The News

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Hello, everyone. This is "The News"

The News

The news is on; I must see;
Anything new, I must know;
Any new criminals saying a plea,
I change the channels to and fro.

The news is on; the fire spread,
filling the world with a huge dread,
And a newly discovered kind of bread;
And a hazardous nuclear lead.

The news is gone! What should I do?!
No information of animals in the zoo!
No more reports of a dangerous flu!
And no more races of canoe!

No more exclusive associated press;
No more news of work recess;
No more info of stock progress;
And, alas, no more government mess!


I might add another stanza here at the end to form an ending/conclusion. If you have got any suggestions, please add it in your comment.

Also, Please review! :D




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Hi there, BahadorS. I will be your reviwer for the morning. :)

First of all, I absolutely love your rhyming pattern for this poem. Granted, this is my first time venturing into the Poetry Section for quite some time. I really enjoy it, though, mainly because of the truth behind it. The news does tell us how to think and how to feel about certain things.

Personally, I don't think you necessarily need an ending stanza because I like how it ends right now. Since I'm not a poetry pro and don't really know what to say, I'll leave it at: It was good and makes the reader think.
Last edited by Made_In_Demise on Wed Jan 20, 2010 7:15 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"The things that we're frightened of, or told to be frightened of, are not necessarily the things that we need to fear."
-Michael Moore




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Hello, Made_In_Demise;

Thank you for commenting on my poem! :D




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Not quite sure how Made_In_Demise has never seen a rhyme scheme like this; perhaps she has never read a poem.

To my knowledge, nobody discovers new kinds of bread, they just make new types. "Races of canoe" doesn't make sense, you've forced it into incomprehensibility because of your rhyme scheme.

I don't think the poem's conflict really begins until the second stanza; the first two are just filler. Why is the narrator expressing regret at not being able to hear about the government's mess? It ends prematurely. I'd like to see a little bit more.

Oh, and the rhyme scheme is quite crude and simple. I think you can be a bit more experimental, because right now it sounds more like a greeting card verse than a poem.
Nate wrote:And if YWS ever does become a company, Jack will be the President of European Operations. In fact, I'm just going to call him that anyways.




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Hey there!

I have to say I love this! Especially the way you've so religiously kept to the rhyming pattern that you produce lines such as this:
filling the world with a huge dread,
And a newly discovered kind of bread;

That's really funny! I laughed at this and I think you have a natural sway to a comic feel of poetry. I love it. I enjoyed this poem's lightness and feel good feel and that's important about poetry: sometimes it's just about the cheer up and not about the "bigger message" or "emotional narrative."

Lovely. I want to see more!
Ben.




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Hello, Firestarter and Ben Franks;

Thank you for commenting on and reviewing my poem.
I'll try to edit my poem with your suggestions.

Again, Thank you! :D




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Bahador!

The problem with this poem -- aside from the structural parts that people have licked -- is that you are not expressing your view of the theme well enough. As Fire said, it's a little like a greeting card; you know, they're mostly generic -- sweet, sometimes, yes, but how personal can they get, because they're soaring to the general public? :D

Here, you have all of the potential in the world to make this specific. How does the news make you feel? Tell us this, in images. Is it a sea of disgust rising in your stomach? How about a punch to the gut. How does it look? Fun and exciting, like a childish playground, or like a world behind desks? Elaborate, dear, and let yourself expand beyond your comfort zone. :D

June
"I'd steal somebody's purse if I could google it and then download it." -- Firestarter



For a short space of time I remained at the window watching the pallid lightnings that played above Mont Blanc and listening to the rushing of the Arve, which pursued its noise way beneath. The same lulling sounds acted as a lullaby to my too keen sensations; when I placed my head upon my pillow, sleep crept over me; I felt it as it came and blessed the giver of oblivion.
— Mary Shelley, Frankenstein