History is set on a stupid-loop, it seems. You capture the repetition of war very well here, and remind us that we have the wisdom to stop the cycle...if we will only listen.
Mechanically, I found some flaws with this poem. First, the meter that is established (somewhat) in the first 4 to 6 lines falters badly after that. Perhaps line breaks are all that's missing, I'm not sure. Similarly, the rhyme scheme. Now I have moved away from rhyme and meter as a poet, myself. And sometimes I will use them just so I can break the rules suddenly at the end of the poem, for emphasis. In this case, the poem just seems to kind of fall apart, structurally. As a reader (for ME at least), I get the feeling that the writer had difficulty structuring the thoughts, and thus what I AM reading is not exactly wha tthe writer intended.
Now that's all so much interpretation by just one guy. It is hoped that this is encouraging and helpful. Please take no offense.
I served, a long time ago. Never saw combat, but I saw the tension that grips the family during a loved one's deployment.
Now I sit aghast at the concept of war. But I staunchly support our servicemen and -women and their families.
This poem of the search for catharsis is painful and effective. I think you have portrayed it very well. I will suggest some pruning; see what you can take out, and what is left will be that much more powerful. Hitting a brick wall with a wrecking ball is pretty cool; but Bruce Lee knocking down a wall with one punch is awe-inspiring.
If you can find a way to one-punch this, it will be even more incredible.
I could leave this review at that one word. This is TIGHT, MJ! Not one word too many or too few. "I am the river, not the water." This is a very spiritual piece for me. It is such a combination of thoughtful and faithful.
Man. That first one really stands out and screams to me. You have a knack for hiding the basic kernel of each scene in one sentence. "Every night he still perishes before dawn." My heart broke at that, and I felt the truth like a hammer-blow. The simile of the dirty dishes was excellent, as well. It meshed the philosophical with the everyday mundane with finality.
The second etude was equally painful, and the third a fantastically philosophical observation of art. I've previously commented on the fourth.
That first one, though. Wow. This is powerful writing.
I like this. A lot. To my poetic ear, it wants to be a haiku, but that's just a personal observation.
Whether it was a vocabulary choice or a language "mistake," I am particularly fond of the line "Don't sorrow the passing of autumn." Making "sorrow" into an active, transitive verb is powerful to me, and very effective.
One note that you might or might not want to address: you might want to change "hankered" to "hunkered." To "hanker" is to crave or hunger after something; to "hunker" is to crouch down, usually for safety.
Brilliant brief piece. I'm going to go look at the other 3 now.
So far, so good. You have written Nathan realistically enough for me to not like him. That's actually a compliment. I didn't like the jocks (most of them ) in high school. I stopped reading Harry Potter at "The Half Blood Prince,) because my own son was 15 at the time, and being very 15-ish. Ms. Rowling wrote harry so well that he reminded me of my own son. I didn't need two 15-year-old boys right then, and I had to stop reading. I think that's a sign of really good writing.
Katie, however, is very undefined for me. The best word I can come up with is "bland." She's not painfully shy, she's nice without being annoying, she's pretty but no stunning. But mostly, she is void of conflict. I know you are not finished with the story yet, so maybe this could be a point of focus for you. (I do recognize that her lack of energy on the second day hints at a conflict to which we, as the readers, are not yet privy.)
A couple mechanical points:
1) Consider a blank line between paragraphs. It helps keep the text from being intimidating to the reader.
2) When Nathan greets Katie on the second day, you have a missing word--"Hey Katie. How are today?”
Because I enjoy reviewing work on Writing.com, I am interested to know where this story goes. However, if I started reading this in a collection of short stories, I would be bored by now. I say this to be constructive, not to be a jerk.
This is one of those poems that has set aside the camouflage of flowery prose and simply says what it means. I like that. There is also an understatement here that keeps the reader form either soaring with emotion or sinking into the abyss of it. Again, just a heart-felt sentiment of honesty.
Nonetheless, I would offer a few constructive observations--and please note that these are just MY opinions.
1) The biggest thing to me is that there is no "resolution." I have come to see stories and poems much like a magic trick: presentation, turn, and prestige. The presentation is the set-up of the trick; the turn is the conflict and climax; and the prestige is the revelation, the punchline, the resolution. (I would give you examples form the 83 books I have published--BUT WAIT--I'M NOT A PUBLISHED AUTHOR! Remember, this is just one writer kicking some thoughts to a peer.) In this case, there is no real conflict, no "turn--and this it just kind of...ends.
2) You repeat "Some...Others" three times in a row. I wonder if varying those words just a little might not add some texture to the piece.
3) Punctuation in poetry is like salt and pepper in cooking--there is no hard-and-fast rule. I think you have an opportunity to pace your thoughts to the reader a little better, though, by replacing a few commas with semicolons, using a colon in the first line, and choosing your periods (full-stops) just a bit differently.
Overall, I was taken mostly with the honesty and humility of this poem. While I think it could be tightened up just a little, I still think you have a piece to be proud of here.
That was funny as hell. I liked it. But man, it was hard to read. Physically, I mean. Your presentation here is optically dense. I would suggest using space between the paragraphs. It allows the to rest a little, and the mind to take a breath before moving to the next thought.
Also, the first half of the story I found confusing--very confusing. It was out of order at times, I didn't know who or what or when. You had some tense-agreement problems that didn't help.
Finally "allot" should be "a lot." That's one that really bugs me when I see it.
Overall, I loved the scene; I just wish there had been a little less static in the viewfinder.
This was actually quite a challenge! I applaud your effort. I might just try one of these myself and offer you the credit publicly for the inspiration!
That having been said, I think this intellectual endeavor deserves a few notes that could help tighten it up.
1) There should not be an apostrophe in the title. The Synonyms don't actually own anything, so the apostrophe is not needed.
2) Line 4 should read "with whom."
3) This is more an overall thing: your meter is very, very loose. That's not a bad thing in free verse or prose-poetry; but this one almost has a meter, which causes the reader--this one, anyway--to sort of stumble along trying to find the pace.
Those three things aside, I found this very clever, very humorous, and very inspiring.
--Jeff Meyer
PS: I did not see in the tags that this was for a contest. If this was just a lark, super-kudos! (If it WAS for a contest, I guess just plain-old-kudos. ;) )--JM
That was incredible. A scene of almost nothing but dialog, but captivating, real. No huge climax with bombs bursting or smiles erupting: just the slow smolder of the way things really happen.
Your characters were so strong because of their simplicity, and the story itself bore the same strength for the same reason.
This would make one hell of a one-act play for a theater troupe. I'll be thinking about this for a while.
The stream of consciousness has both a logic and confusion to it that eerily echoes my thought process as the words tumble around between my ears and look for the right slots through which they can come out.
The bitterness of the writing is well written, also. This is a flash of flickering insight, well communicated and haunting. Glad I stopped by!
I particularly enjoyed your use of enjambment in this poem. I am easily annoyed by sing-songy poems. I like to try and puzzle out the rhyme and meter when enjambment hides them for a moment.
One thought--and this is likely just personal preference--the conversational tone of the final two stanzas let me down a bit. In a structured poem, I find that each word is of utmost import, and it seems that some of the glamour, some of the emotion, was left out in these final two statements.
Overall, though, I enjoyed this view of your small but of mantelpiece history.
First, let me remind you that my review is JUST MY OPINION--nothing personal.
I found your story to be very anti-climactic. There are several mechanical issues I found, but the overriding problem is the conflict and the resolution, for me. The conflict is good--getting hurt in an unfamiliar place in adverse conditions is interesting to a reader. But Mandy's concern only ever reaches unease, and then everything is very neatly and quickly resolved. The denouement is particularly bland: they vacationed happily ever after.
I would suggest imperiling Chris further, making time or weather a serious safety constraint. Another good idea (to me, at least) would be to focus on Mandy's fear: she might be scared to leave Chris alone in the worsening weather and gathering dark; she might not be confident that she has the strength or courage to get back to the Market herself; she might be OVERconfident and waste time trying to help Chris by herself.
Man, that's some brutal commentary, I know. Sorry for any offense. I hope this has helped in some way, and not been discouraging to you.
This is a an intense piece. Starting a story in media res, as it were, is always a trick I enjoy. You set this up brilliantly.
Treasure hunting never seems to go out of style, or lose its romanticism. Treasure maps present an ambiguity and mystery that have filled stories and imaginations for ages. You use the tool well in this piece.
Your pacing was precise; and the development of your story brisk enough to keep me engaged, but in-depth enough to keep from seeming rushed. Vocabulary and punctuation were absolutely in-line with the text, never providing a jarring moment in which I was "bounced" out of the story.
I loved this piece, and could easily see it included in a text book of other short stories in American High Schools.
Now, I always try to offer something useful, other than praise, and in this regard, I offer two notes:
First, and least, the spacing between the first and second section is larger than the spacing between the second and third. It's a small thing, but to my eye it counts.
Second, I did get just slightly confused with timing in the second section. I thought at first he was sitting in the alley in the present remembering the entire second section in his past. So when he served three years in prison, but was sitting in the alley after having been in London for just over two years, I had to go back and re-read. Now, that could have just been me not paying attention; or it could be a tiny area for tightening.
A topical read for me, right now. I am in this soup as I write, trying to find therapy in other people's words.
Your emotion--or emptiness--is clear and cutting. "Easy for you to say." "Just stupid words." Hear, hear! I felt a grim justification reading these phrases. Making me feel--especially righ tnow--means this was a good poem, indeed.
One suggestion, poet-to-poet: "Agony" has become trite. It's been prostituted by so many metal and emo bands and on the back of so many romance novels that it ceases to convey actual "agony;" it's just a cheesy emo word.
The contrasts in this are riveting. I know there is supposed to some humor, but I only feel gallows humor, whistling through the graveyard.
For some reason, this line grabbed me and climbed inside my head: "it's a bad plaid pattern of a repetitive play." There is something about it that is so multi-sensory, multimedia--tactile, audible, tangible, intangible. It's brilliant, and I can't even say why. That's when writing is at its coolest.
One quoick note: in the phrase "non-existant phantom audience," "existant" should be spelled "existent."
Excellent, provocative reading here. Glad I saw this!
"Although my son is struggling with his own faith right now, he knows that the Ten Commandments are a wonderful foundation for living."
This is the place I am trying to come out of. I have found the way out, but have not yet had the courage to follow the path all the way out into the light. Best wishes that your son soon finds his path.
This is one of my favorite passages in the bible, along with "Him that would be served shall himself serve (paraphrased)."
Am I nut case for Jesus? Sadly, no. And I am ashamed for that. Bravo to you for your courage to proclaim your faith freely, even while knowing many will persecute you; and doing it not for the sake of your own pride but because it what you are supposed to do.
So here's to you, screwball. Stay crazy, and God bless you.
The inner tension reflects the atmospheric tension with a clarity that is thoroughly identifiable and sharable. I felt the slow build and ebb, the giant engine of frustration idling, waiting to be revved into action or anger. (Damn. I wish I had saved that phrase for a story. ) The repetition of "piss" hints at a feeling of waste--is it time? water? thought? We don't know, but we feel it, we the reader feel it strongly.
The girl in the closet is a neat contrast, too. I'm pondering that bit, wondering if I am seeing the right symbolism or reading into it something that is not there. I know I like it, though.
The only criticism I can offer is in paragraph 2 (and you might have done this on purpose; I considered that): "I think about her as the rain drops gossip." Did you mean to separate the "raindrops" into a noun and a verb: "rain drops?" I can see how one might in this.
I really liked this. Thanks for letting us into your garage.
I have an ungodly fear of being "homed." And I'm only in my middle forties. Yikes.
This was tactfully and thoughtfully delivered. The old woman was presented with dignity, although it did not appear, at first, that she was being treated with such. The doctor was about as condescending as one would expect; and the daughter was strategically kept mostly hidden until the end, when the author bloomed her like a flower--nice touch.
There were some issues I wanted to point out, though:
In the second paragraph, Mary is thinking to herself: "What was wrong with them?" However, the thoughts before and after are both in the present tense, whereas this is a form of past tense (past imperfect?). You may want to change the "was" to an "is."
"They finally arrived at the rehab center." I offer an opinion here, not a grammatical correction. There seems to be so many better ways to deal with this transition. This phrasing is just so blunt and abrupt that it seems undeveloped, thrown in at the last minute; it is much more stark than the cadence of the rest of the piece. It might help the flow of that paragraph to use this as a subordinate clause to segue into the second sentence. Most of all, I suggest not using the word "finally," here; because this is only midway through the story. At just 500 words, each word is significant.
Bear in mind that these notes are for you to consider as you wish, and are offered out of respect and encouragement.
This illustration of the cyclic nature of life (which we can extrapolate to see a cyclic nature to life and death) is very well-presented, and treats the issue of elder care and rehabilitation with respect and dignity.
There is a thing about poetry that eludes prose and short stories and novels. This poem has that thing. It is the quality of being exquisite for no real identifiable reason.
I wish I could offer a useful critique for you, but this poem was simply perfect for me, matter of fact, no fluff or flab. Just...i don't know...pure?
Well, great job. I'm going to read this a few more times.
Your characters are perfect, and their dialog is very natural. The acquisition of a makeshift weapon toward the end was not at all out of the ordinary, and much more creative than a liquor bottle.
Here's a couple errors I think your proofreading overlooked:
"My sandy brown has that "Because of your worth it" shin to it, but I don't use products for it and I keep it in a tight braid at the back of my head." I think you meant "Because you're worth it" shine.
"I bend over to make it look like I am tying my boots, but taking let my sense expand a bit more. What it is, it's outside." Hmm... It seems like your word processor did to you what mine often does to me--it falls behind and I end up missing words I KNOW I typed. On this one, I think you meant but taking my time and letting my sense expand a bit more. In the same passage, it seems like this would work a little better: Whatever it is, it's outside.
"Dr. Persistent be at least 6'2" Not bad if you're in Compton; probably some omitted words in this context, though. Perhaps Dr. Persistent appears to be..."?
I'm not particularly chomping at the bit to know what happens next or learn how things got to this point. This small snippet is complete as it is, and it leaves my imagination a lot of room to play and draw inspiration. Excellent, interesting, entertaining piece of writing!
Oh yes she is--crazy as s***house rat! But captivating all the same. I was angry with myself that I kept picturing the Harley Quinn character in her place. I think the young woman in your story was much more alluring. Anyway...
This was an enthralling piece, and I loved the randomness of the villainesse.
Here's a couple mechanical notes you might want to address:
"having dvu moments" - I am pretty sure you meant deja vu.
"He closed his eyes, more to hold back a stinging at the corners of his eyes than to meet her own." - He can't really meet her eyes if he closes his. Did you mean "than to keep from meeting her own?"
"We have to sensor what we say, " - Wrong homophone here. You would do better with "censor." If only spell-check would look at what we MEAN, not what we TYPE!
Beyond those notes, I found this piece very enjoyable, and very unpredictable, which kept it interesting. When Erin(?) surrendered because the man discovered that the winning move was not to play (a la Wargames perhaps...?), that was a stellar twist.
I was left a little befuddled at her comments at the end. Perhaps a tiny bit of rework at the end there would both make more sense (to the reader--I know YOU what you were trying to say; I'm just a little more dense than that) and leave the reader with a deeper sense of foreboding.
I spent a brief time in Ireland, during which time my family and I lodged with a lady named Mary. She was a wonderful woman, advanced in years but able to run circles around the likes of me, almost half her age. Every day, save Wednesday, she went to mass, then went to visit the grave of her husband, Tom. Every day. Some loves truly do defy the boundaries of death. She is a fantastic woman, and I respect her thoroughly.
Your poem reminded me instantly of her, and having gotten to know her, I was able to feel the authenticity of your character.
Personally--and poetry is so personal that you simply MUST take my comments as just that: MY comments--I would have preferred fewer stanzas. While I appreciate the imagery, I felt the impact of the scene most strongly by the fifth paragraph, but I felt the potency rather fuzzed a bit after that.
Mechanically, I should observe that your second stanza is written in past tense, while all else is in the present tense; you may want to address that.
I'm glad I had an opportunity to read this, both for the beauty of the verse and the reminder of Mary and Tom. Well done.
God, I remember that. It was like the watershed for all the similar atrocities that have followed. It still leaves me numb, that our most urgent resource--our children--can be let or pushed to reach such an emotional extremity as to take the lives of their peers.
I admire you this for tackling the incident in your poem. Constructively, however, I will offer some observations.
First, my disclaimer: I ain't no professional poet! And poetry is almost as personal as nudity. So please know that this is the view of one person only; and that I make these comments out of encouragement.
Now. Between "Wait! I'm too young to die." and "The two young men..." there seems to be more to be said. The poem seems like it is bound there, like the poem itself wants to say something more, feel something more.
Similarly, the final three lines don't ring right (for me!). I know it's bold to take such license with another's poetry; but I would suggest removing the line about the parents. Because this poem is about the speaker, and secondarily about the other deaths; the parents have thier own poem, still on this side of the veil.
Finally, there WAS a lesson learned that day, but not that "I went to school to die." This young person has crossed over to a higher plane. I would think/hope that a greater understanding and perspective is gained there. Thus, if this young man (or woman) can speak to us through this poem, perhaps they could tell us what they learned from this tragedy--which is actually the poet's way of summing up what she has learned or has yet to learn form it; and that is the catharsis I would hope this poem brings.
Wow. That turned out to be a longer review than I had intended, because I don't want to sound discouraging in any way. But I really felt the personal aspect of this piece, and think you could make me feel even more.
I look forward to reading more of your work in the near future.
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