Don't Look (Revised)

[nibbed]

Revision


Don't Look

Cleaning my own clock
I chimed in
hungry scavengers;

From the time
I passed through the canal,
I've clung to every word offered
from this cruel world of pendulums,
trying to ready staves,
secure them in place;

Trusting scholars
over instinct & common sense,
my key turned once too often,
twisting out of shape
worn, rusted,
over-wound coils.

Weary of wasting each notch
on silly, lying vanities,
wondering if I would ever
find life again,
I turned fate over
to the hands
of my own mercy:

Sounding the great alarm,
I lifted from my grave clothes
trading velvet cap and bells
for a robe of purest white.




Original
Don't Look


I cleaned my own clock
by hanging heavily
to every word
of this world;
trusting scholars,
turning over my life
to the hands of death
as I wasted time selling
my own lying vanities.









sorry, I realized the 1st poem
was a big mistake. I tried
to delete it, but it wouldn't
let me, so, I wrote over it
a completely different poem.

[Richard]

Hey Janine,
I saw your first poem, and I didn't think it was so bad. This is a much shorter piece, but has some nice lines in it. I'll go into more detail below:

Don't Look


I cleaned my own clock -I think this first line borders closely on cliche. Because of this, I think it hurts your overall message of this poem. May be start with a single word like "Dazed", or "Disoriented". That is the meaning I get from this line. Am I right?
by hanging heavily
to every word -What do words have to do with clocks?
of this world;
trusting scholars, -I almost feel like your poem starts effectively communicating your main point here. This line is much clearer than your current first line.
turning over my life
to the hands of death -I like the image of the "hands of death," but I think it needs to be explored more.
as I wasted time selling
my own lying vanities. -I enjoyed these last two lines. I think they are the strongest part of the poem. They created a wonderful image in my mind, and and convey you main idea effectively.









sorry, I realized the 1st poem
was a big mistake. I tried
to delete it, but it wouldn't
let me, so, I wrote over it
a completely different poem.

I think you have a nice start here, and I look forward to seeing where you take this poem from here.

Cheers,
Richard

[just mercedes]

Don't Look


I cleaned my own clock
by hanging heavily
to every word
of this world;
trusting scholars,
turning over my life
to the hands of death
as I wasted time selling
my own lying vanities.

Do you realize that 'clock' and 'hands' are the only concrete images in your poem? The rest is made up of abstractions, which can't evoke the same depth of response from a reader.

To quote the League of Canadian Poets, ' The strength and effectiveness of a poem relies on the strength and effectiveness of its imagery – and the strength and effectiveness of that imagery relies on its concreteness.' 


'Clock' and 'hands' are a good starting point, they fit together well. Now you can show your reader, using metaphors, similes, and appeal to senses wih colours, scents, textures, etc., what you want to communicate in your poem. Show your reader, rather than tell them.




sorry, I realized the 1st poem
was a big mistake. I tried
to delete it, but it wouldn't
let me, so, I wrote over it
a completely different poem.

[CRNDLSM]

Don't Looknice title Ive wanted to look and not look


I cleaned my own clockinteresting opening mine are all dusty
by hanging heavily
to every word
of this world;I like the line breaks
trusting scholars,
turning over my life
to the hands of death
as I wasted time selling
my own lying vanities.backing up here, your own lying vanities that you sell is the other half of every word of 'this' world (first half being scholars). But cleaning the clock sounds like a positive outlook on spent time while wasting time lying seems negative, as does hanging heavily, so the don't look title now seems like shameful twist the cleaning, don't look inside at who I am.
Interesting, have a good day!









sorry, I realized the 1st poem
was a big mistake. I tried
to delete it, but it wouldn't
let me, so, I wrote over it
a completely different poem.

[nibbed]

Don't Looknice title Ive wanted to look and not look


I cleaned my own clockinteresting opening mine are all dusty
by hanging heavily
to every word
of this world;I like the line breaks
trusting scholars,
turning over my life
to the hands of death
as I wasted time selling
my own lying vanities.backing up here, your own lying vanities that you sell is the other half of every word of 'this' world (first half being scholars). But cleaning the clock sounds like a positive outlook on spent time while wasting time lying seems negative, as does hanging heavily, so the don't look title now seems like shameful twist the cleaning, don't look inside at who I am.
Interesting, have a good day!









sorry, I realized the 1st poem
was a big mistake. I tried
to delete it, but it wouldn't
let me, so, I wrote over it
a completely different poem.

Thanks CRNDLSM
I always appreciate your work and critique.
Thank you for your thoughtful critique on my poem.


nibbed

[Solstice]

Revision


Don't Look

Cleaning my own clock
I chimed in
hungry scavengers;

From the time
I passed through the canal,
I've clung to every word offered
from this cruel world of pendulums, Pendulums nods to motion of words and their meaning, where staves, in the next line,
trying to ready staves, reveals perhaps a stubbornness.
secure them in place;

Trusting scholars Directed sardonic language towards scholars is something that is hard to do, without a reputation. Kudos.
over instinct & common sense,
my key turned once too often,
twisting out of shape
worn, rusted,
over-wound coils. Throughout the poem, there's very much of self-deprecation, and at the end, it gives the reader a well deserved gasp of air. Also, perhaps twisting out of shape and over-wound are unnecessary repeats.

Weary of wasting each notch
on silly, lying vanities,
wondering if I would ever
find life again,
I turned fate over Turning fate over to the narrator's God. Welcome line of reason here.
to the hands
of my own mercy: 

Sounding the great alarm,
I lifted from my grave clothes
trading velvet cap and bells
for a robe of purest white. This makes for an image of the previously masochistic narrator as a child-like writer. In that most, if not all of the poem is leading up to this, it reminds me of a certain poem by a master, in which there is a distinct character expression of having moved past this, and it takes up generally all of the poem. Self-deprecation works best when the work is of the opposite effect.



Original
Don't Look


I cleaned my own clock
by hanging heavily
to every word
of this world;
trusting scholars,
turning over my life
to the hands of death
as I wasted time selling
my own lying vanities.









sorry, I realized the 1st poem
was a big mistake. I tried
to delete it, but it wouldn't
let me, so, I wrote over it
a completely different poem.

Good read, nibbed. Well done on the revision.

[nibbed]

Revision


Don't Look

Cleaning my own clock
I chimed in
hungry scavengers;

From the time
I passed through the canal,
I've clung to every word offered
from this cruel world of pendulums, Pendulums nods to motion of words and their meaning, where staves, in the next line,
trying to ready staves, reveals perhaps a stubbornness.
secure them in place;

Trusting scholars Directed sardonic language towards scholars is something that is hard to do, without a reputation. Kudos.
over instinct & common sense,
my key turned once too often,
twisting out of shape
worn, rusted,
over-wound coils. Throughout the poem, there's very much of self-deprecation, and at the end, it gives the reader a well deserved gasp of air. Also, perhaps twisting out of shape and over-wound are unnecessary repeats.

Weary of wasting each notch
on silly, lying vanities,
wondering if I would ever
find life again,
I turned fate over Turning fate over to the narrator's God. Welcome line of reason here.
to the hands
of my own mercy: 

Sounding the great alarm,
I lifted from my grave clothes
trading velvet cap and bells
for a robe of purest white. This makes for an image of the previously masochistic narrator as a child-like writer. In that most, if not all of the poem is leading up to this, it reminds me of a certain poem by a master, in which there is a distinct character expression of having moved past this, and it takes up generally all of the poem. Self-deprecation works best when the work is of the opposite effect.



Original
Don't Look


I cleaned my own clock
by hanging heavily
to every word
of this world;
trusting scholars,
turning over my life
to the hands of death
as I wasted time selling
my own lying vanities.









sorry, I realized the 1st poem
was a big mistake. I tried
to delete it, but it wouldn't
let me, so, I wrote over it
a completely different poem.

Good read, nibbed. Well done on the revision.

Hi, Solstice

Thank you kindly for responding to my poem. I was trying to weave together certain circumstance through metaphor using the parts of a clock, a clock symbolic of time, all concerning an intense moment in my faith. I thought of staves as having a hold of God, as the handles involved in the transport of the ark of the covenant. I know the poem is very abstract, as were my thoughts when I wrote it. It is interesting the interpretations you shared and I thank you very much for considering my poem and sharing your kind thoughts.

nibbed

[nibbed]

Good read, nibbed. Well done on the revision.

Hi, Solstice

Thank you kindly for responding to my poem. I was trying to weave together certain circumstance through metaphor using the parts of a clock, a clock symbolic of time, all concerning an intense moment in my faith. I thought of staves as having a hold of God, as the handles involved in the transport of the ark of the covenant. I know the poem is very abstract, as were my thoughts when I wrote it. It is interesting the interpretations you shared and I thank you very much for considering my poem and sharing your kind thoughts.

nibbed

Nibbed,

Perhaps look into stave churches. A 900 year old architecture of places of worship. It may not be an additional image in the poem (too much can clutter?), but interesting nonetheless. 

Solstice

Thank you kindly for the suggestion, I had no idea such churches existed. They look amazing, but very dark and gothic, almost frightening, in a way. Not friendly and welcoming like our brighter churches of today. I suppose seeing one might inspire tales of gypsies and runaway fantasies. Have a blessed day, Solstice.

nibbed