Moments Before the Sirens Called Our Names

Moments Before the Sirens Called Our Names

We sat bewildered as time betrayed us
And rucked reality into chaos
Amidst trembling light trailing futile pain
Of displaced sacrifice and resentment
And quivering dewdrops of quicksilver
That stained the night like sunbursts of anger.

In a moment of a moment of a
Treacherously sad and loathsome heartbeat
There was the accent of eternity
Crashing through buttresses of denial
And sprays of lost opportunity fell
Against our souls like a cyclone of lead.

And we were poisoned by intention's milk
As we bathed our future in squalid tears.




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This is my explanation/reasoning/whatever section.  If poetry critique is of no interest to you, ignore this as it speaks of motivation and choice and structure and execution of ideas and plans and all those other things that delineate the person who does not get offended by critique from the one who does. 

Initially I had a different idea when I started this piece but as often happens between intent and execution, I found myself predisposed toward a different conclusion.  I am working in blank verse sonnet form and as I normally work in tetrameter pentameter takes additional thought and research and reworking to make smooth.

I enjoy the puzzle quality of working in structured or bound verse.  It forces me to focus on maximum information and impact in a constrained space and I find myself being highly critical of word choice.  The general process I use is to write lines until I hit a stumbling block for plot execution and then go back and smooth out meter and pacing.  Lather, rinse, repeat until the poem is done.  Then go back and read it slowly and check for stumbles in punctuation or unintentional word duplication.  This is a problem I faced in this piece though I trust no one will spot where that problem manifested itself now that I have taken the time to rework that section.

Once I realized the story I had intended to tell would have to wait for another day, I had to make a decision as to how to tell the story I had stumbled upon.  Luckily I cheat and wantonly use the title of a poem to impart additional meaning.  Without the title this piece would be mostly unintelligible.  With the title the reader can draw some conclusions but, I hope, not every reader will draw the same conclusion.  That is intentional on my part as I was attempting to tap deeply into reaction and emotion and I find if you first resolve the question of location then people will filter their read through their preconceptions.

Lastly, I vacillated between singular and plural for the pronouns.  They both felt solid but, in the end, the singular voice was too damn whiny.

Comments and critiques are welcome.