I never choose fruit

[Keith]

Hi there!

Cool poem. I don't actually mind the title. For me, "I never choose fruit" provides the idea of never choosing sweetness, never choosing health, never going for something bright. The content of the poem is anything but sweet and happy, so in that sense, it works for me.

Beyond that, however, I'm not entirely sure what the central themes of the poem are. During a tranquil moment, the speaker drifts into the violent sounds of city, yet turns them even more violent in his head with the images of dust having hands and burning bodies. By the third stanza, I wasn't sure if the scene was actually happening or not. Even though the images are concrete, the idea behind them seems vague, like it isn't quite translating. There is mention of machines--man and machine specifically--and it almost leads me to believe that perhaps the intent was to discuss how technology is impacting the planet and society.

Honestly, I'm not really sure what to gather here. I think it's nicely written, though. Sorry if that wasn't helpful!

Bay

Hi Bay
Thank you for the considered feedback, it will help me with the edit as clearly some things don't work here, it is all real but clarity of that needs to be reviewed. Best Keith

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Hi there!

Cool poem. I don't actually mind the title. For me, "I never choose fruit" provides the idea of never choosing sweetness, never choosing health, never going for something bright. The content of the poem is anything but sweet and happy, so in that sense, it works for me.

Beyond that, however, I'm not entirely sure what the central themes of the poem are. During a tranquil moment, the speaker drifts into the violent sounds of city, yet turns them even more violent in his head with the images of dust having hands and burning bodies. By the third stanza, I wasn't sure if the scene was actually happening or not. Even though the images are concrete, the idea behind them seems vague, like it isn't quite translating. There is mention of machines--man and machine specifically--and it almost leads me to believe that perhaps the intent was to discuss how technology is impacting the planet and society.

Honestly, I'm not really sure what to gather here. I think it's nicely written, though. Sorry if that wasn't helpful!

Bay

    9/11

Ah, okay. Thanks. In that case, it needs more 9/11 specific details. It doesn't have enough details specific to New York City either. Many cities have endured acts of terrorism. This could be about anything.

Its wasn't supposed to be about 9/11 although I can see that it comes over as that and given my time of posting....needs an edit

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    9/11

Ah, okay. Thanks. In that case, it needs more 9/11 specific details. It doesn't have enough details specific
to New York City either. Many cities have endured acts of terrorism. This could be about anything.

While I'm not sure what Keith had in mind for this poem,  I don't think it's useful to put in
too many specific details. That's why my crit took many of them out.

A poem doesn't have to be a documentary that fills in specific dates, places, etc. I'm not saying it
couldn't be, just that it doesn't have to be. There are a zillion poems that recount 9/11, they've
become a cliché.  The second a reader identifies it as one of those "9/11" poems, they will lose
interest. It's not that the subject isn't emotionally important, it's that its constant repetition --
especially when being used as a pretext for political or monetary gain -- has numbed their senses.  
I.E. : Through no fault of its own, 9/11 has become a cliché.

So I guess my best advice would be to not write about 9/11. But what if  it happened to you, or what if  
you're just a stubborn poet who insists on writing about it? If this were my poem (and it's not), I'd concentrate
on locally perceivable images, and then I'd limit them to the details specifically available to just one person.  
The emotional effect of these details, because they're not readily identifiable with the cliché of the "Historic Event",  
could be freshly felt.  ---------- Or, ha ha, so the theory goes…    :-)


What I like about Keith's poem is that it seems he's trying to do just that.
(If so, then maybe my crits will be of help.)

Ray

I agree with your comments here Ray the poem was about news footage I saw in the 70's I think it was in brazil a huge block of flats was on fire and people were jumping to their death, on fire. It was awful and the images have always haunted me. I don't think the poem works well enough to manifest these images onto the page. So I have decided to drop this poem and will take on another angle. I will do a final edit but as you say it is very close, too close to a 9/11 poem I had no intention of writing.

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Hi Keith,
Nice piece. I didn't find much to be changed with it, but here are some thoughts.

Every lunchtime I slip away,
sit on my park bench meal deal, --I do agree with the comment above, it sounds like you're sitting on your kunch, hehe. So add some punctuation or rephrase the line.
coffee with a shot of vanilla,
sandwiches and a chocolate biscuit
or fruit. last but least

The city drones regardless, Regardless of what?
a backdrop to my tranquil moment. Maybe you could switch this and the previous line around... Oblivious to my tranquil moment / the city drones regardless. Or something like that.
Today is different,( it taps for my attention,
vocal chords that wont hold still Won't with the apostrophe, or is that meant to be wont?
they shout and scream, 'they' is unnecessary
blowing panic, man and machine
that tumble down crowded streets
quicker with each step,
rubble falls around me(.)

I feel like a drunk woken at a party(,)
stumbling to process the marker-pen scene,
drowning sirens are seen(,) not heard
dust has its hands down my throat. Love this line.
The rubble turns to burning bodies,
thumping to the ground,
splitting branches from the trees.
My mind had told my legs to run
long before it told me.

Hi PJS
Many thanks for your feedback.
Best Keith

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Hi Keith,  I've read this several times now.
Must admit I find the title distracting more than anything.  I think the title is actually reading like the first line and in this sense it makes more sense and fits well enough but held in isolation and reapplied to the overall thread of the poem it is a bit of a stretch and is for me not working hard enough.

A couple of comments below. 

Every lunchtime I slip away,
sit on my park bench meal deal, My main stumble comes here and could just be me but when I read this line I immediatly have an silly image of someone who has sat on thier lunch and then my shallow and easily distracted mind is off thinking up what a coffee/ sandwich and buscuit stain is going to look like.  You might want to consider some punctuation attention so that you are not sitting on your lunch!
coffee with a shot of vanilla,
sandwiches and a chocolate biscuit
or fruit.   Overall I like the detail and the normalness of it all ...and of course the fruit option which is never chosen (as per title...so It does make sense)

The city drones regardless,  Not sure this is needed at this juncture because we do not have anything that it is reguardless too  (it is a normal backdrop perhaps)
a backdrop to my tranquil moment.
Today is different, it taps for my attention,   Not sure what is tapping in this line...the city or the backdrop noise.  Don't dislike the line it just leaves me with a question.
vocal chords that wont hold still
they shout and scream,
blowing panic, man and machine
that tumble down crowded streets
quicker with each step,
rubble falls around me

I feel like a drunk woken at a party
stumbling to process the marker-pen scene, love these image and context of these two lines they are working hard, not so convinced about the syntax of drunk woken at...it sounds off to me but not sure why.
drowning sirens are seen not heard   Drowning is used well here in context with the waking drunk image so don't mind the ing word but then they begin to go into overdrive in later lines, perhaps consider loosing one of the ing words.
dust has its hands down my throat.
The rubble turns to burning bodies,
thumping to the ground,
splitting branches from the trees.
My mind had told my legs to run
long before it told me.

Very clear 9 /11 images. nicly done
AJ.

Many thanks AJ I plan to do one final edit then park this one. really appreciate your considered comments and will use them as always. Best Keith

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Every lunchtime I slip away,
sit on my park bench meal deal,
coffee with a shot of vanilla,
sandwiches and a chocolate biscuit
or fruit.

The city drones regardless,
a backdrop to my tranquil moment.
Today is different, it taps for my attention,
vocal chords that wont hold still
they shout and scream,
blowing panic, man and machine
that tumble down crowded streets
quicker with each step,
rubble falls around me

I feel like a drunk woken at a party
stumbling to process the marker-pen scene,
drowning sirens are seen not heard
dust has its hands down my throat.
The rubble turns to burning bodies,
thumping to the ground,
splitting branches from the trees.
My mind had told my legs to run
long before it told me.

To be quite honest, the original meaning I took from this poem was that the same old circumstances of your daily ritual turned into a suffocating nightmare.  This doesn't feel like 9/11 (I wasn't there, so take everything that I say with a large grain of salt).  That being said, I don't like the outward focus for such an inward moment, this was your damned lunch man!  Feel the rubble in your rickety bones, feel the crackling of burning bodies on the pavement as fire crackers on your first fourth of July, a deathly rain shower of hopes, dreams, and dust.   However, how you described the lack of comprehension in the various sirens?  Juicy.  Like the sirens being seen not heard?  Creamed my pants a wee bit.  It is very clever and patters along nicely but lacks the dialogue changing doesn't amplify meaning, it confuses it.  Also pull me back to the lunch theme in the end.

Honestly, overall I really liked the poem but it wasn't connecting with me.

Thanks Kaxtar1, nor me

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00  I never choose fruit

01  Every lunchtime I slip away,
02  sit on my park bench meal deal,
03  coffee with a shot of vanilla,
04  sandwiches and a chocolate biscuit
05  or fruit.
06  
07  The city drones regardless,
08  a backdrop to my tranquil moment.
09  Today is different, it taps for my attention,
10  vocal chords that wont hold still
11  they shout and scream,
12  blowing panic, man and machine
13  that tumble down crowded streets
14  quicker with each step,
15  rubble falls around me
16  
17  I feel like a drunk woken at a party
18  stumbling to process the marker-pen scene,
19  drowning sirens are seen not heard
20  dust has its hands down my throat.
21  The rubble turns to burning bodies,
22  thumping to the ground,
23  splitting branches from the trees.
24  My mind had told my legs to run
25  long before it told me.  


00 You need a new title.  Maybe use the first of your line 12: 'blowing panic'

1 drop 'i slip away'
2 drop 'sit'
3-7 ok
8 cliché, delete or rephrase, don't use 'backdrop' or  'tranquil'
9 cliché: 'Today is different' , but i like  'it taps for my attention'
rephrase 9 so it transitions to 10
10 ok
11 delete
12 use a word to re-connect it with 10
14 cliché , delete
15 not needed, delete
17-19 good
20 delete
21 good
22 delete
23 good
24-25 delete

Thank you thank you thank you for coming up with a simple line index. 

I know it's poor form to comment on feedback, so I'll give proper comments in a bit, but just wanted to say, this is an awesome way to give comments. Thanks x 10

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Quick proofread in my old format:

I never choose fruit
--consider an ellipse after "fruit"

Every lunchtime[,] I slip away,
sit on my park bench meal deal,
coffee with a shot of vanilla,
sandwiches and a chocolate biscuit
or fruit.

The city drones regardless,
a backdrop to my tranquil moment.
Today is different[. I]t taps for my attention,
vocal chords that won[']t hold still[.]
[T]hey shout and scream,
blowing panic, man and machine
[out:that ]tumble down crowded streets[,]
quicker with each step[—]
rubble falls around me[.]
--ignore the marks above if they get in the way of a desired effect. But the final period feels essential.
----consider, too, "vocal chords that won't hold still / shout and scream. / They . . . "
I feel like a drunk woken [up] at a party[,]
--or "[a]woken at"
stumbling to process the marker-pen scene,
drowning sirens are seen[-]not[-]heard[,]
--or "seen, not heard,"
[and] dust has its hands down my throat.
--again, let the original stand if the agrammatical effect is intended
The rubble turns [in]to burning bodies,
thumping to the ground,
[and] splitting branches from the trees.
My mind had told my legs to run
long before it told me.
--this image is confusing. Note that rubble is generally the result of a calamity, and is usually something sitting at rest (see, http://i.word.com/idictionary/rubble).

Hey Crow thank you for the comments I will take them into the edit Best Keith

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Sorry to all that took the time to give me feedback here, I am very late with my reply...no excuse. Not really feeling this one as it stands and can't really find enough to cover the topic the way I wanted to. Many thanks Keith