Edit 1

I sit and pick the label
from a bottle of Newcastle brown,
I’ve got me a corner table
and the forecast is seeing me drown.
Programmed spots
do a lonely robot
an empty floor reveals
What they’ve got

Table tops awash with slops,
I fold and float a rizzla boat
then sail outside for another smoke.
A wasted alchy gets too close,
He thinks I want to pick a fight
He thinks he wants have a fight
But a prison thin roll-up Will make things alright.
Yea a prison thin roll up will make it alright

It's the happy hour, so I smile and knock back
A double Pernod with cider and black,
the red witch turns eyes into slits
but no one around me gives a shit,

So I sit and pick the label
from a bottle of Newcastle brown,
I’ve got me a corner table
and the forecast is seeing me drown.
Yea the forcast is seeing me drown

Programmed spots
do a lonely robot
an empty floor reveals
What they’ve got
Table tops awash with slops,
I fold and float a rizzla boat
then sail outside for another smoke.

It's the happy hour, so I smile and knock back
A double Pernod with cider and black,
the red witch turns eyes into slits
but no one around me gives a shit,



Original
I sit and pick the label from
a bottle of Newcastle brown,
drowning seems to be the forecast.
Bubbles shoot like space invaders,
gathered gas collects in the neck
conspiring to make me cough.
Programmed spots do a lonely robot,
the empty floor reveals their dance,
a change in colour breaks the trance.

Its happy hour, so I smile and knock back,
double Pernod mixed with cider and black,
the red witch trips tongues, turns eyes into slits
but no one around me gives a shit.
My table tops awash with slops,
I fold and float a rizzla boat
then sail outside for another smoke.
A damaged bloke gets his tattoos too close,
my shoulder goes cold but he won't be told,
is it red or blue to diffuse a fight?
a prison thin roll-up
seems to make things alright.

Did you abandon your writing?

(01-17-2014, 10:20 AM)Keith Wrote:  I sit and pick the label from
a bottle of Newcastle brown,
drowning seems to be the forecast. Picking the label, I already feel I've been sitting a while, and drowning as the forecast seems your intention to sit much longer drinking.
Bubbles shoot like space invaders,here do you mean the video game? Maybe there's a better analogy more earthly.
gathered gas collects in the neck
conspiring to make me cough.I don't think gas conspires, but it does add a paranoid aspect to the alcoholism.
Programmed spots do a lonely robot,
the empty floor reveals their dance,
a change in colour breaks the trance.this seels like the lonely robot is not a single dancer, but the disco ball itself which is interesting

Its happy hour, so I smile and knock back,here you make a change to break the trance you've set me up to.
double Pernod mixed with cider and black,
the red witch trips tongues, turns eyes into slits is the red witch the Pernod? I'm unfamiliar
but no one around me gives a shit. The alcohols really coming out uncouth here.
My table tops awash with slops,
I fold and float a rizzla boatand it seems your getting sloppy, are rhythm counts important thorough here? I count a lot of 8s and 10s, but it doesn't seem to make a pattern.
then sail outside for another smoke.
A damaged bloke gets his tattoos too close,
my shoulder goes cold but he won't be told,
is it red or blue to diffuse a fight?I'm really enjoying the imagery but what is red or blue?
a prison thin roll-uptotally lost here
seems to make things alright.over all a weak closing line.  Like a little bit of maybe excitement made the drollery of peeling labels at the bar.

Come back and edit it! Or did you and I looked in the wrong place?

(10-11-2016, 11:40 PM)CRNDLSM Wrote:  Did you abandon your writing?

(01-17-2014, 10:20 AM)Keith Wrote:  I sit and pick the label from
a bottle of Newcastle brown,
drowning seems to be the forecast. Picking the label, I already feel I've been sitting a while, and drowning as the forecast seems your intention to sit much longer drinking.
Bubbles shoot like space invaders,here do you mean the video game? Maybe there's a better analogy more earthly.
gathered gas collects in the neck
conspiring to make me cough.I don't think gas conspires, but it does add a paranoid aspect to the alcoholism.
Programmed spots do a lonely robot,
the empty floor reveals their dance,
a change in colour breaks the trance.this seels like the lonely robot is not a single dancer, but the disco ball itself which is interesting

Its happy hour, so I smile and knock back,here you make a change to break the trance you've set me up to.
double Pernod mixed with cider and black,
the red witch trips tongues, turns eyes into slits is the red witch the Pernod? I'm unfamiliar
but no one around me gives a shit. The alcohols really coming out uncouth here.
My table tops awash with slops,
I fold and float a rizzla boatand it seems your getting sloppy, are rhythm counts important thorough here? I count a lot of 8s and 10s, but it doesn't seem to make a pattern.
then sail outside for another smoke.
A damaged bloke gets his tattoos too close,
my shoulder goes cold but he won't be told,
is it red or blue to diffuse a fight?I'm really enjoying the imagery but what is red or blue?
a prison thin roll-uptotally lost here
seems to make things alright.over all a weak closing line.  Like a little bit of maybe excitement made the drollery of peeling labels at the bar.

Come back and edit it! Or did you and I looked in the wrong place?

Hi CRNDLSM
I didn't abandon this, it just didn't spark any interest. So thank you for the bump, you must be searching out the 0 comments list. There was a lot I wasn't happy with in this poem ie shoulders going cold and space invaders I was also unsure if the spotlights dancing in a programmed formation would work but you seemed ok with the line. Thank you for the comments they help target an edit and I will have a go and see what comes out. I did have another version of this that was even worse, I will say that I wasn't looking for a big finish I wanted to convey a sense of drunken apathy to the nearly fights and talking shite evenings lots of us have had over the years. Red or blue was just about cutting a wire to diffuse the situation that only two really drunk people can get themselves into. Much appreciated, Keith

Hi Keith! I think part of the problem might be that a large portion of the poem is spent describing things that aren't what you define the poem as being 'about' (the squabbles that flare and die down). I think if you start the 'action' sooner in the poem, it will be more engaging. As is, it's a poem where nothing much happens. What's good about the beginning is that it does convey a boredom that often gives way to manufactured excitement, you just have to actually bring the excitement.

(01-17-2014, 10:20 AM)Keith Wrote:  I sit and pick the label from
a bottle of Newcastle brown,
drowning seems to be the forecast.
Bubbles shoot like space invaders,
gathered gas collects in the neck
conspiring to make me cough. -- I think you can cut Bubbles.....cough. Everything else, I like and helps establish the boredom.
Programmed spots do a lonely robot,
the empty floor reveals their dance,
a change in colour breaks the trance.

Its happy hour, so I smile and knock back, -- I do like the idea of smiling because it's happy hour.
double Pernod mixed with cider and black,
the red witch trips tongues, turns eyes into slits
but no one around me gives a shit.
My table tops awash with slops,
I fold and float a rizzla boat
then sail outside for another smoke.
A damaged bloke gets his tattoos too close,
my shoulder goes cold but he won't be told,
is it red or blue to diffuse a fight? -- I like this idea of the different wires, but I don't think that a roll-up is comparable enough to a wire to make it work.
a prison thin roll-up
seems to make things alright. -- Not much in this final stanza holds my attention.

I think that you should give editing a go because you have a good handle on subtle rhyme and assonance, and I think the original idea is good. I'll be interested to see what you do with it.

Cheers,

Luke

(01-17-2014, 10:20 AM)Keith Wrote:  I sit and pick the label from
a bottle of Newcastle brown,
drowning seems to be the forecast. I like the off hand rhyme and conversational tone.
Bubbles shoot like space invaders,
gathered gas collects in the neck "gathered gas collects" is a little wordy. Gathered implies it's collected, and collects implies it's been gathered.
conspiring to make me cough.
Programmed spots do a lonely robot,
the empty floor reveals their dance,
a change in colour breaks the trance. This rhyme seems a little forced.

Its happy hour, so I smile and knock back, I don't think you need this comma at the end of the line - I don't naturally pause here.
double Pernod mixed with cider and black,
the red witch trips tongues, turns eyes into slits
but no one around me gives a shit.
My table tops awash with slops,
I fold and float a rizzla boat I like this line, and the more subtle than zig zag reference.
then sail outside for another smoke.
A damaged bloke gets his tattoos too close,
my shoulder goes cold but he won't be told, this rhyme seems forced to me.
is it red or blue to diffuse a fight?
a prison thin roll-up
seems to make things alright.

I think this type of non-patterned rhyme works best when a rhyme sort of creeps up and surprises you like the brown/drown at the start. It can get a little heavy handed when there's too much of it, and rhymes are made for the sake of a rhyme (to my eyes).

I like a lot of the sounds, and I thought the first stanza was very strong, but I think it loses a little steam in the second stanza.

(10-23-2016, 05:12 AM)Wjames Wrote:  

(01-17-2014, 10:20 AM)Keith Wrote:  I sit and pick the label from
a bottle of Newcastle brown,
drowning seems to be the forecast. I like the off hand rhyme and conversational tone.
Bubbles shoot like space invaders,
gathered gas collects in the neck "gathered gas collects" is a little wordy. Gathered implies it's collected, and collects implies it's been gathered.
conspiring to make me cough.
Programmed spots do a lonely robot,
the empty floor reveals their dance,
a change in colour breaks the trance. This rhyme seems a little forced.

Its happy hour, so I smile and knock back, I don't think you need this comma at the end of the line - I don't naturally pause here.
double Pernod mixed with cider and black,
the red witch trips tongues, turns eyes into slits
but no one around me gives a shit.
My table tops awash with slops,
I fold and float a rizzla boat I like this line, and the more subtle than zig zag reference.
then sail outside for another smoke.
A damaged bloke gets his tattoos too close,
my shoulder goes cold but he won't be told, this rhyme seems forced to me.
is it red or blue to diffuse a fight?
a prison thin roll-up
seems to make things alright.

I think this type of non-patterned rhyme works best when a rhyme sort of creeps up and surprises you like the brown/drown at the start. It can get a little heavy handed when there's too much of it, and rhymes are made for the sake of a rhyme (to my eyes).

I like a lot of the sounds, and I thought the first stanza was very strong, but I think it loses a little steam in the second stanza.

Thanks for the help Wjames I have had a go at the edit based on your comments and the others, best keith

(01-17-2014, 10:20 AM)Keith Wrote:  Edit 1

I sit and pick the label from
a bottle of Newcastle brown,
drowning seems to be the forecast.
Programmed spots do a lonely robot
an empty floor reveals their dance, -- I'm always in awe of your subtle rhyming: from, brown, drowning; forecast/dance; lonely robot/programmed spots....mmmmmmmmmm. Yummy.  

Table tops awash with slops,
I fold and float a rizzla boat
then sail outside for another smoke.
A wasted alchy brings his fumes too close,
thinks I want to pick a fight
a prison thin roll-up
seems to make things alright. -- moving the "fight sequence" up was a good move. I think you've effectively sliced out much of what wasn't working to make room for the new.

It's happy hour, so I smile and knock back
double Pernod mixed with cider and black,
the red witch trips tongues, turns eyes into slits -- I like the description of what the eyes are doing and using that to let us visualize the emotion. However, the red witch is kinda making me trip my tongue. For some reason, I just can't say that bit without stumbling.
but no one around me gives a shit, -- I always love some casual profanity in poems. It feels so natural here and in sync with the environment.
including me. -- So.....it feels like you just stopped. Is this a way of saying you no longer give a shit about the poem?
I jest, but it does feel incomplete. At least give us some kind of satisfying rhyme at the end!  It's kinda like you got drunk and passed out mid sentence. 

Anyway, I think you did a great job with the revision, and I hope this helps some.

Cheers,

lizziep