The Poet's Lonely Companion

As the title suggests, after reading Incan's "how to" on writing poetry I got inspired to write this (well, not really, just some of the imagery he used in the beginning spoke to me and inspired me to write this) So here goes, I hope you like it:

The Poet's Lonely Companion

The world can be a very lonely place
sometimes
Especially, if, like me
You're a poet
Constantly observing
but rarely joining in

Night, is our companion
We can foresake the world
in its ever-slumber
to pour out our souls
onto a tattered peice of college ruled
paper, from a long-worn
notebook.
Or on that cocktail napkin
from the bar you were at
earlier
Where, yet another woman
responded to your
"striking up a conversation"
with her with
"Not in a million years"
Or even on
that little bit of colored paper you ripped
off the community bulletin board
at the college
Proclaiming the "show of the century"
of yet another shitty, half-rate band
Night time is your solace, your solidtude---
your armor.
You walk the dirty, fetid streets
of this depressing city
sucking in deeply the cancerous smoke
from your cigarettes
as deeply into your lungs as possible
It calms our neres and
relaxes us, all the while killing you slowly---and you like it
that way, because, after all:
All great artists were under appreciated until they died---or went insane.
And as you walk along, kicking the little pebbles
and cigarette butts, and glass shards
from broken beer bottles
you realize: The darkness in not something
to be feared or reviled
She is the one who comfort
youu when you are scared or lonely,
she nurses you back from
The brink of anger, psychosis
or insanity
She is always wiht you, like a woman
when your insides get ripped out and
trampled in the gutter
And you're forced--yet again--
to work another double at the shitty restaurant
to pay for the mistake you made
for that two-timing whore---
She is the ideal woman:
Tall, dark and graceful
silent, yet she speaks often and speaks her mind.
Calm--yet forceful
Her dark hair curling down away from her face
in wisps, like smoke
drifting up from a cigarette

And then you realize--
you aren't alone:
For she, darkness, is the one who
will always be with you, and never leave
she is the freind that will always walk, or stumble drunkenly,
by your side and
will always
clasp your hand in hers, just to say
"Here I am, do not fear"
For the night is always the poet's lonely companion

wow. What can I say? As far as I can tell, its pretty good. But i got a litle confused at the end. Who is "she"?

"She" is the darkness, night.

Right, here goes...

[Just to warn you, I usually critique prose rather than poetry, but I'll try and be as constructive as possible. ]

Hehe, first of all, I love the title. I know I'm not necessarily supposed to critique that part, but it's one of those titles that'd probably get me reading this in the first place.

The world can be a very lonely place
sometimes
Especially, if, like me
You're a poet
Constantly observing
but rarely joining in

First thing I notice, is how you switch between using capitals for the beginning of a line and not. Personally, I prefer either having capitals at the start of every line, or having none at all. Of course, this could just be 'cause I'm more used to prose, so ignore that if you wish.

The first two lines seem somewhat awkward:

The world can be a very lonely place
sometimes

...though really, this is just because the first one is so long, and the second is only two syllables. Reading it out loud, it sounds quite strange.

Next thing I noticed: punctuation.

You have many commas, sometimes hyphons as well, but you only have a few full-stops in the whole piece. I think perhaps you should have a look at that generally.

Night, is our companion
We can foresake the world
in its ever-slumber
to pour out our souls
onto a tattered peice of college ruled
paper, from a long-worn
notebook.

This part I really like. As you may have realised already, I like to read poetry out loud, or at least so I can hear it in my head, in order to critique it, and this sounds pretty good. I love the images too.

Or on that cocktail napkin
from the bar you were at
earlier
Where, yet another woman
responded to your
"striking up a conversation"
with her with
"Not in a million years"

Only major problem I have here is in the second to last line. You repeat 'with' and I'm sure you could find a way of writing this that avoids the repitition.

Or even on
that little bit of colored paper you ripped
off the community bulletin board
at the college
Proclaiming the "show of the century"
of yet another shitty, half-rate band

I liked the beginning of this, but not so keen on the end. Not sure what it is... partly because it didn't make sense to me the first time (I think you need a comma before 'proclaiming' by the way) or perhaps it's because you have swearing where in my mind, you don't really need it.

Night time is your solace, your solidtude---
your armor.
You walk the dirty, fetid streets
of this depressing city
sucking in deeply the cancerous smoke
from your cigarettes
as deeply into your lungs as possible

Love this part.

Just a few things -- solidtude should be solitude, and you probably don't need the first 'deeply', though the second is placed quite nicely.

It calms our neres and
relaxes us, all the while killing you slowly---and you like it
that way, because, after all:
All great artists were under appreciated until they died---or went insane.

'neres' --> 'nerves'

Strange thing here though... you go from plural first person (us) to second person (you). Was that intentional?

The last two lines have to be some of my favourites of the whole thing.

And as you walk along, kicking the little pebbles
and cigarette butts, and glass shards
from broken beer bottles
you realize: The darkness in not something
to be feared or reviled
She is the one who comfort
youu when you are scared or lonely,
she nurses you back from
The brink of anger, psychosis
or insanity

'comfort' --> 'comforts'
'youu' --> 'you'

Liking this part too, especially the beginning.

She is always wiht you, like a woman
when your insides get ripped out and
trampled in the gutter
And you're forced--yet again--
to work another double at the shitty restaurant
to pay for the mistake you made
for that two-timing whore---

'wiht' --> 'with'

I'm not so sure about this part. I do like the imagery, but how is night like a woman? For a start, you say 'she is always with you' but I wouldn't have thought that true of either night or women.

Not really sure I understand the part at the end either.

She is the ideal woman:
Tall, dark and graceful
silent, yet she speaks often and speaks her mind.
Calm--yet forceful
Her dark hair curling down away from her face
in wisps, like smoke
drifting up from a cigarette

Again, love the imagery here, but I don't understand all of it. Dark is obvious, as well as the cigarette part, but why the 'speaks often and speaks her mind' part?

Oh, and after 'calm' I think you only need a comma, rather than hyphons.

And then you realize--
you aren't alone:
For she, darkness, is the one who
will always be with you, and never leave
she is the freind that will always walk, or stumble drunkenly,
by your side and
will always
clasp your hand in hers, just to say
"Here I am, do not fear"
For the night is always the poet's lonely companion

Have to say, love the ending. I especially like the 'stumbling drunkenly' and the part at the end where night clasps your hand and the dialogue.

Just one thing: 'freind' --> 'friend'

Some of the breaking up of sentences was confusing generally and there was some imagery that I didn't fully understand, but overall this was a really nice poem, full of imagery. There were certain lines that I really liked as well.

Hope this helped,

Kay.


(Critting for the Cabassi)

I think that, in general, Kay pretty much covered it all. Some things though, I'll reiterate. Fix the little glitches so, on the whole, the poem flows better.

"striking up a conversation"
with her with
"Not in a million years"

Take out 'her with'. Unnecessary words clutter good sentences.

sucking in deeply the cancerous smoke
from your cigarettes
as deeply into your lungs as possible

First 'deeply' needs to go.

The long 2nd stanza really needs to be downsized into more manageable stanzas. Spaces make for more dramatic effect, I think and as it is, it seems rather jumbled. But its easy to see, and feel, where those spaces need to go. Ultimately, I enjoyed this, whether its excellent poetry, I cannot say, but it has its merits.

Take care.

I really liked this poem. I found complete truth in it and I liked how you compared darkness to a woman to a poets lonely companion that was very smart.

Well, there are a few spelling errors as well as grammar errors but I don't know how to spell and its obvious that everyone before me has already corrected those for you, so I'll just crit on content.

I really enjoyed your different analogies, it just all together felt really clean to me, understandable, your readers could relate, But not clean in a dry way but in a new, sort of inspiring way. I loved it!!!!!


Keep at it!
-Rieda

I love how it reads. It's like someone speaking without breath. They start off calm and then keep going until they've reached this point where they're just flowing with words. I commend you on that.