Consolation prize

[Brownlie]

Cultural artifacts = Good

After reading many poems in the last few days I wrote a new one this morning. All my previously written stuff is the rhyming kind like Oleander spoon. That doesn't seem to be the way. This is my first crack at a non rhyming one.

Consolation prize

Startled from sleep by the screeching I stumble from my room -- Somewhat wordy
Technicolour shards of plastic imagination ebb underfoot -- Technicolor - a potentially rich topic, but I might not use it in a surreal sort of manner.
Untamed violence ricochets between them, squash racquet thwak
Returns serve thwak thwak  -- An interesting idea. You might want to explore the sounds more. The thwak thwak are certainly rhythmic disruptions, taken together they might make a spondee.  
Boys please..... Give me a second -- Too many dots in the ellipses. 

Destination bathroom, my socks soak up careless aim -- Syntax is awkward. You could make a case for it, but you'd have to make that case (in my opinion).
Vacant eyes stare up at me from the dunny -- For my perspective "dunny" is a rich word, but I'm not Australian. Therefore may ambitions with the word may be in the realm of marble and embalming.
A dolls head with punk hair lolls within -- Punk hair is somewhat vague, but if you are using a punk style as a conscious linguistic choice to explore the "topoi" (in lack of a better word) this might work.
I need coffee. -- Not sure about "I need coffee." 

Yellow ukulele reclines amongst the washing up -- Ukulele = A win. 
Funny, I heard no strumming and it was not there last night -- I see no reason for "Funny"
Yes, coffee

She cradles a pinecone, stroking its spiky contours with love
It is her baby -- This is fascinating and pretty good.
Dressed in a green smocked dress, cocooned nursery pink in a wrap - More good. "nursery pink" is rich in meaning.
At least she is not a chicken
She was once for 3 weeks, bok bok
Please use your spoon for cereal; it gets in your hair when pecked
Bok bok bok

Come on kids, get moving
Brush your hair, your teeth; don’t spit on your brother
Keep your hands to yourself, mind your own business
Shhh, come on now.......Quick.  It’s nearly time to go -- Ellipses crazy?

Skinny arms strangle me, with puppy gallop hugs
Gappy giggles bubble free from impish faces
Soggy kisses splodge my face; sticky hands wipe down my back
Bye Mum
Push, shove, scramble and slam
My surreal morning has been sucked out the door
A plump yellow bus has taken them away

There is a vacuum now in the empty house - Very symbolic image here.
The silence is heavy in way that somehow the noise never is
I finally have my coffee
But now,
it’s only a consolation prize. 




Cheers. I have never written like this, so it will be interesting to see how you think it went.

Maybe experiment with metrical forms if you haven't already I suppose. I guess the only thing that matters is if you're consciously considering your sound in a semi comprehensive manner.