Milk

“You can’t have those skittles,
Was that rainbow free range? Did it live a full life?”
But what about the bliss of a hot red and yellow on dusty base?
Melting across, stretched Indy’s bridges
Piping steam like a good-natured teapot. Economic too.
Its good, wholesome stuff, it is.

The milk mafia, skulking at five a.m.
Stealing bottles from sleeping doorsteps, caught, run
Drop, escape. What fun. White pooling down the pavement.
That was a gift.

Where is my baby? I’m frantic, she’s so soft
Pliable. Malleable, breakable. I can’t find her.
Where are her long blinking eyelashes, her sticky coat?
These are not natural sticks, they are too straight, and too close.
Where is she? I need to feed her, soon, now, where is she?

String bean fellows are my friends. Long, tall, with hats and canes,
They’re respectable. They line up next to the dunes
Piles of bouncy toffee-rocks, flecks of moss.
This isn’t just food. This is olive oil salt, with basil and thyme
Syrupy oats, barley sticky soft and sweet.

Sure you don’t want any? Calcium, good for you, growing kid.
Where’s my baby?








I'd love to hear what you think it's about...

(=

Hi there! You look partially new, so welcome to YWS! I'm April, and I'm here to leave my comments and opinions behind. I know it sounds bad, but it isn't as bad as you think it will be ^_^

Ok, first of all, I really didn't get why you're calling it "milk" besides the ends few lines, perhaps. The whole poem actually didn't make much sense in itself to me... again, besides the last few lines. You even start out with skittles.
And then the ends seems to boom! Pop out of nowhere! Like all of a sudden the runner is at the starting line, then all of a sudden he appears on the finish line. Bad example, but you get my point.
Another thing! I think you had just a tiny bit too many questions in there. I liked the dialogue and everything, it was as if it were a story and I love when poetry does that, but there are too many questions, if you ask me.

Sorry, no nit- picks for this! Actually, that's a pretty good thing.
So! You wanted to know what I thought and I told you. I hope you didn't find it offending. Seriously, I was just saying what I thought. Ok, well, see you around!

~April

Hehhee... oh dear.

This sounds like a candy commercial gone awry. I don't think the baby is actually a baby... maybe a Sugar Baby, just because of the sticky coat. And then you have the contrast between healthy foods (milk, stringbeans) and candy, but it all just blurs until the healthy foods seems to be just food that one can do things to (eat, steal, whatever) while the candy takes on its own persona and becomes the driving force. Why bother eating the healthy stuff when you have dancing candy around? So, yes, the other stuff has calcium, but where is my baby?

I'm probably completely out of sync with your mind's eye, but whatever. I enjoyed the crazy imagery of this poem.

Haha wow I really was being obscure! Actually its about veganism...

the "where's my baby?" stanza is from the point of view of a mother cow, and yes there are lots of questions because its meant to emphasise this repepitive frantic searching for her baby...

Hey scribblingquill! I'm a bit rusty at this reviewing business, so bear with me

I really, really enjoyed this poem. Your imagery is great. I have to admit I didn't get the mama cow perspective, and I was quite perplexed as to who was the persona, but overall I love your writing style.

Where is my baby? I’m frantic, she’s so soft

Pliable. Malleable, breakable. I can’t find her.

Where are her long blinking eyelashes, her sticky coat?

These are not natural sticks, they are too straight, and too close.

Where is she? I need to feed her, soon, now, where is she?

Here is a big opportunity to make clear that the baby is a baby cow. Unfortunately you didn't point out too many of the obvious characteristics of cows and this can leave the reader wondering why someone has 'sticks' (also a word I would advise replacing).

String bean fellows are my friends. Long, tall, with hats and canes,

They’re respectable.

Oooh, I love your writing style so big!! I admit I actually skimmed (no pun intended) heaps of poems and stories before I felt like reviewing anything and you MADE me review this after reading!

Piles of bouncy toffee-rocks, flecks of moss.

The rhyming here, however accidental, really throws off the whole rhythm of the poem. Suddenly I'm questioning pattern, scouring the poem for other rhymes. Might want to change this.

Calcium, good for you, growing kid.

I don't really have any suggestions, I would just like to point out that this sentence sits a bit awkwardly. It's as if you're addressing the person as "growing kid" (like that's their name), which I realise is not the case. Again, not really sure how to fix this, but fixing is called for.

I'd love to hear what you think it's about...

Promise not to laugh? I thought it was about dairy farmers (hence the "where's my baby?" confusion). Hey, you promised.

Overall an exceptional piece of work! Keep writing, that's an order! (In the nicest possible way)