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Open Poetry #43
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one drop of rain/one drop of rain
| Open Poetry #43 |
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one drop of rain/one drop of rain |
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poddarku Senior Member
since 2008-01-15
Posts 589india 
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One drop of rain/ One drop of rain ---------------------------- One drop of rain One drop of rain One drop of rain One drop of rain… And then he loses the counts of them. A ringing cycle speeds past. From his shelter he can see the fluorescent coat on the teen aged body of the rider in search. She is searching a boy, a little angry, left home. He curls inside the shelter of the bough of a dead tree. He won’t tell who is that boy. He won’t go back either. The elder sister searches on and on as if the rings of the wretched bell will change the mind of a four years old. He looks at the chipmunk dared to appear at hand. Nature. One drop more in his head… clever talks delay friendship! |
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| © Copyright 2008 poddar kushal - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Bob K Member Elite
since 2007-11-03
Posts 4208 |
Dear poddarku, I like the six syllable line you're using to give yourself a sense of structure here. It appears to be working pretty well for you, forcing you to stay tighter than many of your earlier things allowed and forcing choices and creative adaptations. It was a good decision. For some reason, I've always found six syllable lines more difficult to cope with than five and seven syllable lines. The seven syllable, in particular, because it has that sound that you'll find in Auden, who says he gets it from Yeats and Blake— Earth, receive an honored guest William Yeats is laid to rest but also because it just seems better to fit English than sixes. For me. If you want to try an experiment, try some seven syllables, not worrying about the metrics otherwise, and see how they work for you. They might feel better, they might not. This poem, I believe, is basically a decent poem with a few major issues in construction. You first try to write up to the beginning of the poem by supplying us with what appears to be a stanza of atmospherics. Even in a short poem, there should be no time for that. For an essay, one wants to begin at the beginning, proceed through the middle, then end at the end. In a poem, we have no time for a beginning. We must begin in the middle of the action. You can't in a lyric do character development, only the moment of transformation or revelation. The rest is narrative. I suggest you remove the first stanza because it is only writing that carries the reader up to the moment the poem begins, and you need to clear it away so that the contours of the poem become more visible. Secondly, you are unclear to this reader where you settle your sympathies or point of view. At moments it feels as though you are with the boy, watching the sister and the chipmunk, or with the sister on the bicycle, ringing her bell. There is also a bit of the omniscient author poking through (He judges the boy "a little angry" several hours ago. Boys who are "a little angry" get over it in a few hours and are relieved to go home, and most readers know this) though the author seems unreliable as an informant. The details around the narrative don't actually support it as well as this reader would like. Even were the story true, and it may well be, it is presented implausibly, with scattered viewpoints and not enough sensory detail to draw the reader's mind away from the slight oddness of the scenario. Color, temperature, scent would be helpful. I like the rain. "Florescent" is a good detail, though if it could be nailed down as to whether it is actually the sister's physical self that has been transformed by some trick of light into a glowing object or whether she is simply wearing a cheap orange mac (my personal favorite) would be helpful. I've tossed in some suggestions for possible focus and revision, but these may take you in directions your poem may not feel like heading. I hope you might salvage something useful here anyway. All my best, Bob Kaven A ringing cycle speeds past. From his shelter he can see the fluorescent coat on the teen aged body of the rider in search. She's searching for a boy, who left home in a rage. He curls under the shelter of a dead beech tree branch, unwilling to go home or even give his name. The elder sister searches everyplace as if the tones of a rust specked bell will change a four year old's mind. He glares at a chipmunk that's dared to appear next to his hand. Nature: It deposits One drop more on his head… |
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OwlSA Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347Durban, South Africa |
This is a very interesting poem, Kushal, told in a unique and effective way. I like how the boughs of the dead tree enclose the 4 year old in its arms and how he feels a modicum of protection from them. You credit your readers with the intelligence to be able to read so much between the lines - and simultaneously you write clearly enough for them to be able to. Thank you for another Kushal poem. - Owl |
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OwlSA Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347Durban, South Africa |
Except for one or two tiny grammar improvements (which aren't important, anyway), I think that any changes would spoil the ambiance and the sensitive nuances of the poem. - Owl |
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Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
My friend, I don't agree with most of Mr K's critique. You've set the scene, presented the imagery and the snapshot of your characters, and it's not necessary to side with either character. As always, you give us a good read, even when the English is not textbook perfect. |
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Huan Yi Member Ascendant
since 2004-10-12
Posts 6688Waukegan |
. good John . |
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