dark night

[slack]

it's not necessarily written the way i intend it to be sung, but whatever.
hopefully you like it.


DARK NIGHT

It's getting hard to see in the evening light,
but there is still work that needs to be done.
With a wet thud, the axe splits the wood clean.
Nearby, blackbirds burst from the trees.

I buried him in this field when I was only sixteen,
on a cliff overlooking the violent sea, as he wished.
He was a religious man and often used to speak
of a spirit he believed was born in the core of everything,
but that was a long, long time ago, and I fear that faith
may have been laid to rest in the night soil beside him.

I still see his eyes in mine every now and then,
just an echo from a ghost I know I’ll never be
able to forget. He used to say it was a sin to live
against nature, but that was a long, long time ago,
when living used to be a pleasure.

The sky's lost its sun, and it’s hard to see,
but there is still work that needs to be done.
With a wet thud, the axe splits the wood clean.
Nearby, the waves beat themselves to pieces.

It’s going to be a cold one tonight,
going to need wood to fuel the fire.
I am not my Father's son, nor am I a liar.
I am just a simple man, destroying his angels
one by one.

With a wet thud, the axe splits the wood clean.
Just an echo I know I'll never be able to forget.

[Trip]

it's not necessarily written the way i intend it to be sung, but whatever.
hopefully you like it.


DARK NIGHT

It's getting hard to see in the evening light,
but there is still work that needs to be done.
With a wet thud, the axe splits the wood clean.
Nearby, blackbirds burst from the trees.

I buried him in this field when I was only sixteen,
on a bluff overlooking the violent sea, as he wished.
He was a religious man and often used to speak
of a spirit he believed was born in the core of everything,
but that was a long, long time ago, and I fear that faith
may have been laid to rest in the night soil beside him.

I still see his eyes in mine every now and then,
just an echo from a ghost I know I’ll never be
able to forget. He used to say it was a sin to live
against nature, but that was a long, long time ago,
when living used to be a pleasure.

The sky has lost it’s sun, and it’s hard to see,
but there is still work that needs to be done.
With a wet thud, the axe splits the wood clean.
Nearby, the ocean's waves beat themselves to pieces.

It’s going to be a cold one tonight,
going to need wood to fuel the fire.
I am not my Father's son, nor am I a liar.
I am just a simple man, destroying his angels
one by one.

With a wet thud, the axe splits the wood clean.
Just an echo I know I'll never be able to forget.

I haven't time to critique right away, I'll come back to it. The bolded line was by far my favourite, it seemed to jump off the screen at me. Nice use of phrasing.

Anyway, I'll be back

[Surf]

i don't know why i've decided to crit this in depth, because its too late and i need to go to bed, so i apologise if i seem to have taken a somewhat balistic approach to spelling/grammar.

t's getting hard to see in the evening light,
but there is still work that needs to be done.
With a wet thud, the axe splits the wood clean.
Nearby, blackbirds burst from the trees.

good lines nice flow yada yada but criticism the first; burst from the trees? come on man, you're clearly better than that. the rest is brillaint , hugley original, then, plonk a boring word (alliterate or not) cramping the last line's style. but that's the only fault i can find, its got a nice narrative feel (i've just decided that i use the word nice too much on these forums.)


I'm gonna break this next verse in two if you don't mind;


I buried him in this field when I was only sixteen,
on a cliff overlooking the violent sea, as he wished.

so yeah, good subtle rhyming betwixt sea and sixteen. words are starting to take on a more confessional tone, as though this is being retold to someone who was also 'involed' with the person. the second niggle in the piece and the first in theis verse, is all to do with the word order in the first line. i think it may sound better as "at sixteen i buried him in this (insert interesting adjective/somely little metaphor here) field ". just a thought, and i may disagree with myself tomorrow. damn i need some coffee.


He was a religious man and often used to speak
of a spirit he believed was born in the core of everything,
but that was a long, long time ago, and I fear that faith
may have been laid to rest in the night soil beside him.

i'm gonna stop complementing you, or i'm going to run out of room. very good. piece definitley has that narrative tone i think i talked about above. if not, this piece has a narrative tone. well done. criticism the thrid. 'core of everything' is bugging me. casn't quite put my finger on it. not too cryptic, not too boring, not too cliche. i think it may just sit at odds with the style of the words, so yeah, this could do with a switcheroo.

I still see his eyes in mine every now and then,
just an echo from a ghost I know I’ll never be
able to forget. He used to say it was a sin to live
against nature, but that was a long, long time ago,
when living used to be a pleasure.


fan-flippin-tastic. i can however pick out something i don't like, much to my dismay, as i loved this stanza. best thing i've read on here all day. you've already used 'long, long time' and though it may well be a 'long long time' its like you said about the greys in my piece, it seems over done. i thnk it was you who said it, but it was bang on anyway. so give that a little fix up and i'll just about fall in love with this verse.


The sky has lost it’s sun, and it’s hard to see,
but there is still work that needs to be done.
With a wet thud, the axe splits the wood clean.
Nearby, the ocean's waves beat themselves to pieces.

hang on, i've read something liek this before, but fortunatley it was earlier in the piece, which is a good thing, as you've moved the piece on, the idea has evolved , so kudos to you there. again subtle rhyming good flow nice ideas (damn i used it again) etc etc. maybe, and this is the tiniest ot tiny suggestions; in a world populated by giants, this would be the the size of an atom belonging to the smallest cell on the smallest mouse you've ever seen. assuming that in the land of giants mice are the same size. but the suggestion is... maybe the word beat could be something else. something more powerful and such. i mean, you don't beat something to pieces, you smash (don;t use that) it to pieces, or you pulverise or whatever floats our poetic boat.

It’s going to be a cold one tonight,
going to need wood to fuel the fire.
I am not my Father's son, nor am I a liar.
I am just a simple man, destroying his angels
one by one.

oh, a switch to an informal tone; how bizarre. but then the most insightful lines in here, i am not my father's son, sounds like the opposite of a joe cocker song, which is a very good thing. i really don;t like joe cocker all of a sudden. anyway. bully for you on the whole fantastic line thing. maybe, just maybe (and for a scale of reference on the importance of this, take my last suggestion, and minimise by a scale factor of two) separate the first two lines from the rest. yeah, i know juxtapostition blah blah blah, but just a thought, give it a go. if you don't like it, then .... change it back i don't know.


With a wet thud, the axe splits the wood clean.
Just an echo I know I'll never be able to forget.

and a lovely little two liner to finish it off. bit more repitition, which is pleasant. did i suggest further on up maybe a different order for the fist line of this? if not i do, something like with a wet thud, the axe cleanly splits the wood. just a little remix of words for you to consider.

well then, that's that. this has been fun, a good read. i'd like to thank whoever's bothered getting this far, and its pointless to go on with that 'crit 4 crit' because you're the only one who gave a relevant crit on my piece. maybe i'll bump that we'll see. nighty night and good luck.

edit: christ, thank god i copy my work before i post. the damn computer logged me out, and i nearly lost his monumentually halpful post. you can rest assured however that its here in all its glory. clearly as you're reading it.

[RollerQueen]

Where are the Hanson-like interlude, the Dragonforce wanking, and the Misfits "oooohs"?

Note the difference between the possessive "its" and the contraction "it's." See stanza four for such typos.

Brevity saves us all! I like this until the part when you talk about seeing the man's eyes in yours. The first half of that stanza and the first half of the one after it are downers. It's like your flair and originality decide to take a sabbatical for a while. Almost everywhere else, with internal and off-meter rhyming to help create the delightfully off rhythm, you have me interested. In those lines about his eyes and the sun, it's like you're not trying and are just putting them there because you can't think of anything more interesting to say. Good work otherwise. It just needs some touching up. The subject is a little vague, and maybe you could expand upon that, but it's not like you're going Cedric Bixler on the reader.

Before I forget, I like the "blackbirds burst from the trees." I don't think you could gain anything by making that more complicated or whatever.

Thanks for being a faithful reader. Take care.

[slack]

woah, thanks guys.The subject is a little vague, and maybe you could expand upon that, but it's not like you're going Cedric Bixler on the reader.well, the title was kind of a jab at 'dark night of the soul' and that's basically what it's about--losing faith.

part of the repetition is just me trying to write something with some semblance of form so that when i eventually put it to music it won't drive me nuts. i'll try to tidy things up a bit and maybe come up with a few more lines.

thanks again. :)

[FA]

ponto preto

[slack]

ponto pretowhatchoo talkin bout, foo. :)

[FA]

ugh I'll try to get to this soon, I keep forgetting...

[kevbud187]

i'll crit later

my opinions:
nice subject. needs a better title. Original metaphors and overall great poetic functions. Maybe if you broke the lines differently i would be able to pick out some sort of flow. Some lines just seem more cramped than others. I really liked it.