Consolation prize

[Rustymetal]

After reading many poems in the last few days I wrote a new one this morning. All my previously written stuff is the rhyming kind like Oleander spoon. That doesn't seem to be the way. This is my first crack at a non rhyming one.

Consolation prize

Startled from sleep by the screeching I stumble from my room
Technicolour shards of plastic imagination ebb underfoot
Untamed violence ricochets between them, squash racquet thwak
Returns serve thwak thwak
Boys please..... Give me a second

Destination bathroom, my socks soak up careless aim
Vacant eyes stare up at me from the dunny
A dolls head with punk hair lolls within
I need coffee.

Yellow ukulele reclines amongst the washing up
Funny, I heard no strumming and it was not there last night
Yes, coffee

She cradles a pinecone, stroking its spiky contours with love
It is her baby
Dressed in a green smocked dress, cocooned nursery pink in a wrap
At least she is not a chicken
She was once for 3 weeks, bok bok
Please use your spoon for cereal; it gets in your hair when pecked
Bok bok bok

Come on kids, get moving
Brush your hair, your teeth; don’t spit on your brother
Keep your hands to yourself, mind your own business
Shhh, come on now.......Quick. It’s nearly time to go

Skinny arms strangle me, with puppy gallop hugs
Gappy giggles bubble free from impish faces
Soggy kisses splodge my face; sticky hands wipe down my back
Bye Mum
Push, shove, scramble and slam
My surreal morning has been sucked out the door
A plump yellow bus has taken them away

There is a vacuum now in the empty house
The silence is heavy in way that somehow the noise never is
I finally have my coffee
But now,
it’s only a consolation prize.




Cheers. I have never written like this, so it will be interesting to see how you think it went.

[bena]

It's an interesting stream of consciousness thing, but I think you get a bit too distracted in the abstract parts. Maybe it just needs to be pared down a bit, taking out just some of the ambiguous parts. I like it, though. Sounds like my mornings.
bena

[Grace]

Well, speaking as one who's new to this too - I think it's brill.
I think it needs more punctuation. "Technicolor shards of plastic imagination" - good image but seems like too many words. Love the dialogue throughout, and the theme of needing coffee., which is the consolation prize at the end. I like the surreal morning sucked out the door, leaving a vacuum (couldn't help thinking vacuum as in vacuuming!). There's so much to like about this eg "plump yellow bus", and "book bok bok". It's full of life.

[Nathan Sage]

although the descriptions are very good, the natural ease of flow is hindered. At some switches i feel as if you're swinging the reader side to side in a pinball machine. i would suggest working on the natural flow and structure to better convey your piece.

[pmmurphy]

This poem was unique and unusual to me. It was a fun read for the most part but it borderlined being simply a rambling when i read it. Not that it was bad, I just personally had difficulty grasping your message. Things didn't seem to stroll together well then all the sudden boking like a chicken comes in and thats where you just kinda lost me lol.

As for the write, i enjoyed the rythem i was able to read it and follow it just fine. I enjoy your breaks i enjoy your diction and i especially enjoyed your word choice. The only things i would work on (if i was writing) is maybe clarifying my points alittle better and keeping things contained and well transitioned. Such as, if im boking like a chicken, the whole poem is about boking like a chicken instead of just a one stanza.

You have alot of interesting things here but it was hard for me as a reader to really correlate them together. I kinda want to read a revise of this if you ever do it. See what you make with it. What i get from it is just a simple description of a day or a morning that is going on in a family. With some added interesting mockery.

A piece of advice i was given is, poetic devices and artistic qualities are good, but too much makes it gaudy. I felt like this one was gaudy (i am guilty of this too) as in, it jumped all over the place to me and didn't really sit in one solid thought.

[Brownlie]

Cultural artifacts = Good

After reading many poems in the last few days I wrote a new one this morning. All my previously written stuff is the rhyming kind like Oleander spoon. That doesn't seem to be the way. This is my first crack at a non rhyming one.

Consolation prize

Startled from sleep by the screeching I stumble from my room -- Somewhat wordy
Technicolour shards of plastic imagination ebb underfoot -- Technicolor - a potentially rich topic, but I might not use it in a surreal sort of manner.
Untamed violence ricochets between them, squash racquet thwak
Returns serve thwak thwak  -- An interesting idea. You might want to explore the sounds more. The thwak thwak are certainly rhythmic disruptions, taken together they might make a spondee.  
Boys please..... Give me a second -- Too many dots in the ellipses. 

Destination bathroom, my socks soak up careless aim -- Syntax is awkward. You could make a case for it, but you'd have to make that case (in my opinion).
Vacant eyes stare up at me from the dunny -- For my perspective "dunny" is a rich word, but I'm not Australian. Therefore may ambitions with the word may be in the realm of marble and embalming.
A dolls head with punk hair lolls within -- Punk hair is somewhat vague, but if you are using a punk style as a conscious linguistic choice to explore the "topoi" (in lack of a better word) this might work.
I need coffee. -- Not sure about "I need coffee." 

Yellow ukulele reclines amongst the washing up -- Ukulele = A win. 
Funny, I heard no strumming and it was not there last night -- I see no reason for "Funny"
Yes, coffee

She cradles a pinecone, stroking its spiky contours with love
It is her baby -- This is fascinating and pretty good.
Dressed in a green smocked dress, cocooned nursery pink in a wrap - More good. "nursery pink" is rich in meaning.
At least she is not a chicken
She was once for 3 weeks, bok bok
Please use your spoon for cereal; it gets in your hair when pecked
Bok bok bok

Come on kids, get moving
Brush your hair, your teeth; don’t spit on your brother
Keep your hands to yourself, mind your own business
Shhh, come on now.......Quick.  It’s nearly time to go -- Ellipses crazy?

Skinny arms strangle me, with puppy gallop hugs
Gappy giggles bubble free from impish faces
Soggy kisses splodge my face; sticky hands wipe down my back
Bye Mum
Push, shove, scramble and slam
My surreal morning has been sucked out the door
A plump yellow bus has taken them away

There is a vacuum now in the empty house - Very symbolic image here.
The silence is heavy in way that somehow the noise never is
I finally have my coffee
But now,
it’s only a consolation prize. 




Cheers. I have never written like this, so it will be interesting to see how you think it went.

Maybe experiment with metrical forms if you haven't already I suppose. I guess the only thing that matters is if you're consciously considering your sound in a semi comprehensive manner.