A Long Way From Home

[tectak]

Hi Ryan,

Here are some comments on your poem:

A Long Way From Home

Mother please don't cry,
I was too young to go,
but this is what I need you to know.

There was nothing you could do,
Nothing anyone could see,
That pain inside me,
My confusing rage,
The haunting sorrows,
All the things that refused to end.

--To this point you've given me a lot of words but not a lot of imagery. You're drowning in abstract concepts (pain, rage, sorrows, things) and filler most of the rest. You need to grab the reader much faster than this (first two lines). This meanders too much.

I don't know what put me up here,
I don't know what made me jump,--Yes, you do know. It's from the notches line to the end of the strophe. I think the lines I've bolded below can be reworked into something.
As I stand, I stare,
at the notches in the leather,
at the buckle made of brass,
and it shows my reflection
And I see my life in my expression,--I like the bolded lines and would perhaps salvage them in the rewrite

Twelve years walking,
through this life,
I look around to see so little,
but I spy so much inside.
I see the joy when you look at me,
but you never tell me,
what I am to you,
or what you want me to do.
Mother I love you.--all of this, could probably be cut.

In all this time I discover,
that there is so little
in this world to understand.
But this isn't why I do it.
I see the other families,
with moms and dads,
and kids who are their center.
And I can't help but wonder,
why can't I be yours.--This could be pared down a bit but the content is getting more at the heart of your poem

I'm sorry I hurt you,
and took away your chances.
I'm sorry I'm not perfect,
in good health, and happy.
But that isn't why I'm up here.--I think you say this better in the next strophe. You could cut all this

You told me stories
of a girl that could fly.
A girl, in love with life.--something that shows this rather than tells us
You told me all the things she did,--specifics, never this type of filler
and all the love she'd give.
But you never told me,
why it had to end,
the minute you had a kid.--These last three lines and a reworking of this strophe is probably what you should consider either leading with or ending the poem with.

I'm up here,
standing on a stool.
Wondering why,
was my birth so cruel?
Maybe I should go,
and find another place.
discover my wings somewhere

I think of all your stories
and I repeat to myself,
that I am ready.
ready to fly with my
leather-brass wings.
To step of this cliff
into the pit of everything.

I fly away from you,
A long way from home,
and as I fall
I beg you not to cry,
I know it's not my time.--Condense these last three strophes into one and see where that takes you.


(in memory of Nathan, the wisest kid that nobody would give a chance)

Just thoughts to consider.

Best,

Todd

Hi ryan,
I am not given to foreshortened crit...I think deserving poets deserve pensive crit ( and, of course, vice versa) but here I am totally with todd on all points.
Veracity verse is damned hard to crit without offense...and the longer the submission, the more opportunities to stilleto the piece.So I will add not a lot. My overwhelming advice would be to cut this down. Overstretched "personal" tributes are not as effective as short, sharp, clear, heartfelt prose. After all, the person to whom you are aiming your words would understand a great deal from very little.
Best,
tectak