final

Disposable

Excessive bills conveniently tossed
and winning Lotto tickets rashly lost
will amass with the news of heinous crimes
as our conscience blurs beneath garbage grime.

Pitched teary letters that were coffee stained;
their ink has run, but the harsh words remain.
Those trashed phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot;
her mislaid thong, the sole Forget-Me-Not.

Moths wrecked the bedspread that mom crocheted
for a wedding night that never took place;
dispatched like the milk carton’s missing child:
dead or held captive by a pedophile.

Disposed bandages of our unhealed wounds
transiently mask our life’s scarred festoon.
Pain is best thrown out than its story told
if hope can recycle while the ache’s withheld.


----------------------------------------------
Todd/ellz/Chaz/Keith/trueE edit 5

Disposable

Excessive bills conveniently tossed
and winning Lotto tickets rashly lost
will amass with the news of heinous crimes
as our conscience blurs beneath garbage grime.

Pitched teary letters that were coffee stained;
their ink has run, but the harsh words remain.
Those trashed phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot;
her mislaid thong, the sole Forget-Me-Not.

Moths wrecked the bedspread that mom crocheted
for a wedding night that never took place;
dispatched like the milk carton’s missing child:
dead or help captive by a pedophile.

Disposed bandages of our unhealed wounds
transiently mask our life’s scarred festoon.
Pain is best thrown out than its story told
if hope can recycle while the ache’s withheld.


-------------------------------------
Todd/ellz/Chaz/Keith/trueE edit 4

without the last two lines?

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost,

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath garbage grime.

Where’s the empty milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Misplaced phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot;
their mislaid thongs serve as Forget-Me-Nots.

Old tear-marked letters become coffee stained;
the ink may have run, but harsh words remain.

The moth-ruined linens that mom crocheted
for festive tables were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

-or-


Todd/ellz/Chaz/Keith/trueE edit 3

with the last two lines?

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost,

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath garbage grime.

Where’s the empty milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Misplaced phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot;
their mislaid thongs serve as Forget-Me-Nots.

Old tear-marked letters become coffee stained;
the ink may have run, but harsh words remain.

The moth-ruined linens that mom crocheted
for festive tables were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

Some things best thrown out than their story told.
Hope recycles when the hard truth's withheld.

----------------------------------------
Todd/ellz edit 2

better with last two lines cut?

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs as sole Forget-Me-Nots

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained
as the ink has run, but harsh words remain.

Moths ruined the linens that mom crocheted
for festive spreads that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

-or-

Keep last two lines

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs as sole Forget-Me-Nots.

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained
as the ink has run, but harsh words remain.

Moths ruined the linens that mom crocheted
for festive spreads that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

Some things best thrown out than their story told.
Hope can recycle when the truth's withheld.

-----------------------------------------------

original

in couplets

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs as sole Forget-Me-Nots.

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained
as the ink has run, but harsh words remain.

Moths ruined the linens that mom crocheted
for festive spreads that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

Some things best thrown out than their story told.
Hope can recycle when the truth's withheld.

-or-

in quatrains

Disposable

Bills that come due
are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets
carelessly lost

and the crumpled news
of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred
beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed
milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive
by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers
are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs
as sole Forget-Me-Nots.

Old tear-marked letters
are now coffee stained
as the ink has run,
but harsh words remain.

Moths ruined the linens
that mom crocheted
for festive spreads
that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages
of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders
in scarred festoon.

Some things best thrown
out than their story told.
Hope can recycle
when the truth's withheld.

I think the couplets. I'll try to get back to this later.

Alright Todd Thanks. I thought the same. I first wrote the quatrains to allow me to play with the line breaks a bit more, but then restructured it into couplets and found that it flowed better for me.

I really liked this piece. The short couplet stanzas create a sense of brevity and matter-of-factness, which I think complements the content of the poem. The images presented in each stanza are painful to the point where even the author can only bear to spend a few words on them!
The poem has a nice meter to it, though I would like the very last stanza to have more impact. I didn't really understand what you were trying to say, and you might consider breaking the rhythm all together because it could help set those two very important lines apart from the rest of the work. Thematically, this poem reveals a dark truth about human nature which is little discussed. I appreciated the bluntness and lyrical harmony of this poem.

(11-27-2013, 12:41 AM)ellz483 Wrote:  I really liked this piece. The short couplet stanzas create a sense of brevity and matter-of-factness, which I think complements the content of the poem. The images presented in each stanza are painful to the point where even the author can only bear to spend a few words on them!
The poem has a nice meter to it, though I would like the very last stanza to have more impact. I didn't really understand what you were trying to say, and you might consider breaking the rhythm all together because it could help set those two very important lines apart from the rest of the work. Thematically, this poem reveals a dark truth about human nature which is little discussed. I appreciated the bluntness and lyrical harmony of this poem.

Thank you very much for taking the time to read the poem and sharing your impressions of the piece ellz. I am glad you were moved and enjoyed the style.

The closing stanza takes a bit of thinking to gather meaning, but I believe it maybe worth the effort. The first line: 'Things are best thrown out than their story told' implies that we (or this narrator) would rather throw out certain things than be reminded of them. The second line: 'hope can recycle within truth’s withhold' suggests that we can maintain hope for the human race if we are not constantly reminded of the bad things or ignore them. I like the irony and paradox that throwing out something is still a form of recycling, which is a contradiction for garbage recycling. If we embrace misery (keep recycling it) than hopelessness will flourish. However, if we realize that there is misery, but then toss it out with the trash and forget about it, there is a chance for hope to be recycled within us, where there was once a sense of hopelessness.

I do realize that 'truth's withhold' implies lying to ourselves, but if it works why not? For the narrator within the poem it is survival. Nonetheless, I like the idea of trying to work on an alternate close that does not suggest that we must lie to ourselves to have hope. Perhaps I will try for a version more cheery version as well. Thanks again, Cheers!/Chris

Todd/ellz edit 2 : This edit cuts the last two lines. It could be better this way. Let me know!

(11-29-2013, 01:29 AM)ChristopherSea Wrote:  Todd/ellz edit 2 : This edit cuts the last two lines. It could be better this way. Let me know!

Hey Chris,
Here's my two cents.
I think you need the last two lines or else to me it just seems like a series of couplets. Maybe you can rework the last two lines a bit to give it a clean, clear-cut finish. Also,


Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost (like yesterdays? or something to that effect.)

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed milk carton's missing child: (I feel like crushed breaks your rhythm perhaps another word or just an omission. I think it would work fine without it but your a better judge than I)
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs as sole Forget-Me-Nots. (again sole sticks out for me, maybe for Forget-Me-Nots)

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained
as the ink has run, but harsh words remain. (the ink may fade or the ink can run or whatever you believe is necessary it's your poem these are only suggestions)

Moths ruined the linens that mom crocheted (The moth ruined linens that mom crocheted)
for festive spreads that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds (coming out of your second couplet you used and the I liked that because it flowed nicely and i think something like that would work well here.)
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.


Hope this was more help than hinderance,
Chazz

For me, I like it without the final lines. There were certain words that felt off to me, I'll let you decide if any of this kills the meter. Comments below:

(11-26-2013, 12:33 AM)ChristopherSea Wrote:  Disposable

[size=small]Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost--These two lines give a sense of denial and desperation. You get the feeling the person living through this is or at least sees themselves as disposable.

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath oven grime.--I'm not making the connection with oven grime and crumpled newspapers.

Where is that crushed milk carton's missing child:--good couplet, seems like it would work better without crushed though
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs as sole Forget-Me-Nots.--I realize this may require some adjustment but it may better without sole

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained
as the ink has run, but harsh words remain.--maybe cut as and add a the before harsh.

Moths ruined the linens that mom crocheted
for festive spreads that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

Just some thoughts to consider, Chris. I like the ideas here.

Best,

Todd

(11-29-2013, 02:56 AM)Charlesjoseph Wrote:  

(11-29-2013, 01:29 AM)ChristopherSea Wrote:  Todd/ellz edit 2 : This edit cuts the last two lines. It could be better this way. Let me know!

Hey Chris,
Here's my two cents.
I think you need the last two lines or else to me it just seems like a series of couplets. Maybe you can rework the last two lines a bit to give it a clean, clear-cut finish. Also,


Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost (like yesterdays? or something to that effect.)

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed milk carton's missing child: (I feel like crushed breaks your rhythm perhaps another word or just an omission. I think it would work fine without it but your a better judge than I)
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs as sole Forget-Me-Nots. (again sole sticks out for me, maybe for Forget-Me-Nots)

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained
as the ink has run, but harsh words remain. (the ink may fade or the ink can run or whatever you believe is necessary it's your poem these are only suggestions)

Moths ruined the linens that mom crocheted (The moth ruined linens that mom crocheted)
for festive spreads that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds (coming out of your second couplet you used and the I liked that because it flowed nicely and i think something like that would work well here.)
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.


Hope this was more help than hinderance,
Chazz

Chazz, all reads and associated coments help! You have made some good points and recomendations that I shall consider./Chris

---

(11-29-2013, 03:19 AM)Todd Wrote:  For me, I like it without the final lines. There were certain words that felt off to me, I'll let you decide if any of this kills the meter. Comments below:

(11-26-2013, 12:33 AM)ChristopherSea Wrote:  Disposable

[size=small]Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost--These two lines give a sense of denial and desperation. You get the feeling the person living through this is or at least sees themselves as disposable.

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath oven grime.--I'm not making the connection with oven grime and crumpled newspapers.

Where is that crushed milk carton's missing child:--good couplet, seems like it would work better without crushed though
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs as sole Forget-Me-Nots.--I realize this may require some adjustment but it may better without sole

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained
as the ink has run, but harsh words remain.--maybe cut as and add a the before harsh.

Moths ruined the linens that mom crocheted
for festive spreads that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

Just some thoughts to consider, Chris. I like the ideas here.

Best,

Todd

Todd, some good stuff to reconsider. As for the crime articles getting covered by oven grime, it comes from using newpaper to clean the oven, as well as lining the bottom to soak up those caustic lye cleaners. Let me know if there is a better way to convey it!

(11-26-2013, 12:33 AM)ChristopherSea Wrote:  Hi Chris
I enjoyed reading your poem, I don't have much to offer by way of critique but I have made some minor comments that I hope will help. Best Keith


Todd/ellz edit 2

better with last two lines cut?

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed milk carton's missing child: I stumbled on this line could drop missing as we know because of the milk carton and crushed links with the next line.
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs as sole Forget-Me-Nots. Sole sounds a bit out of place as thongs is plural but it could be the flowers I'm not sure

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained
as the ink has run, but harsh words remain.

Moths ruined the linens that mom crocheted do you crochet linen ?
for festive spreads that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

-or-

Keep last two lines

I like the idea of closing on a recycling line as it fits nicely with the rest but the lines you have will need some work. Best Keith

(11-29-2013, 10:06 AM)Keith Wrote:  

(11-26-2013, 12:33 AM)ChristopherSea Wrote:  Hi Chris
I enjoyed reading your poem, I don't have much to offer by way of critique but I have made some minor comments that I hope will help. Best Keith


Todd/ellz edit 2

better with last two lines cut?

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed milk carton's missing child: I stumbled on this line could drop missing as we know because of the milk carton and crushed links with the next line.
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs as sole Forget-Me-Nots. Sole sounds a bit out of place as thongs is plural but it could be the flowers I'm not sure

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained
as the ink has run, but harsh words remain.

Moths ruined the linens that mom crocheted do you crochet linen ?
for festive spreads that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

-or-

Keep last two lines

I like the idea of closing on a recycling line as it fits nicely with the rest but the lines you have will need some work. Best Keith

Keith, Several of those edits are inline with others, so I will be considering them. Yes, you crochet with linnen thread. My grandmother and mom used them almost exclusively. I will find the original poem with those last two lines and repost them. Don't worry about the accicdental delete. Thanks!/Chris

(11-29-2013, 11:38 PM)ChristopherSea Wrote:  

(11-29-2013, 10:06 AM)Keith Wrote:  

(11-26-2013, 12:33 AM)ChristopherSea Wrote:  Hi Chris
I enjoyed reading your poem, I don't have much to offer by way of critique but I have made some minor comments that I hope will help. Best Keith


Todd/ellz edit 2

better with last two lines cut?

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed milk carton's missing child: I stumbled on this line could drop missing as we know because of the milk carton and crushed links with the next line.
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs as sole Forget-Me-Nots. Sole sounds a bit out of place as thongs is plural but it could be the flowers I'm not sure

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained
as the ink has run, but harsh words remain.

Moths ruined the linens that mom crocheted do you crochet linen ?
for festive spreads that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

-or-

Keep last two lines

I like the idea of closing on a recycling line as it fits nicely with the rest but the lines you have will need some work. Best Keith

Keith, Several of those edits are inline with others, so I will be considering them. Yes, you crochet with linnen thread. My grandmother and mom used them almost exclusively. I will find the original poem with those last two lines and repost them. Don't worry about the accicdental delete. Thanks!/Chris

Thanks Chris sorry for any hasle. Keith

(11-30-2013, 02:56 AM)Keith Wrote:  

(11-29-2013, 11:38 PM)ChristopherSea Wrote:  [quote='Keith' pid='148508' dateline='1385687211']

Keith, Several of those edits are inline with others, so I will be considering them. Yes, you crochet with linen thread. My grandmother and mom used them almost exclusively. I will find the original poem with those last two lines and repost them. Don't worry about the accidental delete. Thanks!/Chris

Thanks Chris sorry for any hasle. Keith

---

No hassle at all Keith! Thanks for spending time on it. Everything has been restored. I just need to work on the next edit!

Newly edited with and without the 'recycle' couplet. Much obliged for everyone's help and opinions!

(11-26-2013, 12:33 AM)ChristopherSea Wrote:  Todd/ellz/Chaz/Keith edit 4

without the last two lines?

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath garbage grime.

Where’s the empty milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Misplaced phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot;
their mislaid thongs serve as Forget-Me-Nots.

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained;
the ink may have run, but harsh words remain.

The moth-ruined linens that mom crocheted
for festive tables were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

-or-


Todd/ellz/Chaz/Keith edit 3

with the last two lines?

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath garbage grime.

Where’s the empty milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Misplaced phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot;
their mislaid thongs serve as Forget-Me-Nots.

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained;
the ink may have run, but harsh words remain.

The moth-ruined linens that mom crocheted
for festive tables were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

Some things best thrown out than their story told.
Hope recycles when the hard truth's withheld.

----------------------------------------
Todd/ellz edit 2

better with last two lines cut?

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs as sole Forget-Me-Nots

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained
as the ink has run, but harsh words remain.

Moths ruined the linens that mom crocheted
for festive spreads that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

-or-

Keep last two lines

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs as sole Forget-Me-Nots.

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained
as the ink has run, but harsh words remain.

Moths ruined the linens that mom crocheted
for festive spreads that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

Some things best thrown out than their story told.
Hope can recycle when the truth's withheld.

-----------------------------------------------

original

in couplets

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs as sole Forget-Me-Nots.

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained
as the ink has run, but harsh words remain.

Moths ruined the linens that mom crocheted
for festive spreads that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

Some things best thrown out than their story told.
Hope can recycle when the truth's withheld.

-or-

in quatrains

Disposable

Bills that come due
are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets
carelessly lost

and the crumpled news
of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred
beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed
milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive
by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers
are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs
as sole Forget-Me-Nots.

Old tear-marked letters
are now coffee stained
as the ink has run,
but harsh words remain.

Moths ruined the linens
that mom crocheted
for festive spreads
that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages
of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders
in scarred festoon.

Some things best thrown
out than their story told.
Hope can recycle
when the truth's withheld.

I dunno about this one chris. You need a comma at the end of the first couplet. You don't need "now" in L9. For the most part it just reads like a list of disposable items that have a sonic relationship to one another, along with a peppering of things that shouldn't be viewed as disposable. A bit of social commentary perhaps, but is there a poem in there somewhere?

(11-30-2013, 04:21 PM)trueenigma Wrote:  

(11-26-2013, 12:33 AM)ChristopherSea Wrote:  Todd/ellz/Chaz/Keith/trueE edit 4

without the last two lines?

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost,

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath garbage grime.

Where’s the empty milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Misplaced phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot;
their mislaid thongs serve as Forget-Me-Nots.

Old tear-marked letters become coffee stained;
the ink may have run, but harsh words remain.

The moth-ruined linens that mom crocheted
for festive tables were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

-or-


Todd/ellz/Chaz/Keith edit 3

with the last two lines?

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost,

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath garbage grime.

Where’s the empty milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Misplaced phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot;
their mislaid thongs serve as Forget-Me-Nots.

Old tear-marked letters become coffee stained;
the ink may have run, but harsh words remain.

The moth-ruined linens that mom crocheted
for festive tables were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

Some things best thrown out than their story told.
Hope recycles when the hard truth's withheld.

----------------------------------------
Todd/ellz edit 2

better with last two lines cut?

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs as sole Forget-Me-Nots

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained
as the ink has run, but harsh words remain.

Moths ruined the linens that mom crocheted
for festive spreads that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

-or-

Keep last two lines

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs as sole Forget-Me-Nots.

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained
as the ink has run, but harsh words remain.

Moths ruined the linens that mom crocheted
for festive spreads that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

Some things best thrown out than their story told.
Hope can recycle when the truth's withheld.

-----------------------------------------------

original

in couplets

Disposable

Bills that come due are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets carelessly lost

and the crumpled news of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs as sole Forget-Me-Nots.

Old tear-marked letters are now coffee stained
as the ink has run, but harsh words remain.

Moths ruined the linens that mom crocheted
for festive spreads that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders in scarred festoon.

Some things best thrown out than their story told.
Hope can recycle when the truth's withheld.

-or-

in quatrains

Disposable

Bills that come due
are conveniently tossed
with the Lotto tickets
carelessly lost

and the crumpled news
of heinous crimes
become conscience-blurred
beneath oven grime.

Where is that crushed
milk carton's missing child:
dead or held captive
by some pedophile?

Missing phone numbers
are the lovelorn's lot,
with mislaid thongs
as sole Forget-Me-Nots.

Old tear-marked letters
are now coffee stained
as the ink has run,
but harsh words remain.

Moths ruined the linens
that mom crocheted
for festive spreads
that were never displayed.

Bloody bandages
of our unhealed wounds
become life's reminders
in scarred festoon.

Some things best thrown
out than their story told.
Hope can recycle
when the truth's withheld.

I dunno about this one chris. You need a comma at the end of the first couplet. You don't need "now" in L9. For the most part it just reads like a list of disposable items that have a sonic relationship to one another, along with a peppering of things that shouldn't be viewed as disposable. A bit of social commentary perhaps, but is there a poem in there somewhere?

Thank you for the read and comments trueE! Those two edits are reasonable ones. You have hit on the implied rhetorical question within the title: Are painful things in our life disposable? Do you think it ends better after scarred festoon or does it need the additional couplet with recycle?

Tbh, I would completely overhaul the whole thing, and inject some verbs. It needs some action.

(12-01-2013, 01:14 AM)trueenigma Wrote:  Tbh, I would completely overhaul the whole thing, and inject some verbs. It needs some action.

What I think I will do is bring that final recycle couplet up as the opening thesis, attempt to put some more action into as you suggest and then put this down for a while!

(12-05-2013, 10:16 PM)Simatong Wrote:  I found the poem a bit hard to follow, though I must say I did like this line:

(11-26-2013, 12:33 AM)ChristopherSea Wrote:  Old tear-marked letters become coffee stained;
the ink may have run, but harsh words remain.

I will edit this further with the intention of tying in the various couplets better. My strategy will be to bring up the 'recycle' couplet of the longer version as my opener. Then try to stitch the lines to one another more cohensively. Thank you for taking the time to read the poem and reply!/Chris

A few more modifications applied to Edit 5 which is now posted. I have taken trueE's recommendation to heart in an attempt to better unify the lines and theme. Thank you very much!/Chris