Porch Lights

[lewis taylor]

free verse more or less concerned with the end of a night

Porch Lights

What of the last friend
to say goodbye?
When the sun has not yet risen
and feels to have set in some other time

And what of the desolate train stations?
When the bitter platforms
are wearily populated by a somber few
and the announcement painfully jests;
"Good morning."

When every can, sack and bottle
has been dripped dry
and the damage done

When the ash is on the table
because the tray went missing
who knows when
and the mess is the problem
of someone from tomorrow

What of the last cigarettes
being smoked through sorry lips?
When something like a cigarette
almost seems good for you
because eating one of the foods
could only serve
as a harsh reminder of reality

When tuning in with the present
isn't worth a dime
and reflection is a distant impossibility

And what of the front doors
clumsily opened and gently closed,
when the papers are being delivered
and the porch lights are turned off
and frail hands surround coffee cups
and cans of coca cola?

Well, when the victims of the night fall into their beds
they ought to realize that if they feel this terrible
they at least can't have been at work.

[billy]

free verse more or less concerned with the end of a night no need for the heads up.
Porch Lights

What of the last friend
to say goodbye?
When the sun has not yet risen
and feels to have set in some other time

And what of the desolate train stations? is 'the' needed?
When the bitter platforms again, is 'the' needed?
are wearily populated by a somber few
and the announcement painfully jests; and agin
"Good morning."

When every can, sack and bottle
has been dripped dry
and the damage done i like the image in these 3 lines, it creates a strong feeling of loss

When the ash is on the table
because the tray went missing
who knows when
and the mess is the problem
of someone from tomorrow

What of the last cigarettes
being smoked through sorry lips?
When something like a cigarette
almost seems good for you
because eating one of the foods
could only serve
as a harsh reminder of reality

When tuning in with the present
isn't worth a dime cliche
and reflection is a distant impossibility

And what of the front doors
clumsily opened and gently closed,
when the papers are being delivered
and the porch lights are turned off
and frail hands surround coffee cups
and cans of coca cola? a few too many ands in this stanza

Well, when the victims of the night fall into their beds
they ought to realize that if they feel this terrible
they at least can't have been at work. feels a little trite but does work

i can't see anything major that needs work, some good images. i have nits about some of the excess packing but that's about it, i thought the poem was pretty solid. the 3rd stanza felt more personal than the rest, which felt of drunken nights.
wish i could be more constructive

[lewis taylor]

Cheers for the crit man, I admit that the poem feels a little congested at times. When writing it, I justified the 'the's' in the second stanza because although I'm not referring to a specific train station, platform etc, I am discussing the many individuals who find themselves on any given one. Does that make sense? Anyway, everything else you said is pretty swell, I'll take this one back to the drawing board for a bit. Thanks.

[serge gurkski]

hi Lewis,

quite unique style. digged!
i agree with billy on all the the's. ,-)

cheers
serge

[lewis taylor]

Thanks serge, I think I'll see what I can do about the the's

[serge gurkski]

;-)
yw

do you know - by any chance The The?

Armageddon Days Are Here Again

http://youtu.be/c6wa-qOb8eI

[justcloudy]

hi Lewis, I really enjoyed reading your portrait of morning's arrival. you have some really stark and strong images in here, and felt really easy to relate to the poem, so well done--that's huge.

as far as the writing I thought this bit was the weakest:
"When tuning in with the present
isn't worth a dime
and reflection is a distant impossibility "
(I don't like giving suggestions as to how to change it because this is not my poem, and I'm sure you can repackage those ideas yourself.)

I'm not sure if the ending works for me. I think I'd rather have the questions left unanswered, and just something more subtle maybe... just feel it could be stronger at the end.

anyway this was a really lovely piece of nostalgia for things not yet gone... thanks for sharing.

[lewis taylor]

Haha serge, no i hadn't heard of them but they're not bad, ta.

Justcloudy thank you for both the kind words and the suggestions

[lewis taylor]

I wasn't going to re-post my edit but you've all been very helpful and encouraging so I figure I will. Hopefully you enjoy this one a little more. I agree that the final stanza is a little naff but I personally like the sentiment too much to sacrifice it haha, but I did change it up a little. Macht Spass..

Porch Lights

What of the last friend
to say goodbye?
When the sun has not yet risen
and feels to have set in some other time

And what of the desolate train stations?
When railway platforms
are wearily populated by a sombre few
and early announcements painfully jest;
"Good morning."

When every can, sack and bottle
has been dripped dry
and the damage done

When the ash is on the table
because the tray went missing
who knows when
and the mess is the problem
of someone from tomorrow

What of the last cigarettes
being smoked through sorry lips?
When something like a cigarette
almost seems good for you
because eating one of the foods
could only serve
as a harsh reminder of reality,
when tuning in with the present’s
just another task
and reflection is a distant impossibility

And what of the front doors
clumsily opened and gently closed,
when the papers are being delivered
and the porch lights are turned off
and frail hands surround coffee cups
or cans of coca cola?

All it’s really worth for the victims of the night
Is that to feel quite so terrible;
One at least can’t have been toiling.