Sarah’s SS10 First Draft

17 Dec

(I’m not 100% happy with this poem and it’s not necessarily complete. I’m hoping my second draft will be a lot better as I plan on developing this poem over the next few weeks)

Six thirty two.

Two minutes.

Two minutes since my alarm jolted me into “today.”

A yellow stream of morning light kicks its way in.

It says, “today starts now.”

Paints itself onto the walls of my bedroom.

It grazes my bare skin- lukewarm and motherly,

Coaxing me,

But I feel anxiety lay her weight across my body,

Depression’s lips pressed against my ear.

As it says “You are not going anywhere. Sunlight is a bold-faced lie.”

I close my eyes. Think of Dad.

I dream he is a black bird,

perched on the branch of a half dead tree.

Neck stretched,

chorusing into a brewing sky.

He always did love to sing…

 

A door slams.

Twelve-nineteen PM.

 

The sun waits outside my window,

I feel my day smouldering under its fiery glare.

I wish for the taste of toothpaste,

The weight of food in stomach,

But anxiety reaches into my chest,

Clenching,

And its one of those days where depression blows out every candle in my body.

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4 Responses to “Sarah’s SS10 First Draft”

  1. MouthyPoets December 20, 2015 at 4:44 pm #

    Girl, if this is you unhappy with the first draft, I am bursting to see/hear the second one.

    The use of time is really beautiful here. I love how you zoom in on it to make it sound like every second conquered is labour in itself. Love that you are showing this and not just telling it. I likethe feeling of ‘lost power’ within it, a certain helplessness coming through like the sun painting itself on the walls is literally like watching paint dry and the narrative seems so distant, works well.

    Fav line: “I feel anxiety lay her weight across my body,

    Depression’s lips pressed against my ear”….. the agony and helplessness come out a lot more in this,it is quite voyeuristic, like your presence is only mental and something else has taken over your body and you are left watching and out of control.

    Looking forward to seeing more, I can not think of anything that needs to be changed yet.

    Dee

  2. MouthyPoets December 23, 2015 at 1:09 am #

    Hi Sarah this piece is beautiful, I co sign everything Dee has said. I love your use of verbs…”The light kicks it’s way in” and “paints itself on the wall” there are many great examples.
    For me the last line would be stronger if cut to “depression blows out every candle in my body.” Ioney

  3. MouthyPoets December 30, 2015 at 11:35 pm #

    I always write stories about how lights comes through the window and “Paints itself on the walls of my bedroom” is literally the best line to describe that – I love it 🙂 personally I’d take out ‘kicks its way in’, unless its literally bursting through the window, otherwise I see it as quite a smooth and seeping-ish motion

    But I feel anxiety lay her weight across my body – beautiful way to describe something

    And its one of those days where depression blows out every candle in my body. – such a haunting last line!

    You’ve got such great ‘specific’ lines, about the taste of toothpaste and things like that which really make it relateable
    Really looking forward to reading the second draft!

    Charlie

  4. MouthyPoets January 5, 2016 at 12:59 pm #

    Hi Sarah

    What exactly are you not happy with and how are you hoping to make it ‘better’? Would just be good to get a clearer idea of your vision for both the piece and your work…

    LOVE
    -‘It grazes my bare skin- lukewarm and motherly,’ perfect and accurate description, you have some really unexpected yet accurate word choices throughout.
    -Love how you a personifying the alarm, the day, the light and how the move is really visual and kinaesthetically and seamlessly moves me visually both into and through the poem
    -I especially love how you accelerate the narrative in this section…
    But I feel anxiety lay her weight across my body,
    Depression’s lips pressed against my ear.
    As it says “You are not going anywhere. Sunlight is a bold-faced lie.”
    I close my eyes. Think of Dad.
    I dream he is a black bird,
    perched on the branch of a half dead tree.
    Neck stretched,
    chorusing into a brewing sky.
    He always did love to sing…
    The way you seamlessly cover so much ground without moving me from your bed.
    -Loving the idea behind the ending, it works and is a beautiful image, I really like how you are using light throughout this piece it is unexpected and creative yet familiar but I think you need to tighten the wording.

    SUGGESTIONS

    1. FORM
    I really like how you are considering stanza’s and line breaks, particularly line the stanza breaks in representation of time passing but I think it might be interesting to play around with this piece whilst using different forms to push you, the two that come to mind are

    -Prose poem… http://rogerrobinsononline.com/1-minute-lecture-on-prose-poems/
    &
    -Villanelle…https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/poetic-form-villanelle
    or maybe a
    -Bop… https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/poetic-form-bop

    It is worth trying all three, like making three new versions and seeing how it impacts on the content to challenge yourself?

    2. THESAURUS/ REDUNDANCIES
    -You have really interested word choices but I want to push you to put each word through a thesaurus and ask yourself – can I use less words here? Can my words be working harder? I have had a play with this just to show you what I mean? Changing the form might also give you an opportunity to do this…

    Six thirty two. Two minutes since
    alarm shoved “today” into me.
    A yellow stream of morning pleasures its way in.
    It says, “today starts now.” Stains itself
    onto the walls of my bedroom.

    It chafes my un-duveted skin
    lukewarm and motherly, coaxing
    anxiety to lay her weight across my body,
    depression’s lips against my ear.
    As it says “You are not going

    anywhere. Sunlight is a lie.”
    I reunite eyelids. Think of Dad.
    Dream he is a black bird, perched
    on the branch of a half dead tree.
    Neck stretched, chorusing,

    a brewing sky. He always
    yearned to sing…

    …It is a very fiddly job because you are already quiet good at this but I want you to push yourself that bit further.

    Great poem. Way close that you think I recon!
    Well done,
    Debris

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