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shotgun in my face:
Wreck my fucking plants.
You wreck my fucking life.
I can kill you,
Boom, you're fucking gone.
sleeping with eyes open.
maybe ten,
startled,
seeing,
then secretly awake.
terror transferred —
my eyes to hers.
she dropped the gun,
I made her cry.
what had I done?
The middle stanza weighs it down. I think the second stanza both fits the poem and weighs it down. Weighs it down or blocks something.
But maybe the 2nd stanza can stay after all if you get rid of the Boom line and change the one before it to I could kill you instead of can.
I honestly enjoyed this,
But I'll have to agree, some of the explicit words seem quite forced.
I do understand why though, this is meant to pull on something in our hearts
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I have almost a standard comment that nobody likes, but I have never seen the F-word used effectively in a poem. It always rings hollow. For me, it is the ultimate cliche and one of the few words that is a cliche all by itself. There has to be a more effective and original curse.
My new watercolor: 'Nightmare After Christmas'/Chris
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(05-19-2014, 01:11 PM)bbcashdollar Wrote: shotgun in my face:
Wreck my fucking plants.
You wreck my fucking life.
I can kill you,
Boom, you're fucking gone.
sleeping with eyes open.
maybe ten,
startled,
seeing,
then secretly awake.
terror transferred —
my eyes to hers.
she dropped the gun,
I made her cry.
what had I done?
This reminded me of one of my favorite poems. I think it would illuminate the problems I have with it if I posted it.
"Occurrence" by Franz Wright
Quote:I've gotten everyone who hurt me.
In a blackout a man loads his shotgun
again.
Outside the genuine star spangled twilight
of North Dakota
unfurls, twinkling and barking.
The he becomes a ghost.
Big windblown rags of bitching crows
resettle
in the trees out back.
These poems have a similar subject, but Wright, known for his devilish metaphors, manages to make even such dark content beautiful. He even manages to make an obscenity seem necessary. Basically, your poem lacks the imagery that's desperately needed to transcend the darkness of the subject and the vulgar language. It's too much hell and not enough heaven.
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I can easily tell what is going on here.
The speaker is a child.
Her father was abusive.
Her mother killed her father.
The second stanza is filler.
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I really think this needs to be longer with more context. While it is interesting to just jump right into your story, I have to admit I was a bit lost. Why had the relationship soured? What brought the shotgun into this? I like what you're doing, but think you need more to improve the poem. Maybe add another stanza or two with some back story?
I write what I see. Write to make it right, don't like where I be. I'd like to make it like the sights on TV. Quite the great life, so nice and easy.
