Cutting the cord

[Mark Cecil]

2nd edit

Cutting the Cord

Two plugs nestle in my ears,
their white slender cord
hang around me
like a weight,
by the smart phone
they’re connected to.

It has become my umbilical cord,
my soul’s narcotic, my mind’s opiate,
I always carry it around,
like a drip feed.

Exposing me to sights and sounds
it sings to me:
“That’s entertainment,
That’s entertainment,”
but at times
at the expense of everything else.

At such a time as this I ask myself:
“when should this cord be cut?”
My honest reply:
“Now, but not yet. ”


Original-

Cutting the Cord

The cutting of the fleshy cord
the first ritual of my independence
no longer a living extension
of my Mother’s body
for I’m now severed to live life apart

But since developing to a man
two plugs lay nestled in my ears
their white slinder cord hang
around me like a noose
and I am weighed down
by the electronic device its connected to

It is my soul’s narcotic, my mind’s opiate
for I always carry it around,
like a drip feed
I cannot live without it
at the forsaking of everything else
even the maker’s loving hand

So the cutting of this cord
Is not just a ritual of my independence
but of my dependence
to my heavenly father above
whose arm I now cling to
like a helpless babe.

[Brownlie]

Cutting the Cord

The cutting of the fleshy cord -- Why not say umbilical cord? Isn't that a cooler pair of words than fleshy cord?
the first ritual of my independence -- Who remembers being born? Out of the gate this is retrospective.
no longer a living extension
of my Mother’s body -- Is anyone ever sure about that?
for I’m now severed to live life apart -- What about the feeding?

But since developing to a man --- Seems wordy. As a critic, I can say that and do nothing useful. 
two plugs lay nestled in my ears
their white slinder cord hang -- Why slinder? I know what headphones look like. 
around me like a noose -- Noose seems too dramatic for headphones.   
and I am weighed down
by the electronic device its connected to -- Cool comparison. Would rather hear music than neighbors though.

It is my soul’s narcotic, my mind’s opiate -- Booze, drugs and whatnot =  far more numbing than Facebook.
for I always carry it around, -- For to make me a turkey sandwich? For sounds archaic or an act of begging profundity from archaic phrasing. 
like a drip feed
I cannot live without it
at the forsaking of everything else -- the forsaking? 
even the maker’s loving hand

So the cutting of this cord
Is not just a ritual of my independence
but of my dependence
to my heavenly father above
whose arm I now cling to
like a helpless babe. -- Can do better than "helpless." An action like crying would be more powerful than an abstract generalization. 

Good metaphor with the headphones and whatnot.

[Donald Q.]

Cutting the Cord

The cutting of the fleshy cord       Having 'the' twice is bothering me.. maybe just 'cutting the fleshy cord' ?
the first ritual of my independence
no longer a living extension
of my Mother’s body   You don't need to capitalise. 
for I’m now severed to live life apart  Bit too wordy

But since developing to a man   'into' ? 
two plugs lay nestled in my ears   Watch your tense, it's confusing
their white slinder cord hang    'Slender' 
around me like a noose    Confusing imagery in this stanza; it is a weight tying you down or a noose tying you up? 
and I am weighed down
by the electronic device its connected to  'it's' 

It is my soul’s narcotic, my mind’s opiate
for I always carry it around,   'for' seems like padding
like a drip feed  Cables as drip feed works well.
I cannot live without it  Cliche line, you already say this without being so direct
at the forsaking of everything else  'at the forsaking' ? Bit clunky.
even the maker’s loving hand  Your mother / god? This could be something to develop. 

So the cutting of this cord
Is not just a ritual of my independence
but of my dependence
to my heavenly father above
whose arm I now cling to
like a helpless babe.   I feel like this last stanza forgets about the imagery of the cables and just goes back to the umbilical

Hi Mark, thanks for posting. Seems like you have a strong idea on your mind which is good, but I think the poem is a bit messy at the moment. It seems like the ipod metaphor is developed only to be tossed out at the end. I'd also say it seems rather odd that despite this metaphor there is no mention of sound or music in the poem, perhaps something to develop? I think develop outwards from your imagery and this poem will grow. 
Hope this was helpful. 
P.s don't forget to proof read, you don't need us to tell you how to spell!

[Mark Cecil]

Hopefully this first edit helps to address some of the criticisms raised

[UselessBlueprint]

1st edit

Cutting the Cord


The umbilical cord was cut (Okay, right off the bat, I'm going to need punctuation in this piece)
the first ritual of my independence
no longer a living extension
in my mother’s womb
but developing into a man
two plugs nestle in my ears (idea shifted, punctuate or separate)
their white slender cord
hang around me
like a weight
by the electronic device  (the ambiguity here does not add anything. Call it a phone, an mp3 player, or any other specific item)
their connected to (they're*)

It is my soul’s narcotic, my mind’s opiate (why have the mind/soul distinction here? Also, punctuation)
I always carry it around,
like a drip feed
Exposing me to sites and sounds (given context, I expect you mean 'sights')
it sings to me:
“That’s entertainment
That’s entertainment”
but at times
at the expense of everything else
even the maker’s loving hand
whose neglected relationship I need

So the cutting of this cord
is not just a ritual of my independence
from mindless distraction
it’s a ritual of my dependence (excessively wordy here)
to my heavenly father above
whose arm I now cling to (a very weak conclusion. If this is the type of 'cutting the cord' that really matters to the poem, it should be developed in more of the piece)
like a helpless babe.

While your central metaphor is sound, the delivery is really underwhelming. Punctuation is going to be necessary. There is no legitimate reason to ignore it for this piece. The images are pretty weak, and there is very little poetry in the language you use. You need to compress your ideas and trim the fluff. I enjoy that your metaphor is straight, a lot of people are often lost in empty phrases or obscure references, but your language is pretty clear. Yet, unfortunately, the language does not match the focus of the piece. Keep working, and please trim some more out of this.

Tip: Annotate this piece yourself. Write the ideas of each stanza on the side, write the idea of your central metaphor, and look to see if there are any lines/words/phrases that don't contribute to assembling these ideas into your metaphor.

[Richard]

Hey Mark,
I  enjoyed the use of metaphor/simile in this poem. I find that you seem to get a bit bogged down by trying to cover too many ideas here. I actually think you should simplify this poem by removing some of the lines OR turn this piece into more than one poem. I'll explain more below: 

1st edit

Cutting the Cord -While this title conveys your main idea, I feel like it is almost a cliche, but that's just my own opinion.


The umbilical cord was cut
the first ritual of my independence -Interesting metaphor that needs to be developed more. How is cutting the umbilical cord like a ritual? That idea could be an entire poem.
no longer a living extension
in my mother’s womb
but developing into a man
two plugs nestle in my ears -I actually think you should cut the first five lines of the poem and start here. You should come back to comparing the two cords, but the first five lines just feel out of place to me.
their white slender cord
hang around me
like a weight -I really like this simile. Again, this idea of technology weighing use down could be developed into its own poem.
by the electronic device
their connected to

It is my soul’s narcotic, my mind’s opiate
I always carry it around,
like a drip feed -I like these three lines. I would suggest making these three lines their own stanza though.
Exposing me to sites and sounds
it sings to me:
“That’s entertainment
That’s entertainment”
but at times
at the expense of everything else
even the maker’s loving hand -I feel like this is the place to tie what you're saying back to your mother/umbilical cord.
whose neglected relationship I need

So the cutting of this cord
is not just a ritual of my independence
from mindless distraction
it’s a ritual of my dependence
to my heavenly father above -How is cutting the cord a ritual of dependence for the speaker to the heavenly father? This needs to be developed more.
whose arm I now cling to
like a helpless babe. -This feels almost like a cliche at the end.

Cutting the Cord

The cutting of the fleshy cord
the first ritual of my independence
no longer a living extension
of my Mother’s body
for I’m now severed to live life apart

But since developing to a man
two plugs lay nestled in my ears
their white slinder cord hang
around me like a noose
and I am weighed down
by the electronic device its connected to

It is my soul’s narcotic, my mind’s opiate
for I always carry it around,
like a drip feed
I cannot live without it
at the forsaking of everything else
even the maker’s loving hand

So the cutting of this cord
Is not just a ritual of my independence
but of my dependence
to my heavenly father above
whose arm I now cling to
like a helpless babe.

If you wanted to, I think you could even turn the idea of a neglected relationship between the speaker and God into its own poem as well. It's almost as if there's too much going on in this poem. This isn't an entirely bad thing because this poem gives you multiple start points for other poems. I look forward to see where you take this from here.

Keep writing,
Richard

[Mark Cecil]

I've done a second edit.

enjoy

[Richard]

Hey Mark,
I actually think you did a much better job with this poem in the second edit. I like that your poem has a much stronger focus. I'll explain more below:

2nd edit

Cutting the Cord

Two plugs nestle in my ears,
their white slender cord
hang around me
like a weight, -Still like this simile.
by the smart phone
they’re connected to. -I don't know if you need the last two lines here. Most readers will get what you're talking about without mentioning a smart phone.

It has become my umbilical cord,
my soul’s narcotic, my mind’s opiate,
I always carry it around,
like a drip feed. -I love this stanza. I think it sums up technology today perfectly.

Exposing me to sights and sounds
it sings to me:
“That’s entertainment,
That’s entertainment,”
but at times
at the expense of everything else. -I like this line. I would suggest exploring the idea here more because "everything else" is a bit vague.

At such a time as this I ask myself:
“when should this cord be cut?” -A relevant question for us today.
My honest reply:
“Now, but not yet. ” -I love the answer. I think this line is so honest. People often want to make changes for the better, but they always seem to put such things off. This is just a wonderful ending.


Original-

Cutting the Cord

The cutting of the fleshy cord
the first ritual of my independence
no longer a living extension
of my Mother’s body
for I’m now severed to live life apart

But since developing to a man
two plugs lay nestled in my ears
their white slinder cord hang
around me like a noose
and I am weighed down
by the electronic device its connected to

It is my soul’s narcotic, my mind’s opiate
for I always carry it around,
like a drip feed
I cannot live without it
at the forsaking of everything else
even the maker’s loving hand

So the cutting of this cord
Is not just a ritual of my independence
but of my dependence
to my heavenly father above
whose arm I now cling to
like a helpless babe.

Overall, I think you did a wonderful job with revising this poem, and I enjoyed having a chance to read it.

Cheers,
Richard

[vagabond]

Cutting the Cord


Two plugs nestle in my ears,
their white slender cord   shouldn´t it be plural (cords)?
hang around me              or if it´s singular “hangs”
like a weight,
by the smart phone      don´t quite understand how weight hangs by the smart phone
they’re connected to.       maybe use some image showing the subjects dependence on the gadget


It has become my umbilical cord,     this image and the one in the next line I´t try to connect, maybe something like umbilical cord feeding opiates (just a thought)
my soul’s narcotic, my mind’s opiate,
I always carry it around,
like a drip feed.

Exposing me to sights and sounds
it sings to me:
“That’s entertainment,
That’s entertainment,”
but at times   I think that line is unnecessary as the image is surreal enough to bear absolute statements like that in the stanza´s last line
at the expense of everything else.

At such a time as this I ask myself:
“when should this cord be cut?”
My honest reply:
“Now, but not yet. ”

nice theme, would it really be necessary to cut the cord (once and for all)?