The Whistling Wind

[Valerie Please]

I appreciate all of the critique given.

The Whistling Wind

The whistling wind sounds like you
I lay at dawn and listen
The whistling wind sounds like you
Slowly through the crevasses of my window
The whistling wind sounds like you
My neighbor wants to get it fixed
The whistling wind sounds like you
I sometimes try to muffle the sound
The whistling wind sounds like you
It never stays that way for long
The whistling wind sounds like you
The tone is audible throughout the building
The whistling wind sounds like you
I can almost hear it down the lane way
The whistling wind sounds like you
In the morning, everything sounds like it...

I don't mind.

I’m going to differ in opinion about the central poetic technique here: the repetition of the phrase “whistling wind.” It’s the best device in the poem, since it gives a sense of music, alliteration, and onomatopoeia to the poem. My feeling is that the other lines should contain that evocative sense of word  play. At the second line I was expecting that, since you get front rhyme there (lay/listen). But then by line six, the sonic quality to the language is not there. I even like the concept of the neighbor being bothered by it, but is there a way to restate this that plays with sound? Perhaps, could we even combine some of the advice here and put more expression into the intervening lines and limit the repetitions of the chorus. Also, since the wind is the stand-in for the absent lover, could some of those intervening lines do more to describe this person or the emotions that the speaker has. Right now I get ambivalence: “sometimes I try to muffle the sound”/“I don’t mind” — the emotion here seems rather mild. But man! This is the whistling wind! It’s loud enough to bother the neighbors!!! Let’s turn up the volume, right?

And by the way, I think if you turned up the volume on the poem, a last line like that could be kind of a mic drop moment, or a great sly joke.

So, in summary, I want MORE, I want the wind to blow all the balls to the wall. More music, more sound, more feeling, more characterization. I think the bones of the poem are there, but give it some muscle, blood, and bile.