Feral Youths
Posted: 23 May 2005
Word Count: 136
|
Font Size
|
|
Intimidating, clad in baggy pants and hoods,
feral youths, congregating on our city streets.
Blades, knives hidden from sight
used as weapons or carried for protection.
Irrespective, razor sharp and deadly.
Body scars, wounds callously inflicted
at the hands of rival gangs.
Badge of membership or brotherhood,
bravery, in the face of urban terror.
Reasons given for this loathing, this hatred
maybe, colour, ethnicity , geography
or the thrust and cut of life.
Eyes skinned, follow each and every movement
Predators, excited by the smell of blood.
Aroused by the chase the kill.
Life and death, vested in their leaders,
Youths - born old- embittered, encallused,
hardened by grief, unresponsive to tears.
For, life on the street means you cut or die
so freedom, for the youth of our cites
is banishment, a body-bag or coffin.
|
Comments by other Members
| |
 seanfarragher at 14:12 on 23 May 2005
 Report this post
|
Your poems has wonderful energy and you have set a marvelous visual and musical tone with the first images of "Feral Youth."
Please, let the poem now step out and show not tell what the last three lines of your second stanza summarize.
I like the lines -- but the poem needs to narrate action. Your are ready for engagement as the Royal Anthem "God Save the Queen" roars over the Thames.
For, life on the street means you cut or die
so freedom, for the youth of our cites
is banishment, a body-bag or coffin. |
|
It is not enough to state what needs to be done. You are ready for action.
| |
Felmagre at 17:43 on 23 May 2005
Report this post
|
Would youmind enlarging, as I am unsure what what you see as the next step, the action.
Thank you for your input, it is much appreciated.
| |
seanfarragher at 18:15 on 23 May 2005
Report this post
|
Here is a poem based on your last three lines
[caption]For, life on the street means you cut or die
so freedom, for the youth of our cites
is banishment, a body-bag or coffin.[/caption]
Mine:
[caption]When the man lived too long he bit off the eyes of the city
He climbed the skyscrapers like King Kong and the woman fell
between his legs, but she was caught, simply held like diamonds
are scattered below the city. Fay Raye ran through the streets
of New York wearing the mind as a dress. She was lonely
and unheard. She said she suffered banishment, and when
they took her into the morgue she was alive but so silent
nothing would wake her but the buzz of the saw splitting
what was her mind from her body, and no one would find her
but that moment did crease into the dreamer's dream and was
caught and coughed as dying never lets you free.[/caption]
I wrote this inspired by you. It is an elaboration on your lines, but doesnt include them. Free assoicate on your lines to create the story for the character/persona that you have created.
<Added>
When the man lived too long he bit off the eyes of the city
He climbed the skyscrapers like King Kong and the woman fell
between his legs, but she was caught, simply held like diamonds
are scattered below the city. Fay Raye ran through the streets
of New York wearing the mind as a dress. She was lonely
and unheard. She said she suffered banishment, and when
they took her into the morgue she was alive but so silent
nothing would wake her but the buzz of the saw splitting
what was her mind from her body, and no one would find her
but that moment did crease into the dreamer's dream and was
caught and coughed as dying never lets you free. |
|
| |
seanfarragher at 18:19 on 23 May 2005
Report this post
|
Here is a poem based on your last three lines
For, life on the street means you cut or die
so freedom, for the youth of our cites
is banishment, a body-bag or coffin. |
|
Mine:
[caption]When the man lived too long he bit off the eyes of the city
He climbed the skyscrapers like King Kong and the woman fell
between his legs, but she was caught, simply held like diamonds
are scattered below the city. Fay Raye ran through the streets
of New York wearing the mind as a dress. She was lonely
and unheard. She said she suffered banishment, and when
they took her into the morgue she was alive but so silent
nothing would wake her but the buzz of the saw splitting
what was her mind from her body, and no one would find her
but that moment did crease into the dreamer's dream and was
caught and coughed as dying never lets you free.[/caption]
I wrote this inspired by you. It is an elaboration on your lines, but doesnt include them. Free assoicate on your lines to create the story for the character/persona that you have created.
| |
Felmagre at 14:48 on 24 May 2005
Report this post
|
Ah, now I understand. Many thanks agian for offering a 'different' perspective. Interesting and thought provoking.
| |
SmithBrowne at 03:32 on 27 May 2005
Report this post
|
Felicity -- I like how Sean gave you perspective on more show and less tell. That is what I felt about this poem, as well. Some truly vibrant images and lines, but at key moments there were didactic words or phrases that sounded more like an essay than the natural flow of the lines you had already established. I too urge the freer flow of the ideas you have so wonderfully set down -- cannot wait to see if another draft increases upon the strength of lines like
Eyes skinned, follow each and every movement
Predators, excited by the smell of blood....
life on the street means you cut or die
| |
Beanie Baby at 21:45 on 27 May 2005
Report this post
|
This subject is very topical at the moment and it is interesting to see both perspectives. I think I prefer your original ending because I like it when something is left to the reader's own imagination (which is not a criticism of Sean's interpretation which almost came over as a poem in its own right). Your ending feels like hitting a brick wall and asks a question to which there is no answer. It is well tackled and full of imagery, conjuring up visions of running battles and tension.
Beanie
| |
Felmagre at 10:17 on 28 May 2005
Report this post
|
Thank you SmithBrowe and BeanieBaby. Whilst I have not posted adjustments I have been thinking through the suggestions. Certainly, my objective was to create dialogue but also show the hopelessness of fighting the 'way things are' Much of this sense of hopelessness surrounding the life chances of our kids was reinforced via the William and Mary drama. Their son simply, according to the police, had to 'move away' or else be killed. They like the family were powerless to stop the inevitable. What a strange, violent world we inhabit. Almost as though the human race as turned in on itself and become consumed with a unilateral self-loathing for no real reason. Sad and disturbing.
Thank you for your encouraging words, insight and input. I have learned a great deal from the group.
Kind regards
Felicity.
| |
| |
Comments by other Members
