I'm not sure on this one, but its posted so have fun with it I suppose.

There’s a bluebird inside of me
That warbles when a worm
Is swallowed by my bloating corpse
That aches with every burn

In ink it strikes a double chord
And signs an animal
That’s taken as a captured man
No longer seminal

My smokeless song went riding pale
Unbridled on a swine
I gamboled in a drunken dell
And quaffed with rotten rinds

My curses reeked of father stuff
That seek to strangle signs
Of trilling birds that fly to whirs
Of buzzing power lines

And so I see my brother now
Who rolls across cement
Pretending he’s an invalid
To beg another cent

Embracing with a distant word
I coax a cracking voice
From out a fragile door he begs
and fades as vacant noise.

Away from him I see a duct
A woman charged with life
Unclipped and free the bluebird flies
To feel itself deprived.

Brownlie, It would be best if you end punctuated the poem or only capped the first words of sentences. It would make for an easier read. I do like the use of slant rhymes verses strict ones.

As is, I have failed to grasp your extended metaphor of bluebird trapped in a dying body, as his family flashes before him, his song adrift, a duct (aqueduct/lymph duct/air vent?) ahead, bird morphing to woman, etc.

Comments on a few lines: ‘…a worm tunnels into my bloating…’ may be more correct. I am not certain what ‘aches with every burn’ adds to the first stanza. In the next, ‘signs an animal That’s taken as a captured man’ sounds a bit twisted in syntax.

Everything goes a bit to surreal thereafter. I am not sure if I can offer much more help than this until your next edit. I figured that I'd give it a stab, especially with all of your efforts on my poems recently./Chris

(05-30-2014, 03:18 AM)ChristopherSea Wrote:  Brownlie, It would be best if you end punctuated the poem or only capped the first words of sentences. It would make for an easier read. I do like the use of slant rhymes verses strict ones.

As is, I have failed to grasp your extended metaphor of bluebird trapped in a dying body, as his family flashes before him, his song adrift, a duct (aqueduct/lymph duct/air vent?) ahead, bird morphing to woman, etc.

Comments on a few lines: ‘…a worm tunnels into my bloating…’ may be more correct. I am not certain what ‘aches with every burn’ adds to the first stanza. In the next, ‘signs an animal That’s taken as a captured man’ sounds a bit twisted in syntax.

Everything goes a bit to surreal thereafter. I am not sure if I can offer much more help than this until your next edit. I figured that I'd give it a stab, especially with all of your efforts on my poems recently./Chris

Thank you for the critique I will definitely be incorporating some of it into an edit. As for the poem, I thought to write my own version of Bukowski's poem Bluebird that may clear things up a bit.



Bluebird

Charles Bukowski

(not necessarily his best...)





there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.


there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?

Hi, Brownlie, I'll give it a go.

(05-29-2014, 03:23 PM)Brownlie Wrote:  I'm not sure on this one, but its posted so have fun with it I suppose.

There’s a bluebird inside of me
That warbles when a worm
Is swallowed by my bloating corpse
That aches with every burn
The meter of the first line seems off to me when I compare it to the other first lines. Love the warble and the worm.


In ink it strikes a double chord
And signs an animal
That’s taken as a captured man
No longer seminal
I can't make much sense of these 4 lines.

My smokeless song went riding pale
Unbridled on a swine
I gamboled in a drunken dell
And quaffed with rotten rinds
These lines work well for me, particularly picturing drinking buddies as rotten rinds.

My curses reeked of father stuff
That seek to strangle signs
Of trilling birds that fly to whirs
Of buzzing power lines
This works well for me except for "stuff", I'd prefer something more specific. Trill, whir and buzz so close together are lovely to say.


And so I see my brother now
Who rolls across cement
Pretending he’s an invalid
To beg another cent
I'm not sure what this adds.

Embracing with a distant word
I coax a cracking voice
From out a fragile door he begs
and fades as vacant noise.
Maybe some punctuation would clarify this for me.

Away from him I see a duct
A woman charged with life
Unclipped and free the bluebird flies
To feel itself deprived.
The end seems a little disjointed but I like it. Duct is odd.

All in all an enjoyable read, glad you posted it.

(05-30-2014, 07:40 AM)ellajam Wrote:  Hi, Brownlie, I'll give it a go.

(05-29-2014, 03:23 PM)Brownlie Wrote:  I'm not sure on this one, but its posted so have fun with it I suppose.

There’s a bluebird inside of me
That warbles when a worm
Is swallowed by my bloating corpse
That aches with every burn
The meter of the first line seems off to me when I compare it to the other first lines. Love the warble and the worm.


In ink it strikes a double chord
And signs an animal
That’s taken as a captured man
No longer seminal
I can't make much sense of these 4 lines.

My smokeless song went riding pale
Unbridled on a swine
I gamboled in a drunken dell
And quaffed with rotten rinds
These lines work well for me, particularly picturing drinking buddies as rotten rinds.

My curses reeked of father stuff
That seek to strangle signs
Of trilling birds that fly to whirs
Of buzzing power lines
This works well for me except for "stuff", I'd prefer something more specific. Trill, whir and buzz so close together are lovely to say.


And so I see my brother now
Who rolls across cement
Pretending he’s an invalid
To beg another cent
I'm not sure what this adds.

Embracing with a distant word
I coax a cracking voice
From out a fragile door he begs
and fades as vacant noise.
Maybe some punctuation would clarify this for me.

Away from him I see a duct
A woman charged with life
Unclipped and free the bluebird flies
To feel itself deprived.
The end seems a little disjointed but I like it. Duct is odd.

All in all an enjoyable read, glad you posted it.

I seemed to have gotten carried away with the allusions again. Bluebird is a spondee so it is a good sign that you caught that. Thanks for reading.