Description: This one is all about loss. I had actually written a couple of other stanzas, but I stripped it back to capture the idea I was angling for.
Thoughts and suggestions welcome.
I thought that when you left
I would fill a scrapbook
with my imaginings
of how you used to be.
It would be solemnly grey
and neatly bound with string,
the perfect cenotaph
to remember what was.
But now you're gone
and my book is bare.
There's no memorial,
no nostalgic mosaic.
Just jagged emptiness-
your page hacked off its spine
and a damp, hollow sob
as I cast for what was
but only find what isn't.
i don't mean that the poem needs polish, rather requiring adjustment and positioning, in order that it shine,
i mean that it is a good poem that has not yet settled in its final place, and all that's required is that you look.
most times poetry doesn't fall out of the sky, true, it can be sparked by nature beauty, life, or something you have read but most times that lets you get at only a portion of it and then you have to look, and that could take a very long time. I guess i'm stating the obvious but then again maybe no, sometimes that looking requires a willingness to tear down an almost symmetry until you achieve a more perfect balance.
so, to answer your question, i think things could be adjusted, and lines/phrasing repositioned.
i find i tie myself up trying to explain things i know and that's not to say that i know everything about your poem, or any poem, but i have looked, and certain things occur to me.
I thought that when you left
would fill a book
(my wild imaginings)
of how it used to be;
that grief would grey down
and neatly bound with a string.
The perfect cenotaph.
But now you're gone:
the book is bare.
No last, nostalgic, look, no life
left in memorial; to shave away
this jagged emptiness-
your page hacked from its spine
*and, i don't think the what was, what is idea is strong enough, in this instance, to close out the poem. There's plenty more than enough of that throughout that by the time you get to the end it's overdone,
i think that you can work around it, incorporate it (and i understand that's contradictory) but the was.ef idea is not enough for this poem imo.
I do like the idea your poem brings me to, the idea that the absence of life is something fitting, that the incapacity is the hollow sob, that what sticks in your throat and the inability to suitably articulate that, and memorialize is the gutpunch.
I like that idea because it says everything about someone being gone, consequently i think it's touching because it indirectly illuminates what is human.
just ideas, and forgive my finger painting, rather think of poetry as architecture, and consider it a treatment of light, you can do lots of things with light.
thanks, i guess.
i spent a lot of time thinking about yo words. there's something in them.
i like that the first stanza is idealistic and that the second is surprising (in a nice way) because of the way that reality is set (for the moments) and sets in,
i find that the word imaginings in the first stanza is a giveaway word, it gives away the direction the poem will take and therefore blunts it, it is a giveaway word because it doesn't sound (not in the aural sense) quite right, because you imagine that scrapbook being, in the poetic sense, filled with sinew and bone.
i would place hollow sob right next to the last line, making h s o w isn't.
even still, i would mess and mess and mess around with what isn't because i feel it's on the cusp of what is.....
for example, the spine deal is good....
but now you're gone, my book is bare
is a bit poor me, and it shouldn't be giving up that tone, it should be merely a statement, and because it seems more like a helpless plea it comes across as a bit weak.
you may agree, you may not, all i am trying to say is that a poem, all poems are about balance, devices, timing and ingredient.
i think you still have work to do here, and some delicate shifts to work through, but i can see it, and i like it.