The listless pour onto trains
with scrap yard sadness,
their ham-fisted attempts at joviality
belie the anguish that seeps from each pore,
half asleep but coffee buzzed
the fuzzy tongues of brief morning brush
rush through business calls
and fall back inward,
toward a soul that cries for more.
Posted Dec 29, 2021, 8:09 PM UTC · edited
Wow, this is bleak even by my standards. Which I love, obviously. My favourite line from this is
"The fuzzy tongues of brief morning brush / rush through business calls"
That's a really cool and unique piece of imagery and really helps to put a reader into the scene and makes this a very strong piece.
I haven't really got much to criticise, I really enjoyed this, the length is just right and it doesn't beat around the bush with anything.
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You captured the feeling of the “daily grind” perfectly. Always wanting more but never being fulfilled by a worthless job. My favorite line is the “soul that cries for more.” Amazing job.
I loved the imagery of referring to a fist as a ham. Cold winter hands become pink like ham.
I imagine the scrap yard is the view from the train ride.. It makes me think of how one might live far away from the city they work in and everyday seeing the excesses of modernization
I like the use of falling back inward. I imagine an office worker reclining themself into their chair after being who they need to be over the phone, pondering about the life not lived with a sense of not knowing how to enrich their soul
wow, you really managed to capture the “gray” feeling of winter work. the only thing is that some of the language (most prominently “belie”) feels unnatural compared to the almost scrambled tone of the rest of the poem. it seems to me like the reader is supposed to be in the place of the person being described, but the description feels disconnected, like the narrator is an outside observer. i think that is actually a great contradiction to have, if it felt more intentional. but overall this is great! you really captured the feeling of just wanting to be happy but being too tired to try.
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Wow. This is one of my favorite poems I’ve read since I’ve been on here. I really identify with the feeling this poem conveys. This is exactly what it is to wake up and have to go to that mundane job, all the while wishing for something more meaningful. I know because I’ve been there. Well done
Such a sad poem cus it’s true. Short cus you managed to capture the whole essence of the working class in just a couple phrases. What more is there to say? Viva la revolution