Everything and the kitchen sink

[Keith]

Edit 1
Hope has hit hot water,
grease-paints my mask,
stopped and stumbled from the rail,
firm foot has tripped at last.

Clock slows extended hours,
wall ticks as pipe expands,
circumstance weighs heavy,
when in the hangman’s hand.

Tension twists and shudders lungs,
eyes squeeze out my fears,
strange man shouts, the bridge is out,
still the danger wasn’t clear.

Whispers wait for me to wake,
come down from that ledge,
deafened by the drowning din,
step closer to the edge.

Shaken from my crumple zone,
gaining claim on air,
worries wiped, body straight,
child steps on the stair.

Are you ok daddy? spun
the doctor with his cure,
with cupped hands around warm cheeks,
I lied, when I said;

sure.



Hands lost to water, reflected questions asked.
I've stopped and stumbled from my rail, failed in my task.

Alone in an extended hour, wall ticking as pipes expand,
weight of my circumstance, held by the hangmans hand.

Chest too heavy to lift with a sob, eyes lowered to tears,
want to shout, want to scream, shuddering is near.

Talking to my silhouetted self, come down from that ledge.
can't hear and wont listen, closer to the edge.

Uncontrolled crumple, the floor came up to soon
eyes wiped, body straightened,child comes into room

"Are you ok daddy" said the doctor with his cure.
With a tear stained face, and a tight forced smile, I lied, when I said, sure.

[billy]

Hands lost to water, reflected in the night mirrored glass.
I've stopped and stumbled from my rail, failed in my task.

On my own in an extended hour, wall ticking as pipes contract
the weight of my circumstance has claws dug in my back. rhymes feel off

Chest too heavy to lift with a sob, lubricated by an eye squeezed tear.
Want to shout, want to scream, the shuddering is near.

Talking to my silhouetted self, please come down from the ledge.
I can't hear and don't want to listen, as I move closer to the edge.

Uncontrolled crumple, as my knees hit the cold tiled floor.
A blast of light rips through the room from a child's hand on a door. the light is coming from the child's hand?

"Are you ok daddy" said the doctor with his cure.
With a tear stained face, and a tight forced smile, I lied when I said, Sure.

i think the poem tries too hard to be a poem, and in doing so escapes from being one., or should i say a good one. one technique is to write it out as a prose paragraph. forget rhyme for a while. once you have the prose version. break it up into workable lines. now you see if it's suitable for end rhymes. if so alter lines and add the rhymes. of course i'm not saying that's how to write poetry, but it is a good exercise that gets us away from over poetising our text.

thanks for the read

[Keith]

Thanks Billy, advice much appreciated.