The Madman

I must confess, I had some fun with this one.

Sitting on an old dock, rough and brown as bread crust,

I attempt to recall feelings

My former self once possessed, hoping to restore the

Buoyant, boyish attitude of my childhood. The

Curling tips of waves anger me as they mock

My predicament, tickling my bare, bronze feet with

Devilish glee, changing at will

With twisting currents and pools,

And extracting the remaining pitiful cells of happiness

From my soulful veins like hungry syringes.

 

Why may the ocean flow continuously without

Restriction, but I am damned to remain sorrowfully stagnant,

Unable to retrieve my youth

And equally incapable of collecting the

Fermented wisdom my old age owes to me?

I am like a banker, who, offered a drink

By a man in debt to him, becomes merrily drunk,

Experiencing life’s most incredible and temporary features

Only to wake the next morning with

A heavy head aching with the knowledge that he was tricked,

Letting his debtor dart away free once again.

 

Life is a cheat, a crook, a brawny burglar breaking

Into hearts, ripping away the joy he had previously given,

And rescinding his promise of gifts to come. The water

Swirling below sickens me as my stomach churns

With a terrible, thunderous storm striking down

Fellow sailors navigating the boiling oceans of existence

With vengeful lightning. Perhaps,

As life has done to me, I may

Take another’s happiness and chain it to

My gray, stone anchor of a heart, hiding it

So that no being, mortal or immortal, may tear it

From my grasp again.

 

Yes, I will roam these seas searching

For youths with jubilant naivety, stealing

Their blessings like an old pirate of a slightly different fashion, but

No less a fiend than those of old. Catch sight

Of my black, frayed flag and tremble before

The cold, hard starboard of the soul-ship.

Beware you who sees my face, white

As chalk, cackling like a starving hyena above his dead and bleeding prey.

Beware.

Author's Note

Reviews would be appreciated :)

Reviews

[Zoya]

Oh gosh, wicked. You know this kinda seemed Shakespearean, especially the second stanza. The descriptions, again, were horrifically good.
"Life is a cheat, a crook, a brawny burglar breaking
Into hearts, ripping away the joy he had previously given" - true lines. Loved this part.
Well done!

[Ethan]

Wow thank you, that's high praise :O

[Zoya]

You deserved it. You're welcome.

[Sam]

This was really good! I like the words you used to describe the poem, and the over all idea.

[Ethan]

Thanks :)))))

[JayG]

I see several things that interfere with a reader’s experience.

First, is that you took an essay and chopped it into lines, whose length has nothing to do with the thought or prosody. That’s a bit confusing, especially given that the next line begins with a capital. I’m not certain that chopping an essay into short lines makes it a poem.

I also have trouble with your referencing things for which the reader has no context. When you say, “Curling tips of waves anger me as they mock my predicament,” the reader has no context for what that predicament is. Yes, you clarify later, but that can’t retroactively change a bad first impression the lack of context causes.

As a personal reaction I must comment that since the “predicament” seems to be that this person is old, you’re wrong. As someone who turns eighty this year I can tell you that we do not get old inside, only outside. Once your personality matures, you'll remain that mental age forever. And we do not look back on childish attitudes with wistful nature because they are childish, and adulthood beats the hell out of it. Plus, I was every bit as enthusiastic when working as a flagman on the sports car track, ninety feet down exploring a wreck, sailing close hauled, or when my children were born, or graduated, or presented me with grandchildren. And of course, we re-experience the joys of childhood as our children and grandchildren pass through it. So while I’d love to be twenty again, for the physicality of it, I’d want to be twenty as the me I am now, not then.

But that, as I said, is me. Your mileage may differ.
You might also want to look again at your examples. No banker ever goes to collect owed money and does what you describe. And if they would, “escaping” neither removes the debt nor changes the fact that the debtor will be facing the banker that day. If the debtor’s escaping is to hide, they wouldn’t waste the alcohol, they would just hide. So logically, it can’t work. And in general, that same kind of thing applies throughout.

I’m sorry my news wasn’t better. But you did ask ;-)

[Ethan]

Thanks again for your review:
I think my use of alliteration and the length of the work would lend me to believe it does indeed classify as free verse. I have ordered it in a way that points out alliteration, and though you may not agree with line choices, I did order them in this way on purpose and I attempted to remain consistent.

The predicament and goal is presented in the first sentence. Though it could be clearer.

I understand your personal reaction, this or any of my other poems are in no means completely representational of my personal views. This is merely written from the perspective of someone who expected to gain wisdom when he grew old, found that age does not necessarily grant such a gift, becomes angry and wishes he were at least naive enough to be happy. He is, in fact, a "madman".

I think a debtor would certainly use alcohol if he and the banker were doing completely legal business and he did not want to pay at that particular time. He could blame his late payment on the banker's drunken state. And to fix the problem of the banker himself, I can just replace the word.

Thank you so much, you are consistently the most constructive voice for me. I appreciate it greatly.

[JayG]

• "I think my use of alliteration "

Alliteration would be "Alice’s aunt ate apples and acorns around August." I saw no significant attempts at alliteration.

• "The predicament and goal is presented in the first sentence."

Sorry, but the only predicament I see from, "Sitting on an old dock, rough and brown as bread crust, is dirty pants. ;-) Are we talking about the same poem?

• This is merely written from the perspective of someone who expected to gain wisdom when he grew old, found that age does not necessarily grant such a gift, becomes angry and wishes he were at least naive enough to be happy. He is, in fact, a "madman".

A madman is insane. Someone angry is only an angry man. And you do not gain wisdom when you grow old, you acquire it along the way, hopefully gaining more then you forget for a net gain. And as someone once observed, "Most of "mature wisdom." is simply being too tired."

You DO NOT wake up one day and realize that you're still stupid. Such a thing isn't an event. Assuming that the situation you describe is accurate—and it appears you're describing the classic midlife crisis, not old age, you're treating a condition as an event.

• I think a debtor would certainly use alcohol if he and the banker were doing completely legal business and he did not want to pay at that particular time.

A banker does business at the bank, and they do not drink on the job. And no one wants to pay the money back. But if you can, you do or suffer the consequences. If you can't pay whats due when it's due. you declare bankrupcy, have the loan foreclosed on or renegotiate the loan. Remember, banks deal with that problem every day, and have long ago codified their response. An excuse to leave without paying, when payment is due results in penalty charges or termination of the loan. No alcohol needed.

I mean no insult by this, but your profile says you're a high school student. No crime in that, but when you write about matters like banking and aging, you're forced to extrapolate and base your prose on what amounts to guesses in too many cases.

You write well, and you have a vast story of knowledge that you can tap, which you know is dead-on accurate.

Think about how you would have written a love poem at ten as against now, knowing what you know, and how you viewed the same subject then. You face the same problem from both a knowledge and emotional basis when you write about old age,

Hang in there, and keep on writing.

[Ethan]

- Alliteration
"Buoyant, boyish"
"bare, bronze"
"sorrowfully stagnant"
"debtor dart"
"brawny burglar breaking"
"storm striking"
"seas searching"
I believe those all classify as alliteration.

-First sentence
The first sentence does not end at the first line as you expressed with this quote: "Sitting on an old dock, rough and brown as bread crust."
This is the full sentence: "Sitting on an old dock, rough and brown as bread crust,
I attempt to recall feelings
My former self once possessed, hoping to restore the
Buoyant, boyish attitude of my childhood."
His goal is to try and force himself to a point of child like naivety he believes will make him happy.

-A madman is insane. Someone angry is only an angry man. And you do not gain wisdom when you grow old, you acquire it along the way, hopefully gaining more then you forget for a net gain. And as someone once observed, "Most of "mature wisdom." is simply being too tired."

I am aware of how wisdom is gained, the character is not. I don't agree with the character lol. And I think a man attempting to steal children's happiness because he is not happy himself is a bit mad.

-You DO NOT wake up one day and realize that you're still stupid. Such a thing isn't an event. Assuming that the situation you describe is accurate—and it appears you're describing the classic midlife crisis, not old age, you're treating a condition as an event.

Again, I do not agree with the character. And I don't believe I suggested that this is an event in the poem. The poem begins with him sitting on a dock, thinking. He could have been thinking about this for years. And though you may say I didn't let the reader know he'd been thinking about it for years, I also didn't let the reader know if this was the first time he was thinking about age. I am only writing about his conclusions. And, though I find this odd, a midlife crisis s just defined as "an emotional crisis of identity and self-confidence that can occur in early middle age" (google). So, going from the definition, something like that could happen at any stage in life. So I suppose this man is experiencing a "latter portion of life-crisis" in which he has "an emotional crisis of identity and self-confidence that can occurs in old age." Again, I don't agree with the character, he doesn't reflect my views on wisdom and age.

-A banker does business at the bank, and they do not drink on the job. And no one wants to pay the money back. But if you can, you do or suffer the consequences. If you can't pay whats due when it's due. you declare bankrupcy, have the loan foreclosed on or renegotiate the loan. Remember, banks deal with that problem every day, and have long ago codified their response. An excuse to leave without paying, when payment is due results in penalty charges or termination of the loan. No alcohol needed.

I told you I would change the banker to something more practical. All I said is I didn't think it implausible for a man who owes another man money to spare a smaller expense getting him drunk and postponing the date he must pay. It doesn't mean it is likely, but I think it's possible.

-I mean no insult by this, but your profile says you're a high school student. No crime in that, but when you write about matters like banking and aging, you're forced to extrapolate and base your prose on what amounts to guesses in too many cases.


Again, I am not writing about what I think aging is like. I am merely writing from the standpoint of an old character who expected things from life he didn't get. He is supposed to be immature. He is supposed to be irrational. That's what I was going for. He's wrong. And no offense taken :)

Thank you again for your review, I always appreciate it.

[Ethan]

Oh I also forgot
"heavy head"

[JayG]

Lost in the mud. They're there but not noticeable, and they contribute little.

You have 45 lines in which you have four two word alliterations. That does not an alliterative poem make.

You're trying for poetic language and having success. But such things as intelligent water that has "With twisting currents and pools; Devilish glee; and hungry syringes," is pretty close to purple prose.

[Eleise Trenda]

Lmao!! Who cares about how many alliterations he uses or about how in the "real world" what a banker or a debtor does. It this text, he's using that as an example to him feeling robbed from his youth and wisdom. It really doesn't matter if it's logically correct. That how the character sees it. (Also a tax collector obviously collects money so he could also be called a banker in a way, so whatever.) This is the characters veiw on life. It's HIS story. The author never has to agree with the characters. That's the art and brilliance of writing. The story's have a life of their own. Don't get me wrong, your criticism was good to some extent but there's more to the story than the point of veiw your looking at. This character is depressed and longs to be wiser. He dispises his aging body and is heartbroken to see the world he lives in only produces hurt and suffering. The story leaving a somewhat twisted plot really put the cherry on top. Felling like he the only way to finding his true happiness again is to search for his childhood or youth (his predicament😉) in stealing others youth. Very different. So really his predicament is stated all through the story, not just in the first sentence.
This chain of comments just made me laugh, so why not state my opinion. It's all about the art (and tone)that's presented and that can easily be missed. 😊👌🏽

[JayG]

• Who cares about how many alliterations he uses or about how in the "real world" what a banker or a debtor does.

Readers care. In the case of banking, readers old enough to know how banking will reject the idea of a banker going to the one who owes the debt. That's what collection agencies are for.

And when it comes to alliteration, our author cares, because he mentioned it, remember?

Speaking for someone you don't know personally, as if he's incapable of speaking for himself is an insult to our author, who is working had to become a more skilled writer, and improving steadily.

• It this text, he's using that as an example to him feeling robbed from his youth and wisdom.

But it's a flawed example because it's not real-word. When I was his age I believed the same thing because I was, in reality, guessing, as you are now. No crime in that, but as a writer, doing your research matters—especially when writing about something you've not experienced...like old age.

I owned a critiquing service, and I know how an editor would look at this were it a submission. And given that our author asked me to look at and comment on the piece, surely you don't expect me to ignore the things that keep it from being more universal in appeal?

• That's the art and brilliance of writing.

You say that as if you've studied the field and have sold your work. I mean no insult, but no actual writer would say that. Poetry, like every other aspect of writing is a b***h to master. It's a field that has been under development for centuries. To assume that having learned the basics of writing in class prepares you for writing is extremely shortsighted. Neither poetry nor fiction is related to the nonfiction writing skills you're learning in your classrooms. There, they're giving you a general set of skills that employers will find useful, and employers desire neither poetry nor fiction. They want a good grasp of nonfiction skills.

So everything you believe about the necessary skills to write poetry is based on your own viewpoints, and they're based on nonfiction writing skills. Add to that, however, and your options multiply dramatically.

To quoteRobert Frost, a poet who's work you may know (or should):

• Don’t ever take a fence down until you know why it was put up.
• Education doesn’t change life much. It just lifts trouble to a higher plane of regard.”
“Education is hanging around until you’ve caught on.
• Education is the ability to listen to almost anything without losing your temper or your self-confidence.”

Having sold my writing in nonfiction, short story, novel length work, and poetry; and having been at this for over thirty years, I just might know a bit more than you on the subject of writing, at the moment.

That's fixable, but not in your school's classrooms. I'd suggest you read the excerpt for Stephen Fry's, The Ode Less Traveled, on Amazon. It's a great intoduction to the subject of prosody, and how language can be made to sing. Then dig up a copy of Debra Dixon's, GMC: Goal Motivation & Conflict to better understand the flow of fiction.

You'll be glad you did.

[Eleise Trenda]

yeah...alrighty. I beg to differ on a few of your points, but that's okay. You are Much wiser than I, also more experienced, so don't get me wrong. Not trying to hurt your ego. You seem like a sweet, wise, but very opinionated man and I honestly don't have time to reason with you. You have your opinion and I got mine so...Have a good day sir. 😊 I will get my hands on these books as well, thank you! God bless.

[Carol Cashes]

Well, now. That was interesting reading. I have to wonder if this was really the forum for all that debate. Bottom line: this young man is writing, he's learning, and only time will tell what he does with any insight or information regarding his intellectual property. Jay G., with all due respect to your obvious superior and outstanding record as a published author, you may "know a bit more" than us lowly plebeians, but calling out the other reviewer in this conversation was below you, sir, and I think you should have taken the high road and limited your remarks to the young author. Jus' sayin'...

[Ethan]

Hmm, I appreciate everything Jay G suggests. I think he expresses his views in an extremely respectful manner. The last thing I want is for anyone to hold
back comments or suggestions from me because I'm in high school. That, in fact, is insulting, and any number of young writers would tell you so as well. I won't get into whatever conflict is going on elsewhere in this feed, but I know what I'm getting when I ask Jay G to review my work:
a highly critical and thorough analysis of my writing from a reader's point of view. With nearly a 60 year age gap, he does know a thing or two more than me :P, especially in this poem concerning age.

[Carol Cashes]

'Nuff said. I also think his review was extensive and well thought out. Forgive my intrusion into the "fray", so to speak, but I saw things getting off track and just wanted the resident "elder" to get back on track, which was your work. I apologize to Jay G for what I wrote and now read as a scolding tone not appropriate for one with his
background and experience. I plead the late hour and can assure all that while my intention was to get things back on track, it seems I only fanned some flames.

[Eleise Trenda]

I fully agree with the both of you, Carol and Ethan. This is a stupid and quite pointless "argument". I didn't mean to start up anything. Sorry. Y'all have a great day!

[Kelly B.]

Ahhhh so so good. "And extracting the remaining pitiful cells of happiness
From my soulful veins like hungry syringes."
I can't wait to read your book when you get published someday. 😘❤️

[Ethan]

Thanks :)))))))

[fadingtale]

That last stanza brings it all together! I really love your writing style and the imagery in this poem! I love how creepy this piece is but it's beautiful at the same time!

[Ethan]

Wow thank you :)

[Raven Moonchild]

I must agree with Zoe, this reminds me of Shakespeare. I can hear him applauding you from the grave, Ethan. :D Bravo, my friend. Such a fantastic poem that shivers me timbers. lol

[Ethan]

hahahaha thank you very much

[Maria]

Wow, this creeped me out some in a good way...Loved it though, just let me get warmed up again..lol...Good job.

[Ethan]

Thank you very much :)