I believe in leaving something to the reader’s imagination; as a writer, you have to assume that your readers are capable of some interpretation if you want to write something ambitious. The reason that there’s some repetition is because I wrote this to be sung to music, so some parts are a partially repeated chorus. I just put it in the poetry section because the language is more complex than the average pop song, not that that’s a great feat of poesy. In terms of ‘clear and thorough’ description, I clearly expressed what I wanted to and nothing more. A poem does not need to be like a short story, setting up scenery, character background etc. It can be more impressionistic and more abstract.
Poetry / Bumming it back
No-one is lighting the gas lamps;
they stand washing thin in the rain.
Dark squares are broken by wet tramps,
stray cats are all that remain.
No, I want not the bright lights nor these ones
cause the city’s as cold as a knife.
The whores are the only ones looking,
someone’s drawn the curtain on life.
The trains are all chained to the bedposts
as drops make white noise on cars’ hoods.
Shopping bags play owls who play ghosts,
the trees pine away to the woods.
No, don’t tell me it’s all in my eye,
tell me why all the doors are twice locked.
Hard as I might, as I try,
can’t help but feel shipwrecked, not docked.
You pulled your trunk over in April
when the clouds were the dew on a stem,
but the freeze has made the leaves tremble
and fall as the storm rose again.
No, a postcard is utterly pointless;
they’re all black and chill to the bone.
You may think me hardy and dauntless,
but I’m forging a ticket back home.
I’ll ride that line, paying or not though;
won’t you pray to St.Christopher, dear?
The cops they can happily follow,
it’s the passengers I bloody fear.
No, I want not the bright lights nor these ones
cause the city’s as dead as a knife;
I’ll leave the cats, tramps and the hookers
to slide back the curtain some night.
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dasha_rocks_my_world reviewed Version 2 -
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hey, really like your ‘the whores are the only ones looking, someone’s drawn back the curtain on life” line. i like how its actually quite deep..but in a very subtle way. what inspired you to write this poem? dp
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Merrick reviewed Version 2 -
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Wonderful imagery; however, there are many discriptorial issues. You must explain clearly and thoroughly what you are trying to say to the reader. You also repeat the same words over and over again causing the poem to become slightly boring. You should clearly define a complete setting and I, personaly, would like to see a character within this poem.
Ravenn reviewed Version 2 -
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I must have reread this poem 10 times before I began to write. It is one of the best poems I have read in a long time. Your words manage to evoke an ethereal yet dark quality to the world in which this poem resides. At times, it seems to remind me of one moving from either different time periods or different countries (the use of the gas-light lamps versus the bright city ones.) It gives the impression of someone who has traveled a lot.
The restlessness and discontent of the person in this poem is quite evident and it is conveyed very well with your vocabulary and excellently illustrated in these lines – “can’t help but feel shipwrecked, not docked” and “but I’m forging a ticket back home.”
Your writing is such that this poem plays in my head like a movie – I can “see” it as each word unfolds. To me, that is a sign of true talent when I can achieve this through the written word. The imagery is beautiful, chilling, depressing and sinister all at once – there is just something about this poem that draws me in.
My favorite lines are:
“someone’s drawn back the curtain on life” (it’s as if the dark side of life is revealed for the first time).
“Shopping bags play owls who play ghosts, the trees pine away to the woods.” (I love the imagery of white bags billowing about, first caught in a tree to resemble a white owl and then released as a ghost upon the night. The play on your forestry words of “trees” “pine” and “woods” is brilliant.)
This entire stanza – combined with the one following it – makes me ponder a bit:
You pulled your trunk over in April
when the clouds were the dew on a stem,
but the freeze has made the leaves tremble
and fall as the storm rose again.
No, a postcard is utterly pointless;
they’re all black and chill to the bone.
You may think me hardy and dauntless,
but I’m forging a ticket back home.
Is this a relationship that blossomed in the spring (dew) only to die when fall turned to winter (freeze and leaves tremble)? The person is bitter and restless (storm rose again); a postcard is of no use as it cannot be saved – “they’re all black and chill to the bone.” (This is probably my favorite line in the poem. It says so much in so little words and manages to convey the coldness of the season combined with the death of the relationship.)
I love the last line of the poem “to slide back the curtain some night.” To me it signifies that this person has had enough of where they currently are; they are off to another place and perhaps some day will view the world through its darkness once more.
In case you can’t tell – I loved your poem ;)
I am curious if I was correct in my interpretation of your words in those two stanzas where I wondered if it was a relationship.
I look forward to reading more from you. Simply brilliant.
friendliestfire reviewed Version 1 -
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The language and rhyme scheme(s) here are lovely and engaging as is the imagery and the storyline, itself. I especially like the lines/stanzas: “they’re all black and chill to the bone.
You may think me hardy and dauntless,
but I’m forging a ticket back home.”
and
“The trains are all chained to the bedposts
as drops make white noise on cars’ hoods.
Shopping bags play owls who play ghosts,
the trees pine away to the woods.”
And also, “when the clouds were the dew on a stem…”
The only “problem” I see with this piece is, when something is written this carefully and beautifully, every pebble stands out like a boulder, so the lines that begin several stanzas with “No,...” are jarring. If a writer begins a sentence with “no,” it implies her answering to a question, and in this piece, I don’t see the need for you to answer to anyone but the poem itself. Lastly, I thought the second to last stanza was the weakest of the whole poem, and wondered if you might consider cutting it? The use of icons like St. Christopher, and the asking “dear” to pray for “you” seems so unlike the tone/theme of the rest of this great description of a sad departure.
Best of luck with your revision!
Brooklynmonk reviewed Version 1 -
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wow! are you actually a hobo? or have you been a hobo? it sounds like a first hand account. good on you! it sounded very believable. “the city is as dead as a knife.” someting sinister in there. could you expand on that maybe? leave the cats tramps and hookers is so powerful, but to slide back the curtain…what exactly does that mean?
on the whole i liked the piece a lot.
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