First Revision 28/12

When a poet dies.

There is nothing.
No channel for wisdom or wit.
Closely gathered in corners of his bed-sitting room
unclaimed, unwritten words wait for life.
New phrases and old phrases, revamped,
huddle on wardrobe tops
eager to be marshalled and drilled.
But he’s gone.
Bewildered, they bunch in nonsensical groups
timid frightened and, sad.
In silence they weep
as slowly they sink
to mingle with the dust layered there.
They cling to the kettle, the cooker, the fridge
a patina of waste.
There is no-one to
shape - mold,
push, cajole, or coerce.
No one left to create
an everlasting verse.
----------------------------------------------
There is nothing.
No channel for wisdom or wit.
Unclaimed, unwritten words
wait for life
closely gathered in corners of his bed-sitting room.
New phrases and old phrases, revamped,
huddle on wardrobe tops
eager to be marshalled and drilled.
But he’s gone.
Bewildered, they bunch in nonsensical groups
timid frightened and, sad.
In silence they weep
as slowly they sink
to mingle with the dust layered there.
They cling to the kettle, the cooker, the fridge
a patina of waste.
There is no-one to
shape or mould,
to push, cajole or coerce,
to create
an everlasting verse.


I also need input for the poem's title - this started life as 'When a poet dies'

"I also need input for the poem's title - this started life as 'When a poet dies' " Actually, "When a Poet Dies" was what I was going to suggest. I suppose you could use, "On the death of a poet", but I think that would apply more to a eulogy type poem.

There is nothing. (Not wild about that as a opening line)
No channel for wisdom or wit.
Unclaimed, unwritten words
wait for life
closely gathered in corners of his bed-sitting room.
New phrases and old phrases, revamped,
huddle on wardrobe tops
eager to be marshalled and drilled.
But he’s gone.
Bewildered, they bunch in nonsensical groups
timid frightened and, sad.
In silence they weep
as slowly they sink
to mingle with the dust layered there.
They cling to the kettle, the cooker, the fridge
a patina of waste.
There is no-one to
shape or mould,
to push, cajole or coerce,
to create
an everlasting verse.

"Unclaimed, unwritten words
wait for life
closely gathered in corners of his bed-sitting room."

When I first read this sentence, due to how you have lineated it, I did not catch the metaphor.

"as slowly they sink
to mingle with the dust layered there.
They cling to the kettle, the cooker, the fridge
a patina of waste."

This is a nice image, and "a patina of waste" is a great line.

"There is no-one to
shape or mould,
to push, cajole or coerce,
to create
an everlasting verse."

Suggest

"There is no-one to
shape - mold,
push, cajole, or coerce.
No one left to create
everlasting verse."
(So tightly tied is a poem,
to a poet's fate)

Those last two lines just kind of popped into my head as I was reading this over.

I guess I am supposed to give you feedback appropriate to the forum, but I confess I am somewhat lacking in the ability to equivocate, and to guess at what might bother someone or not. However, you are. So whatever you think is not good for this level of forum, ignore, OK?

Dale

I like your input....what if I switch some of the lines around?
Closely gathered in corners of his bed-sitting room
unclaimed, unwritten words
wait for life,

Actually, I like the swap, whether it overcomes the metaphor problem or not.

Also with the old title - the first line of the poem becomes a continuation of it

When a poet dies
There is nothing.....which works a bit better I think (I am imagining a vacuum...a space where he used to be...that kind of thing)

As to the ending - I like your suggestion, too - though I was happy to end where I did end...like a Shakespearean sonnet with a rhyming couplet, but you have provided another rhyming couplet...so I am torn with indecision....I think I'm going to accept your suggestion it is very good.

That is a great word image grannygill, rumpled bed, books and scripts scattered,perhaps dust motes dancing in a single ray of light, even though some of his works are not complete and which adds to the character I see his personality everywhere in the room and while it remains untouched, his poetry which includes poet and the room is everlasting!

Sorry that I can't help you with any real crit!

Cheers jiminy

"what if I switch some of the lines around?
Closely gathered in corners of his bed-sitting room
unclaimed, unwritten words
wait for life,"

The problem for me was that you broke the line at "words", leaving this kind of strange phrase by itself

"unclaimed, unwritten words"

instead of just making it one line as

"unclaimed, unwritten words wait for life."

But this way does seem to read smoother.

Now that I think about it the "bed-sitting room" phrase may have been more what through me off. Is that an actual phrase used somewhere.
---------------------------------------------------------------------

Dale

(12-28-2011, 09:24 AM)jiminy Wrote:  That is a great word image grannygill, rumpled bed, books and scripts scattered,perhaps dust motes dancing in a single ray of light, even though some of his works are not complete and which adds to the character I see his personality everywhere in the room and while it remains untouched, his poetry which includes poet and the room is everlasting!

Sorry that I can't help you with any real crit!

Cheers jiminy

Real crit? This is great...I reckon most of what you've written would make another poem (or even be incorporated into this one)....especially the dust motes dancing in a single ray of light....lovely imagery there. And you have seen exactly what I was seeing - what more could I ask?

---

The creator is dead....I am beginning to hate that title (I don't know why I ever changed it from the old one).
Erthona
'bed-sitting room' - is a commmon-place phrase in UK...used in regard to dingy small 'lets' where all the amenities are in one room (including a kitchenette)...a more modern equivalent of a garret.
'bed-sitting' was a late addition to the poem put there to hint that there is no money, or fame in poetry.

After some deliberation I decided against using your new ending since it would have been too much of a steal!

hey granny! looking at the first revision; just some quick reactions

(12-27-2011, 03:46 PM)grannyjill Wrote:  First Revision 28/12

When a poet dies. ...I think you can drop the period and start the next line with a lowercase /t/

There is nothing. ...debated with possibly separating this line from the rest of the poem. I think it's strong and might benefit from its own space
No channel for wisdom or wit.
Closely gathered in corners of his bed-sitting room
unclaimed, unwritten words wait for life. ..I know you may like both adjectives, but I really think "unclaimed" is the stronger and really the only one you need
New phrases and old phrases, revamped, ..the tone of "revamped" did not fit the rest of the poem's word choices for me. you are describing these words almost as orphans, not buildings or something!
huddle on wardrobe tops
eager to be marshalled and drilled.
But he’s gone....another line that could possibly benefit from sitting alone with its own space
Bewildered, they bunch in nonsensical groups
timid frightened and, sad. ..the comma is where you want it?
In silence they weep
as slowly they sink
to mingle with the dust layered there.
They cling to the kettle, the cooker, the fridge
a patina of waste. ...ooOOoo nice
There is no-one to
shape - mold,...the dashes caught me off-guard
push, cajole, or coerce. ...I might cut the "or"
No one left to create
an everlasting verse.

the biggest thing I can suggest is a pair of scissors I think. You have something wonderful here, but I couldn't shake the feeling that, at times, you expanded farther than necessary. hope this is helpful

Lovely advice here, Phil.....I'm sure I will incorporate lots of it in a new revision...but, not just now - it's been a long day.

Hi Jill,
The redneck missed the original and so I'll just focus on Rev. 1

As far as the title, I don't know if I could beat the one you have now. It caught my attention. Anywho, here goes nothing: <---looking back that sounds weird considering your first line :p

(12-27-2011, 03:46 PM)grannyjill Wrote:  There is nothing. --just a thought, but what about starting with 'Left with nothing' as in the words are left with nothing?
No channel for wisdom or wit.
Closely gathered in corners of his bed-sitting room --what is a bed-sitting room I am not familiar with that and Google failed me on this one. Are you saying bedroom/sitting room?
unclaimed, unwritten words wait for life. --could 'wait' be replaced with 'long'?
New phrases and old phrases, revamped,
huddle on wardrobe tops --nice image. I particularly like the way it makes me feel as if the words are congregating in a time of loss
eager to be marshalled and drilled. --my spell check is flagging 'marshalled'. Is it two 'L's in BrE?
But he’s gone.
Bewildered, they bunch in nonsensical groups --with the 'huddled' earlier, I think this might be better off without 'they bunch'. Could be just me though
timid frightened and, sad. --do you need a comma after 'timid'?
In silence they weep --what about spinning this phrase around: 'They weep in silence'??
as slowly they sink
to mingle with the dust layered there. --beautiful. 'mingle' makes it happen for me
They cling to the kettle, the cooker, the fridge
a patina of waste. --words everywhere. Like they are bored to death. Or am I reading it wrong?
There is no-one to
shape - mold,
push, cajole, or coerce.
No one left to create
an everlasting verse.

You gave life to the words while describing their death. Nice job, Jill. Thanks for sharing.

(12-28-2011, 04:03 PM)grannyjill Wrote:  

(12-28-2011, 09:24 AM)jiminy Wrote:  That is a great word image grannygill, rumpled bed, books and scripts scattered,perhaps dust motes dancing in a single ray of light, even though some of his works are not complete and which adds to the character I see his personality everywhere in the room and while it remains untouched, his poetry which includes poet and the room is everlasting!

Sorry that I can't help you with any real crit!

Cheers jiminy

Thanks grannyjill, glad you liked it, you're welcome to whatever takes your fancy!

Real crit? This is great...I reckon most of what you've written would make another poem (or even be incorporated into this one)....especially the dust motes dancing in a single ray of light....lovely imagery there. And you have seen exactly what I was seeing - what more could I ask?

---

The creator is dead....I am beginning to hate that title (I don't know why I ever changed it from the old one).
Erthona
'bed-sitting room' - is a commmon-place phrase in UK...used in regard to dingy small 'lets' where all the amenities are in one room (including a kitchenette)...a more modern equivalent of a garret.
'bed-sitting' was a late addition to the poem put there to hint that there is no money, or fame in poetry.

After some deliberation I decided against using your new ending since it would have been too much of a steal!