Fall Back

[sithcat]

Hello! First post to PigPen. Would like feedback on first draft of a poem. Thanks

Fall Back

The darkness comes when you are sleeping,
Perhaps you are still asleep.
Rise and taste the oily drops of sunlight in your morning coffee,
Taste them before they evaporate on your tongue.
A dreamless wandering leads you down and
Out and through these laden streets.
You are flecked and proded with rain.
You may be thinking about
Cozy nights with tea and pets and a good book
You may be thinking about
Tap dancing feet and playful puddles
But they are ripped from your mind by
An edge to the wind, the smell of drunk urine,
Cold hands, damp paper, and a weight
That holds you down with both hands.
Close and open your eyes, open and close them.
It doesn’t matter.
Barely contained rage builds as everything runs late
And down into the gutter.
Seek out shelter, perhaps only to change your socks.
Turn around and find the doors and windows have been
Absorbed into darkness.
Sit cross-legged in front of your false sun-god
After dinner so you don’t fall asleep.
But soon sleep does come and it is dark and restless.
Perhaps you are still awake.

[Clara Brown]

Hello! First post to PigPen. Would like feedback on first draft of a poem. Thanks

Fall Back

The darkness comes when you are sleeping,- The darkness comes while when you are sleeping,
Perhaps you are still asleep.- Perhaps, you are still asleep.
Rise and taste the oily drops of sunlight in your morning coffee,-  Rise and taste, the oily drops of sunlight, in your morning coffee,
Taste them before they evaporate on your tongue. - Taste them, before they evaporate on your tongue. 
A dreamless wandering leads you down and- A dreamless wandering, leads you down, and
Out and through these laden streets.- Out, through these laden streets.
You are flecked and proded with rain. - You are flecked, and proded with rain. 
You may be thinking about- You may be Thinking about cozy nights,
Cozy nights with tea and pets and a good book- Cozy nights with tea, and pets and a good book
You may be thinking about
Tap dancing feet and playful puddles
But they are ripped from your mind by
An edge to the wind, the smell of drunk urine,
Cold hands, damp paper, and a weight
That holds you down with both hands.
Close and open your eyes, open and close them.
It doesn’t matter.
Barely contained rage builds as everything runs late
And down into the gutter.
Seek out shelter, perhaps only to change your socks.
Turn around and find the doors and windows have been
Absorbed into darkness.
Sit cross-legged in front of your false sun-god
After dinner so you don’t fall asleep.
But soon sleep does come and it is dark and restless.
Perhaps you are still awake.

HI Sithcat,

Your words tell an interestig story to say the least. There does appear to be a need of a more defined metered structure though.

It is okay to use varying meter, however your poem seems to be utilizing little or no meter. The lines appear to me as running one into another. You may find some well-placed comas can go far in clearing up the disjointed feel of this poem.

I have given some examples (I think might be helpful) above.

Thank you for commenting.  In the future, please try to avoid re-writing people's lines as your only form of criticism -- particularly when your corrections are so very incorrect/ Admin

[Todd]

Hi sithcat,

Welcome to the site! Some comments for you:

Hello! First post to PigPen. Would like feedback on first draft of a poem. Thanks

Fall Back

The darkness comes when you are sleeping,--This is not a bad line but should probably be moved (see below)
Perhaps you are still asleep.--This should probably be your first line to give your ending symmetry and a sense of closure. 
Rise and taste the oily drops of sunlight in your morning coffee,--"the oily drops of sunlight in your morning coffee" is my favorite phrase.
Taste them before they evaporate on your tongue.--Watch this over use of repetition. 
A dreamless wandering leads you down and
Out and through these laden streets.
You are flecked and proded with rain.
You may be thinking about
Cozy nights with tea and pets and a good book
You may be thinking about
Tap dancing feet and playful puddles
But they are ripped from your mind by
An edge to the wind, the smell of drunk urine,
Cold hands, damp paper, and a weight
That holds you down with both hands.
Close and open your eyes, open and close them.
It doesn’t matter.
Barely contained rage builds as everything runs late
And down into the gutter.
Seek out shelter, perhaps only to change your socks.
Turn around and find the doors and windows have been
Absorbed into darkness.
Sit cross-legged in front of your false sun-god
After dinner so you don’t fall asleep.
But soon sleep does come and it is dark and restless.
Perhaps you are still awake.

This is mild so I'm going to resist going line by line. Here's the main issue you need to consider.

You have too many words. You need to consider cutting more than half of this to get down to the essence of the idea. If one image works don't use three. As it stands this has promise but feels bloated. The bloat strips it of power. Be ruthless. If it doesn't demand to be in the poem cut it.

Not sure if that helps any. I hope it does. I think there's a potentially workable poem buried in there.

Best,

Todd

[Erthona]

The idea of someone hypothesizing about someone else that they apparently do not know, or even from a narrative, does little for me. It may be this, it may be that, yawn. As Todd mention there is major bloat here.  

"The darkness comes when you are sleeping,
Perhaps you are still asleep.
You rise and taste the oily drops of sunlight in your morning coffee.
Taste them before they evaporate on your tongue.
A dreamless wandering leads you down and
Out and through these laden streets." cliche

So out of six lines there is one excellent line, 2 superfluous lines, 1 redundant line, and a 2 line cliche.

This leads into a series of "you might". No! You are. No one cares what someone might be doing, because they just as easily might not be doing it. It needs to be definitive.

In terms of capping every line:

As a service to your readers, please do not cap the start of every line. That was originally a necessity related to typesetting. Capping the lines in print went out circa 1950's, primarily because it was no longer a need in typesetting, and it was less confusing to the reader. Most people coming up through the school system tend to read poetry either in text books or in anthologies. The compilers of these texts prefer not to use copyrighted material (due to the cost), which leaves more of the older material that is typeset in the old way, giving the impression that is how it should be done which is an unfortunate misapprehension. As it does nothing positive to the poem, but in fact weakens it, it is not a style, but an affectation.


Best,

dale

[whatisay-whatifeel]

Hello! First post to PigPen. Would like feedback on first draft of a poem. Thanks

Fall Back

The darkness comes when you are sleeping,
Perhaps you are still asleep.  I like how this line mirrors the last line of your poem. Have you thought about making it your opening line? I think that would flow better. 
Rise and taste the oily drops of sunlight in your morning coffee,-Great line!
Taste them before they evaporate on your tongue.
A dreamless wandering leads you down and
Out, and through these laden streets.- The "and" here is not needed. Notice the comma added after "out."
You are flecked and proded with rain.
You may be thinking about-What if you replace thinking with think?
Cozy nights with tea and pets and a good book
You may be thinking about
Tap dancing feet and playful puddles
But they are ripped from your mind by
An edge to the wind, the smell of drunk urine,
Cold hands, damp paper, and a weight
That holds you down with both hands. -Are these last few words needed? If so, look at the repetition of the word "hands." Could you switch up your word choice?
Close and open your eyes, open and close them.
It doesn’t matter.-I like this statement. It gets the reader to think, trying to understand the inner workings of the narrator's mind. Simple, yet strong.
Barely contained rage builds as everything runs late
And down into the gutter.
Seek out shelter, perhaps only to change your socks.
Turn around and find the doors and windows have been
Absorbed into darkness.
Sit cross-legged in front of your false sun-god
After dinner so you don’t fall asleep.
But soon sleep does come and it is dark and restless.
Perhaps you are still awake.

I really like this poem. When I read it I imagined a young, troubled man struggling with depression. I loved how the first two lines mirrored the last two, and thought your poem provoked thought with its ambiguity. Awesome job!