Flight IB7453

[LiteraryAntiquity]

Flight IB7453.

He is tall,
thin, as if left unfed
and suited in pin-stripes, no less.
It doesn't take away from his daddy-long-legs ideal.
I rest my head on the seat,
twist my knees out to the window
and watch
the white length of metal cut through our shared, charlatan sky.
Over the edge of golden-brimmed glasses and a particularly formal newspaper,
he watches me.

He is tall also,
muscular,
when he walks down the isle
every woman, every man and every child
is drooling, like a seventy two year old man getting his fix of perky, youthful breasts, their momentary Jesus.
His eyes are the green pools Bambi could run through,
his lips, the cherries, ripe for picking
and the slightly see-through t-shirt only aids my curiousity, unsure of anyone else's.
He sits in front of me twisting his words 'neath an irish accent
and bending the chair with his weight like a French Vogue-beauty over the four-poster in Amsterdam.
I crack my neck.

The hit slams the back of my seat.
Two children howling and hollering and lashing out, one mother sweating.
Her eyes plead "Don't leave me." when mine make contact
but I'm not their mother and I don't have to help.
I turn back to face the window.
Flight attendants drill for money with speakers and chocolate and alcohol and their souls and a normal sleeping pattern.
The children squeal like greedy rats for chocolate whilst I am just happy
with the Jack Dan's, swishing in my glass. I begrudge the ice.
Seat belts on,
in flight turbulence across the darkening sky. I yawn.

[billy]

Flight IB7453.

He is tall,
thin, as if left unfed
and suited in pin-stripes, no less.
It doesn't take away from his daddy-long-legs ideal. for me it seems a lot of work to say he's tall and thin and pinstriped.
I rest my head on the seat, this and the next two lines are a good solid image
twist my knees out to the window
and watch
the white length of metal cut through our shared, charlatan sky. [this line doesn't feel right for me LA, how can you watch it cut through the sky while you're in it?]
Over the edge of golden-brimmed glasses and a particularly formal newspaper,
he watches me. [the last three lines are a good image]

He is tall also,
muscular,
when he walks down the isle
every woman, every man and every child
is drooling, like a seventy two year old man getting his fix of perky, youthful breasts, their momentary Jesus. great image
His eyes are the green pools Bambi could run through,
his lips, the cherries, ripe for picking really cliché
and the slightly see-through t-shirt only aids my curiousity, unsure of anyone else's.
He sits in front of me twisting his words 'neath an irish accent [great line]
and bending the chair with his weight like a French Vogue-beauty over the four-poster in Amsterdam.
I crack my neck. [great last three lines.]

The hit slams the back of my seat.
Two children howling and hollering and lashing out, one mother sweating.
Her eyes plead "Don't leave me." when mine make contact
but I'm not their mother and I don't have to help.
I turn back to face the window. good five lines
Flight attendants drill for money with speakers and chocolate and alcohol and their souls and a normal sleeping pattern. [ lots of 'ands' but they work here]
The children squeal like greedy rats for chocolate whilst I am just happy
with the Jack Dan's, swishing in my glass. I begrudge the ice. [love this line]
Seat belts on,
in flight turbulence across the darkening sky. I yawn.

a good narrative poem with good images. strongly told. mt main nits are that too long was spent on the thin opening. my second is the he, and the he, two of them while the juxtapose well, we have no idea who they are, nor does the narrator of course but i'd like to see a distinction apart from thin and muscular. instead of the two he's why not the middle aged blah blah and the young blah blah. though of course the choise is yours.

the last line was almost perfect as a part of in flight entertainment lmao.
nothing there for me but a good solid narrative verse.
for me i don't think it needs too much of an edit, but it does feel like it needs at least a small one. jmo

thanks for the read LA. is it an iberian plain ?

[Lawrence]

He is tall,
thin, as if left unfed (Is "as left unfed" needed?")
and suited in pin-stripes, no less.
It doesn't take away from his daddy-long-legs ideal. (You're taking a little too long to say he's tall)
I rest my head on the seat,
twist my knees out to the window (Solid image)
and watch (A little telly)
the white length of metal cut through our shared, charlatan sky. (I have the same problem as Billy does with this line)
Over the edge of golden-brimmed glasses and a particularly formal newspaper,
he watches me.

He is tall also,
muscular,
when he walks down the isle
every woman, every man and every child (The reiteration of "every" doesn't work for me)
is drooling, like a seventy two year old man getting his fix of perky, youthful breasts, their momentary Jesus. ( I like this up to a point, but the line seems too long. Makes me run out of breath when I read it)
His eyes are the green pools Bambi could run through, (I love "green pools", but I can't regard most references to Bambi seriously)
his lips, the cherries, ripe for picking (EW! Normally you're quite original, but this is just overboard cliche.)
and the slightly see-through t-shirt only aids my curiousity, unsure of anyone else's. (I love everything prior to the comma)
He sits in front of me twisting his words neath an irish accent (beneath?)
and bending the chair with his weight like a French Vogue-beauty over the four-poster in Amsterdam. (I know you have a lot to say, but you should practice condensing your lines a bit more. The image is clear enough, but it isn't difficult to go overboard).
I crack my neck. (Expression of the stagnant boredom we encounter on airplanes. I like it)

The hit slams the back of my seat. (Maybe you'd like to reverse the next line with this one? It's all a matter of taste, so my suggestion doesn't carry my weight.)
Two children howling and hollering and lashing out, one mother sweating. (Is "hollering" needed?)
Her eyes plead "Don't leave me." when mine make contact
but I'm not their mother and I don't have to help. (I'm ambivalent toward these two lines. I like the imagery, but "I don't have to help" diminishes the quality of the second, I feel.)
I turn back to face the window. (Okay)
Flight attendants drill for money with speakers and chocolate and alcohol and their souls and a normal sleeping pattern. (You really love conjunctions, don't you? In prose this might work better, but I feel like I'm walking up a hill.)
The children squeal like greedy rats for chocolate whilst I am just happy (I like it)
with the Jack Dan's, swishing in my glass. I begrudge the ice. ("Jack Dan's" is a little corny. I begrudge the ice is good.)
Seat belts on,
in flight turbulence across the darkening sky. I yawn. (Good close.)

Some closing notes: You need a bit more sparsity in your poems. I would suggest avoiding longer lines for now; they are difficult to tame, and I almost never use them myself. Not to get sententious, but poetry strives to push language to the edge of its borders. If TOO much is told, it only chains itself down, and this prevents a genuine transcendence. Rather than asking yourself what you should say, try asking what you SHOULDN'T say. I'm sure you're cognizant of the other issues; in time they will resolve themselves (with practice, of course).

I'm just a concerned beginner, is all. The poem isn't bad, and with some revisions, it could shine.

[heslopian]

This poem leaves me torn. On the one hand I find your metaphors and similes exquisite, on the other the narrative jars me, as it seems to be always contradicting itself. The effect is rather like a car which has been assembled from ill-fitting parts, ones that are nice to look at, but don't push the engine forward.

Flight IB7453.

He is tall,
thin, as if left unfed Is "left" needed?
and suited in pin-stripes, no less.
It doesn't take away from his daddy-long-legs ideal. "Daddy-long-legs" sounds like too many words. Would something with shorter and fewer syllables like "spidery" work better?
I rest my head on the seat,
twist my knees out to the window
and watch
the white length of metal cut through our shared, charlatan sky. Love this line, though I had the same problem as Billy with it. In the end I assumed you were referring to the wing on the narrator's side of the plane.
Over the edge of golden-brimmed glasses and a particularly formal newspaper, I think "rimmed" would make more sense than "brimmed."
he watches me.

He is tall also,
muscular,
when he walks down the isle
every woman, every man and every child
is drooling, like a seventy two year old man getting his fix of perky, youthful breasts, their momentary Jesus. Both similes here are excellent, but they don't really work together. "Youthful breasts" and "Jesus" aren't an ideal mix. I'd suggest picking just one. I would personally pick the the latter.
His eyes are the green pools Bambi could run through, Beyond fantastic. My favourite line.
his lips, the cherries, ripe for picking Are the commas needed?
and the slightly see-through t-shirt only aids my curiousity, unsure of anyone else's. Should be "curiosity." Also, this seems in opposition to the pinstripe suit you put him in earlier. I know one could wear a suit over a t-shirt, but the two lines evoke quite different people. With pinstripe we get the impression of a hard-working, serious, perhaps slightly anal fellow (an image topped off by the gold rimmed glasses), while a see-through shirt is more erotic, conveying a dark lothario.
He sits in front of me twisting his words 'neath an irish accent "Irish" should be capitalised.
and bending the chair with his weight like a French Vogue-beauty over the four-poster in Amsterdam. Again, good simile, but doesn't really contribute to the narrative. This makes his looks sound pretty and girlish, whereas before he seemed more masculine.
I crack my neck. This line should really be after the next, as otherwise it's just confusing.

The hit slams the back of my seat.
Two children howling and hollering and lashing out, one mother sweating.
Her eyes plead "Don't leave me." when mine make contact The full stop after "me" confused me a lot. I didn't know what you were saying here, and was about to recommend you remove the "when" when I realised it wasn't the beginning of a sentence.
but I'm not their mother and I don't have to help.
I turn back to face the window.
Flight attendants drill for money with speakers and chocolate and alcohol and their souls and a normal sleeping pattern. I liked this line. It was nicely nasty.
The children squeal like greedy rats for chocolate whilst I am just happy
with the Jack Dan's, swishing in my glass. I begrudge the ice.
Seat belts on,
in flight turbulence across the darkening sky. I yawn. Excellent last line. Amusingly cynical.

The central suggestion I would like to make is that you go back to the drawing board and decide for definite just who the man in the first verses is, what he's wearing, what he looks like, what impression he creates.

[Lawrence]

This brings a tear to my eye....
Three super-informative, well-written critiques to a user's poem.

[LiteraryAntiquity]

Thanks guys, I'll jump on the edits later this evening. =]