Then and Now

i’ve seen where the
side-walks stop,
hindered and depressed
a tear-streak
at the jaw-line.
A horizon
unfolding and
untouched
before us

so we go
and muddy our toes
where new explorers
may one day
yearn to walk.
themselves

this is a perennial
habit,
an obligation to
the wander-struck
starving children,
so they
will find the
answers we’ve hidden
with history
and song.

amid these
journeys
we find a picture
of us tomorrow
(where life really begins)
and say to ourself
‘How that happy,
Now?
Not then?’

we know to sacrifice
and regrets loom
by forfeiting
too quick
and well-
remember
the boy
who burned
his boat
to live in
paradise
before he
found
the monsters

About This Poem

Review Request Direction: What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Editing - polished draft

About the Author

Region, Country: Austin, TX, USA

Comments

nice

i really like it. cool subject matter.

I really like your content, it is thoughtful and intelligent.

But look what happens when I paste into Microshaft Turd and used search and replace to remove the line breaks.-

i’ve seen where the side-walks stop, hindered and depressed a tear-streak at the jaw-line. A horizon unfolding and untouched before us, so we go and muddy our toes where new explorers may one day yearn to walk. Themselves this is a perennial habit, an obligation to the wander-struck starving children, so they will find the answers we’ve hidden with history and song.
Amid these journeys we find a picture of us tomorrow (where life really begins) and say to ourself ‘How that happy, Now? Not then?’
we know to sacrifice and regrets loom by forfeiting too quick and well- remember the boy who burned his boat to live in paradise before he found the monsters.

It is prose, lovely prose, but just prose. Short lines do not make poetry.
Read the original out loud to yourself and see if you can make music in your language.

it's a good point, you know

lo0oking back i like it much better without the choppiness. the short lines do give it a certain edge, but squishing it together makes it much more meaningful-that is, to me, at least.