Cuckoo Clocks

[amejadcc]

Original:

The figurines in the cuckoo room
a mechanism to escape
the bane of all desperation is not being able to free them
a half-covered-moon is only a quarter-of-a-night’s risks.
 
fists etched in wood; uncurled
battling stiffness and mechanical waves
nausea at the start of another twang at three
Pulled by strong movers; intricate gears.
Oh dance marionette, dance along with me.
Oh It was just me.
 
stretching along the walls of the cubic room
in black; a colorless dress,
spun out of energy on a half pirouette,
a slight scrape beneath the foot,
indeed tonight, not the best of nights out

[next]

I like this poem, especially its imagery, its extended metaphor.
Here are a few things that tripped me up and that you might consider re-working:

The figurines in the cuckoo room
a mechanism to escape   <-  As stated, the figurines are the mechanism of escape. If you mean that
          the protagonist must figure out a way to release them, then you need to re-word it to make this clear.
          Also you should consider changing "figurines" to "figurine" so that it agrees with the singular
          "marionette" in stanza 2.  

the bane of all desperation is not being able to free them  <-   "bane of all desperation" means that "desperation" is
           distressed. You probably want to re-word it to express that your protagonist is  distressed and desperate. 
a half-covered-moon is only a quarter-of-a-night’s risks.  <-  This needs to be clearer.
 
fists etched in wood; uncurled  <-  Great! But that "uncurled" should be "uncurl" as the fingers of a fist aren't uncurled to begin with.
battling stiffness and mechanical waves  <-  I love "battling stiffness". Maybe "waves" needs changing to something else?  
nausea at the start of another twang at three  <-  Like this, the figure as prisoner/slave is a strong metaphor, one that you've made work well.
Pulled by strong movers; intricate gears.  <-  Good!
Oh dance marionette, dance along with me.  <-  Maybe leave out both "Oh"s as it's a bit cliched to use them.
Oh It was just me.  <-  I like the realization that the figurine was you; very good!
 
stretching along the walls of the cubic room  <-  Since rooms are close to "cubic" already, I think this word isn't necessary.
in black; a colorless dress,  <-  Is the room black and the dress colorless? Needs to be clearer.
spun out of energy on a half pirouette,  <-  wonderful
a slight scrape beneath the foot,  <-   Maybe "the" should be "my" as you've revealed this at the end of stanza 2.
indeed tonight, not the best of nights out  <-   I know that the protagonist has  just come back to reality, to the fact that she
          has just physically come back as well. I love this! But maybe it should be expressed a bit stronger.

I really like your poem, especially the "protagonist as figurine" metaphor. What I particularly like are the hints to the deeper layers
of the woman's life; and at a deeper layer still, to the position, the half pirouette, that all women find themselves in.

Well conceived.

(Maybe this is too much critique for novice? Forgive me if it is, I'm new here.)

[Gabriel.k.Jones]

The figurines in the cuckoo room
a mechanism to escape
the bane of all desperation is not being able to free them
a half-covered-moon is only a quarter-of-a-night’s risks.

*** There is a story you are trying to tell here, one that speaks about the figurines not being able to be free from...?
Your sudden shift about the half covered moon is clever with the word play and numbers, I guess the nights risk is what i want to get clarity on. Is the night the antagonist and plight that the figurines want to escape from?

fists etched in wood; uncurled
battling stiffness and mechanical waves
nausea at the start of another twang at three
Pulled by strong movers; intricate gears.
Oh dance marionette, dance along with me.
Oh It was just me.

*** I think of a puppet when I read the first line. One that comes to life and discovering that it has consciousness. I like the play on words here, the Twang the strings of an instrument can make... you draw the attention to the time when you say 3, giving an estimate of time. Does that mean more than a quarter of the night has gone by or is that in fact still part of the nights quarter?

stretching along the walls of the cubic room
in black; a colorless dress,
spun out of energy on a half pirouette,
a slight scrape beneath the foot,
indeed tonight, not the best of nights out

*** This last verse is not one of my favourites in your piece. The black box, the colourless dress its just doesn't create a colourful image. This adds to ( ironically ) the lack of energy the ending has in this piece.

You start strong, the ending could contain the same energy in my opinion.

I look forward to reading more of your work! Thanks for sharing

[amejadcc]

Thanks for the comments!  ><

Hey we are all Newbies! Please feel free to comment a lot.

With the last stanza, the figurine goes back in the dark cuckoo box of the cuckoo clock (if you've seen one) which is entirely dark and you can't see what color her dress is either. So she goes back in the dark cuckoo box on automatic like clockwork, scraped "the foot" (feeling resigned of her wooden nature) on her way in. If that makes more sense.

I will post a revision on Monday because I have an open house at my dad's place tomorrow so I'll be the kitchen's help the whole day.

[UselessBlueprint]

Ahh, I love clocks. Unfortunately, this poem does not live up to what I had hoped for, being that it is focused on clocks. Notes in the lines, and afterwards.

Original:

The figurines in the cuckoo room
a mechanism to escape
the bane of all desperation is not being able to free them (bane of all desperation -- what?)
a half-covered-moon is only a quarter-of-a-night’s risks. (far too obscure. hyphens on half covered moon are unnecessary, but possibly justifiable on quarter-of-a-night's, somehow)
 
fists etched in wood; uncurled
battling stiffness and mechanical waves (waves in an odd choice for this piece. though it may draw a mild attention to sound / pressure waves, a sonic imitation would be much better here.)
nausea at the start of another twang at three (double 'at' bothers me. makes the lack of rhythm/meter in this obvious, especially for this line)
Pulled by strong movers; intricate gears.
Oh dance marionette, dance along with me.
Oh It was just me. (nitpick, but why capitalize Oh and It?)
 
stretching along the walls of the cubic room (I don't feel that cubic is explicitly necessary, but if it adds something you like, I see no reason it should be removed)
in black; a colorless dress,
spun out of energy on a half pirouette,
a slight scrape beneath the foot,
indeed tonight, not the best of nights out

This did not deliver for me. The progression was awkward. It's rather obscure for me, and probably has far too many extra words. But let me move on to what I really was hoping to see.
Clocks are rhythmic. They have to be. Even cuckoo clocks. This poem did not give me any sense of rhythm. Some lines are nearly painful to say aloud: my pattern of speech creates some very ugly elisions throughout this piece. For anything that deals with time, I like to keep to an iambic or trochaic meter. It's a cheap and dirty way to keep the clocks ticking as your piece progresses.

[next]

With the last stanza, the figurine goes back in the dark cuckoo box of the cuckoo clock (if you've seen one) which is entirely dark and you can't see what color her dress is either. So she goes back in the dark cuckoo box on automatic like clockwork, scraped "the foot" (feeling resigned of her wooden nature) on her way in. If that makes more sense.

Ah! Now it makes more sense to me. You need to figure out how to re-word the poem so this gets across to the reader.
And again: This is such a wonderful idea for a poem! 

I will post a revision on Monday because I have an open house at my dad's place tomorrow so I'll be the kitchen's help the whole day.

Good luck with that kitchen!  I'm looking forward to your revision.

[gmc]

The figurines in the cuckoo room
a mechanism to escape I like these top two lines, they bring me inside the cuckoo clock (once I realize that is what cuckoo room refers to?)
the bane of all desperation is not being able to free them  the bane of all desperation is the desperation's bane (distress and annoyance), which sounds like it might actually be a good thing...
a half-covered-moon is only a quarter-of-a-night’s risks.  I feel as though these bottom two lines are both too long or are awkwardly worded, but I like what you are trying to do
with this last line, maybe just half-moon instead of half-covered-moon? "quarter-of-a-night's risks" doesn't keep a great rhythm either

fists etched in wood; uncurled very cool, the unmovable moving
battling stiffness and mechanical waves this line sort of just repeats what we've learned in the previous line with "battling stiffness", also mechanical waves puts images in my head
of hard science and not so much the artistic delicate play of gearing
nausea at the start of another twang at three 
Pulled by strong movers; intricate gears.
Oh dance marionette, dance along with me.
Oh It was just me.
 
stretching along the walls of the cubic room once again, cubic gives me an impression of math and geometry and takes away from the artistic mood here I think
in black; a colorless dress,
spun out of energy on a half pirouette, 
a slight scrape beneath the foot, 
indeed tonight, not the best of nights out I am really digging these last two lines, can't say exactly why haha

Overall a pretty interesting idea with a solid cuckoo clock motif.  I think it could use a bit more artistic mechanical imagery.