Lv 57,456 points

Patrick R

Favorite Answers54%
Answers863
Questions7
  • Could you please critique, critique, critique "All Strapped In"?

    (Please ignore the periods at the beginning of L13. I had to use them to preserve spacing.)

    ALL STRAPPED IN

    (for J. A.)

    turtle wax turtle wax and wane

    don't make me wear a shell for the dress code

    though I might take my cymbals to the party

    where we'll crash and bang to build

    housing for our depression codes

    who has a guitar to wield?

    spike the volume to add a dimension

    to that area code where you yourself will wire

    all this noise is grooving me a headache

    I’m still scraped by all the padlocks that need

    needle-sharp keys to get me

    out of solitary.

    ......................... Prescription: Codeine

    touts the sheet music lining the bird

    cages and yes their wings are clipped

    Bloomin' Mistin' Molly and Bleedin' Foggin' Sam

    still sing C chanties and D minor miracles

    and stationed screeches on freeways potholed

    and titanic crackles and blowings-out over relays

    we cannot let them have the last word

    did anyone say they had words

    why does a chromosome resemble the epiglottis,

    why leave my pipe open when I don't want it

    swept out, chimney swept out, smoked

    out, smoke

    the signal of doubt

    strike the handle that feeds you and let yourself out

    © 2008 by Patrick B. Robbins

    3 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Could you please critique [& I mean CRITIQUE yes, yes!] "Awake" and the other poems I've posted here today?

    AWAKE

    you touch the warmdark

    grain of your doors

    you think they will yield

    warmth

    they are cool to the touch

    the feeling is the yield of good

    cutting and finishing

    in the open

    casket the dead body will

    look warm

    if the artisan yields

    to teachings of craft

    caskets no more

    reveal their grain

    why

    shouldn't the cold body look cold

    (c) 2007 by Patrick B. Robbins

    2 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Could you please critique, critique, critique "Careers"?

    CAREERS

    To usher in a fresher act.

    To mold disparate artifacts

    from shapeless days. To leave intact

    the severest flaw of the heroic.

    To live in every age of the Cenozoic.

    To make fact emotive and emotion stoic.

    To show that grief

    is only overblown belief

    in someone else. To sleeve

    the record of our mourning.

    To play it later as a warning

    or a tract permitting yearning

    for what's found and lost with the coming of the new.

    To remember never to eschew

    anything just because it's been eschewed already. You.

    To live above the whirlpool of a toilet,

    depositing a riddle or regret

    in every eddy. To find love's wallet

    and return it. To pickle tension

    in a clear, unbloodied potion.

    To inject commotion

    where ease has stunted growth. To prove

    we cannot love

    ourselves without our selves.

    To learn no answers from the stars.

    (c) 2007 by Patrick B. Robbins

    3 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Could you please critique, critique, critique "Upwind Sunnyside Downs"?

    (Please ignore the periods at the start of some of the lines. I had to include them to preserve the spacing.)

    UPWIND SUNNYSIDE DOWNS

    At the end of the shagged hall wood doors. At one

    your bare wrist moves in its way to move the knob in its way.

    Balks. Without sound sounding

    ............for oil, yes then the wind

    ............fall of forests to swing

    ............away like a smooth

    ............outcrop of fist then

    ............and then another

    ............bank of air to

    ............settle free at first

    ............glance space

    ............—but that’s a wish foiled, an egg

    stilled in the fridge for a plenty of time tabled.

    But this room this time's stock stopped

    by a knob not moved; hairs on the wrist at rest

    get greased by air vented

    from a baseboard holed.

    From down there your eye high-wired

    looks like an egg unshelled yet mottled.

    Only the hard-boiled play up there

    with the apparatus. Or maybe the poached.

    Your midstepping, midfingering act

    in a pinch? Only nets are the rugging

    and the door. Both are dewed with an odor

    distilled like coughs from traffic

    snarled with strict routes.

    The carpet shifts.

    A generation of wood is shoved.

    At the refrigerator handle is a hand gloved.

    © 2008, Patrick B. Robbins

    4 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Who do you think are the most overrated poets? Why?

    If you'd like, feel free to divide your answer into English-language and foreign-language poets.

    3 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Who do you think are the most underrated poets? Why?

    If you'd like, please feel free to divide your answer into English-language poets and foreign-language poets.

    3 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago
  • Could you please critique the hell out of my poem "awake"?

    --------------------------------------------------------

    awake

    you

    touch the warmdark

    grain of your doors

    you think they will yield

    warmth

    they are cool to the touch

    the feeling is the yield of good

    cutting and finishing

    in the open

    casket the dead body will

    look warm

    if the artisan yields

    to teachings of craft

    caskets no more

    reveal their grain

    why

    shouldn't the cold body look cold

    (c) 2008 by Patrick B. Robbins

    3 AnswersPoetry1 decade ago