A Long Night at the Dreary House (revised)
#1
This new dawn I hope to soak in the love.
Of what it means to live in the moment of day.
I smoke my long cigarette and smelling my scotch.
For the dreadful night that comes unveiling.
 
The argument of the shadow and light.
Stabbing my eyes from the orange streetlights.
There is a sensation in my heart, I hear Jazz.
I hear the sound of saxophones and percussion.
 
Then I continue to sit on my chair and wait,
For the dawn to give me a lick of morning light.
I cannot stand the streetlight glinting through the window.
I cannot stand the night which darkens the sky.
 
But Jazz will drive me to become a better man.
I meditate on the philosophy on the genre.
Then I take time to remember what it means,
To live and breathe the genre in my lungs.




Previous version:


It’s been a long day in the dreary house.
I take my long cigarette and scotch and relish
The thought of a new day through pockets
Of streetlight light stabbing through my home.
The night cannot get any worse, it gets even.
 
It tends to argue with itself unveiling the moon
Or the clouds which I feel is breathtaking in itself.
I feel a sense of dread in my gut, my soul splinters
Into two, I hope one day I could get my act together
As I drink this scotch, shoving it down my throat.
 
I sit and wonder if this new day will come.
Perhaps now, even the rain will stop pouring.
I will get down to breathing into this cigarette soon.
Another puff makes little circles of smoke fly.
At least now I can get a little bit of sensual grip.
 
The way I feel at parties or even at Jazz events.
For now, I will continue to think about new days.
The way I wander from thought-to-thought reminiscing.
This new day has to come, might as well dream.
This desiccated song I remember, that gloomy Jazz,
 
Where I think to myself on how slick the saxophone is.
Sometimes I dream about this new day over again.
I want this daylight to remain a jack-in-the-box for me.
Perhaps I can feel happy again, more or so enlightened
About what this new day can do for a man like me.
 
Afterwards can I reveal the notes I had planned.
For the coming of Jazz bands that’s coming to town.
Then I will get off this chair and go to their show.
For the gravity of Jazz that is crawling up my spine.
Showing goosebumps of awe on my own skin.
 
The night will give an encore for its longevity of darkness.
I in fact hate the dark, I believe in vampires and werewolves.
But they seem to exist only in the brain like prophesies.
As soon as I get up from this chair, I’ll wait for this new day
And the spirit of jazz which impacts my life.
Reply
#2
Hi Majestic, I did something a little unorthodox here, but it was the best way I could think to critique your poem.   What I did was red- out all the stuff I thought was repetitive or uninteresting to me.  What you see left on screen in black is what I liked, what seemed like the makings of a poem, maybe a bit shorter. 

I hope this is in some way helpful.

For me, the weakest parts of the poem, as you can see from what I left out, is the stuff about a "new day".  I know what you mean, but I think a more vivid phrase ("new life" "new beginning" etc.) is needed, if that idea is important to you.  Also, it ended on a very passive note.  After all that build up, you want to do something more than just wait for the new whatever.  you want to seize it.  At least I'd think you would.

The strongest parts are your descriptions of what you are doing, your meditations on jazz could be more developed.
Hi MajesticI

t’s been a long day in the dreary house.
I take my long cigarette and scotch and relish
The thought of a new day through pockets
Of streetlight light stabbing through my home.
The night cannot get any worse, so it gets even.
 
It tends to argue with itself unveiling the moon
Or the clouds which I feel is breathtaking in itself.
I feel a sense of dread in my gut, my soul splinters
Into two, I hope one day I could get my act together
As I drink this scotch, shoving it down my throat.
 
I sit and wonder if this new day will come.
Perhaps now, even the rain will stop pouring.
I will get down to breathing into this cigarette soon.
Another puff makes little circles of smoke fly.
At least now I can get a little bit of sensual grip.
 
The way I feel at parties or even at Jazz events.
For now, I will continue to think about new days.
The way I wander from thought-to-thought reminiscing.
This new day has to come, might as well dream.
This desiccated song I remember, that gloomy Jazz,
 
Where I think to myself on how slick the saxophone is.
Sometimes I dream about this new day over again.
I want this daylight to remain a jack-in-the-box for me.
Perhaps I can feel happy again, more or so enlightened
About what this new day can do for a man like me.
 
Afterwards can I reveal the notes I had planned.
For the coming of Jazz bands that’s coming to town.
Then I will get off this chair and go to their show.
For the gravity of Jazz that is crawling up my spine.
Showing goosebumps of awe on my own skin.
 
The night will give an encore for its longevity of darkness.
I in fact hate the dark, I believe in vampires and werewolves.
But they seem to exist only in the brain like prophesies.
As soon as I get up from this chair, I’ll wait for this new day
And the spirit of jazz which impacts my life.
"Poetry is the rhythmic, inevitably narrative, movement from an overclothed blindness to a naked vision."  Dylan Thomas
Reply
#3
(04-21-2021, 09:42 PM)TranquillityBase Wrote:  Hi Majestic, I did something a little unorthodox here, but it was the best way I could think to critique your poem.   What I did was white out all the stuff I thought was repetitive or uninteresting to me.  What you see left on screen is what I liked, what seemed like the makings of a poem, maybe a bit shorter. 

I hope this is in some way helpful.

For me, the weakest parts of the poem, as you can see from what I left out, is the stuff about a "new day".  I know what you mean, but I think a more vivid phrase ("new life" "new beginning" etc.) is needed, if that idea is important to you.  Also, it ended on a very passive note.  After all that build up, you want to do something more than just wait for the new whatever.  you want to seize it.  At least I'd think you would.

The strongest parts are your descriptions of what you are doing, your meditations on jazz could be more developed.
Hi MajesticI

t’s been a long day in the dreary house.
I take my long cigarette and scotch and relish
The thought of a new day through pockets
Of streetlight light stabbing through my home.
The night cannot get any worse, so it gets even.
 
It tends to argue with itself unveiling the moon
Or the clouds which I feel is breathtaking in itself.
I feel a sense of dread in my gut, my soul splinters
Into two, I hope one day I could get my act together
As I drink this scotch, shoving it down my throat.
 
I sit and wonder if this new day will come.
Perhaps now, even the rain will stop pouring.
I will get down to breathing into this cigarette soon.
Another puff makes little circles of smoke fly.
At least now I can get a little bit of sensual grip.
 
The way I feel at parties or even at Jazz events.
For now, I will continue to think about new days.
The way I wander from thought-to-thought reminiscing.
This new day has to come, might as well dream.
This desiccated song I remember, that gloomy Jazz,
 
Where I think to myself on how slick the saxophone is.
Sometimes I dream about this new day over again.
I want this daylight to remain a jack-in-the-box for me.
Perhaps I can feel happy again, more or so enlightened
About what this new day can do for a man like me.
 
Afterwards can I reveal the notes I had planned.
For the coming of Jazz bands that’s coming to town.
Then I will get off this chair and go to their show.
For the gravity of Jazz that is crawling up my spine.
Showing goosebumps of awe on my own skin.
 
The night will give an encore for its longevity of darkness.
I in fact hate the dark, I believe in vampires and werewolves.
But they seem to exist only in the brain like prophesies.
As soon as I get up from this chair, I’ll wait for this new day
And the spirit of jazz which impacts my life.
Ah ok! I think it reads much better, I needed a good clean edit, thanks for critiquing.
Reply
#4
Wait, how am I supposed to edit this? Do I just write what you left out in the critique? I'm trying to do that but I am not sure if it makes sense.
Reply
#5
(04-21-2021, 09:42 PM)TranquillityBase Wrote:  Hi Majestic, I did something a little unorthodox here, but it was the best way I could think to critique your poem.   What I did was red- out all the stuff I thought was repetitive or uninteresting to me.  What you see left on screen in black is what I liked, what seemed like the makings of a poem, maybe a bit shorter. 

I hope this is in some way helpful.

For me, the weakest parts of the poem, as you can see from what I left out, is the stuff about a "new day".  I know what you mean, but I think a more vivid phrase ("new life" "new beginning" etc.) is needed, if that idea is important to you.  Also, it ended on a very passive note.  After all that build up, you want to do something more than just wait for the new whatever.  you want to seize it.  At least I'd think you would.

The strongest parts are your descriptions of what you are doing, your meditations on jazz could be more developed.
Hi MajesticI

t’s been a long day in the dreary house.
I take my long cigarette and scotch and relish
The thought of a new day through pockets
Of streetlight light stabbing through my home.
The night cannot get any worse, so it gets even.
 
It tends to argue with itself unveiling the moon
Or the clouds which I feel is breathtaking in itself.
I feel a sense of dread in my gut, my soul splinters
Into two, I hope one day I could get my act together
As I drink this scotch, shoving it down my throat.
 
I sit and wonder if this new day will come.
Perhaps now, even the rain will stop pouring.
I will get down to breathing into this cigarette soon.
Another puff makes little circles of smoke fly.
At least now I can get a little bit of sensual grip.
 
The way I feel at parties or even at Jazz events.
For now, I will continue to think about new days.
The way I wander from thought-to-thought reminiscing.
This new day has to come, might as well dream.
This desiccated song I remember, that gloomy Jazz,
 
Where I think to myself on how slick the saxophone is.
Sometimes I dream about this new day over again.
I want this daylight to remain a jack-in-the-box for me.
Perhaps I can feel happy again, more or so enlightened
About what this new day can do for a man like me.
 
Afterwards can I reveal the notes I had planned.
For the coming of Jazz bands that’s coming to town.
Then I will get off this chair and go to their show.
For the gravity of Jazz that is crawling up my spine.
Showing goosebumps of awe on my own skin.
 
The night will give an encore for its longevity of darkness.
I in fact hate the dark, I believe in vampires and werewolves.
But they seem to exist only in the brain like prophesies.
As soon as I get up from this chair, I’ll wait for this new day
And the spirit of jazz which impacts my life.

Hey, how do I develop my mediations on Jazz when I have some stanzas that are missing? Should I fill them out?
Reply
#6
This new dawn I hope to soak in the love.
Of what it means to live in the moment of day.
I smoke my long cigarette and smelling my scotch.         savor?
As the dreadful night that comes unveiling,
 
The argument of the shadow and light.
Stabs my eyes from the orange streetlights.
There is a sensation in my heart, I hear Jazz,
I hear the sound of saxophones and percussion.
 
Then I continue to sit on my chair and wait,
For the dawn to give me a lick of morning light.                  
I cannot stand the streetlight glinting through the window.
I cannot stand the night which darkens the sky.
 
But Jazz will drive me to become a better man.           
I meditate on the philosophy on the genre.
Then I take time to remember what it means,                                   
To live and breathe the genre in my lungs.

This is a good ending but would be better if you describe your mediations on jazz; how does it give you hope; what kind of jazz; what does it mean to you?
"Poetry is the rhythmic, inevitably narrative, movement from an overclothed blindness to a naked vision."  Dylan Thomas
Reply
#7
(04-24-2021, 09:43 PM)TranquillityBase Wrote:  This new dawn I hope to soak in the love.
Of what it means to live in the moment of day.
I smoke my long cigarette and smelling my scotch.         savor?
As the dreadful night that comes unveiling,
 
The argument of the shadow and light.
Stabs my eyes from the orange streetlights.
There is a sensation in my heart, I hear Jazz,
I hear the sound of saxophones and percussion.
 
Then I continue to sit on my chair and wait,
For the dawn to give me a lick of morning light.                  
I cannot stand the streetlight glinting through the window.
I cannot stand the night which darkens the sky.
 
But Jazz will drive me to become a better man.           
I meditate on the philosophy on the genre.
Then I take time to remember what it means,                                   
To live and breathe the genre in my lungs.

This is a good ending but would be better if you describe your mediations on jazz; how does it give you hope; what kind of jazz; what does it mean to you?

Tranquil how is this? I think it reads better now, I answered the question you asked on the meditations on Jazz.


This new dawn I hope to soak in the love,
Of what it means to live in the moment of day.
I smoke my long cigarette and savour my scotch.
As the dreadful night that comes unveiling.
 
The argument of the shadow and light
Stabs my eyes from the orange streetlights.
There is a sensation in my heart, I hear Jazz.
I hear the sound of saxophones and percussion.
 
I continue to sit on my chair and wait,
For the dawn to give me a dance of morning light.
I cannot stand the streetlight glinting through windows.
I cannot stand the night which darkens the sky.
 
But Jazz will drive me to become a better man.
Because of the clarity of its subtle tranquility.
Also, the hope of this new dawn to relax me.
And the Jazz I am speaking about is Smooth Jazz.
 
Also, jazz to me means waking up in the morning.
With my head held high and relaxation in the evening.
That is what Jazz does for me, the sound of blues ascends.
From the docking station, causing me to sleep a little.
 
But as long as I have the genre in my mind.
I think there is no stopping me at the slightest.
Those who think otherwise need psychiatric help.
This is the genre that defines who I am.
Reply
#8
I like what you've done here with the additional stanzas on smooth jazz.  Needs more work, but I need you to give me a couple of days before I come back with anything more detailed.  I'm kind of poetry-weary with NaPoM and don't want to burn out before April 30  Thumbsup
"Poetry is the rhythmic, inevitably narrative, movement from an overclothed blindness to a naked vision."  Dylan Thomas
Reply
#9
(04-25-2021, 09:37 AM)TranquillityBase Wrote:  I like what you've done here with the additional stanzas on smooth jazz.  Needs more work, but I need you to give me a couple of days before I come back with anything more detailed.  I'm kind of poetry-weary with NaPoM and don't want to burn out before April 30  Thumbsup

No problem, I am doing NaPoWriMo too, good luck writing 30 poems in 30 days. I did it last year and the year before that and succeeded.
Reply
#10
OK Majestic.  I did what I think I'm not supposed to do, and did my own rewrite.  It's 80% your own words, but I took the liberty of radically altering and adding some lines.  You don't have to have lines of equal length, unless you are writing in some kind of meter/form that I'm not picking up on.  You could print it out and lay it side by side with your original and see what I've done.

p.s.  you need a different title, something about jazz i think



This new dawn I hope to soak in the love,
the moment of a new day.
I inhale my long cigarette and savour my scotch,
As the dreadful night comes unveiling.
 
The argument of the shadow and light
Stabs my eyes from the orange streetlights.
Smooth jazz fills my heart
sounds of saxophones and percussion.
 
I wait for dawn to give me a dance of morning light.
I despise the streetlight glinting through windows.
I deny the night which darkens the sky.
 
With its clarity, its subtle tranquility, jazz
Wakes me every new morning, drives me to be
A better man, and every evening, 
the sound of blues ascends from the docking station
bringing me home again. 
 
But as long as I have Jazz I am unstoppable,
This is the music that defines my waking life.
"Poetry is the rhythmic, inevitably narrative, movement from an overclothed blindness to a naked vision."  Dylan Thomas
Reply
#11
Hey M.Sun-

Here's what I took away from this piece:


I hope to soak in what it means
to live in the moment,
smoke my long cigarette,
smell my scotch.

A sensation in my heart like jazz-
saxophones and percussion.

I take time to remember
to breathe.


To me, the rest was needless "telling".  That said the images you "show" are well worth keeping.  I found the streetlights distracting, so I axed them completely.  The poem is about jazz, right?  SHOW me what jazz does for you, don't tell me. 

My tendancy is to edit, edit, edit, and you may find that helpful, or not.  But, please DO NOT weigh down the good images with "how I feel" lines that do not connect with this reader, at all. 
Reply
#12
Thanks guys for your feedback, I titled it The Dreary Jazz House.
Reply
#13
I'm gonna take a queue from TranquillityBase and highlight portions in blue that I liked, plus some notes at the end.


This new dawn I hope to soak in the love.
Of what it means to live in the moment of day.
I smoke my long cigarette and smelling my scotch.
For the dreadful night that comes unveiling.
 
The argument of the shadow and light.
Stabbing my eyes from the orange streetlights.
There is a sensation in my heart, I hear Jazz.
I hear the sound of saxophones and percussion.
 
Then I continue to sit on my chair and wait,
For the dawn to give me a lick of morning light.
I cannot stand the streetlight glinting through the window.
I cannot stand the night which darkens the sky.

 
But Jazz will drive me to become a better man.
I meditate on the philosophy on the genre.

Then I take time to remember what it means,
To live and breathe the genre in my lungs.



"I hope to soak in the love" is a great line. There are lots of good lines here, such as "Stabbing my eyes from the orange streetlights." I love that imagery. Fantastic! And the sudden shift from pleasant brooding to existential angst is effectively unnerving. If that's what you were going for you did great at that shift, especially in the lines: "I despise the streetlight glinting through windows.
I deny the night which darkens the sky."
Some words can be deleted for effect. I like one use of the word Jazz, at the end, myself. I am not a fan of the line "I take time to remember". Perhaps something more intimate and earnest like, "I need to remember what this means". By "philosophy on the genre" I think you meant "philosophy of the genre". The word "on" is repetitive in a that line. Overall, I think it's perfect. Or very nearly perfect, anyway.  


Good job.

Matthew Smith
Reply
#14
(05-08-2021, 06:57 AM)newmystic Wrote:  
I'm gonna take a queue from TranquillityBase and highlight portions in blue that I liked, plus some notes at the end.


This new dawn I hope to soak in the love.
Of what it means to live in the moment of day.
I smoke my long cigarette and smelling my scotch.
For the dreadful night that comes unveiling.
 
The argument of the shadow and light.
Stabbing my eyes from the orange streetlights.
There is a sensation in my heart, I hear Jazz.
I hear the sound of saxophones and percussion.
 
Then I continue to sit on my chair and wait,
For the dawn to give me a lick of morning light.
I cannot stand the streetlight glinting through the window.
I cannot stand the night which darkens the sky.

 
But Jazz will drive me to become a better man.
I meditate on the philosophy on the genre.

Then I take time to remember what it means,
To live and breathe the genre in my lungs.



"I hope to soak in the love" is a great line. There are lots of good lines here, such as "Stabbing my eyes from the orange streetlights." I love that imagery. Fantastic! And the sudden shift from pleasant brooding to existential angst is effectively unnerving. If that's what you were going for you did great at that shift, especially in the lines:  "I despise the streetlight glinting through windows.
I deny the night which darkens the sky."
Some words can be deleted for effect. I like one use of the word Jazz, at the end, myself. I am not a fan of the line "I take time to remember". Perhaps something more intimate and earnest like, "I need to remember what this means". By "philosophy on the genre" I think you meant "philosophy of the genre". The word "on" is repetitive in a that line. Overall, I think it's perfect. Or very nearly perfect, anyway.  


Good job.

Matthew Smith

Thanks Matthew! I appreciate your feedback, I think this poem is one of my best, if not, my better poems. I was going for a sense of that. Thanks again.
Reply
#15
(05-08-2021, 10:06 AM)Majestic Sun Wrote:  
(05-08-2021, 06:57 AM)newmystic Wrote:  
I'm gonna take a queue from TranquillityBase and highlight portions in blue that I liked, plus some notes at the end.


This new dawn I hope to soak in the love.
Of what it means to live in the moment of day.
I smoke my long cigarette and smelling my scotch.
For the dreadful night that comes unveiling.
 
The argument of the shadow and light.
Stabbing my eyes from the orange streetlights.
There is a sensation in my heart, I hear Jazz.
I hear the sound of saxophones and percussion.
 
Then I continue to sit on my chair and wait,
For the dawn to give me a lick of morning light.
I cannot stand the streetlight glinting through the window.
I cannot stand the night which darkens the sky.

 
But Jazz will drive me to become a better man.
I meditate on the philosophy on the genre.

Then I take time to remember what it means,
To live and breathe the genre in my lungs.



"I hope to soak in the love" is a great line. There are lots of good lines here, such as "Stabbing my eyes from the orange streetlights." I love that imagery. Fantastic! And the sudden shift from pleasant brooding to existential angst is effectively unnerving. If that's what you were going for you did great at that shift, especially in the lines:  "I despise the streetlight glinting through windows.
I deny the night which darkens the sky."
Some words can be deleted for effect. I like one use of the word Jazz, at the end, myself. I am not a fan of the line "I take time to remember". Perhaps something more intimate and earnest like, "I need to remember what this means". By "philosophy on the genre" I think you meant "philosophy of the genre". The word "on" is repetitive in a that line. Overall, I think it's perfect. Or very nearly perfect, anyway.  


Good job.

Matthew Smith

Thanks Matthew! I appreciate your feedback, I think this poem is one of my best, if not, my better poems. I was going for a sense of that. Thanks again.


You're welcome! I enjoyed reading it.
Reply




Users browsing this thread: 2 Guest(s)
Do NOT follow this link or you will be banned from the site!