Red or Blue

[Keith]

Edit 1 drop the prose

I felt the tremor, sensed the risk,
of garment rolls and splintered doors
as concrete splits and metal twists,
my body broke through several floors.

Wrapped in cloth I heard a voice,
what looks best the red or blue?
it told a friend to make the choice,
I closed my eyes and spoke to you.

You denied that I existed,
again when I begged for light,
looked blind as you resisted,
belief betrayed a second sight

Mind climbs were seagulls sit,
a body remains collecting pain,
matted hair, dust blood and shit,
tune in enough to hear my name.

I beg myself a ferocious sleep,
thread slips from the needles eye,
this day I prayed my soul would sleep,
then slab shifts tomb to sky.



Original

You ignored me when I asked,
about the progressive cracks,
told me, I could go back down,
scratching coins in filthy ground.

I felt the tremor, sensed the risk,
as concrete splits and metal twists,
through garment rolls and splintered doors,
my body smashed neath several floors.

As I lay trapped I heard her voice,
she asked her friend about a choice,
what looks best the red or blue?
I closed my eyes and broke on through.

Sarah had always been the sensitive type; she seemed to pick up signals that most people missed. It was her 17th birthday and she was in Primark with Rebecca, trying to find a cheap dress ready for a night of binge drinking that had now become a rite of passage for her and her friends. Laughing she held up the red and blue dresses and asked Rebecca which one she preferred. The motion caused her head to spin and she began to feel faint, she tried to steady herself by focusing on the material in her hands. In this dizzy state her mind began to play tricks, there seemed to be images projected within the fabric. She saw buildings crumbling, faces, women and children bloodied as the concrete and steel folded in like a house of cards. The images were only fleeting but they unnerved her. “Are you ok?” asked Rebecca, “Yes I just need some air”, she said, making her way to the door.

That was the first time she heard it, very soft at first like someone talking in an upstairs room, she couldn’t make out what was said and asked her friend if she had heard it, of course she hadn’t.

Three days the voice stayed with Sarah, becoming clearer each day, she could sense the pain and suffering, night times always seemed to be the worst, partial dreams that left her with a deep feeling of despair always the same words over and over, help me, please help me!, the voice sobbed.

[newsclippings]

You ignored me when I asked, A little bit like a child pointing a finger. Unless you're going for monotone, I can hear that too.
about the progressive cracks, What are progressive cracks?
told me, I could go back down,
scratching coins in filthy ground. While I like this, you're going from writing things in the ground/dirt and crashing through several floors in the next stanza. An oversight?

I felt the tremor, sensed the risk,
as concrete splits and metal twists,
through garment rolls and splintered doors,
my body smashed neath several floors.

As I lay trapped I heard her voice,
she asked her friend about a choice,
what looks best the red or blue?
I closed my eyes and broke on through.

I like the idea of a collaboration between two entities/perspectives. One a real life person, the other a haunting ghost? But it's unclear whether this entity is crashing through the floors purposely or by accident.

Sarah had always been the sensitive type; she seemed to pick up signals that most people missed. It was her 17th birthday and she was in Primark with Rebecca, trying to find a cheap dress ready for a night of binge drinking that had now become a rite of passage for her and her friends. Laughing she held up the red and blue dresses and asked Rebecca which one she preferred. The motion caused her head to spin and she began to feel faint, she tried to steady herself by focusing on the material in her hands. In this dizzy state her mind began to play tricks, there seemed to be images projected within the fabric. She saw buildings crumbling, faces, women and children bloodied as the concrete and steel folded in like a house of cards. The images were only fleeting but they unnerved her. “Are you ok?” asked Rebecca, “Yes I just need some air”, she said, making her way to the door.

That was the first time she heard it, very soft at first like someone talking in an upstairs room, she couldn’t make out what was said and asked her friend if she had heard it, of course she hadn’t.

This is a weak transition.

Three days the voice stayed with Sarah, becoming clearer each day, she could sense the pain and suffering, night times always seemed to be the worst, partial dreams that left her with a deep feeling of despair always the same words over and over, help me, please help me!, the voice sobbed.

I'm sorry. But the ending is also weak. You'll need to come up with something more stark.

The break into story-line is certainly interesting, but I think the story has to be much stronger to support your rhymes up there ^^^. The beginning of the story is engaging, but you drop off right around the time Sarah asks which dress Rebecca prefers.

Funny interlude, my name has been mistaken for both Sarah and Rebecca. Also Deborah.

The best part of this is the poetry, so I would stick to it, TOMH. I don't know why I thought of 9/11 while reading this. But the inclusion of red and blue must have done it, with the addition of a collapsing building. Sorry if I'm completely off with my interpretation. Thanks for the read.

[tectak]

You ignored me when I asked, A little bit like a child pointing a finger. Unless you're going for monotone, I can hear that too.
about the progressive cracks, What are progressive cracks?
told me, I could go back down,
scratching coins in filthy ground. While I like this, you're going from writing things in the ground/dirt and crashing through several floors in the next stanza. An oversight?

I felt the tremor, sensed the risk,
as concrete splits and metal twists,
through garment rolls and splintered doors,
my body smashed neath several floors.

As I lay trapped I heard her voice,
she asked her friend about a choice,
what looks best the red or blue?
I closed my eyes and broke on through.

I like the idea of a collaboration between two entities/perspectives. One a real life person, the other a haunting ghost? But it's unclear whether this entity is crashing through the floors purposely or by accident.

Sarah had always been the sensitive type; she seemed to pick up signals that most people missed. It was her 17th birthday and she was in Primark with Rebecca, trying to find a cheap dress ready for a night of binge drinking that had now become a rite of passage for her and her friends. Laughing she held up the red and blue dresses and asked Rebecca which one she preferred. The motion caused her head to spin and she began to feel faint, she tried to steady herself by focusing on the material in her hands. In this dizzy state her mind began to play tricks, there seemed to be images projected within the fabric. She saw buildings crumbling, faces, women and children bloodied as the concrete and steel folded in like a house of cards. The images were only fleeting but they unnerved her. “Are you ok?” asked Rebecca, “Yes I just need some air”, she said, making her way to the door.

That was the first time she heard it, very soft at first like someone talking in an upstairs room, she couldn’t make out what was said and asked her friend if she had heard it, of course she hadn’t.

This is a weak transition.

Three days the voice stayed with Sarah, becoming clearer each day, she could sense the pain and suffering, night times always seemed to be the worst, partial dreams that left her with a deep feeling of despair always the same words over and over, help me, please help me!, the voice sobbed.

I'm sorry. But the ending is also weak. You'll need to come up with something more stark.

The break into story-line is certainly interesting, but I think the story has to be much stronger to support your rhymes up there ^^^. The beginning of the story is engaging, but you drop off right around the time Sarah asks which dress Rebecca prefers.

Funny interlude, my name has been mistaken for both Sarah and Rebecca. Also Deborah.

The best part of this is the poetry, so I would stick to it, TOMH. I don't know why I thought of 9/11 while reading this. But the inclusion of red and blue must have done it, with the addition of a collapsing building. Sorry if I'm completely off with my interpretation. Thanks for the read.

Hi tomh,
Different. It is different. End of interpretation. Which it has.
I think the poetry has it. The story?Who needs it?
Best,
tectak

---

You ignored me when I asked,
about the progressive cracks,BEGS for a semicolon here
told me, I could go back down, commas for sale, cheap. Aw, the hell. Just throw the first away
scratching coins in filthy ground.

I felt the tremor, sensed the risk,
as concrete splits and metal twists,
through garment rolls and splintered doors,
my body smashed neath several floors.The sense of fantasy/failing senses works but the imagery is too stark and mission-impossible-ish. The slant rhyme risk/twists was worth the risk for the twist. Neath? Hmmm.

As I lay trapped I heard her voice,
she asked her friend about a choice,
what looks best the red or blue?
I closed my eyes and broke on through. This far but no further. The poem ended on schedule. Some may need the story afterwards. I believe you could (should) have got it all in to the body of the poem. You still could

Sarah had always been the sensitive type; she seemed to pick up signals that most people missed. It was her 17th birthday and she was in Primark with Rebecca, trying to find a cheap dress ready for a night of binge drinking that had now become a rite of passage for her and her friends. Laughing she held up the red and blue dresses and asked Rebecca which one she preferred. The motion caused her head to spin and she began to feel faint, she tried to steady herself by focusing on the material in her hands. In this dizzy state her mind began to play tricks, there seemed to be images projected within the fabric. She saw buildings crumbling, faces, women and children bloodied as the concrete and steel folded in like a house of cards. The images were only fleeting but they unnerved her. “Are you ok?” asked Rebecca, “Yes I just need some air”, she said, making her way to the door.

That was the first time she heard it, very soft at first like someone talking in an upstairs room, she couldn’t make out what was said and asked her friend if she had heard it, of course she hadn’t.

Three days the voice stayed with Sarah, becoming clearer each day, she could sense the pain and suffering, night times always seemed to be the worst, partial dreams that left her with a deep feeling of despair always the same words over and over, help me, please help me!, the voice sobbed.

[Keith]

You ignored me when I asked, A little bit like a child pointing a finger. Unless you're going for monotone, I can hear that too.
about the progressive cracks, What are progressive cracks?
told me, I could go back down,
scratching coins in filthy ground. While I like this, you're going from writing things in the ground/dirt and crashing through several floors in the next stanza. An oversight?

I felt the tremor, sensed the risk,
as concrete splits and metal twists,
through garment rolls and splintered doors,
my body smashed neath several floors.

As I lay trapped I heard her voice,
she asked her friend about a choice,
what looks best the red or blue?
I closed my eyes and broke on through.

I like the idea of a collaboration between two entities/perspectives. One a real life person, the other a haunting ghost? But it's unclear whether this entity is crashing through the floors purposely or by accident.

Sarah had always been the sensitive type; she seemed to pick up signals that most people missed. It was her 17th birthday and she was in Primark with Rebecca, trying to find a cheap dress ready for a night of binge drinking that had now become a rite of passage for her and her friends. Laughing she held up the red and blue dresses and asked Rebecca which one she preferred. The motion caused her head to spin and she began to feel faint, she tried to steady herself by focusing on the material in her hands. In this dizzy state her mind began to play tricks, there seemed to be images projected within the fabric. She saw buildings crumbling, faces, women and children bloodied as the concrete and steel folded in like a house of cards. The images were only fleeting but they unnerved her. “Are you ok?” asked Rebecca, “Yes I just need some air”, she said, making her way to the door.

That was the first time she heard it, very soft at first like someone talking in an upstairs room, she couldn’t make out what was said and asked her friend if she had heard it, of course she hadn’t.

This is a weak transition.

Three days the voice stayed with Sarah, becoming clearer each day, she could sense the pain and suffering, night times always seemed to be the worst, partial dreams that left her with a deep feeling of despair always the same words over and over, help me, please help me!, the voice sobbed.

I'm sorry. But the ending is also weak. You'll need to come up with something more stark.

The break into story-line is certainly interesting, but I think the story has to be much stronger to support your rhymes up there ^^^. The beginning of the story is engaging, but you drop off right around the time Sarah asks which dress Rebecca prefers.

Funny interlude, my name has been mistaken for both Sarah and Rebecca. Also Deborah.

The best part of this is the poetry, so I would stick to it, TOMH. I don't know why I thought of 9/11 while reading this. But the inclusion of red and blue must have done it, with the addition of a collapsing building. Sorry if I'm completely off with my interpretation. Thanks for the read.

OK I think this needs work, serious work. The poem was about the Bangladesh disaster when a building collapsed killing over a 1000 people even though many had told the employer about the cracks in the building that were moving and getting worse, they were threatened with losing their jobs if they didn't get back to work. Primark was just one of the companies using the cheap labour in these squalid conditions. The story bit was an experiment. Thanks for your comment it helps me see the lack of clarity so hopefully all can be fixed in an edit. Best TOMH

---

You ignored me when I asked, A little bit like a child pointing a finger. Unless you're going for monotone, I can hear that too.
about the progressive cracks, What are progressive cracks?
told me, I could go back down,
scratching coins in filthy ground. While I like this, you're going from writing things in the ground/dirt and crashing through several floors in the next stanza. An oversight?

I felt the tremor, sensed the risk,
as concrete splits and metal twists,
through garment rolls and splintered doors,
my body smashed neath several floors.

As I lay trapped I heard her voice,
she asked her friend about a choice,
what looks best the red or blue?
I closed my eyes and broke on through.

I like the idea of a collaboration between two entities/perspectives. One a real life person, the other a haunting ghost? But it's unclear whether this entity is crashing through the floors purposely or by accident.

Sarah had always been the sensitive type; she seemed to pick up signals that most people missed. It was her 17th birthday and she was in Primark with Rebecca, trying to find a cheap dress ready for a night of binge drinking that had now become a rite of passage for her and her friends. Laughing she held up the red and blue dresses and asked Rebecca which one she preferred. The motion caused her head to spin and she began to feel faint, she tried to steady herself by focusing on the material in her hands. In this dizzy state her mind began to play tricks, there seemed to be images projected within the fabric. She saw buildings crumbling, faces, women and children bloodied as the concrete and steel folded in like a house of cards. The images were only fleeting but they unnerved her. “Are you ok?” asked Rebecca, “Yes I just need some air”, she said, making her way to the door.

That was the first time she heard it, very soft at first like someone talking in an upstairs room, she couldn’t make out what was said and asked her friend if she had heard it, of course she hadn’t.

This is a weak transition.

Three days the voice stayed with Sarah, becoming clearer each day, she could sense the pain and suffering, night times always seemed to be the worst, partial dreams that left her with a deep feeling of despair always the same words over and over, help me, please help me!, the voice sobbed.

I'm sorry. But the ending is also weak. You'll need to come up with something more stark.

The break into story-line is certainly interesting, but I think the story has to be much stronger to support your rhymes up there ^^^. The beginning of the story is engaging, but you drop off right around the time Sarah asks which dress Rebecca prefers.

Funny interlude, my name has been mistaken for both Sarah and Rebecca. Also Deborah.

The best part of this is the poetry, so I would stick to it, TOMH. I don't know why I thought of 9/11 while reading this. But the inclusion of red and blue must have done it, with the addition of a collapsing building. Sorry if I'm completely off with my interpretation. Thanks for the read.

Hi tomh,
Different. It is different. End of interpretation. Which it has.
I think the poetry has it. The story?Who needs it?
Best,
tectak

---

You ignored me when I asked,
about the progressive cracks,BEGS for a semicolon here
told me, I could go back down, commas for sale, cheap. Aw, the hell. Just throw the first away
scratching coins in filthy ground.

I felt the tremor, sensed the risk,
as concrete splits and metal twists,
through garment rolls and splintered doors,
my body smashed neath several floors.The sense of fantasy/failing senses works but the imagery is too stark and mission-impossible-ish. The slant rhyme risk/twists was worth the risk for the twist. Neath? Hmmm.

As I lay trapped I heard her voice,
she asked her friend about a choice,
what looks best the red or blue?
I closed my eyes and broke on through. This far but no further. The poem ended on schedule. Some may need the story afterwards. I believe you could (should) have got it all in to the body of the poem. You still could

Sarah had always been the sensitive type; she seemed to pick up signals that most people missed. It was her 17th birthday and she was in Primark with Rebecca, trying to find a cheap dress ready for a night of binge drinking that had now become a rite of passage for her and her friends. Laughing she held up the red and blue dresses and asked Rebecca which one she preferred. The motion caused her head to spin and she began to feel faint, she tried to steady herself by focusing on the material in her hands. In this dizzy state her mind began to play tricks, there seemed to be images projected within the fabric. She saw buildings crumbling, faces, women and children bloodied as the concrete and steel folded in like a house of cards. The images were only fleeting but they unnerved her. “Are you ok?” asked Rebecca, “Yes I just need some air”, she said, making her way to the door.

That was the first time she heard it, very soft at first like someone talking in an upstairs room, she couldn’t make out what was said and asked her friend if she had heard it, of course she hadn’t.

Three days the voice stayed with Sarah, becoming clearer each day, she could sense the pain and suffering, night times always seemed to be the worst, partial dreams that left her with a deep feeling of despair always the same words over and over, help me, please help me!, the voice sobbed.

Hi tectak, I think maybe you are right, its time to take the poem by the horns and remove the prose bit. will go for an edit...soon. Best TOMH

[bena]

I'm new around here, but certainly not new to poetry, and I therefore stick to what I know best when critiquing. Personally, I'm not a huge fan of rhyming, especially not the AABB format because it can be sing-songy BUT I think it works well here. The inclusion of internal rhyme is fantastic. There is some ambiguity (I also don't know what progressive cracks are, but I like it.) Ultimately the assonance and alliteration make this a great effort. I leave the story crit to those who could do much better.

bena

[Keith]

I'm new around here, but certainly not new to poetry, and I therefore stick to what I know best when critiquing. Personally, I'm not a huge fan of rhyming, especially not the AABB format because it can be sing-songy BUT I think it works well here. The inclusion of internal rhyme is fantastic. There is some ambiguity (I also don't know what progressive cracks are, but I like it.) Ultimately the assonance and alliteration make this a great effort. I leave the story crit to those who could do much better.

bena

Hi bena and welcome to PPP, I have had a go at the edit and tried to make it less sing-songy and drop the prose. Thank you for your feedback. TOMH