The Poet in Retirement

[Todd]

Hi Caleb,

I'll start with the note on the bottom. Outside of the first part where you say that you don't mind a more expansive critique, I tend to dislike all the added information. I don't think it matters if people get the As Time Goes By reference, or that you started with trying meter and settled on free verse. Let the poem stand or fall on its own. A few comments below:

The Poet in Retirement--I like the title, and it's a nice idea to explore. I felt though that the execution was a bit of a let down. I didn't get the sense of a poet in retirement just a speaker frustrated and tired of living. The poetry aspect of someone writing for a lifetime didn't convey.

Death, doom and waste.  Those are the things I understand.--Odd punctuation in your first clause. Also a pretty flat opening line. 
There is no simplicity in me,--This might be a cleaner opening line.
No cheerfulness – for cheer I watch TV,
Though the commercials make me mad.--As an opening strophe it feels disconnected.

The world, the world, the world; the paper has arrived.
The President does one thing right, two wrong.
They kill each other in the Middle East;
War is now the normal thing, the permanent divide.

I read that my religion is all wrong:
I must give thanks, must get on my knees; I must be re-re-re-reborn.
One birth is never enough for our greedy God.

I step into the sun; I worry that my skin will burn.
The grass is high, my gutters filled with leaves.
The children don't just play, they shriek.
I bark at them to settle down.--As I read through these last three strophes, there is usually one or two lines that have potential crowded by flat reportage. It could be a style difference but I would consider cutting quite a bit of this and seeing what you can do with only the most interesting lines. It feels like a lot of noise in the poem.

I back into the street; the engine knocks.  I see my neighbors' trash;
They won't recycle.--All of this is pretty funny but you could condense this lead up to make it less rambling.
I've hinted and cajoled; I've given them brochures.
Like a thief in the night I've pulled out bottles, cardboard, cans.--Like a thief in the night is cliche.
Why don't they care?
Their trees are over-mulched, they'll die;
Fat chance they'll listen when I tell them that.--Fat chance is also cliche.

The restaurant is empty – is the food not good?
The food is good, but expensive.
The food is tasty, but not nutritious.--Again look to condense a lot of this.
The fork's too heavy, the spoon is dirty.
Is that a fly?
The restaurant chair is much too tight; this isn't an airplane.--I like the transition you made from the question to here and then the next line.

Perhaps I've gotten fat.
That was what my mother said: "Fat! Fat! Fat!" she sneered--The "Fat Fat Fat she sneered could be cut.
At our final Thanksgiving dinner in front of family.
That was when dementia took her kindness.
She was right, I am grotesque.
I think I'll have dessert.
Is this whipped cream or whipped shortening?

I'm at the store; the prices are so high.
So many lights are burning; global warming is apace.
The proprietor doesn't care;
Selling lamps is more important than the planet.--Again less is probably more in this instance.

This lamp is cheap; that lamp is grand; this lamp wobbles and leans.
Modern or faux antique; plastic crystal, plated bronze; L.E.D.'s are now the thing.
Nothing quite fits my eclectic taste, so I settle.--lines like this just read as reportage and filler.
My card is declined; I am over-limit.

The engine knocks; the car must be left; the bill will be high; my savings will shrink.

The bus is full of tired workers going home;
At least they have a purpose.--Too telling
Panhandlers on the bus; I feel threatened.
Suddenly I am tired too.
I rush home to Mary Tyler Moore.
The Big Bang Theory makes me laugh – so smart and yet so dumb.
Lionel and Jean are still in love.  Only TV doesn't change.
My neighbors' chimes interrupt my trance;
I slam the window down, though the night is hot.
Moving again is not an option.

I stare at a twenty-year-old unfinished poem.
I go to bed.


===============

I'm posting this on the Mild Critique board because I don't want everyone to feel that they have to do a line-by-line analysis.  However, line-by-line analyses are welcome.

I initially tried to hammer the poem into meter, but the subject didn't lend itself to my florid metrical style, so I let it be what it wanted to be.  And then I realized that if the poem is about an older poet who has lost his or her inspiration, prosaic free verse is the proper medium.

With this line -- "The children don't just play, they shriek" -- I wonder if it is clear that I am referring to children in the neighborhood and not my own.  Putting "neighborhood" before "children" made the line flow more poorly.

I don't know where this forum is located -- U.S., England?  The time stamp suggests Hong Kong, which seems a little odd.  I'm mentioning this because the poem mentions two American TV shows and one English TV show, and I don't know if everyone will be familar with them.

Just some thoughts. I think there's too much filler in this one, though there is a good idea to be explored. I mostly have trouble seeing the speaker as poet as opposed to cranky disillusioned old man. I hope some of it helps.

Best,

Todd