#1
Draft work. I wrote it in 15 minutes last night. Not yet gone over it. Looking for some constructive critisicm.

Secrets were his gift. He’d stand up, and spin another record.
Never had he imagined leaving.
As the floating traffic passed, he found himself staring.
Not remembering the sounds…just drifting away. Slowly fading.

He didn’t stay. He couldn’t say…or question any questions?
Was it his age? Or just unsafe?…no God that could save him.

His father felt so tired. Lost on a road he knew in his sleep.
Endlessly waiting…his heart knew the truth. But he couldn’t escape.
But he never stopped wandering. Never felt the change. Did he?
Why did it hit him?

On the tracks, by himself. Off the rails, where he fell.
As the glass turned to sand...where was his God now?

And they saw themselves now. Running away from the norm.
Seperating their change…leaving what was once worth living.
Realisations flashed to them that they could not wait.
Would they ever have the time? Time.

He says goodbye…to himself. He shakes the time…of oneself.
Nothing to say to himself.
Another man, left alone again.
#2
Awesome.

Is this part of a concept of some sort? Perhaps to many questions but that's just me. I also think the repetition of "self" sounds kinda weird in the end.

"Never had he imagined leaving" sounded weird when I said it outloud.

The flow on
"As the floating traffic passed, he found himself staring.
Not remembering the sounds…just drifting away. Slowly fading."
Is great.
Last edited by Love_Buzz at Sep 17, 2008,
#3
No concept. A true story actually. Well, my interpretation of a true story. Maybe I need to change all the 'self' endings. Thanks for your comments.
#4
Quote by redh0tchilip3pp
Draft work. I wrote it in 15 minutes last night. Not yet gone over it. Looking for some constructive critisicm.

Secrets were his gift. He’d stand up, and spin another record.
Never had he imagined leaving.
This line doesn't read very fluidly or comfortably. I'm instantly taken aback as well by how quickly it changes the vibe from the first line.
As the floating traffic passed, he found himself staring.
Not remembering the sounds…just drifting away. Slowly fading.
I am quite disconcerted with your method of writing. It reminds me of this novel I read years ago called The Cool 5 Thousand, or something like that, anyway. Basically, he wrote in very short sentences and it added some very neat tension, which is also displayed here. Its difficult to become accustomed to, though I'm afraid.

He didn’t stay. He couldn’t say…or question any questions?
Was it his age? Or just unsafe?…no God that could save him.
Once again, your quick flash sentences make it a unfathomable unless you re-read it quite a few times. Some people derive a lot of pleasure from doing that, like me, but some people don't. Maybe you could watch out for that?

His father felt so tired. Lost on a road he knew in his sleep.
Endlessly waiting…his heart knew the truth. But he couldn’t escape.
But he never stopped wandering. Never felt the change. Did he?
Why did it hit him?
This felt more at home to me. It felt like driving in the car with bad breaks that you had to continuesly slam on every few hundred yards to loosen them up, in case they stick. I can sense this tired, exhuasted body bashing down on the pedals in panick. Very effective imagery. I can also see a man desperatly trying to discover a lay-by where he can rest his eyes, just for a while. That may not of been your original idea, but its what I found from this.

On the tracks, by himself. Off the rails, where he fell.
As the glass turned to sand...where was his God now?

And they saw themselves now. Running away from the norm.
Seperating their change…leaving what was once worth living.
Realisations flashed to them that they could not wait.
I didn't like this as much as the previous stanza's. It felt a little cliched, actually. I just didn't like the words you used, being honest. I don't know why for sure, but I did feel a little put off by this verse.
Would they ever have the time? Time.

He says goodbye…to himself. He shakes the time…of oneself.
Nothing to say to himself.
Another man, left alone again.
Great ending.


This was very original. Thank you for reaching mine.

Digitally Clean
#5
^Thanks for your comments. They mean a lot. The thing with the flow...well the way I want them to be sang makes them flow well but I guess it's hard to tell.
#6
Oh, I see, I saw this as a poem previously. I can understand now, and I'm not just saying that, I can see the viewpoint of a singer. Its often easy to neglect the fact that singers have a very hard job trying to create a flowing piece when written down, compared to the sung version, which will, as long as your good singer, flow effortlessly.
I am a singer as well, so I can dig what your saying. I'm glad you liked my comment.
#7
This was a quite original take on things, but I for one, felt it dragged on. It felt like there was too much there. I needed something mroe concise and impactful. I think you could condense this down and really give it some sort of zip... as it is, the imagery starts to get tedious toward the end, as does the expression of the ideas. It just sort of loses its spunk. I also thing you need to watch your ellipsi (ellipses?)... to many and it really starts to lose its ability to govern flow. The reader starts to read them as periods instead of giving them the dramatic pause they deserve. There isn't a whole lot here to critique... what was here was nice, but not ground breaking... it just needs to be shortened up, tidied up, and given a little more pizazz and it will hold a lot more literary water.