Dad's trip

+1

Doubleplusgood	100.0%	[ 5 ]
Total Votes:			[ 5 ]

[Paranoid Prophet]

This shrine to red lines now embalmed
is special to dad and scary to mom.
“We should go a little more south.
Maybe Disneyland?” Her stare
seeks my guidance. I happily agree
but dad isn’t listening; he’s walking towards
the deeper in dead. Puzzled, she follows
wary of what lies where the plots due thicken.

There. Where the stones go from pilfered
to polished is a first name I don’t recognize and
a last name I do. Dad’s standing there
with a grin wider than the coat of arms.
He tells mom to stand next to him, and me
to the other side. A family portrait with no camera
save the eyes of whatever ghost lies here.
Summoning the guts to talk to someone
who has none, his voice digs up words
he’s buried long ago in a lonely kids backyard.

“You see this dad? You and ma can run away.
I have a family now. I have my own.”
A memory tears away his grin and
tears up his eyes.
Mom goes to hold him and I am too,
not understanding at all.

Edits: 1

[Zylo Allouette]

Dobius Doo

This shrine to red lines now embalmed
is special to dad and scary to mom.
“We should go a little more south.
Maybe Disneyland?” Her stare
seeks my guidance. I happily agree
but dad isn’t listening; he’s walking towards
the deeper in dead. Puzzled, she follows
wary of what lies where the plots due thicken.

There. At the end of a polished wall
is a first name I don’t recognize and
a last name I do. Dad’s standing there
with a grin wider than the coat of arms.
He tells mom to stand next to him, and me
to the other side. A family portrait with no camera
save the eyes of whatever ghost lies here.
His voice digs up words he’s buried
in a lonely kids backyard.

“You see this dad? You and ma can run away.
I have a family now. I have my own.”
A memory tears away his grin and
tears up his eyes.
Mom goes to hold him and I am too,
not understanding at all.

Be very careful how vague you are. I had to read this poem four times before I finally understood the direction of it. What you can do is be slightly more specific in the direction of the third stanza; try a literal line of direction. Such as

“You see this dad?"
spat at the ground:
You and ma can run away.
I have a family now. I have my own.”
A memory tears away his grin and
tears up his eyes.

Or whatever variant you'd like. It's all up to you, but try inserting some sort of image that people can understand the first time through.

[Paranoid Prophet]

Yes. I did go a little heavy on the vagueness.

I edited with your thoughts in mind, is it better understood now?

[Paranoid Prophet]

.

[Paranoid Prophet]

guffaw

[WideEyed]

I really liked it, and while it is indeed vague at the outset, that only makes the realisation of where the family is and why they are there, that much more powerful at the end, IMHO.

I'm not sure about "plots due".
Did you intend to use "due", as opposed to "do"?

Both work in a way, but it throws me off a bit, but other than that, I wouldn't change anything.

Any "rough edges" it might have lend it verisimilitude, IMO, as this is would appear to be spoken by a young person, and being overly polished and professional would detract from the reality.

[Paranoid Prophet]

Thank you for your thoughts WideEyed.
As for "where plots due thicken"
I was originally trying to combine two thoughts into one idea without saying,
"where plots due do thicken", I felt that the line would trip up with the
doubled sound.

Hmm. *snicker* "Doo-doo. Heh heh". Man, I'm such a lame duck...

Anyway, I may rewrite that line still to clear up any confusion around that line.
I'm glad you enjoyed the poem. Have a nice day!

[WideEyed]

Dobius Doo

Thank you for your thoughts WideEyed.
As for "where plots due thicken"
I was originally trying to combine two thoughts into one idea without saying,
"where plots due do thicken", I felt that the line would trip up with the
doubled sound.

Hmm. *snicker* "Doo-doo. Heh heh". Man, I'm such a lame duck...

Anyway, I may rewrite that line still to clear up any confusion around that line.
I'm glad you enjoyed the poem. Have a nice day!

Well, with a name like "Dubius Doo", a little "potty humour" is probably allowable, if not called for. wink
Nice to see some people in Poetry have a sense of humour.

Thanks for acknowledging my comments.
I'm reasonably new to the Poetry/Lyrics Forum, but I've noticed that responding to people's comments/critiques is almost as rare as that aforementioned sense of humour.

[Power Armor Felix]

Dobius Doo

This shrine to red lines now embalmed
is special to dad and scary to mom.
“We should go a little more south.
Maybe Disneyland?” Her stare This hook up of south and disneyland in the dialog is probably the best embedded metaphor you have in place. It perhaps points to the mom's mental state of wanting a heaven or a nice place for the southernly directional folk.
seeks my guidance. I happily agree
but dad isn’t listening; he’s walking towards
the deeper in dead. Puzzled, she follows
wary of what lies where the plots due thicken. You could choose a different word instead of lies here; the connotation it throws off is a bit too undirected. Even a word like "rests" would be better, if that's what you mean.

Plots due thicken is something of a supercharged combo, within you have the idioms "due south" and "the plot thickens" along with a potential pun (grave plots). It kinda sits like a powder keg at the vortex of all this other stuff, a nice lifeform for sure but very tricky unless you investigate and take into account all the tripwires it's attached to.

There. Where the stones go from pilfered
to polished is a first name I don’t recognize and
a last name I do. Dad’s standing there
with a grin wider than the coat of arms. Coat of arms is a decent comparison and point of reference for the reader; it helped reorient me when I was getting lost. I'm not so much a fan of the eyes in the portrait though--it's a bit too Scooby Doo for a search of the deeper in dead.
He tells mom to stand next to him, and me
to the other side. A family portrait with no camera
save the eyes of whatever ghost lies here.
Summoning the guts to talk to someone
who has none, his voice digs up words
he’s buried long ago in a lonely kids backyard.

“You see this dad? You and ma can run away.
I have a family now. I have my own.”
A memory tears away his grin and
tears up his eyes.
Mom goes to hold him and I am too,
not understanding at all.

Edits: 1

At first I thought this might be road-trip to a creepy haunted location or some local mini-museum of oddities rather than the usual vacation destination. Finding out that it was just a plain old cemetery later on was something of a let down, also I wanted to know more about Dad directing the driving towards what he wants to see versus the wishes of the family.

I admit, it is somewhat interesting and unique to do a National Lampoon take on a trip to view one's deceased relatives; however I'd advise building up this key analogy and sharpening the focus on what is actual and what is figurative. Perhaps bullet point descriptions of the physical place versus your symbolic impressions of the event.

[Paranoid Prophet]

Thank you for the in-depth critique Felix. The bullet point idea sounds like a good way to proceed in a good direction not with just this poem but with all others I write. It is also enlightening to know that the beginning stanza is directed in a different direction than I intended. I will go forth and correct that and other parts of this.

By the way. Would you be at all interested in collaborating on some prose?

[Power Armor Felix]

Dobius Doo

Thank you for the in-depth critique Felix. The bullet point idea sounds like a good way to proceed in a good direction not with just this poem but with all others I write. It is also enlightening to know that the beginning stanza is directed in a different direction than I intended. I will go forth and correct that and other parts of this.

By the way. Would you be at all interested in collaborating on some prose?

Ah, you don't have to apply this trick to everything you write (some published poets do and it feels like they're playing too safe), though it never hurts to try out another tool from the toolbox.

My exact notes on this are buried somewhere, but I believe it has to do with the metaphoric formula (A is like B), where A is your unfamiliar unknown and B is your more common knowledge concrete. I seem to remember the term "vehicle" as well, there's another one too, bah!

Anyhow, I believe the plan for you would be to have each A describe an aspect of the literal setting, whereas each B would have a more abstract, emotional quality. Kind of like the reverse of the formula I mentioned. Get all your A's to line up with a certain consistency, and your poem will have a spine or central axis, in which the reader can more comfortably visit the branches--with the knowledge that they can return to the center at any time!

For the prose collaboration, what topic did you have in mind? I do hope its about public cults having chaotic telepathy battles in the desert sands. EVERYONE KNOWS WHAT WE DO, BUT NO ONE WATCHES. The scorpion's high-pitched whine severs the clear blue fur of the sky cat, the atoms of the air mesmerize as crimson S-shapes. Turn the dial, clasp your ear-hood with both hands. YeeeeeARGGGH!!!