i'll just comment on the edit as i missed it the first time round.
overall i really enjoyed the read, while reading it in order to give constructive feedback i stumbled with the fourth line but reading the poem as a whole and not a single line at a time it read perfectly. i like the title, it sets the poem up well and the reader is instantly aware of a certain setting. i think it was bloody excellent. while the last four or five lines felt a tad forced, their enjoyment and humour (for me) made the poem work well. if i had to find a nit, it would be [drink]. as the poem is in the past tense, should it be [drank] it doesn't really matter to me but it is a blip on an otherwise really good piece of poetry. i could have said something good about most if not all of the lines but prefer to say i liked it over all for the craft of the thing, the insight of thing, and the humour of the thing.
thanks for the read.
overall i really enjoyed the read, while reading it in order to give constructive feedback i stumbled with the fourth line but reading the poem as a whole and not a single line at a time it read perfectly. i like the title, it sets the poem up well and the reader is instantly aware of a certain setting. i think it was bloody excellent. while the last four or five lines felt a tad forced, their enjoyment and humour (for me) made the poem work well. if i had to find a nit, it would be [drink]. as the poem is in the past tense, should it be [drank] it doesn't really matter to me but it is a blip on an otherwise really good piece of poetry. i could have said something good about most if not all of the lines but prefer to say i liked it over all for the craft of the thing, the insight of thing, and the humour of the thing.
thanks for the read.
(10-20-2014, 02:06 AM)ray Wrote: Revised
The muffled room in which we dine
at tables doomed for eight or nine;
the champagne glasses deftly clinked,
though champagne isn’t what we drink. i love the cheapness of this or the abstinence ( did they use them for water i wonder)
The chicken’s textured rubber duck it feels like it's missing a comma
and vegetables are overcooked;
rain dribbles down the window-panes;
the walls exhibit ageing stains.
The waitress frowns absorbed, remote;
you shape a sound and clear your throat this and the line above is a solid couple with a good image.
then whisper something indistinct;
our stiltedness makes others wince.
The portraits yawn, the music ticks;
a napkin’s drawn to bloodless lips.
So many seats remain unfilled
to celebrate how time is killed.
Original
The muffled room in which we dine
at tables doomed for eight or nine;
the champagne glasses deftly clinked,
though champagne isn’t what we drink.
The chicken’s textured rubber duck
and vegetables are overcooked;
rain dribbles down the window-panes;
the walls exhibit aged stains.
The waitress frowns absorbed, remote;
you shape a sound, you clear your throat
then whisper something indistinct;
our stiltedness makes others wince.
The portraits yawn, the music plinks;
a napkin’s drawn to bloodless lips.
So many seats remain unfilled
to celebrate how time is killed.