Mechanized Man

[gernseeker]

Mechanized Man, who dreads each day’s rote tasks
Invents grand schemes to rapidly ratchet his gears,
Then, spent, at day’s death, on weary knee asks
Of Fortune this: the luck to live long years.

His body rests but mind tight wound attends
A measured choice so stark: define my time
Or life’s by time defined. He wakes, pretends
This truth’s a lie. He’ll keep each beat in line.

Alarms are silenced quick. Today allows
Another chance, another pace to run,
Just split a second slowly now, and now
Divide; divided moments shine undone.

Mechanized Man, who strains to count his lot,
Envies the one now dead: His clock ticks not.

[tectak]

Mechanized Man, who dreads each day’s rote tasks You assume by this opener's capitalisation of the title that the reader knows what you refer to...but what is "Mechanized Man". Is it a toy? Can't be...toys don't dread. Come to think about it, does anything mechanised exhibit emotional abstraction?
Invents grand schemes to rapidly ratchet his gears,...and again you make with the capitals in the retro and pseudo-poetic line capitalisation. It was never a good idea.
Then, spent, at day’s death, on weary knee asks "then" is polyfilla...used for filling small inconsequential cracks,"day's death" is a simplistic cliche.
Of Fortune this: the luck to live long years. this of Fortune. Avoid inversions.

His body rests but mind tight wound attends
A measured choice so stark: define my time
Or life’s by time defined. He wakes, pretends Very clunky. Needs smoothing out. The " define my time or life's by time defined" is so inverted its meaning has run out of the container.
This truth’s a lie. He’ll keep each beat in line. Gobbledygook brought on by rhyme addiction

Alarms are silenced quick. Today allows
Another chance, another pace to run,
Just split a second slowly now, and now
Divide; divided moments shine undone. This whole stanza is gobbkedygook as the addiction deepens. You have now run out of things to say and must end at all costs...and it will be so.

Mechanized Man, who strains to count his lot,
Envies the one now dead: His clock ticks not. ...a long journey for a quick funeral. As an epitaph it leaves me nothing to remember the piece by

Hi,
There is an overkill in this. I cannot see why the whole thing could not be written in three or four lines. You make points which polemically are neutral and struggle to say a great deal about nothing at all. However, you are to be praised for trying to write something new about something old...it is never easy. My advice would be to pare this one down into clean, terse verse. You may then see things which are quintessential to your elongated premise...life in the modern world is shitty and I can't wait to die...and work on that.
Best,
tectak

[gernseeker]

Mechanized Man, who dreads each day’s rote tasks You assume by this opener's capitalisation of the title that the reader knows what you refer to...but what is "Mechanized Man". Is it a toy? Can't be...toys don't dread. Come to think about it, does anything mechanised exhibit emotional abstraction?
Invents grand schemes to rapidly ratchet his gears,...and again you make with the capitals in the retro and pseudo-poetic line capitalisation. It was never a good idea.
Then, spent, at day’s death, on weary knee asks "then" is polyfilla...used for filling small inconsequential cracks,"day's death" is a simplistic cliche.
Of Fortune this: the luck to live long years. this of Fortune. Avoid inversions.

His body rests but mind tight wound attends
A measured choice so stark: define my time
Or life’s by time defined. He wakes, pretends Very clunky. Needs smoothing out. The " define my time or life's by time defined" is so inverted its meaning has run out of the container.
This truth’s a lie. He’ll keep each beat in line. Gobbledygook brought on by rhyme addiction

Alarms are silenced quick. Today allows
Another chance, another pace to run,
Just split a second slowly now, and now
Divide; divided moments shine undone. This whole stanza is gobbkedygook as the addiction deepens. You have now run out of things to say and must end at all costs...and it will be so.

Mechanized Man, who strains to count his lot,
Envies the one now dead: His clock ticks not. ...a long journey for a quick funeral. As an epitaph it leaves me nothing to remember the piece by

Hi,
There is an overkill in this. I cannot see why the whole thing could not be written in three or four lines. You make points which polemically are neutral and struggle to say a great deal about nothing at all. However, you are to be praised for trying to write something new about something old...it is never easy. My advice would be to pare this one down into clean, terse verse. You may then see things which are quintessential to your elongated premise...life in the modern world is shitty and I can't wait to die...and work on that.
Best,
tectak

Thanks tectak - I appreciate you taking the time to read and comment. I'd like to hear other's thoughts and then digest before responding.

[bena]

I find sonnets extremely hard to write, so I commend you as you have done rather well. Sometimes it takes me moment to figure out the meter of some others' iambs, but I didn't have trouble with yours. While I consider to be a fine poem, I'm not sure it really adds anything new. I did like your volta.

At any rate, someone with better knowledge on how to critique sonnets will come along and give much better advice.

[ellajam]

Hi and welcome, thank you for the critiques you've given others.

So, life's a drag and then you die, relieved. It's a point of view.
As usual, the capitalization of every line makes for a more difficult read for me. What do you feel the poem gains from it? Here are some notes:

Mechanized Man, who dreads each day’s rote tasks
Invents grand schemes to rapidly ratchet his gears,
Then, spent, at day’s death, on weary knee asks
Of Fortune this: the luck to live long years.
While "rapidly ratchet" is lovely on the tongue, for me "rapidly" detracted from the line, and I'm not sure if ratchet is being used correctly. I'm not sure why someone so depressed prays for long life, it seems off to me.

His body rests but mind tight wound attends
A measured choice so stark: define my time
Or life’s by time defined. He wakes, pretends
This truth’s a lie. He’ll keep each beat in line.
Maybe "tight wound mind" might work better. I really like the next three lines.

Alarms are silenced quick. Today allows
Another chance, another pace to run,
Just split a second slowly now, and now
Divide; divided moments shine undone.
The first two lines don't seem to add much, but that may be because I can't figure out the next two. Time moves slowly when no opportunities are taken advantage of?

Mechanized Man, who strains to count his lot,
Envies the one now dead: His clock ticks not.

Hope this helps, welcome to the Pig Pen.