Cutting the cord

[Richard]

Hey Mark,
I  enjoyed the use of metaphor/simile in this poem. I find that you seem to get a bit bogged down by trying to cover too many ideas here. I actually think you should simplify this poem by removing some of the lines OR turn this piece into more than one poem. I'll explain more below: 

1st edit

Cutting the Cord -While this title conveys your main idea, I feel like it is almost a cliche, but that's just my own opinion.


The umbilical cord was cut
the first ritual of my independence -Interesting metaphor that needs to be developed more. How is cutting the umbilical cord like a ritual? That idea could be an entire poem.
no longer a living extension
in my mother’s womb
but developing into a man
two plugs nestle in my ears -I actually think you should cut the first five lines of the poem and start here. You should come back to comparing the two cords, but the first five lines just feel out of place to me.
their white slender cord
hang around me
like a weight -I really like this simile. Again, this idea of technology weighing use down could be developed into its own poem.
by the electronic device
their connected to

It is my soul’s narcotic, my mind’s opiate
I always carry it around,
like a drip feed -I like these three lines. I would suggest making these three lines their own stanza though.
Exposing me to sites and sounds
it sings to me:
“That’s entertainment
That’s entertainment”
but at times
at the expense of everything else
even the maker’s loving hand -I feel like this is the place to tie what you're saying back to your mother/umbilical cord.
whose neglected relationship I need

So the cutting of this cord
is not just a ritual of my independence
from mindless distraction
it’s a ritual of my dependence
to my heavenly father above -How is cutting the cord a ritual of dependence for the speaker to the heavenly father? This needs to be developed more.
whose arm I now cling to
like a helpless babe. -This feels almost like a cliche at the end.

Cutting the Cord

The cutting of the fleshy cord
the first ritual of my independence
no longer a living extension
of my Mother’s body
for I’m now severed to live life apart

But since developing to a man
two plugs lay nestled in my ears
their white slinder cord hang
around me like a noose
and I am weighed down
by the electronic device its connected to

It is my soul’s narcotic, my mind’s opiate
for I always carry it around,
like a drip feed
I cannot live without it
at the forsaking of everything else
even the maker’s loving hand

So the cutting of this cord
Is not just a ritual of my independence
but of my dependence
to my heavenly father above
whose arm I now cling to
like a helpless babe.

If you wanted to, I think you could even turn the idea of a neglected relationship between the speaker and God into its own poem as well. It's almost as if there's too much going on in this poem. This isn't an entirely bad thing because this poem gives you multiple start points for other poems. I look forward to see where you take this from here.

Keep writing,
Richard