Black, white, cold

[justcloudy]

The original is in mild... but I guess I'm just aching for some harsher feedback on the revision. =] Any suggestions for titles are welcome, I'm generally terrible with them. Thanks all.


original title: winter in the Midwest


Black, white, cold

Lack of color kills me
slow, cold parasite eating up
morale.

Golden sun faded
straining light
blue sky blighted,
diseased and pale.
Both feeble, cannot entwine
and create earth's green
far below.

Head weary
midday
I'm left gazing down
at weathered boots
and ground of trampled whites
unpure, sorry browns and greys.

Something tugs inside my ribs.

The early creep
of moonlit black
is almost
sweet relief;
perhaps the color
is hiding
behind nighttime's
thick mask

as I seek.

The thought is not enough,
curled inside my room
of orange and green and blue
with every light turned on.
I avoid the window's
somber look,
drag my eyes apart
focus on bright screens
and words from people
far away.

[Todd]

I'll come back to this to comment later, but I liked your original title a lot. I wouldn't give up on it.

[justcloudy]

Thanks Todd =]

[NakedBear]

Are you guys getting snowed on, too? I'm in northern Alberta, Canada, and it's been snowing for freaking week.

The original is in mild... but I guess I'm just aching for some harsher feedback on the revision. =] Any suggestions for titles are welcome, I'm generally terrible with them. Thanks all.


original title: winter in the Midwest


Black, white, cold

Lack of color kills me
slow, cold parasite eating up 'slow' and 'cold' speak of snow to me, which does lack color. But a lack of color is not, in itself, slow or cold, is it? Maybe that's just me. Maybe you could cut lines two and three, so line one stands alone as one stanza?
morale.

Golden sun faded
straining light
blue sky blighted,
diseased and pale.
Both feeble, cannot entwine
and create earth's green
far below. I like this alot

Head weary
midday
I'm left gazing down
at weathered boots
and ground of trampled whites
unpure, sorry browns and greys.

Something tugs inside my ribs. what does? Maybe a bit more hint to the tug's nature could help this (rather dull) reader.

The early creep
of moonlit black
is almost
sweet relief; totally agree. I then have an excuse to close the blinds at last and turn all the lights on.
perhaps the color
is hiding
behind nighttime's
thick mask

as I seek.

The thought is not enough,
curled inside my room
of orange and green and blue
with every light turned on.
I avoid the window's
somber look,
drag my eyes apart ouch. Why would you separate them? They're a pair! 'away' would be less confusing, although it's also much less interesting.
focus on bright screens
and words from people
far away.

I like your poem.

Mikey.

[justcloudy]

Thanks for the feedback Mikey. =] Actually I wrote this poem's skeleton a few years ago but just reworked it last week... luckily I now live in a much warmer climate. ;D Hope the snow lets up!

[NakedBear]

Thanks for the feedback Mikey. =] Actually I wrote this poem's skeleton a few years ago but just reworked it last week... luckily I now live in a much warmer climate. ;D Hope the snow lets up!

It stopped, finally. But not before I got stuck backing from my parking stall, got stuck pulling in, got stuck at intersections, and got stuck parking at the curbs. There was just so much, and after most of the previous snow had melt. It's been a second winter!

And I envy you a bit for moving somewhere warmer. For me, I'd almost have to leave the country.

Mikey.

[justcloudy]

I did leave the country. ;D Too many similar fights against snow got me down I guess, hah.

[milo]

Hello person!

The original is in mild... but I guess I'm just aching for some harsher feedback on the revision. =] Any suggestions for titles are welcome, I'm generally terrible with them. Thanks all.


original title: winter in the Midwest


Black, white, cold

Lack of color kills me
slow, cold parasite eating up
morale.

here we have an abstraction (color) eating another abstraction. A great way to draw your readers in is with concrete imagery.


Golden sun faded

I can't see why you mentioned that the sun is golden. Isn't it always pretty much golden? or yellow?

straining light

I think you mean "straining to provide light". "straining light" would mean the sun was like a colander, straining out the light.

blue sky blighted,

If a sky is /not/ blue it is probably worth mentioning, if it is blue, it is pretty much just a boring old sky.

diseased and pale.

a diseased sky? i am having trouble here. Can the sky catch Hepatitis B?


Both feeble, cannot entwine
and create earth's green
far below.

Head weary
midday

I love brevity, but what purpose is it serving here? Also, a note for linebreaks, try to break on nouns or verbs unless you are creating double meanings, suspense, etc. "Head weary midday" if I read through the enjambment.


I'm left gazing down
at weathered boots
and ground of trampled whites
unpure, sorry browns and greys.

"whites unpure" is a sorry inversion and a weird convolution of impure.
Think of how much better this would be with specifics.


Something tugs inside my ribs.

The early creep

If this was an actual creep who snuck up on you and grabbed your ribs, i would love this. Unfortunately, you are again, deep in the lands of abstraction.

of moonlit black
is almost
sweet relief;

abstraction and a cliche

perhaps the color
is hiding
behind nighttime's
thick mask

abstraction and modified abstraction


as I seek.

seek "what". you need an object for this verb.

The thought is not enough,

what thought?

curled inside my room

there is a thought curled inside your room?

of orange and green and blue
with every light turned on.
I avoid the window's
somber look,
drag my eyes apart
focus on bright screens
and words from people
far away.

The combination of the endless abstractions and the tortured syntax don't provide a great read for me. Readers want crisp specific images and fresh new language.

HTH

milo

(I can't make a triolet out of this, sorry)

[softlyfalling]

While there is nothing more breathtaking than mornings with perfect new snow and trees branches cocooned in ice that sparkle in cold sun, the sad truth is that the perfect snow gets mushy and muddy and the cold sun is left just being....cold. But did you not all dance naked Imbolc-inspired dances last Wednesday? Spring has swept in wearing her brand new bonnet!
I don't know if my critiques are very helpful because so often I just want the poem to stay just as it is. If there are no errors in grammar or punctuation and no glaring conflicts and inconsistencies and if I "GET" it...I always want to embrace and respect the original vision.