The One You Love

Incandescence wrote:This world is the only one we have; the others
are too far away. The universe rambles on
and forgets itself, repeating old stories (perhaps).
There’s no knowing much except rain today: white
daisies, light that’s been unchanged and green
since dawn, white daisies pointing their faces
either where the sun would be or surely is.

I didn't like your repetition of white daisies. Your description of 'Everything' as basically having Alzheimer is nice, and I'll probably [s]steal[/s] employ that in a poem sometime. Throughout this piece you attempt to use colors as abstracts, but do so ineffectively.

The woods are green as the air and the sky white
behind them. On one dead branch, a gold finch,
a bright apostrophe. But also the road’s wet respiration,
the steady splash of traffic. You could look to the woods
or the road, imagine the earth’s curve, almost hear
the war past this horizon and a hundred more.

Again, poor color allegories. However, I liked both metaphors in here (apostrophe and respiration). The earth's curve / hearing-war is illused and weak; that is to say, it doesn't add much though it has the potential to. Fix that.

Couldn’t you? Couldn’t you hear the war, know
just where it begins, after many roads and cities or right next door?
At least, think of this: the shops are shuttered like your heart.
In the upper stories of buildings, people move warily
behind their windows. It is time to leave this country,
they think, but they don’t leave: by the time you have
drawn your breath sharply after an explosion, it’s over,
and you look outside to see what has changed.
You can’t tell, at first.

......................................But here, it is simply raining.

You continue to ramble about the war hearing, and it dilutes whatever nominal potency the image had in the first place. It's not a bad idea, but imbue it better. The shuttered heart is good, but you could expand on that, or at least properly link it to your next shop-image. The ending is weak, apart from the very last line; which ties in with the beginning nicely and is satisfactory as a conclusion on its own.

Overall; unpolished, but it has the potential to be great.
Though I'd imagine you already knew that.

~Ed

This world is the only one we have; the others
are too far away. The universe rambles on
and forgets itself, repeating old stories (perhaps). why do you need the parenthetical? Is it to increase the uncertainty and haziness surrounding the state of the universe? [personally I think you can cut this]
There’s no knowing much except rain today: white
daisies, light that’s been unchanged and green
since dawn, white daisies pointing their faces
either where the sun would be or surely is.

The woods are green as the air and the sky white
behind them. On one dead branch, a gold finch,
a bright apostrophe. But also the road’s wet respiration,
the steady splash of traffic. You could look to the woods
or the road, imagine the earth’s curve, almost hear
the war past this horizon and a hundred more. This stanza is definately the strongest of the three; the scene is very clear, whether or not the color idea is working for you as well as it could.

Couldn’t you? Couldn’t you hear the war, know
just where it begins, after many roads and cities or right next door? [color=blue] this is a bit windy, and it appeals in a way that the rest of the poem doesn't. Even about the questioning universe the poem knows what its talking about [and especially in the very next line]. Here the question seems more personal and insistant than rhetorical and assured.
At least, think of this: the shops are shuttered like your heart. wonderful line
In the upper stories of buildings, people move warily
behind their windows. It is time to leave this country,
they think, but they don’t leave: by the time you have
drawn your breath sharply after an explosion, it’s over,
and you look outside to see what has changed.
You can’t tell, at first. that hanging feeling that this conveys is similar to the white sky/green woods/traffic of the second stanza, and that helps connect the two. This could be connected further to the first stanza, which would make it stronger; all this seems to be a trick of time and place, which goes back to the idea of the universe repeating itself.

......................................But here, it is simply raining.

I enjoyed reading this and attempting to pick it apart; your work is a challenge for me to crit. Hopefully some of this is of use to you.

As requested. ^~

This world is the only one we have; the others
are too far away. The universe rambles on
and forgets itself, repeating old stories (perhaps).
There’s no knowing much except rain today: white
daisies, light that’s been unchanged and green
since dawn, white daisies pointing their faces
either where the sun would be or surely is.

I agree with Ed that the color motif you have going doesn't quite work, but I'm not so vehemently against as he is. It's just not as subtlely done as I'm used to seeing from you, and with something as tricky as colors, subtlety's key. I do however love the rest of the imagery, especially the last two (of the green light and the daisies finding the sun). That last in particular is well-worded: "white daisies pointing their faces / either where the sun would be or surely is." There's the subtlety I'm used to seeing from you. ^~

The woods are green as the air and the sky white
behind them. On one dead branch, a gold finch,
a bright apostrophe. But also the road’s wet respiration,
the steady splash of traffic. You could look to the woods
or the road, imagine the earth’s curve, almost hear
the war past this horizon and a hundred more.

I personally like how you've flipped the colors here--before, earth was equated with white and sky with green, now earth, green and sky, white--but again, it just seems a little clunky, a little baldly stated for you. Compared to the grace of the rest of your verse, it stands out. The goldfinch as an apostrophe, though? I LOVE IT. Again, the imagery here is very vivid; I can see it perfectly.

Couldn’t you? Couldn’t you hear the war, know
just where it begins, after many roads and cities or right next door?
At least, think of this: the shops are shuttered like your heart.
In the upper stories of buildings, people move warily
behind their windows. It is time to leave this country,
they think, but they don’t leave: by the time you have
drawn your breath sharply after an explosion, it’s over,
and you look outside to see what has changed.
You can’t tell, at first.

But here, it is simply raining.

Hm. I'm ambivalent (leaning towards dislike) about the first "couldn't you." The repetition seems a little gimmicky. Frankly, I think it would work better if you deleted the first "couldn't you" and raised the "just where" to the first line, having the second begin, appropriately, with "it begins."

Other than that, this is even more vibrant than your earlier stanzas; it practically breathes in its own right. You truly are a master poet in the making. ^~