Version 2:

The Nuisance of Heart

Cut your losses, swallow your words, float around.
Those words are part of you now, tread carefully, take to the streets
And be scurried along in the flow, but don't let dead words
Spill from your face, lest you want to be mocked as
The rock in the river. Lest you want the last of your blood
To spill with your thoughts, you laid them out one after another
For anyone near to praise or leer; you said
How many?
She said
This many, take the rest back those are for you to keep forever,
And she took that many and smiled and said
I'll appreciate these.
            You knew she would, yet

Come the next rain, you’ll think hard about it all,
For when it falls, the cool splash against your face
Will keep you awake as you sift through your heart
And decide what's worth how many tears,
And you can divvy your lonely appropriately.
Rain falls when the sky slips—on these days
There is no need to look up, no one to be found,
But galaxies scattered in blots on the ground,
No shame to hide or cries to unsound,
All is falling, apart and admitted.

Go inside and triple check your pipes,
The leak in the house might be an internal issue.
Patch them before they become an infernal issue.
The rain is only there to emphasize
Broken infrastructure.

And the wind knocking furiously at your window
Might scowl and command: attend to your loss.
It might send you backwards, reeling through time,
To before you saw twilight choke the horizon,
When you were feeding those lovewords
So that they could breathe and walk and fly,
Sing honestly, and richly with life.
Before she said, "This will do. The rest is for you." And, of course,
You can't have all those live lovewords flapping around in your head;
They might wake the sleeping heart dormant in your chest,
And to interrupt its rest would be tantamount to death,
So what can you do but put those lovewords to death?
And take the executioner's blade to their thin fragile necks?
And apologize: "My bad, really, sorry—who's next?"
"You weren't meant to love after all." Yes,
            The wind says remember, remember their fall,

And remember the dreams from long ago,
As you stand where you had hoped they would land.
Mind your shadow, mind your shadow,
He’s the only one who knows.

And don't forget the quieter thoughts,
Two bodies wound up on a one-man cot,
Telephones, trains, letters and hands,
Pajamas and coffee and music stands,

Holding umbrellas and heart-to-heart talks,
Sunset dinners and sunrise walks.
Cherry words of weary song.
Words, words—gone before long.


Version 1:

The Nuisance of Heart

Cut your losses, swallow your words, float around.
Those words are part of you now, tread carefully, take to the streets
And be scurried along in the flow, but don't let another word
Spill from your face, lest you want to be mocked as
The rock in the river. Lest you want the last of your blood
To spill with your thoughts, you laid them out one after another
For anyone near to praise or to leer; you said
How many?
She said
This many, take the rest back those are for you to keep forever,
And she took that many and smiled and said
I'll appreciate these
And you knew she would but the dejection was there.

Come the next rain, you’ll think hard about it all,
For when it falls, the cool splash against your face
Will keep you awake as you sift through your heart
And decide what's worth how many tears,
And you can divvy your lonely appropriately.
Rain falls when the sky slips—on these days
There is no need to look up, no one to be found,
But a galactic beauty to be found on the ground.
No shame to hide or cries to unsound,
All is falling, apart and admitted.

Go inside and triple check your pipes,
The leak in the house might be an internal issue.
Patch them before they become an infernal issue.
The rain is only there to emphasize
Broken infrastructure.

And the wind slamming violently into your fragile glass window
Might draw your attention to your feelings of loss.
It might send you backwards, reeling through time,
To before you saw heartbreak on the horizon,
When you were feeding those lovewords
So that they could breathe and walk and fly and thrive
And sing honestly and richly with life and mean a lot.
Before she said, "This will do. The rest is for you." And, of course,
You can't have all those live lovewords flapping around in your head;
They might wake the sleeping heart dormant in your chest,
And to interrupt its rest would be tantamount to death,
So what can you do but put those lovewords to death?
And take the executioner's blade to their thin fragile necks?
And apologize: "My bad, really, sorry—who's next?"
"You weren't meant to love after all." Yes,
The wind might recall their violent, untimely fall.

And put it in pattern, in context, in stride,
And pack what's important in a small knapsack,
And take all your pain along for the ride,
And mind your shadow, tailing your back,
And keep a story or two, heavy they are,
And pictures, here and there, across age,
And run with fearful zest, fast and far,
And rest when you're certain you're far from the stage.

And don't forget the dreams long past,
As you stand where you had hoped they would land.
As time rolls on, and as life slips fast,
We scrabble around at whatever we can.

And don't forget the quieter thoughts,
Two bodies squeezed tight on a one-man cot,
Telephones, trains, letters and hands,
Pajamas and coffee and music stands,
Holding umbrellas and heart-to-heart talks,
Sunset dinners and sunrise walks.

Cherry words of merry song.
Heavy words of weary song.
Words, words—gone before long.

Hi, baifan, welcome to the pigpen. You pretty much pull off a difficult topic, the poem as a whole is readable and has some strong points in language and imagery. I like the title, some notes below.

Quote:The Nuisance of Heart

Cut your losses, swallow your words, float around. I like the opening cliches, they signal a common situation.
Those words are part of you now, tread carefully, take to the streets
And be scurried along in the flow, but don't let another word I like scurried here.
Spill from your face, lest you want to be mocked as I like "spill from your face", the distance implied, but you might cut "want to".
The rock in the river. Lest you want the last of your blood I don't get why a rock in the river is mocked.
To spill with your thoughts, you laid them out one after another
For anyone near to praise or to leer; you said I like "praise or leer".
How many?
She said
This many, take the rest back those are for you to keep forever,
And she took that many and smiled and said
I'll appreciate these
And you knew she would but the dejection was there.
Love the whole idea of this, what we carry forward with us and all the things we discard.

Come the next rain, you’ll think hard about it all,
For when it falls, the cool splash against your face
Will keep you awake as you sift through your heart
And decide what's worth how many tears, This is pretty blunt but it sits well with me.
And you can divvy your lonely appropriately.Love this line, divvy.
Rain falls when the sky slips—on these days
There is no need to look up, no one to be found,
But a galactic beauty to be found on the ground.
No shame to hide or cries to unsound,
All is falling, apart and admitted. Admirable comma.
I like these four lines, the finding of a source of power on earth and the hint of something other than depression.

Go inside and triple check your pipes,
The leak in the house might be an internal issue.
Patch them before they become an infernal issue. If you're patching "them", the pipes, is leak singular?
The rain is only there to emphasize
Broken infrastructure.
I like the thought here, I'm not sure "broken" is the best word choice.

And the wind slamming violently into your fragile glass window I have a problem here, windows are quite strong against rain unless they are cracked, I think fragile is wrong plus you use it below. Do you need to tell me windows are glass?
Might draw your attention to your feelings of loss. Feelings of loss could be said in a more interesting way.
It might send you backwards, reeling through time,
To before you saw heartbreak on the horizon, Again, heartbreak on the horizon is a cliche, think of a new way to say it.
When you were feeding those lovewords Strong line.
So that they could breathe and walk and fly and thrive
And sing honestly and richly with life and mean a lot.
Before she said, "This will do. The rest is for you." And, of course,
You can't have all those live lovewords flapping around in your head; Love this image.
They might wake the sleeping heart dormant in your chest,
And to interrupt its rest would be tantamount to death, Oh, the drama, but appropriate, we've all felt it.
So what can you do but put those lovewords to death?
And take the executioner's blade to their thin fragile necks? I'd go with thin or fragile or neither.
And apologize: "My bad, really, sorry—who's next?" Made me smile.
"You weren't meant to love after all." Yes, and took the smile right back.
The wind might recall their violent, untimely fall.

And put it in pattern, in context, in stride,
And pack what's important in a small knapsack,
And take all your pain along for the ride, I'd cut this line (replace for your rhyme scheme).
And mind your shadow, tailing your back,
And keep a story or two, heavy they are, Not a fan of the phrasing of "heavy they are"
And pictures, here and there, across age,
And run with fearful zest, fast and far, fearful zest is interesting.
And rest when you're certain you're far from the stage.

And don't forget the dreams long past,
As you stand where you had hoped they would land. Love these two lines.
As time rolls on, and as life slips fast,
We scrabble around at whatever we can.

And don't forget the quieter thoughts,
Two bodies squeezed tight on a one-man cot,
Telephones, trains, letters and hands,
Pajamas and coffee and music stands,
Holding umbrellas and heart-to-heart talks,
Sunset dinners and sunrise walks.

Cherry words of merry song.
Heavy words of weary song.
Words, words—gone before long.
I'd cut these two stanzas down to:

And don't forget the quiter thoughts
Pajamas and coffee and music stands
Words, words—gone before long.

I don't find the rest has any cumulative effect. I like the way the poem slips into rhyme but I don't think it gains at the end to make the cliche of the whole situation more obvious. It works but becomes boring to read, it goes back to the opening but went on too long for me.

I hope this helps, thanks for the read.

Hello baifan,

You have some nice moments in this piece and I like how you address the topic. Let me give you some comments below.

(03-13-2017, 03:50 PM)baifan Wrote:  The Nuisance of Heart--Nuisance is a perfect word for the title. It sets the tone immediately. The title also makes us trust that you know what you're doing with the purposeful cliches below.

Cut your losses, swallow your words, float around. 
Those words are part of you now, tread carefully, take to the streets--You do a good job mixing up the pacing with line length throughout the poem. I would still be tempted to tighten up a bit with a few cuts (float around and tread carefully are possible cuts) to enhance pacing and emphasize the cliches more.
And be scurried along in the flow, but don't let another word
Spill from your face, lest you want to be mocked as
The rock in the river. Lest you want the last of your blood--I'm grappling with your simile a bit. If the words are spilling from your face doesn't that maybe identify you more with the river than the rock. I can see why the rock would be mocked but I don't know if the lead up establishes the speaker as the rock.
To spill with your thoughts, you laid them out one after another--you have a lot of repetition blended through the poem that reminds me of how Stephen Dobyns sometimes uses it in his word. I like it with the lests and the spills.
For anyone near to praise or to leer; you said
How many?
She said
This many, take the rest back those are for you to keep forever,
And she took that many and smiled and said
I'll appreciate these
And you knew she would but the dejection was there.--I like this interchange but I don't really like the last phrase here. I'd be tempted to break the line on but and then let the momentum carry you into the next strophe. I'm not sure capping it with an outcome serves you well.

Come the next rain, you’ll think hard about it all,
For when it falls, the cool splash against your face
Will keep you awake as you sift through your heart
And decide what's worth how many tears,--I love this idea of emotional accounting, this budgeting of sadness
And you can divvy your lonely appropriately.--I like lonely here more than I would loneliness. I like the reserved feel of appropriately as it's important for the speaker to present a certain appearance.
Rain falls when the sky slips—on these days--Not that there's anything necessarily wrong with "--on these days" I think though Rain falls when the sky slips is so interesting in its phrasing that I would be tempted to end the line there without the final emdash phrase.
There is no need to look up, no one to be found,--Very nice subtle jab toward diety and divine help.
But a galactic beauty to be found on the ground.--Not a fan of this line. It feels a bit Dr.Suess like to me. Probably one too many internal rhyme. Though I generally like what your doing in the stophe emphasizing rhyme.
No shame to hide or cries to unsound,--I especially like cries to unsound
All is falling, apart and admitted.--Your strophes seem to be self-contained poems in a way that circle back to their beginning moments--at least it appears that way. Nothing wrong with that I'm thinking though that you might be better served cutting lines like this last one and finding ways to spur more momentum.

Go inside and triple check your pipes,
The leak in the house might be an internal issue.
Patch them before they become an infernal issue.--This couplet would probably lend itself well to spoken word.
The rain is only there to emphasize
Broken infrastructure.--I initially didn't like this (though I do now) because it just sort of clunked to a stop. Though when I thought about it that's probably intentional with the words mirroring the effect.

I also thought about suggesting a cut of the entire pipes section but than had to reconsider the symbols and the theme. So if words are like water (spilling and such). If there is a river where people can flow together and the speaker is some rock unmoving and unable to flow with someone else. If the rain is also a sort of conversation that could represent love and beauty happening elsewhere and all the speaker can do is diivy their tears--because their flow is stunted. If now the pipes are broken and water can only flow from the sky then I need the pipes.

And the wind slamming violently into your fragile glass window--keep wanting a slight adjustment "And when the wind slams...window" I wonder if you might want to introduce sound here instead of simply slamming violently--just a thought
Might draw your attention to your feelings of loss.--you might be able to cut this line of introspection and build on the action.
It might send you backwards, reeling through time,--like this idea
To before you saw heartbreak on the horizon,--Don't think you need this line. I think the lovewords idea is interesting and original. I would get right to it.
When you were feeding those lovewords
So that they could breathe and walk and fly and thrive--I don't think you need and thrive (it's more of a conclusion drawn from breath, walk, and fly).
And sing honestly and richly with life and mean a lot.--This might be a style cut (subjective) but I also think you can cut this line.
Before she said, "This will do. The rest is for you." And, of course,
You can't have all those live lovewords flapping around in your head;--absolutely love the idea and the phrasing here.
They might wake the sleeping heart dormant in your chest,
And to interrupt its rest would be tantamount to death,
So what can you do but put those lovewords to death?
And take the executioner's blade to their thin fragile necks?
And apologize: "My bad, really, sorry—who's next?"
"You weren't meant to love after all." Yes,--This entire sequence to this point is my favorite part of the poem. One option is to end the poem on this line. I realize that may be a bit extreme but in my opinion this would be a very effective conclusion.
The wind might recall their violent, untimely fall.--I think this is another possible cut (momentum again).

And put it in pattern, in context, in stride,
And pack what's important in a small knapsack,
And take all your pain along for the ride,
And mind your shadow, tailing your back,
And keep a story or two, heavy they are,
And pictures, here and there, across age,
And run with fearful zest, fast and far,
And rest when you're certain you're far from the stage.

And don't forget the dreams long past,
As you stand where you had hoped they would land.
As time rolls on, and as life slips fast,
We scrabble around at whatever we can.--While there's something interesting in the multiple And cadence, these last two strophes seem to be losing the emotional core of the poem and forcing a wrap up of lose ends. I'm not sure I'm expressing my issue here clearly. I don't dislike the final two strophes but I would consider cutting these ones.

And don't forget the quieter thoughts,
Two bodies squeezed tight on a one-man cot,
Telephones, trains, letters and hands,
Pajamas and coffee and music stands,
Holding umbrellas and heart-to-heart talks,
Sunset dinners and sunrise walks.

Cherry words of merry song.
Heavy words of weary song.
Words, words—gone before long.

I enjoyed the poem. I hope some of these comments will be helpful to you.

Best,

Todd

ellajam and Todd: thank you for the warm welcome and the very helpful suggestions! The support has been rewarding and the critiques insightful; I'm editing my piece right now.

Seems to me that the most standout criticism thus far is the loss of emotional force when I hit the rhyming sequence. The "experiment" for this piece was to see if I could slip from free verse into some kind of rhyming structure in a way that mimics how we recontextualize events in our lives that disorient us (going from formlessness to order). So, for that sake, I'm going to see if I can salvage the last four strophe, maybe tightening up some of the imagery and trimming down. I'll post a revision when I've wrung this piece dry again.

I am also reconsidering the "pipes" bit. When I wrote it I was iffy, and I still am, and it feels like there's a similar skepticism here. Some more suggestions on the placement/purpose of that would be great

I think in your current arrangement the choice is either cut the pipes or leave them exactly where they are. I'm not sure there's a better placement for them in the poem.

I was 50/50 on suggesting cutting when I was reading but came to a place of acceptance with the section.

Put up a second edit, gave that rhyming finish another shot, redirected some of the momentum out of the ends of some stanzas, and other smaller edits. Please give it a look!

Reaction to the revision.

(03-13-2017, 03:50 PM)baifan Wrote:  Version 2:

The Nuisance of Heart

Cut your losses, swallow your words, float around.
Those words are part of you now, tread carefully, take to the streets
And be scurried along in the flow, but don't let dead words--dead is a nice change.
Spill from your face, lest you want to be mocked as
The rock in the river. Lest you want the last of your blood
To spill with your thoughts, you laid them out one after another
For anyone near to praise or leer; you said
How many?
She said
This many, take the rest back those are for you to keep forever,
And she took that many and smiled and said
I'll appreciate these.
            You knew she would, yet--stronger transition. flows well. Helps the pacing

Come the next rain, you’ll think hard about it all,
For when it falls, the cool splash against your face
Will keep you awake as you sift through your heart
And decide what's worth how many tears,
And you can divvy your lonely appropriately.
Rain falls when the sky slips—on these days
There is no need to look up, no one to be found,
But galaxies scattered in blots on the ground,--Very much like this change
No shame to hide or cries to unsound,
All is falling, apart and admitted.

Go inside and triple check your pipes,
The leak in the house might be an internal issue.
Patch them before they become an infernal issue.
The rain is only there to emphasize
Broken infrastructure.

And the wind knocking furiously at your window--nice reduction of the modifiers on window
Might scowl and command: attend to your loss.
It might send you backwards, reeling through time,
To before you saw twilight choke the horizon,--good change
When you were feeding those lovewords
So that they could breathe and walk and fly,
Sing honestly, and richly with life.
Before she said, "This will do. The rest is for you." And, of course,
You can't have all those live lovewords flapping around in your head;
They might wake the sleeping heart dormant in your chest,
And to interrupt its rest would be tantamount to death,
So what can you do but put those lovewords to death?
And take the executioner's blade to their thin fragile necks?
And apologize: "My bad, really, sorry—who's next?"
"You weren't meant to love after all." Yes,
            The wind says remember, remember their fall,--This seems stronger.

And remember the dreams from long ago,
As you stand where you had hoped they would land.
Mind your shadow, mind your shadow,
He’s the only one who knows.

And don't forget the quieter thoughts,
Two bodies wound up on a one-man cot,
Telephones, trains, letters and hands,
Pajamas and coffee and music stands,

Holding umbrellas and heart-to-heart talks,
Sunset dinners and sunrise walks.
Cherry words of weary song.
Words, words—gone before long.--The condensed ending is more engaging.

I'll have to give it some thought holistically but I think the changes are a step forward.

Best,

Todd