What a wonderful way to start my day!
I feel obliged to pass on some of what I've learned hanging around your dad for so many years, Kensleigh.
I held your hand once when I was small.
Sometimes I can’t remember now that I am tall.
We slept beside each other once, and now I wonder if you’re cold.
I try to picture if you’ll know me when I’m old.
I see traces of you that don’t lead anywhere,
Faint outlines in places that forget you were there.
And when I look up at night, I still wish on falling stars,
Hoping somehow you’re not as distant as you are.
I used to hear you follow softly up the stairs,
A second set of footsteps fading into air.
And when I turn around, caught between hope and despair,
I feel you most in knowing you are never there.
When I have a rough draft, my first review pass is always for syllabic structure, which most often determines breath. Here, in the first stanza, we have: 5/4 (i held your hand once / when i was small) 7/5 (sometimes i can't remember / now that i am tall) 8/8 (we slept beside each other once / and now i wonder if you're cold) and 5/4/3 (i try to picture / if you'll know me / when i'm old) which is nice because the breath (and with it, the mood) builds to this nice terraced dynamic of 5/4/3 that carries with it some weight.
Now I'll do a breath pass, and see if i can say these lines in my natural breath in that syllabic structure. 1st line: perfect 2nd line: gets caught on I am (haha iamb) so let's consider shortening that to "I'm". 3rd line: it feels as if this needs to be broken into two lines/breaths. 4th line: perfect, and ends on a somber note.
Now we do the same for each stanza, and finally for the full piece, to make sure it flows from beginning to end in both delivery and breath.
What we end up with is something like this, a stretched out, breath-structured version of the image.
i held your hand once
when i was small
sometimes i can't remember
now that i'm tall
we slept besides each other once,
and now i wonder if you're cold
i try to picture
if you'll know me
when i'm old
i see traces of you
that lead nowhere
faint outlines in places
that forget you were there
and when i look up at night,
i still wish on falling stars
hoping somehow
you're not as distant
as you are
i used to hear you follow
softly up the stairs,
a second set of footsteps
fading into air
and when i turn around
caught between hope
and despair
i feel you most
in knowing you
are never there
So now we have something to play with! Now we can look at other devices such as enjambment, which seeks to juxtapose images, layering emotional complexity.
i held your hand once
when i was small
sometimes i can't remember
now that i'm tall / we slept beside
each other once and now i wonder
if you're cold, if you'll know me
when i'm old
i see traces of you
that lead nowhere / faint outlines
in places that forget you
were there / and when i
look up at night, i still wish
on falling stars
hoping somehow you're not
as distant as you are
i used to hear you follow
softly up the stairs, a second set of footsteps
fading into air and
when i turn around / caught
between hope and despair
i feel you most in
knowing you
are never there
So, why all this foolishness? Why not just a simple critique and a few suggestions for line variations or voice alterations? Honestly, that shit's for the birds. Critique in writing all too often takes on an air of hijacking, overwriting one voice with another, because understanding how to speak in one's own voice is already demanding enough.
I could critique, but it would be too granular to be of any value. You've got the hard part down. Instead, I've shown you how I play with words. This is almost certainly not how you should work, but it's cool to make a study of. These are the elements of poetry that form the basis of my appreciation for beauty on the line. I am a breath-focused wannabe imagist. If I focus on the things I care about, cradling the image until it fully forms within the space of breath I've provided it, I usually come out with something pretty elegant, and uniquely my own.
In the old days, rhyme scheme was the constraint that people worked images into. Then melody for song. Then the breath of free verse. Countless other constraints exist. You'll find yours, or invent one.
This is the work of being a poet in my opinion, and the greatest gift I could share with you is showing how simple/childish/alien my own process can be. Choose the parts of language that speak to you and work the visions in your mind to accommodate them.
Your poem was already a complete image, a hauntingly tragic thought. That's the hardest part of creation! The rest is just play, just style. Embrace this dichotomy: don't get caught up in any pretense for the craft, which can confuse the issue and remove all the joy.
Hopefully, after some exploration and practice, I'll read your work and learn what you care about, what matters most.
turnnoffyourmind
dailybridgerton
kianamaiart
stormborns
2087
izzy806
romaincrisis
gracieabrams
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