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The Day After Next (Prose Poem) by cyan9
I felt tired today; these limbs ache and lack energy I repeated to myself. Thoughts started but then slurred like far off voices, whilst barely visible black dots became patches, became a darkness that dominated my vision and finally dulled my head. At this moment, as per usual, I was supposed to be receiving some kind of spiritual message: my life was supposed to flash before my eyes. Minute by minute, hour by hour, still shots of memory imposed itself with burning intensity before melting down like old projector film and spattering into my brain. Pulling out the negatives I watched reel upon reel of footage that jerked from frame to frame displaying pictures of aging mills and coal mines, where exhaust fumes marked cracked boarded windows and stained dusty brickwork. There were noises like children crying and the screeching of worn brakes, the rattle of old machines, winding creaking sounds regularly spaced as if someone here were turning the handle of a rusted old mangle. Looking around there were no signs of life, just a slightly pretentious parody of the day that I was about to receive. Although sulfur and ash from long dead fires clogged the airways and stained the skin, my mind was numb and seemingly void of all that could even want to care. Drifting through memories that I barely recognized and had no desire to recollect, I came across that piece of me that cared, that teardrop that fell that had fallen upon all my abandoned intents. Everywhere I looked this barbed bead of frost confronted me, I shied away, turned my back and covered my eyes, shaking, scraping this thing from my dry and cracked face. Re-hydrating ducts, glands and dried out waterways, day by day this process began awakening limbs and organs that had never wanted to feel this pain again. Over the days I began clutching my head and hoping it would finally explode, It had started and I was now fit to beg for heaven's help.

Up the ladder: My Truth?
Down the ladder: Wounding the Sovereign

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Arithmetic Mean: 3.0
Weighted score: 4.905148
Overall Rank: 9776
Posted: April 3, 2006 9:11 AM PDT; Last modified: April 6, 2006 8:01 AM PDT
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Comments:
[8] Ranger @ 86.131.52.197 | 3-Apr-06/11:02 AM | Reply
'Pulling out the negatives...' - good passage.
First sentence of paragraph 3 I don't like, unpleasant and somewhat cliched.
I'd replace the repeated 'teardrop', the first time you use it is fine, after that it starts to wear, and makes the piece seem like you were struggling for words.
Last line - "heaven's".
Critique aside, I enjoyed this.
'memories that I barely recognised and had no desire to recollect'...I felt that line strike.
[n/a] cyan9 @ 217.40.63.105 > Ranger | 4-Apr-06/7:30 AM | Reply
Thanks for the critique, Ive acted upon it somewhat and think its added to the piece. Will return the favour at some point.
[9] drnick @ 141.218.35.109 | 5-Apr-06/10:23 AM | Reply
I really like this. I'm not sure that many people know what black and white camera film melting is like, so perhaps you would consider a different analogy. I like the "jerked from frame to frame" and "like children crying and the screeching of worn brakes." Very good imagry.
[n/a] cyan9 @ 217.40.63.105 > drnick | 6-Apr-06/7:46 AM | Reply
Cheers for the compliment, what I was trying to get at with the camera film is effect when you see clips of old films that have been exposed to the heat and have melted, and am at a loss as to how to describe that effect, I geuss 'like snapshots from a melted projector film'?????
[6] Caducus @ 86.141.200.191 | 6-Apr-06/8:33 AM | Reply
Problem !

this is well enough written and i can see the earnest in your writing but it just reads like an essay set and is like a dinner well cooked that everyones eaten an hour ago.
[n/a] cyan9 @ 217.40.63.105 > Caducus | 7-Apr-06/1:22 AM | Reply
Help me out here,

A dinner well cooked that everyones eaten an hour ago??? Is it too cliched? or does it spend too long explaining itself?

This is due to be the intro piece to a book that I am putting together, so if it aint good, somethings gotta be done.
[6] Caducus @ 86.141.200.191 > cyan9 | 10-Apr-06/1:22 AM | Reply
Making a transition from poetic verse to narrative is very difficult to do. My point is that it reads like a draft - a good one nonetheless but not one that I would deem good enough against the competition of published authors if thats your plan. I think the main problem is lines such as :

this process began awakening limbs and organs that
had never wanted to feel this pain again

You must be able to describe something without the comfort and cosseting of commas, so try and do the image in one without having to drag it out as it shows a lack of confidence, a lack of skill and ability to show what it is you are saying without actually saying it and patronizing the readers intellect.

I'll be honest I cannot do it so work with the best i can within my ability. I can hone and improve my talents but the finished article is a reference to ones self of being totally aware that the final print is the representation of the peak of ones ability.

Its a good piece of writing but do not be constricted by deadlines or by a personal time scope you have set. Let the piece manifest from advice given and personal inspiration and then let it loose.

Examples are hard to give as you hold the pen and the thought processes - not me or anyone else.

Its got a lot of potential so dont get shot down by quick reader sick feeder bunch (whoever they may be).

G'luck
[n/a] cyan9 @ 217.40.63.105 > Caducus | 10-Apr-06/4:16 AM | Reply
Cheers for that old boy. As for the quick reader sick feeder bunch, start name dropping
[6] Caducus @ 86.141.200.191 > cyan9 | 10-Apr-06/7:04 AM | Reply
To name drop would bore the sh1t outta me with all the hassle it would cause.
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