to me re-writing it, which wouldn’t be appropriate. All I can do is list what made it difficult for me.
There is no escape from metre; there is only mastery. TS Eliot
Reply
#6
(07-06-2019, 01:49 PM)Quixilated Wrote:  
(07-06-2019, 10:26 AM)Oden Prufrock Wrote:  
(07-06-2019, 06:16 AM)Seraphim Wrote:  Overall, this comes across as a list of over-modified - sometimes confusing/sometimes cliche-ish - images, too heavy on the alliteration, which attempts to come to an anti-climatic epiphany. It took a couple of attempts to wade through the lines. It took a bit of effort.

I wish I could be more enthusiastic.

It’s good you’re thinking about my poem but by analysing it in such general terms you fail to provide constructive criticism. You say my imagery is confusing when you don't attempt to look at what style it is written in (impressionist), which has a specific way of communicating concepts. I don't see how using the image of 'Where's Wally' to express the decaying of flesh and bone in such a smooth way is cliché. Even if it is cliché you didn't look at what I was trying to do and didn't include a single sentence on how I express my themes.

To better understand my style of writing read 'The Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock' by T.S Eliot.

Please “Do not critique or attack the poet or critic.”  Only the poem is to be critiqued. The critiques of the poem are not to be critiqued. 

Also, please “do not cry or argue if you don’t like the feedback given.”  Especially in the Intensive forum.  If you don’t find the critique helpful, then simply do not use it.

-Quix/mod

K I’ll just ignore bad feedback then.
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#7
I like cemeteries. As long as no one I know are buried there.

I frequent them to sketch gorgeous mature trees. and afterwards to wander idly reading headstones.

this poem reminds me of my dappled visits and racing mind let loose to wonder and invent lives.

I find it's pace and form pleasing, though Wally threw me a bit. I smiled a little to think- keep reading headstones

he may well be in here somewhere. Nice read. Good length for its streaming style.

Have a nice weekend. lass
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#8
I don't think the short lines help, they give a sense of pace which is at odds with the setting, cemetaries are not busy places. The way you slip in and out of a rhyme scheme is for me a major problem. Is it rhymed or is it not?

Sound’s ephemerality:
Good opening line.

sweet graveside singing.
'Sweet' is a very weak word, almost as bad as nice.

Deceased, stone vitality
'Deceased' is stating the obvious 'stone vitality' is meaningless to me.

reverberates the ringing.
There is no reverbartion at a graveside, it simply does not happen, you would have to be in a crypt.

A choir of crying crickets
click in the dark thicket
This is silly, crickets don't cry, nor do crickets suggest a choir at a funeral.
The rhyme is almost comical and 'dark' is again a weak word, all thickets are dark.

raining tears of pitches
'raining tears' is cliche, pitches seems rhyme driven.

washing away the grey picture.
Not a bad line, the suggestion this is a photo.

Black and white youth:
decomposing sinew.
Seems to contradict the idea of 'grey'
It is too condensed, we have no context for the decomposing sinew, you imply that the the sinew belongs to the youth via the syntax. It is incoherent.

I'll leave it there. I think you have to totally rethink this.
Also nothing wrong with defending your poem, just don't address the critiquer directly as 'you', address the critique as 'the'.

all the best

Ross
Reply
#9
(07-07-2019, 06:41 AM)churinga Wrote:  I don't think the short lines help, they give a sense of pace which is at odds with the setting, cemetaries are not busy places.  The way you slip in and out of a rhyme scheme is for me a major problem.  Is it rhymed or is it not?  

Sound’s ephemerality:
Good opening line.

sweet graveside singing.
'Sweet' is a very weak word, almost as bad as nice.

Deceased, stone vitality
'Deceased' is stating the obvious 'stone vitality' is meaningless to me.

reverberates the ringing.
There is no reverbartion at a graveside, it simply does not happen, you would have to be in a crypt.

A choir of crying crickets
click in the dark thicket
This is silly, crickets don't cry, nor do crickets suggest a choir at a funeral.
The rhyme is almost comical and 'dark' is again a weak word, all thickets are dark.

raining tears of pitches
'raining tears' is cliche, pitches seems rhyme driven.

washing away the grey picture.
Not a bad line, the suggestion this is a photo.

Black and white youth:
decomposing sinew.
Seems to contradict the idea of 'grey'
It is too condensed, we have no context for the decomposing sinew, you imply that the the sinew belongs to the youth via the syntax.   It is incoherent.

I'll leave it there. I think you have to totally rethink this.  
Also nothing wrong with defending your poem, just don't address the critiquer directly as 'you', address the critique as 'the'.  

all the best

Ross

Look, the crickets thing is a personification, of course it’s silly, and choir is just a metaphor. Reverberate is used to connect the living to the dead as a metaphor to express the lifelessness and emptiness of the body. Sweet was used to give it a feminine tone and I haven’t seen it in a poem so it’s not cliché; simple word does not mean simple meaning. The image of raining tears of pitches is meant to embody sadness through their sound as a metaphor. It also gives it a secluded, natural tone. Black and white youth is referring to the past version of the dead person, looking at the cycle of mortality. Decomposing sinew refers to the dead body which was suggested by the grey picture being present, and that it was a funeral. Stone vitality is a juxtaposition and plays on the metaphor of reverberation.
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#10
(07-07-2019, 02:38 PM)Oden Prufrock Wrote:  
(07-07-2019, 06:41 AM)churinga Wrote:  I don't think the short lines help, they give a sense of pace which is at odds with the setting, cemetaries are not busy places.  The way you slip in and out of a rhyme scheme is for me a major problem.  Is it rhymed or is it not?  

Sound’s ephemerality:
Good opening line.

sweet graveside singing.
'Sweet' is a very weak word, almost as bad as nice.

Deceased, stone vitality
'Deceased' is stating the obvious 'stone vitality' is meaningless to me.

reverberates the ringing.
There is no reverbartion at a graveside, it simply does not happen, you would have to be in a crypt.

A choir of crying crickets
click in the dark thicket
This is silly, crickets don't cry, nor do crickets suggest a choir at a funeral.
The rhyme is almost comical and 'dark' is again a weak word, all thickets are dark.

raining tears of pitches
'raining tears' is cliche, pitches seems rhyme driven.

washing away the grey picture.
Not a bad line, the suggestion this is a photo.

Black and white youth:
decomposing sinew.
Seems to contradict the idea of 'grey'
It is too condensed, we have no context for the decomposing sinew, you imply that the the sinew belongs to the youth via the syntax.   It is incoherent.

I'll leave it there. I think you have to totally rethink this.  
Also nothing wrong with defending your poem, just don't address the critiquer directly as 'you', address the critique as 'the'.  

all the best

Ross

Look, the crickets thing is a personification, of course it’s silly, and choir is just a metaphor. Reverberate is used to connect the living to the dead as a metaphor to express the lifelessness and emptiness of the body. Sweet was used to give it a feminine tone and I haven’t seen it in a poem so it’s not cliché; simple word does not mean simple meaning. The image of raining tears of pitches is meant to embody sadness through their sound as a metaphor. It also gives it a secluded, natural tone. Black and white youth is referring to the past version of the dead person, looking at the cycle of mortality. Decomposing sinew refers to the dead body which was suggested by the grey picture being present, and that it was a funeral. Stone vitality is a juxtaposition and plays on the metaphor of reverberation.
Reply
#11
(07-05-2019, 04:34 PM)Oden Prufrock Wrote:  Dead Man’s Poem

Sound’s ephemerality:
sweet graveside singing.
Deceased, stone vitality
reverberates the ringing.
A choir of crying crickets
click in the dark thicket
raining tears of pitches
washing away the grey picture.
Black and white youth:
decomposing sinew.

A silent, grateful ode
lost in the cracking of bones.

Worms churn buttery bodies,
erupting tendrils squirm,
young ones ask, "Where's Wally?"
red and white turned to dirt.
Bodies stay baby-still
to the knelling of the bells,
widows weep, sons still
the unspoken word: a spell:
necromantic static
as deep as a well.

A silent, grateful ode
lost in the cracking of bones.

CRRRRRR-
ackalackadacking
flutey skeleton,
“I never touched a celibate.
Life, I was content with it.”
Xylophone bones,
Jamaican vibes,
“We all go alone,
even Bob Marley died.”
Fiesta la vida!
Un poco loco!
“For you to think,
I would still want to blink…”
Coconut milk dribs,
empty satisfied ribs,
“I speak through the dust,
eternity is death.”

As a parody of what a poem is supposed to be, it is too long. So it’s just a bad poem, like a middle schooler’s concept of what a meaningful poem ought to be. 

“Young ones ask “where’s Wally”
is no more meaningful in context than
“young ones sit astride the polka horse”

There isn’t a single image that stands out. Actually, there are no images.

There’s nothing here to critique, but in borrowing from an earlier crit about a similar sort of poem a few years ago, the author might want to develop a single image and work on that.
Reply
#12
0
(07-07-2019, 04:24 PM)busker Wrote:  
(07-05-2019, 04:34 PM)Oden Prufrock Wrote:  Dead Man’s Poem

Sound’s ephemerality:
sweet graveside singing.
Deceased, stone vitality
reverberates the ringing.
A choir of crying crickets
click in the dark thicket
raining tears of pitches
washing away the grey picture.
Black and white youth:
decomposing sinew.

A silent, grateful ode
lost in the cracking of bones.

Worms churn buttery bodies,
erupting tendrils squirm,
young ones ask, "Where's Wally?"
red and white turned to dirt.
Bodies stay baby-still
to the knelling of the bells,
widows weep, sons still
the unspoken word: a spell:
necromantic static
as deep as a well.

A silent, grateful ode
lost in the cracking of bones.

CRRRRRR-
ackalackadacking
flutey skeleton,
“I never touched a celibate.
Life, I was content with it.”
Xylophone bones,
Jamaican vibes,
“We all go alone,
even Bob Marley died.”
Fiesta la vida!
Un poco loco!
“For you to think,
I would still want to blink…”
Coconut milk dribs,
empty satisfied ribs,
“I speak through the dust,
eternity is death.”

As a parody of what a poem is supposed to be, it is too long. So it’s just a bad poem, like a middle schooler’s concept of what a meaningful poem ought to be. 

“Young ones ask “where’s Wally”
is no more meaningful in context than
“young ones sit astride the polka horse”

There isn’t a single image that stands out. Actually, there are no images.

There’s nothing here to critique, but in borrowing from an earlier crit about a similar sort of poem a few years ago, the author might want to develop a single image and work on that.

No.

“Not a single image”
- “Deceased, stone vitality”
- “Erupting tendrils squirm”
- “Widows weep, sons still”
- “Xylophone bones”

Critique is not meant to be one-sided and there are clearly positive aspects in the poem. The sort of people who can’t understand literary technique and draw abstract concepts from language don’t belong here, they belong in middle school.
Reply
#13
the problem i have with the poem is the way it feels disjointed. for me it wanders too much and because of this, i'm struggling to critique as one piec, all i can do is pick a couple of line here and a couple of lines there throughout the piece. i wish i could contiue but i'm struggling because i don't have the critiquing skills to give an honest response.

(07-05-2019, 04:34 PM)Oden Prufrock Wrote:  Dead Man’s Poem

Sound’s ephemerality:personally i'd put this above a line spacing, ephe
sweet graveside singing. i like this as an opening line, we now know it's about a dead man but i would alter the title so this good line is redundant.
Deceased, stone vitality
reverberates the ringing. this line after deceased loses me.
A choir of crying crickets
click in the dark thicket nice couplet
raining tears of pitches
washing away the grey picture. what grey picture, i haven't seen anything pertaining to the grey picture.
Black and white youth:
decomposing sinew.

A silent, grateful ode
lost in the cracking of bones.

Worms churn buttery bodies,
erupting tendrils squirm,
young ones ask, "Where's Wally?"
red and white turned to dirt.
Bodies stay baby-still
to the knelling of the bells,
widows weep, sons still
the unspoken word: a spell:
necromantic static
as deep as a well.

A silent, grateful ode
lost in the cracking of bones.

CRRRRRR-
ackalackadacking
flutey skeleton,
“I never touched a celibate.
Life, I was content with it.”
Xylophone bones,
Jamaican vibes,
“We all go alone,
even Bob Marley died.”
Fiesta la vida!
Un poco loco!
“For you to think,
I would still want to blink…”
Coconut milk dribs,
empty satisfied ribs,
“I speak through the dust,
eternity is death.”
Reply
#14
(07-24-2019, 12:42 PM)billy Wrote:  the problem i have with the poem is the way it feels disjointed. for me it wanders too much and because of this, i'm struggling to critique as one piec, all i can do is pick a couple of line here and a couple of lines there throughout the piece. i wish i could contiue but i'm struggling because i don't have the critiquing skills to give an honest response.

(07-05-2019, 04:34 PM)Oden Prufrock Wrote:  Dead Man’s Poem

Sound’s ephemerality:personally i'd put this above a line spacing, ephe
sweet graveside singing. i like this as an opening line, we now know it's about a dead man but i would alter the title so this good line is redundant.
Deceased, stone vitality
reverberates the ringing. this line after deceased loses me.
A choir of crying crickets
click in the dark thicket nice couplet
raining tears of pitches
washing away the grey picture. what grey picture, i haven't seen anything pertaining to the grey picture.
Black and white youth:
decomposing sinew.

A silent, grateful ode
lost in the cracking of bones.

Worms churn buttery bodies,
erupting tendrils squirm,
young ones ask, "Where's Wally?"
red and white turned to dirt.
Bodies stay baby-still
to the knelling of the bells,
widows weep, sons still
the unspoken word: a spell:
necromantic static
as deep as a well.

A silent, grateful ode
lost in the cracking of bones.

CRRRRRR-
ackalackadacking
flutey skeleton,
“I never touched a celibate.
Life, I was content with it.”
Xylophone bones,
Jamaican vibes,
“We all go alone,
even Bob Marley died.”
Fiesta la vida!
Un poco loco!
“For you to think,
I would still want to blink…”
Coconut milk dribs,
empty satisfied ribs,
“I speak through the dust,
eternity is death.”

The deceased stone vitality reverberating the ringing just emphasised its emptiness (the ringing is the echo from the singing) and is more of a metaphor. The grey picture could be anything, I left that open for interpretation as possibly the scene itself or a funeral picture. I might continue it to give the ending more oomph what do you think?
Reply
#15
(07-24-2019, 08:41 PM)Oden Prufrock Wrote:  
(07-24-2019, 12:42 PM)billy Wrote:  the problem i have with the poem is the way it feels disjointed. for me it wanders too much and because of this, i'm struggling to critique as one piec, all i can do is pick a couple of line here and a couple of lines there throughout the piece. i wish i could contiue but i'm struggling because i don't have the critiquing skills to give an honest response.

[quote="Oden Prufrock" pid='246319' dateline='1562312057']
Dead Man’s Poem

Sound’s ephemerality:personally i'd put this above a line spacing, ephe
sweet graveside singing. i like this as an opening line, we now know it's about a dead man but i would alter the title so this good line is redundant.
Deceased, stone vitality
reverberates the ringing. this line after deceased loses me.
A choir of crying crickets
click in the dark thicket nice couplet
raining tears of pitches
washing away the grey picture. what grey picture, i haven't seen anything pertaining to the grey picture.
Black and white youth:
decomposing sinew.

A silent, grateful ode
lost in the cracking of bones.

Worms churn buttery bodies,
erupting tendrils squirm,
young ones ask, "Where's Wally?"
red and white turned to dirt.
Bodies stay baby-still
to the knelling of the bells,
widows weep, sons still
the unspoken word: a spell:
necromantic static
as deep as a well.

A silent, grateful ode
lost in the cracking of bones.

CRRRRRR-
ackalackadacking
flutey skeleton,
“I never touched a celibate.
Life, I was content with it.”
Xylophone bones,
Jamaican vibes,
“We all go alone,
even Bob Marley died.”
Fiesta la vida!
Un poco loco!
“For you to think,
I would still want to blink…”
Coconut milk dribs,
empty satisfied ribs,
“I speak through the dust,
eternity is death.”

The deceased stone vitality reverberating the ringing just emphasised its emptiness (the ringing is the echo from the singing) and is more of a metaphor. The grey picture could be anything, I left that open for interpretation as possibly the scene itself or a funeral picture. I might continue it to give the ending more oomph what do you think?
[/quot


I am not a very good critic. I do believe that one should give reasons for liking, or disliking something, and have no objection to the writer responding, appropristely. I also believe in candour. 

As far as I can see, in this case, not one suggestion has been half-accepted , and so, I cannot see much point in adding my tuppence ha'penny worth, save to suggest, that ,as in many cases, it may be that it would benefit from being shortened by half, while at the same time, making it less dense. Poetry need not -should not - be a cross-word, but should shine light on what was obscure, instead of making unclear what was clear. 

The thing should stand on its own merits. The more referential it is, the less likely it is to hook its readers. It is vain to complain that the reader does not understand some literary technique, especially if that depends on their having read some particular thing, such as Prufrock, as well-known as it might be to those of an older generation.  Can I expect readers to get little hints at Catullus or Maro or Horace, or Ovid? Aelfric, Verlaine, Barthes, Aragon? Lope de Vega? Calderon and Schiller? 'Banjp' Paterson?   

One, perhaps more helpful, thing: I frequently feel, because it is such easy trap to fall into, that really, there are the makings of what ought to be two good poems, but they have been rammed into one, simply because, after beginning, some rather wizard line or idea floats into the mind, and it seems irresistible to insert it.  So, even if this is left, perhaps the writer will sometime mine it for another one - but not with 'blink/think' forced rhymes. 

It is not Baudelaire, but there is the occasional beginning of an attractive mood, cut short by what seems to me, perhaps unfairly, a desire for more density, even at the expense of clarity. Yes, I am sure unfair!


In the workshops, the focus needs to be 100% about the poem.  Only the poem is up for review.  The author’s actions, attitudes, etc are not up for review.  All comments of a personal nature or advice would  be more appropriately communicated via pm or in a discussion or arse thread.   Thank you, Quix Thumbsup
Reply
#16
(07-24-2019, 05:37 AM)Oden Prufrock Wrote:  0
(07-07-2019, 04:24 PM)busker Wrote:  
(07-05-2019, 04:34 PM)Oden Prufrock Wrote:  Dead Man’s Poem

Sound’s ephemerality:
sweet graveside singing.
Deceased, stone vitality
reverberates the ringing.
A choir of crying crickets
click in the dark thicket
raining tears of pitches
washing away the grey picture.
Black and white youth:
decomposing sinew.

A silent, grateful ode
lost in the cracking of bones.

Worms churn buttery bodies,
erupting tendrils squirm,
young ones ask, "Where's Wally?"
red and white turned to dirt.
Bodies stay baby-still
to the knelling of the bells,
widows weep, sons still
the unspoken word: a spell:
necromantic static
as deep as a well.

A silent, grateful ode
lost in the cracking of bones.

CRRRRRR-
ackalackadacking
flutey skeleton,
“I never touched a celibate.
Life, I was content with it.”
Xylophone bones,
Jamaican vibes,
“We all go alone,
even Bob Marley died.”
Fiesta la vida!
Un poco loco!
“For you to think,
I would still want to blink…”
Coconut milk dribs,
empty satisfied ribs,
“I speak through the dust,
eternity is death.”

As a parody of what a poem is supposed to be, it is too long. So it’s just a bad poem, like a middle schooler’s concept of what a meaningful poem ought to be. 

“Young ones ask “where’s Wally”
is no more meaningful in context than
“young ones sit astride the polka horse”

There isn’t a single image that stands out. Actually, there are no images.

There’s nothing here to critique, but in borrowing from an earlier crit about a similar sort of poem a few years ago, the author might want to develop a single image and work on that.

No.

“Not a single image”
- “Deceased, stone vitality”
- “Erupting tendrils squirm”
- “Widows weep, sons still”
- “Xylophone bones”

Critique is not meant to be one-sided and there are clearly positive aspects in the poem. The sort of people who can’t understand literary technique and draw abstract concepts from language don’t belong here, they belong in middle school.

I’m sorry your feelings are hurt by honest feedback, but the objective truth is that this poem does not demonstrate any level of skill. Anyone can write material like this.
“Xylophone bones” is an example of a rubbish metaphor. “Piano teeth”, “tanpura nose”. See? How profound. The standard is actually higher in middle school.
Reply
#17
P
(08-11-2019, 04:24 PM)busker Wrote:  
(07-24-2019, 05:37 AM)Oden Prufrock Wrote:  0
(07-07-2019, 04:24 PM)busker Wrote:  As a parody of what a poem is supposed to be, it is too long. So it’s just a bad poem, like a middle schooler’s concept of what a meaningful poem ought to be. 

“Young ones ask “where’s Wally”
is no more meaningful in context than
“young ones sit astride the polka horse”

There isn’t a single image that stands out. Actually, there are no images.

There’s nothing here to critique, but in borrowing from an earlier crit about a similar sort of poem a few years ago, the author might want to develop a single image and work on that.

No.

“Not a single image”
- “Deceased, stone vitality”
- “Erupting tendrils squirm”
- “Widows weep, sons still”
- “Xylophone bones”

Critique is not meant to be one-sided and there are clearly positive aspects in the poem. The sort of people who can’t understand literary technique and draw abstract concepts from language don’t belong here, they belong in middle school.

I’m sorry your feelings are hurt by honest feedback, but the objective truth is that this poem does not demonstrate any level of skill. Anyone can write material like this.
“Xylophone bones” is an example of a rubbish metaphor. “Piano teeth”, “tanpura nose”. See? How profound. The standard is actually higher in middle school.

Doesn’t hurt my feelings, your feedback is whatever you want it to be.
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