Thanks for the feedback guys.....shame no-one wanted to comment on something that is actually good, rather than the crappy sketches that appear on this sight. Face it, you're not funny.
The Bus Ride
Quote: Jeremy Smith @ December 11, 2007, 11:20 PMThanks for the feedback guys.....shame no-one wanted to comment on something that is actually good, rather than the crappy sketches that appear on this sight. Face it, you're not funny.
I was about to look at this sketch, and found this!!
Miserable f**ker.
And I think you mean 'site', not 'sight', which already casts aspersions on any talent!!
Sober up and re-post and you might get some feedback!
Haha! Classic Smith! 5 stars!
I've just looked up the original piece using Google's cache, being as it's now been deleted. It was a poem, and quite a lengthy one too. As I have a lot of experience writing and reading poetry, I can say that it's probably a good job it was deleted if you wanted a positive review from me, but no doubt had you broken it down into bite-sized chunks I can guarantee other people on here would've quite liked it.
In any case, there's no excuse for that sort of rude behaviour. Especially lacking the spine to keep the original poem in the thread for fear of knee-jerk harsh criticism.
I saw a good book in Waterstone's the other day, it was by Stephen Fry, called "The Ode Less Travelled". If you're serious about poetry I would recommend you buy it, as I'm sure you would benefit from it.
Quote: Leevil @ December 13, 2007, 2:27 PMHaha! Classic Smith! 5 stars!
I'm hoping it was a joke, then...
I dunno? But it's no way to act if you want a positive experience returned on here. You get what you give.
I broke my ego once. I lost the 'o'. It came back as just 'eg'. You can fill in the rest Jeremy.
I see. Thought you knew him to be joking. Clearly not! Shame really.
Definitely recommend that book though. Was browsing the other day and was very impressed. Thinking of getting a copy myself. I'm amazed at how few people have even the faintest idea of how to write poetry. Even the more clued-up ones seem to think that an endless stream of forced rhyming couplets will do the trick!
In short, it won't.
First off, I apologise for the rudeness of my edit....no need for it, and, to be fair, some of the sketches are fairly decent. James - I don't mind that you wouldn't give a positive review of it; what good is a critique if it's all positive? If you want me to put it back up, I'll gladly do so and let you rip me to shreds 
Oh, and by the way, not to justify my actions, but the 'sight' was a deliberate typo...symbolism (if you're a keen poet you should've recognised that 
)
Sorry again guys, I'm a bad bad man. But they do say any publicity is good publicity...
And now you are officially cool again.
Phew! I was worried I was gonna be part of the uncool group for a moment then.
Nah, Chapman is a one man band where that's concerned.
Quote: Jeremy Smith @ December 11, 2007, 11:20 PMThanks for the feedback guys.....shame no-one wanted to comment on something that is actually good, rather than the crappy sketches that appear on this sight. Face it, you're not funny.
Well, I don't know about the poem but you've got a poet's sensitivity...
Quote: Jeremy Smith @ December 13, 2007, 2:49 PMIf you want me to put it back up, I'll gladly do so and let you rip me to shreds
I sent some feedback via PM but I'm sure Mr Smith will have no objection to me re-posting the original poem, with my feedback appended, as I'm sure other people will have a take dissimilar to mine. They would be wrong, but there you go.
The Bus Ride
Another day starts with the same bus ride
I’m sat at the back, on the right hand side
The seats are faded from years of abuse
And the floor panels are rattling with screws coming loose.
The windows are grubby, unwashed for years
An age of children the reason for smears.
Watching the raindrops trickle down the pane
Mixing themselves in with all of the stains
I can see the whole world passing me by
Cinema, swimming pool, new MFI.
Frustrated and bored with life as of now
I look at the passengers and – oh wow!First on the bus, a man of royal life
The Queen of the land was his loyal wife
He was the King of his country indeed
From his royal mother he did succeed.
A publicity stunt this has to be
For there is not a man finer than he
So to make him seem similar to us
The decision was made to ride this bus
Of course we should bend down to he
Because he’s in a diff’rent family.
His face was red blotched with bloodshot eyes
When asked about them he always told lies
As if the subject was sincerely banned
With pools of sweat in the palm of his hand
Muttering, “It’s been a day since the last”
Rumours suggest he holds a hidden past.
He sat at the front so the press could see
What a great person he happened to be
Rest of the bus murmur under their breath
That they hoped he would die a painful deathThere was, sitting somewhere in the middle of the bus, but clearly trying to get closer to the King, a single mother. Her young child, whom I had seen before, was not with her today. Her name was Mary, and she was wearing a dress that was probably from the eighties. She had a gap in her teeth and she wore red shoes. Mary did not have a job; she just lived in a council flat and lazed around, feeling sorry for herself. She would often venture into town especially to the grocers, as there was a good looking fellow who worked there. Mary had no real friends. However, every Thursday at 10:30 she would visit Mrs. Green next-door for a cup of tea, a biscuit and a gossip.
Behind her was an attractive young girl
A night of drinking she’s ready to hurl
In a suede skirt with handbag of leather
She hardly seemed appropriately dressed for the weather
Though I had no complaints ‘bout her short skirt
I dared not go over and try to flirt
Fearing I might get a slap in the face
From a heavily hung-over mental case.
To stop drinking would involve some strength
But sadly she did not have much, and hence
She would attempt, but not quite make the grade
And alcoholic she’ll be to the grave.
Twenty, jobless, no qualifications
No career till some allegations
Now twenty-two, she’s become a PA;
He hopes his wife won’t find out one day.Some more people aboard the 619
Hoping that the bus wouldn’t be on time
Were a couple of giggling school girls who
Were wishing they could miss the start of school
Poring over the latest copy of ‘Heat’:
Look at the six-pack on jungle man Pete!
Whispering rumours ‘bout all of the boys
They continued to disrupt my journey making lots of noise.
Ties at half mast and top buttons undone
They finished their homework they’d just begun.Although the girls indeed were too loud
I did believe that dogs weren’t allowed
So I was shocked and amazed at this treat:
To see a guide dog sat next to a seat.
His companion held in his hand a stick
Whilst unknowingly staring at a chick
His glasses were dark and covered his face
But still you could see him stare into space
And then in my head a question derived
How would he know when his stop had arrived?The next one that did catch my attention
Was an old dear going for her pension
She appeared to be in a thoughtful mood
For soon she’d be able to shop for food.
At the moment her life could not worsen
For there was no money in her purse.
The post office queue: will it be shorter?
Who would be serving her today, she thought.
That nice young man who’d been so kind last visit
Not to mention his goatee and physique!
A charming lady, ‘bout 70 years
With a big thick cold to banish the cold
A woman who upon you could place trust
Knowing your secrets would never be spread.A couple of rows are behind me was a homeless guy; I am unsure where he got the money to pay for his fare: presumably he had sold quite a few ‘Big Issues’ for him to be able to afford such a mode of transport. Unlike the King, he seemed quite proud that he was travelling by bus. He wore a dark old jacket with stains across the chest. His face was unshaven and dirty and his shoes were coming apart at the sole. I had seem him before on the streets busking and he was a good player of the piccolo. They called him Dusty. He lived in the bike shed of the local Comprehensive, though, ironically, he never wanted to be at school in his youth.
There was a Liverpool fan, all dressed in red
Who had absolutely no hair on his head.
He had been in very many fights
And often he knocked out somebody’s lights.
Examining his face I saw a mole
On his nose-Opposite me was a typical teen
Hair flattened down, spread thick with Brylcreem
A Slipknot ‘hoody’ and headphones in ears
The Muse song so loud it interferes
With the man behind doing his crossword:
His exasperated sighs could clearly be heard.
As he slurped his Red Bull, I saw his face
It had large red spots all over this place.
Though he’s not a choice for a friend for me
I could spend time with him to a degree.
As he mouthed the lyrics to the tune that played
I looked for others I’d not yet surveyed.At the front was a man, not tall, not short
But was ashamed to use public transport.
Suit and tie as only the best will do
Casual clothes he had only a few.
A clean shaven man, with slightly grey hair
He claimed that his Jag was in for repair
Thus the reason for such a common way
To get to work on this dark, rainy day.
He was, I now know, lawyer of the court
Who’s number of friends is equal to nought
His clients are fooled in every way
So that he receives the maximum pay.
Money’s the name of the game for this guy;
Him, give to charity? And pigs might fly!And last but not least there was the driver
Woes betide one who paid with a fiver!
Tunelessly humming to the radio’s song
Then blushing when the words he sings are wrong.
This driver had a stammer, which
When talking to people caused a hitch:
When one boarded, he began to prepare
To ask the passenger for their bus fare.
Again and again and again he tried
Until, in an attempt to save his pride,
He charged them a cost of roughly four score:
This, I worked out was ‘bout twenty pence more
Than the real cost that should have been paid
This over-charging means of money, he’s made.And now we come to the end of the line
The bus stop coming up next will be mine
As I get off I look back at the rest
Their presence made the ride good, not the best!
First off, it reminds me a bit of Larkin's 'The Whitsun Weddings': http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-whitsun-weddings/
Which should of course be a huge compliment to anyone!
Some of the imagery is nice, e.g.:
An age of children the reason for smears
(Although I would say expressed a little awkwardly, which may perhaps again be due to the intrusive aabb rhyme scheme. But, keeping the scheme in this instance,
The windows are grubby, unwashed for years.
Ages of children leaving smears.
sounds better to my ear.)
Where the rhyme scheme becomes too intrusive is in couplets such as:
Frustrated and bored with life as of now
I look at the passengers and – oh wow!
It's just unnecessary. In fact, you could cut that couplet altogether and the stanza would be a lot better off IMO.
As you can see, the main problem I have is with the ryhme scheme. Sustaining an AABBCC rhyme scheme over the length of such a long poem is an impossible task. Lines such as
A publicity stunt this has to be
are of course outrageously forced, and whilst this can be gotten away with once or twice, there is simply too much of a preponderance of this awkward language as it stands. If it doesn't fit, express it differently. What is the purpose of the AABBCC rhyme scheme? Why that over other rhyme forms? It must have a reason, yet I can't see one. Generally I would say that such a rhyme scheme can be used for shorter poems like this (not brilliant) one:
I THINK that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
The closure of the couplets adds power to the rough effictio (listing of attributes from top-to-bottom), with the final couplet adding finality and closure, as in a Shakespearian sonnet. That last poem was still a little awkwardly constructed, in my opinion, but hey.
I'm not against couplets per se, but to have such a sustained volley of them just doesn't work (certainly not in this context, at least). Avoid this at all costs or risk sounding like the infamous McGonagall: http://www.durham.net/~neilmac/great.htm
The metre also seems to be all over the place, and though I've tried to find method in places, I don't believe there is any. In this sense you have missed the chance to evoke the rythm of the bus, or the driver's stammer, for instance. Most of the time the words seem to have been crammed in to fit the unfortunate choice of rhyme scheme, and unfortunately you make the classic mistake of making the rythm irregular and 'jaunty' (almost like a limerick).
The straight narrative that is scattered through the poem is interesting, but again I fail to find any reason for it. You seem to be experimenting tentatively with form, but without any underlying purpose, other than that's what you fancied doing at the time. Perhaps it is intended to give the reader a break from the terminal couplets!
If you look again at the Larkin poem, you will see that it has form and metre, but this works with and not against the words. It almost resists analysis because it appears quite natural. Such a preponderance of heavy end rhymes and couplets, as you use, is normally reserved for songs or vaudeville. (I like the lines
Fearing I might get a slap in the face
From a heavily hung-over mental case
which is a valid use of the couplet in a humourous way)
Having said that, some of the images are ok, and there is humour in there, but in my opinion you absolutely must give this a redraft, changing its structure, getting rid of most of the couplets (this is not to say you can't still have every line rhyming with another, just not in AABB form), and using judicious editing to cut the rubbish out and more eloquently express the good stuff.
And I like:
And now we come to the end of the line
but I reckon it would be more powerful if the poem finished with this line, giving it a more powerful double-meaning.
**
I hope this is of some use, anyway.
EDIT: 'judicious edting' to 'judicious editing'! 
Quote: Jeremy Smith @ December 11, 2007, 11:20 PMThanks for the feedback guys.....shame no-one wanted to comment on something that is actually good, rather than the crappy sketches that appear on this sight. Face it, you're not funny.
I think you'll find you're on the wrong site here Jeremy. This is for mature adults, not for people who spit their dummy out just beacuse no one says how utterly brilliant they are. Of course i would have said this of your work, but then i'm not a liar. 