Embers 2.0

[Mattp]

OK, so this is such a departure from the original that I hesitate to label it as the same poem. It came from the same place though, so here it goes:


These corridors carry their own kind of silence;
an old silence;
which pushes and receeds and in its wake
men break to shards and fall into the fluidity of their cognition;
and ward-weathered doctors try to put the pieces back together
into some semblance of nature;

here muted-stubborn echos
breathe fantasy in the ears of any so lost as to listen,
and sing men to sleep in their chemical womb;

in these hallways the lights turn out one at a time.



The original:

3:00 AM
too tired to know what raised me
these hallways carry a different kind of silence
an old silence
a last vestige of those who have gone before
in the corridors of the mad

she was lost in a skewed space
he would follow, but for now
she was half dream, half ethereal
far too distant for me
to see past distant eyes,

then another, my feet were cold, his eyes
were embers
an evil as ancient
as the spawning of Gods,
and I sleep

[Nester]

OK, so this is such a departure from the original that I hesitate to label it as the same poem. It came from the same place though, so here it goes:


These corridors carry their own kind of silence;
an old silence;
which pushes and receeds and in its wake
men break to shards and fall into the fluidity of their cognition;             (I like "men break to shards")
and ward-weathered doctors try to put the pieces back together          (maybe "try to reassemble" (see below))
into some semblance of nature;

here muted-stubborn thoughts
breathe fantasy in the ears of any so lost as to listen,         (this line could be stronger)
and sing men to sleep in their chemical womb;                   (this line is plenty strong: love "chemical womb")

in these hallways the lights turn out one at a time.              (perhaps "one by one"? Not sure on this, though)

I like your imagery, and I think you did a good job handling the metaphor of "lights turning out" so that it doesn't become cliche.

The line "here muted-stubborn thoughts" threw me a bit: I didn't see that it continued the prior line, and I read "here" as "hear" (i.e. the patients are hearing their thoughts). I thought "here" was a typo until I looked up and saw the semi-colon.

I can't resist suggesting that the end of the first stanza might improve as:

     and ward-weathered doctors try to reassemble
     some semblance of nature.

This gives you the "reassemble/semblance" rhyme, which I really like. That said, my taste is always for the succinct and abrupt, so YMMV.

Hope this helps.

[Mattp]

Nester - thanks for the crit man, much appreciated. I'll put some thought into your suggestions,

- Matt

[sithcat]

Very interesting to see both the original and the revision here. I take this poem to be about someone under heavy medication, possibly for a mental illness, while in a hospital or some other shared space. 

My favorite line was "sing men to sleep in their chemical womb." I would like to be more connected to whomever or whatever is doing the singing, however.

What I liked about the original poem was the description and imagery of the actual delusions, whereas the revision only mentions a 'fantasy' in passing. If there is a way to work more detail and show the fantasy that would connect the reader more to the poem. 

In general, I think you could make it longer and flesh out the poem with more detail. I am curious about the setting, for instance. Thank you for sharing! 

Best,
sithcat

[Jasper]

Just wanted to alert you to a typo, "receeds" should be "recedes." I really like this poem; I enjoyed your imagery and this gave me an interesting mental image. A minor suggestion to your last line is that saying "one by one" instead of "one at a time" may sound smoother, but that's an author's choice. I think this piece is original and strong, nice job!

[Mattp]

Thanks for the crit folks, much appreciated!'

- Matt

[whatisay-whatifeel]

OK, so this is such a departure from the original that I hesitate to label it as the same poem. It came from the same place though, so here it goes:


These corridors carry their own kind of silence;-Great opening line. This really captures the reader's attention, making them want more.
an old silence;-Interesting word choice here... Could it be stronger?
which pushes and receeds and in its wake
men break to shards and fall into the fluidity of their cognition;-Wow. Very strong line.
and ward-weathered doctors try to put the pieces back together- Great imagery!
into some semblance of nature;

here muted-stubborn echoes
breathe fantasy in the ears of any so lost as to listen,
and sing men to sleep in their chemical womb;

in these hallways the lights turn out one at a time.-This is my favorite line, and maybe one of the most powerful ones in the poem.



The original:

3:00 AM
too tired to know what raised me
these hallways carry a different kind of silence
an old silence
a last vestige of those who have gone before
in the corridors of the mad

she was lost in a skewed space
he would follow, but for now
she was half dream, half ethereal
far too distant for me
to see past distant eyes,

then another, my feet were cold, his eyes
were embers
an evil as ancient
as the spawning of Gods,
and I sleep

I love this poem. The only thing I might change would be your word choice of "old silence." I feel like the rest of your poem is so strong, that you could possibly put a impactful word in place of "old." I loved to see the transformation of your first poem into this one, but would also encourage you to continue working on the original. It's great that another idea stemmed from your original work but that doesn't necessarily mean that the original is dead. 
Great job and amazing imagery. You have a real talent.

[Mattp]

whatisay - hey thanks so much for the kind words, and for taking the time to crit. I'll take your suggestions into consideration during the next revision. I think it's time to sit on this. Thanks again,

- Matt