Little one, wrapped in black
swaddled close with leather strap
Tell me,
tell me,
where was I when I was last upon your spine?
I wish to see my dreams laid free
my wonderment, my merriment, my glee,
or was I much more morose
languidly staring at the gross reality of life?
Was I studying a book, had something to say once more?
I wish to know, but you are held shut tight
and I dare not remove you, dare not disturb your rest
tell me
tell me
where will I be by the end of your purity?
I know only what is near, and what has passed
is far from here, but please, please, bear to me
what I will say when I am thirty three.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
Possible AI signals:
Original Text:
Are you sure you want to delete this comment? This cannot be undone.
Mark this comment as a review? Points will be awarded to the poster.
Your comment was posted, but it wasn’t long enough to count as a review. Reviews need about four complete sentences (at least 250 characters). Try writing another review that explains your thoughts in more detail — the author will appreciate it, and you’ll earn points for it.
125,005 Literary Works • 672,804 Reviews
Hey Aleycat!
So you know I love you and you also already know I love the black/strap assonance because it is A+ work. You also know that I'm less into the free/glee rhyme. Here's some meat to the commentary;
You start this poem VERY strong, it has an excellent rhythm and good words, and it is very easy to slide into the first lines. I think it begins and continues to skip when we hit the final line of stanza one. It just takes too long, you've got such a snappy beginning that the final line takes way too long to get through. You could probably run with "where was I last upon your spine" without damaging your intent and the line itself.
The rest of this poem slides toward... well. This is quite vicious, but I would seriously consider scrapping it and beginning again. It doesn't follow the smooth snappy lines from stanza one, but also hasn't been given the chance to be a natural lengthening of concept, of slowing down? If I break it down, in stanza two the rhyme is too sing song, after how solid the first stanza is, you can do better than this, you're more sophisticated than this. And you're telling me too much without telling me anything at all; "Languidly staring at the gross reality of life?" ew, like actually my brain is repelled from this line because it feels super emo, like it's TRYING to be a bit deep and sad and morose (great word). It's not working for you. The first two lines are the same (the third is short and while I'm not sure I'm 100% behind it, the alliteration works for me) in that they're not saying anything really but they have the appearance of saying something.
Your third stanza is so long and I don't know why the narrator can't remove the book or disturb it, there's an idea of immediacy here but it doesn't come to fruition. It's a bit frustrating because you're telling me that there's a story here but you're not letting me read it. The fourth stanza runs the same way. I like the return to the repeated "tell me" those work nicely. But otherwise "purity" seems to be here only for the rhyme and I get it means once the book is full but it feels a little... weak. The other lines are acceptable but do nothing for me in the long run because the lead up hasn't given me enough to really feel these final lines. Your final line, however, has a good sense of finality and it works as a completion to the concept I can see you're trying to express.
Where are your teeth? Where is the grip in this poem, the hook that keeps me obediently in place as I read your lines? This poem is kind of leisurely with its own... indulgence. This poem is an indulgence and it feels like a first draft (napo allows for this) that didn't have time to be moulded and played with until it became what it should be.
You can do better, I'm sorry I wasn't kinder.
<3
Hi,
I loved this poem. It is clear that you have a very clear vision. I loved this poem because you did a fine starting. It is so nice to read a poetry with its own feelings. I felt everything you mentioned in the poem. "tell me" part was good. You are curious about something. That's nice. It generated curiosity inside me. I loved this part.
Keep up the good wok.
Who else has an addiction to buying cute notebooks and never using them? Raise your hand!
*raises both hands*
*raises both hands*
Hello!
First off, you basically have a meter so either I'm reading something wrong or you need to give this thing it's rhythm. For starters you can replace words like "wonderment" a much longer word with, "wonder" and still retain your original meaning while filling out your end rhyme. In the same line you can also cut, "my merriment" and just put, "merriment,". This would complete the last line of the stanza. Quickly change, "...languidly staring at the gross reality of life" to "...languidly staring at a gross reality." This also completes your meter for that stanza.
It feels like you were writing by stream of consciousness and knew what you wanted to say but not quite how to fit it into a format. Either that or I'm dead wrong, feel free to tell me. Remember to go over your works, read them aloud to yourself and edit parts that sound wonky.
Keep writing!
Thanks so much for the comments! I will have to consider them and see if i like the changes. I will probably keep "of life" because I wanted to break the pattern and tone for the new idea of what the notebook might show. If it rhymed that would not create that effect. The others however will be more likely to change. Thanks for pointing them all out!
*comes to review**has no criticism**spoofs*
XD You gunna spoof it or poof?
*foops*
For a bit this threw me. Being upon someone's spine makes it sound like you're holding onto their back, or swaddled. Which made me think at first that this was from a now grown up child's point of view. But now I'm reading it again and thinking it has to be the parent. The parent is pressed against the child's spine, true, but hopefully you can see how that threw me.
What I'm getting from this, assuming that it is the parent, is a parent wondering what their life will be like after they have finished the raising of a child. I can also see the parent remembering what they did before somewhat wistfully, but caring more about the child's well-being.
My favourite thing is the "tell me". It gives the poem the simple repetition of a child's lullaby, which fits really well thematically and sort of wraps it up in a whole. It makes it feel like more than the sum of its words.
"thirty three" seems oddly specific. Is it just so the rhyme will work, or is there a numerological reason for it?
I think the emotion you explore here is interesting, but I have an idea. Clearly this is a person conflicted about the joy of their past, and in places not even remembering what life used to be like. Still, it's a "but you are held shut tight", which suggests they would like to know. This conflict would be really interesting to go further into, maybe feeling guilty about the fact that they wish to do something other than raise their child. You wouldn't have to go full on post partem depression, but it's something I was expecting this to reach that never came.
As it is, I get the fear (desperation from the repeated "tell me") and the love from the tender language ("Little one"). Now that I think about it "Little one" almost sounds reverant, which would make sense as to why the parent is asking them for wisdom. Is that on purpose?
Hope this helps,
Biscuits
Taking what you said about the conflict between wanting to know and not opening the book [we talked about this in chat when you noticed the title is 'Notebook' and realized it's not a child] I think I can expound on that idea of guilt because the idea of not opening the book is valid as wanting to know but not doing that, doing something else. Guilt of lost time writing would be a good way to translate it I think.
Thanks for the idea!