Good to see you accompany me outside the comfort zone lol. Keeping in mind I'm not much at free verse, here are a few things for you to consider :
L-4 try it returns a coma's glare
L- 7 I await a knocking at the door
L-18 change strike to light or I have no match to strike
L-31 change something to anything ( maybe increase sense of desperation?)
Stanza breaks ( organizes thoughts into similar groupings ) after L-12, L-20, L-28
this poem conveys a strong sense of being disconnected.....................stan

well hello there I had a bit of fun with this one and wrote my take on part of it just for the craic lol,

so this is how it feels
to be alive, when I have
not yet lived
giving the clock another
glance returned its a comma
face glare, clasping pocket
watch from place in hand its tick
stopped unwound not a sound
awaiting a tapping on the door
but the letterbox rusted works no
more, I hold the phone in trembling
hand longing for its melodic announcement
observing what passes by my window pane
as I'm ignored and left to fester,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

good to see you trying new things ,,,,,,,,,,,,,chat soon ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,zigs

the changes you have made. Great job, for the first time trying free verse! I'm sure that I will see you at Chat on the Darkside, when my chat opens. Be there! ~ Gee

I read this one twice and both times made me feel what your poem speaks. I feel that way each and every day. I know what you are going thru. I needed this poem. I needed to see what I have been thinking a long time. Thank You for the GREAT read. Keep on keeping on.

Friends Always,

Pixee

A great piece, but I find the ending lines to be lacking and anticlimactic:

So this is how it feels to be dead
And I haven't even died yet

maybe:

And I have yet to live (?)

I know you are still working on this piece and I have great faith in your talent and capabilities!

love, Sis

You got some great suggestions from previous comments here. I Agree with China Blue about omitting some of the "I "s( simple fix.) Also line 8 I would omit "months ago"? Anyway, i really enjoyed this piece from you!

this write is a departure from your preferred style..and yet i find this style very novel way of shall i say brooding about the perspectives of mystery of after life from a dead eye....it is captivating..yet i feel you can pack a punch with a few more closing lines...of course that's my take..even otherwise this stands out very well by itself...

you are gifted with a good command over language and power of expression..i am sure you will be able to use free form as effectively as the others..as for the "punch"..if i come up with something..i will surely and gladly share it...

Dearest Dan, I read this poem many times, but not satisfied.....I wanted to critique, but I couldn't....today I have read many poems, but not like this one....thanks for this superb art of words-crafting.
Regards
Ayaz

Dan,

I like the theme as usual, and I identify with the sense of hopelessness. I especially like the line ' it returns a coma face glare' in Stanza one. But to me the poem reads a little like prose, obviously I realise that you were not writing within your comfort zone.

I hope you don't mind if I attempt a re-write. These are just suggestions, and so it goes without saying, that you should feel free to ignore them.

Lou

Nothing

So this is how it feels to be alive
but I haven't even lived yet
I give the clock a hopeful glance
It returns a coma face glare.

I check my watch
( I changed it to watch as pocket watch seemed a little old fashioned)
But it ticks no more,
and nobody is at the door
the letterbox rusted shut months ago.

I hold the phone in my trembling hand
Longing for its melodic announcement.
Busy people pass my window
But I'm ignored and left to fester

I turn on the stereo waiting for a tune,
the sound is absent.
Nervously I scan the blank columns of grey
within my newspaper.

I pull a menthol cigarette from the pack
But I have no match to strike.
I open the cupboard door,
( I changed it to cupboard door, as larder sounded a little old fashioned to)
Barren shelves confront me.

I search my mind for a simple thought
an empty skull reverberates,
voiceless echoes amplify.
I squeeze tight my fist for a sensation
Only numbness returns.

I smile a pointless smile
stretching muscles unused and stiffened.
Reaching out to touch
a shadowy void.

Patiently sit hoping for anything,
Silence confirms I'll wait a long time
I watch, pace and stare
Listen, hope and fidget
Nothing
Absolutely nothing
So this is how it feels to be dead
And I haven't even died yet

Hood - This is the first work of yours I have read. Being a free verse writer (they call it freeform - reminds of swimming) In my humble opinion, it was extremely well written. I felt the none-ness. Always waiting to feel a pinch of something tangible, something to let me know the blood still flows. The "quiet", the "invisibility" we all sink into from time to time can be a relenting spiral. For your first free verse, I thought it was well done. I found myself writing lyrics a few days ago, actually wrote 2 songs and I am NOT a lyricist and never wanted to be, so you see we transform sometimes without a reason for it, it just is. Keep doing what your doing, that's what it's all about.

Kim
(V)

Lots of nothing here. All good stuff. Very much liked the framework *I haven't even lived/died yet* I imagine you'll be paring this one down eventually for a song, probably with theat refrain...

A bit of tightening, removing some *I*'s as Cat indicated; I'll be back after lingering with the depression for awhile. Right now I have a depressing headache.

~A