Please comment on the damned poem. But please come with an open mind and some ounce of true intellect as well.?

Meaning don't give up on it just because it's too long or confusing to you. Sometimes you have to struggle with a girls bra strap to get to the good stuff ;) Please don't leave trite comments like "it's good" or "it sucks" tell me why it sucks or why it's good and what you like/dislike about it, what I could do to improve, where it needs work, where it succeeds etc etc. Thank you for you time and consideration. Much love to all my fellow poets out there.



(Title)

ODE TO MY CABLE NEWS NETWORK WRITTEN WHILE WATCHING THE $1500 TAX CREDITED SUNSET FOR ONLY A WINK FROM MY NEW WINDOW FRESHLY INSTALLED BY BOB, JIM, AND DALE AT VINYL REPLACEMENT WINDOWS %26amp; PATIO DOORS BY VISTA



(POEM)

Oh! The passion that lurks within the misty wood, Where milky white, blushing lilies giggle sweetly in whose golden cups bees dream as they should, Ecstasy in its highest most hallowed form! Cherry red Blossoms burst fitfully amongst humble underbrush like ballerinas begging to perform, Full of youth (times stubborn yet doomed foe) and innocence (son of sin) mad like frenzied schoolchildren drunk with the glory of dreamy afternoons Napping beside the towering oak-trees blending in deep maroons who like golden gods provide awe and inspiration thundering like typhoons! On whose craggy cadaver green dews drip sighing for the sun and adding to the scattered perfume oriental palaces outdone with inviting cushions of velvet fantasy, In the damp chestnut coolness the lark steals a glance from the bowing branch poised with ghostly silence, The crow envious of all cracks the air stiff with brooding nightly presence, While the rejected moon high in heaven impatient as the wind attempts a lonely grin spilling silvered lust upon the damp heavy earth. Ah! This land of Skyscrapers built from and for love, for the singing dove honey dove! Why go back to the thoughtless price tagged globe constructed and shoved with sinful hands for greedy demands, our fading empires becoming wastelands this dank rollback muck of prices, clanking metal, rusted steel locomotives roaring, I hear an old fuzzy recording of broken industrial tongues while you and I squirm and writhe searching for some kind of romance amongst eggplant inspirations longing for your heart amongst the dirty cigaretted Dorito neighborhood streets grey and coarse where yellow and dim lay the markets past the sad blue automobiles next to freshly mown stinking grass, and neatly trimmed gardens performing for neighborhood contests, antennas like maggots on corpses line the houses on our block, our windows tightly closed, curtains frightfully shut for the black sunset, skeletons wobble a single daisy I saw with a dead fly in her ear, a child weeping from the bluest of eyes an oozing soggy petroleum tear while his mother comforts him so “it’s only a dream you have nothing to fear”Please comment on the damned poem. But please come with an open mind and some ounce of true intellect as well.?
The Art of Poetry is profound brevity and a condensed message then prevails. I would suggest you not mix your metaphors and add similes to metaphors. It confuses the image you are trying to convey. I cannot keep your rhyme going as you also are hit and miss with your rhyme and meter. Why was your poem presented to us as disjointed, continuous prose? I'll try but the poem needs to be culled and shaped. There is a good poem here. We just have to find it!







Passion lurks in the misty wood.

Milky white, blushing lilies giggle sweetly,

In whose golden cups bees dream.

Ecstasy in its most hallowed form!



Cherry red Blossoms burst fitfully,

Ballerinas begging to perform.

Full of youth (Time's stubborn yet doomed foe),

And innocence (son of sin).



Wasps; mad frenzied schoolchildren,

Drunk with dreamy afternoons,

Napping beside towering oaks,

Blending in deep maroons.



Sun, a golden God, inspirational.

Storms, thundering typhoons,

On whose craggy cadaver

Green dew drips; sighing for Sun.



Perfumes; released and scattered ;

Oriental palaces naturally outdone.

Inviting cushions of velvet fantasy.

In the exotic chestnut coolness.



The lark steals a glance

From the blossomed branch,

Poised with ghostly silence.

His song is of bowing abundance.



The Crow envious of all,

Obscenely cracks the stiff air's

Brooding nightly presence.

His caw but a demented cry.



Heaven's rejected high Moon

Is impatient as the restless wind.

She attempts a lonely grin,

Weakly spilling silvered lust.



Ah! This land of Skyscrapers!

Built from and for dark love,

Not for the singing honey dove!

Poor lost sad cooing bird.



Why go back to the thoughtless?

A greedy price tagged globe;

Constructed and abused

By sinful hands, greedy demands.



Man's fading wasteland empires,

Dank rollback muck of prices.

Clanking metal, rusted steel locomotives

Roaring discordant trapped anger.



I hear an old fuzzy recording,

Of broken industrial tongues,

While you and I squirm,writhe,

Searching for some romance.



Black eggplant inspirations.

I long for your hidden heart.

Looking amongst cigarette buts

And dirty discarded dorito wraps.



Neighborhood streets; grey, coarse,

Where yellow and dim lay the markets.

Past the sad blue automobiles

Next to freshly mown stinking grass.



Neatly trimmed garish gardens

Perform for neighborhood contests.

Antennas, maggots on.corpse houses

Of our block, our windows tightly closed.



Curtains shut against the black sunset.

Skeletons wobble holding a single daisy.

I saw with a dead fly in her ear.

Closed dead indoors stifle.



A child with the bluest eyes wept,

An oozing, soggy petroleum tear.

His mother comforts him,

“It’s only a dream, nothing to fear.”





I guess you are now thinking...Look what they done to my song Ma!
derivative and trite, not poetry, you should write pop songs, with a bit of editing it could become a rock ballad classicPlease comment on the damned poem. But please come with an open mind and some ounce of true intellect as well.?
i love your poem the wording is beautiful. it is a great poem because it actually reaches deep inside ones soul and it creates a beautiful picture in my mind. i love how it seems like the poem takes on a new direction after every line.
It just looks like a freewrite of ideas right now. My main problem is lineation and structure; for a poem to work on page, you need to pay careful attention to how the width of the lines affect the voice of the poem. Right now the lines are too long/wide and the poem has no pauses; the poem is eating itself alive. It becomes distracting. As a writer, you have to remember that what is said is just as important as the blank spaces in between.



I can tell this is the first draft. Try to pick one central theme and stick with it, then break it into stanzas with line breaks and find where the poem needs to pause. The only part of this poem that particularly interested me was: "I hear an old fuzzy recording of broken industrial tongues while you and I squirm and writhe searching for some kind of romance amongst eggplant inspirations longing for your heart amongst the dirty cigaretted Dorito neighborhood streets." I would make that the core of your poem, and build from there. The poem needs much more focus.



The title of the poem is also too long. I only ever like ridiculously long titles when they are given ironically to short poems. Make it simple. Less is more.Please comment on the damned poem. But please come with an open mind and some ounce of true intellect as well.?
An intelligent Critique?This in no way conveys any sort of feeling or compassion that the reader can feel.I usually do not give negative comments or critiques but this doesn't in any form or way resembles poetry,if fact what is suppose to be?

Gary...
I do appreciate the preconditioning that you took the time for. It gave me the chance tyo read the work you posted as per request, all the way through. The impact as such was much more consistently delivered. Your style is quite unique and there is some structure to this- just as fractals have paterns that are not immediately realized, your words met one another in series and encrypted with precision. I do like this quite a lot. Thanks for the hook. That baited of a question was too hard to resist.