a much better write than i'm capable of but as the reader i see some flaws. the poem worked well enough and had some fantastic original imagery, the ROOM stanza however felt too thick, {i'm struggling to express thick and i'm sorry for that} im minded more of a tom sawyer paragraph of sorts than a stanza of poetry. all that said you have a good grasp of word use and originality and i will be definitely be reading anything else you write.
(08-14-2017, 03:15 PM)alexorande Wrote: Eventide
I. The Beach
Dreams from the crib
And memories not so fine-tuned
Amalgamates into
A silent chaos. is A needed? the opening weakens the poem for me, were i reading the poem in a book i would have passed over the rest of the poem and turned the page.
In an artless time
Of chasing brine-dripping gulls i like the sonic of time/brine
Alongside my sister, and this for me creates an image that would have me continue reading. gulls and brine work well wit the title
I found comfort in a song
That the waves crooned
Through the lips of my Grandparents.
Must've been why their calls
Seemed but the sand in the wind feels awkward, a suggestion would be Like for But and [on the wind]
which stirred Muhly grass
and tossed finer hair; two solid like and a great image, i like how you formatted them in a manner that lends even more power the, lovely
Seemed but the fragrance feels awkawrd
from which sea slushes on rock. the smell of sea via a great image
We run, hopefully not on their patience,
Till we meet all-shades-of-blue's
Drowsy tug. Time to settle down. i think this line needs more of an image/simile, as is it reads too disjointed.
II. The Room
It's just like the sun to say-
"Time to settle down"
But it's hardly out, isn't it?
So those words go to my grandparents;
Of course, we comply:
Hop in the shower, ripen up, and get dry.
Then we would tune into
The fantastical Blue's Foster Home cartoon
Abuela, in her silken gown, reads
Abraham Lincoln's biography.
Grandpa, being not much of a talker,
Is fast in his slumber. Tonight,
The moon bears a face that resembles
Abuela's soft disapproval
Of our late-night television consuming;
To which, of course, we comply
With the ease of the
Shore's ever-sweet lullaby.
Then off goes the lamp. while there are some good images in this stanza i found it tough going.
A temporary stay at temporal ban.
I confounded this thought
With dreams and existence,
Warped meditation.
And though the value of this
Is blotted out so beautifully,
I am as sure as eggs are eggs: feels a bit forced and cliche, though it does show your POV
Eventide at that beach was born
Out of love
For when decrepitude comes.