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This is something I've been toying with for a long time. redacted for publishing! doug fuckey fucked around with this message at 04:59 on Nov 12, 2013 |
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Sep 4, 2013 03:57
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I wrote this a couple years back, and touched it up a bit before posting it here. I didn't spell check it, so I'm sure there is an error or two.... Risperidone I was having breakfast, when once again I saw him, He smiled meekly, knowing he was going out on a limb. But he was curious; asked about my kid and wife, He had missed so much and wanted to be part of my life. I was unsure, knowing what had happened before, But he shook his head saying "We won't go through that door." I pick up the bottle and looked through the orange plastic, As he continued to reassure; "We won't do anything drastic." So I went along and joined him that day Breaking pro misses and going against everything my wife had to say. We saw the old friends and colleagues from before, Of a time long past when I could want for no more. I was happy that day; we had so much fun But I began to worry when day's end would come. He told me it wouldn't if I only did him a favor, "But be must be quite, and don't involve the neighbor" He said my wife and kid need trouble me no more And that this would would be ours to explore. We'd be free as the birds in our own little way, With the world as our sandbox, and all our friend here to play. With me convinced, I did as he said And ascended the stairs to awake my wife from her bed. I can't recall and protests or signs of resistance But my thoughts are still cloudy when I think of this instance. I recalled the next morning, unable to find my spouse, Until I entered that less than empty room in the house. I had lead my family to him, just like a herd of cattle, But my biggest regret was not seeing the doctor, when my bottle stopped its rattle.
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Sep 10, 2013 13:08
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There is a butterfly in the glass right there in the coaster where the wine glass would sit I’d stick my nose in the glass when you let me and take a sniff that would give me goosebumps when you weren't looking I would take a sip but I think you knew all along A fly might drop in and you would say that this is because flies are thirsty too and when he stopped moving you would take him out to fly again only this time crooked
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Sep 10, 2013 15:47
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FellowAmerican posted:There is a butterfly in the glass There's something to this, especially in the second stanza, but the first one is too confusing in its images for me. For instance, There is a butterfly in the glass right there in the coaster where the wine glass would sit I’d stick my nose in the glass when you let me What are we looking at here? A butterfly in a wine glass? No, it's where the wine glass would sit, but it isn't. It's not ON a coaster, it's IN (?) a coaster? I kinda like the repetition of the word "glass" here if it weren't so confusing. I’d stick my nose in the glass when you let me and take a sniff that would give me goosebumps when you weren't looking I would take a sip but I think you knew all along The relationship I imagine here is a child and parent, but it's not entirely clear. The nature of their relationship is potent in those last two lines, however, and I like them a lot. A fly might drop in and you would say that this is because flies are thirsty too and when he stopped moving you would take him out to fly again only this time crooked This is pretty good, and a stronger first stanza would give this even more weight. That's my advice, I'm not a professional or anything but I've taken a couple workshops and this is what I got.
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Sep 10, 2013 21:09
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big business sloth posted:This is something I've been toying with for a long time. aaahhhh this is so GOOD. The sense of scale is awesome, and I love the contrast between science and the humanities. My only complaint is the "light/years distance. . . . more distant lights" is a little confusing, but I'm also sitting directly behind a speaker in an autobody shop so yeah. Dear poetry thread, I'm having trouble ending this poem. I want to end it on a note of "the only punishment for not complying with this bullshit is that they kick you out of their club, which they have already kicked you out of" but I can't figure out how to make it sufficiently pithy. the grammar and punctuation and poo poo is all hosed but that's because i always write first drafts in notepad so eat me When every suit fits like a lie and skirts are a middling apology for the inconvenient reality of your legs when madison avenue hates you and fashion is some distant country run by dictators and assholes When models are little more than hot breath in impossible configurations it's easy to feel flawed and lost a lone traveler in a nation of empire waists and yoga pants gently caress that noise cut that bullshit into sailcloth and point yourself towards kinder shores become the admiral of a misfit fleet call them pilgrims or family Call this radical self love you are the strength you envy in others and others envy the strength in you so take heart be loud and disorganized Tell bad jokes while eating good food they will try to shrink you so small you fall between the cracks in the floorboards let them They can't have us though we wish them well what's the worst they could possibly do really? Shame you out of the society that hated you before your birth? from anyone else that would be a kindness PHIZ KALIFA fucked around with this message at 16:44 on Sep 17, 2013 |
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Sep 17, 2013 16:41
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PHIZ KALIFA posted:gently caress that noise This line really ruined it for me, it's too casual for the tone of the poem. Maybe it works better when spoken? Try something that eases the transition into the sailing analogy better. PHIZ KALIFA posted:cut that bullshit into sailcloth The word 'bullshit' here really takes away from the imagery. I didn't understand how you went from fashion to sailing until I looked at that line separate from the rest. All I see when I read this line is a big smelly turd, leaving no room for the concept of sails made of yogapants. PHIZ KALIFA posted:what's the worst they could possibly do My go at the ending: what's the worst they could possibly do really? Ban you from the fashion shows and little boutiques stuffed with haute couture? We were only window shopping anyways. I notice, over the course of the poem, you go from fashion to sailing to no metaphor at all to food. It really needs to be pared down. I think you should stick to the fashion viewpoint and the sailing bit, and keep the poem in that context.
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Sep 21, 2013 04:57
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Here goes. Reality check At night I was startled to find that someone was looking at me through the window. Anger first; at myself for failing to close the blinds, but poo poo... after several moments I realized: "that's me". I'm older now, and drat near bald. That's not the guy who lives in my head, and I can't seem to get up and pull the blinds anymore.
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Oct 1, 2013 19:59
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typewriter posted:This line really ruined it for me, it's too casual for the tone of the poem. Maybe it works better when spoken? Try something that eases the transition into the sailing analogy better. I like your ending, but I'm for keeping gently caress that Noise and the line about food is good too, but maybe you're right about paring it down to just the single metaphor. It demands to be read, as well. The casual tone is what makes it. The bullshit line could easily be substituted for something more clever since we've just had the big upheaval of gently caress That Noise (or Well, gently caress that noise. I think when you write it in that question form it reads better ["Is this your reality? Well gently caress that noise!" over "This is how it is. gently caress that noise."]), just don't ask me what that is. The part talking about "falling through the cracks" is where the boat/sailing stuff can return again. Think planks?
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Oct 2, 2013 03:30
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I don't know much about poetry. But I would like to. Cold weather? said the body The hell is this? I don't know the brain replied But I don't like it They agreed that something should be done Something serious Flee from this place they told the man But I can't Blah blah blah excuses excuses no responsibility for responsibility Then be sick! the brain declared and the body smiled as it felt like dying Tyrannosaurus fucked around with this message at 21:11 on Oct 3, 2013 |
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Oct 2, 2013 14:07
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Alright, I'm just getting into writing. This is meant to be a spoken word piece so I'm a little unsure on how to translate the inflection into the actuall writing but here it goes! Thank you ahead of time for reading and any CC. "Moments" Sometimes I have moments. Too far and few between moments. Moments that when I take a breath my heart doesn't falter, moments. Sighs of utter contentment moments. Honest smile moments. Moments in which I see myself in all my wonder, moments. Diving head first into joy moments. Letting go completely to love moments. Moments so wonderful they make me cry, moments. Sometimes, But mostly I pass time trying to catch those moments. Trying to find the secret that creates those moments. And only finding emptiness and sorrow for not living in those, moments. Becoming bitter that god would tease me with such moments. Until I resent those moments. And forget those moments. Because being ignorant of those moments is far less painful than my soul being addicted to those moments.
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Oct 3, 2013 05:43
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Nodus_Tollens posted:Alright, I'm just getting into writing. This is meant to be a spoken word piece so I'm a little unsure on how to translate the inflection into the actuall writing but here it goes! Thank you ahead of time for reading and any CC. Repetition is okay, but some of those Moments are unnecessary (like the ones that come after a line, moments). I get that this is a John Lennon "Life is what happens when you are making other plans" kind of thing, like trying to live moments means you actually miss the moments or whatever, the thing is 1. That's not a terribly interesting idea, and 2. Your examples here are too vague. Sometimes writers try to be vague I feel so that nothing alienates the reader, they can take everything and make it their own. Sort of like a horoscope. You don't want your writing to be like a horoscope. When you write, "Moments so wonderful they make me cry" I want to know, specifically, what that moment is. Down to every detail. Ever notice that an observation like (and I have no idea why this is my example) "This nerd in his lovely car was playing rap music too loud and turned it down sheepishly when I drove past" is less interesting and funny than "This nerd in his drat Nissan Altima all driving up blasting the Geto Boys at a billion decibels until I roll past." I think if you re-write this but dig into yourself to find specificities that really hit home, you still won't have a coherent poem but you'll have the starting points for a dozen others.
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Oct 3, 2013 06:14
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big business sloth posted:Repetition is okay, but some of those Moments are unnecessary (like the ones that come after a line, moments). I get that this is a John Lennon "Life is what happens when you are making other plans" kind of thing, like trying to live moments means you actually miss the moments or whatever, the thing is 1. That's not a terribly interesting idea, and 2. Your examples here are too vague. Sometimes writers try to be vague I feel so that nothing alienates the reader, they can take everything and make it their own. Sort of like a horoscope. You don't want your writing to be like a horoscope. When you write, "Moments so wonderful they make me cry" I want to know, specifically, what that moment is. Down to every detail. Ever notice that an observation like (and I have no idea why this is my example) "This nerd in his lovely car was playing rap music too loud and turned it down sheepishly when I drove past" is less interesting and funny than "This nerd in his drat Nissan Altima all driving up blasting the Geto Boys at a billion decibels until I roll past." Thank you! I wasn't going for the John Lennon example you gave so that's the first issue I suppose. This whole idea spawned off of a realization that every once and while I have a moment where I'm actually happy. Truly unequivocally happy. But most of the time I'm depressed. I'd like to get that feeling across so I think ill start over But I love your idea about digging in to each line and finding starting points for more poems. Im just starting to write creatively so having prompts like that will help me write everyday. Thanks again
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Oct 3, 2013 09:21
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Sure. I actually see what you mean now on a re-read. By the way, I like the "diving headfirst into joy" moment best, because that's a vivid action and although I guess that could be someone diving into something like a pool (as joy) for some reason my first instinct was a more violent image. I dunno, see where it goes. Since you're just starting out, as I was about a year ago, the other thing I can relate that helped me a lot was to pay attention to all the other things you read/watch/listen to, and evaluate them on your own creative terms. Next time in a movie someone is joyous, ask, "would I say that they are 'diving headfirst' into it?" and if they aren't, how would you say they are doing it? Also, avoid big words like "soul" unless you absolutely mean it. Something like that is usually the punchline. ---------------- Here is something I wrote yesterday from browsing D&D too much. I think there might be a better ending to this. Dear Rush Limbaugh I saw a picture of your New York penthouse bedroom on the internet the other day. It was pretty gaudy, to say the least, the ceiling was painted not unlike a certain Chapel in Italy with a sky scene, complete with birds and a wreath of clouds. This kind of facsimile could only be called fitting, I guess, given all of the lies you had to trade for it. Upon further reading it seems you put it all up for sale finding no pleasure in your false canopy, I guess. It just wasn’t doing its job in playing the part of the sky. There’s no lie big enough to trade for that, I’m sorry to say, but the solution is simple, and I offer it to you for free: Take a saw to that great congregation of wood, cut it right out, end the charade, and let the supreme truth hang over you as you sleep, though I admit it may get cold at night, colder than you’re used to.
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Oct 3, 2013 09:47
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big business sloth posted:Dear Rush Limbaugh I don't know. I think the ending is fine. The broader message is about self-awareness and real truth versus a facsimile or uninspired substitute. The cold harshness of reality, that is, of being out in a real, non-industrialized setting, has numerous effects, most notably discomfort. quote:This kind of facsimile I get that the creation of a false reality has allowed him to create a false reality for himself, but tying in the painted ceiling with a false reality is key to the overall message. It's not just a facsimile (a substitute), but an outright lie. What I'm saying is that facsimile works, but some other word might work better. ----------- Here's one I wrote a day or two ago. It's called Austerity. I'm new to this so feel free to correct anything obvious I should be aware of. The syllables go 8,8,10 and its iambic. Why? I don't know. I am on a rustic seaplane but there is no map and no gas it looks like I'll be hitting dirt real soon It is a partisan desert no spice of life, no hope of more it looks like I'll be eating dirt real soon I've been buried by mountain folk I can't even find room to wheeze it looks like I'll be breathing dirt real soon And when no one can trade for all the phony things that glitter round Looks like we'll all be hitting dirt real soon
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Oct 4, 2013 20:18
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Thanks-- I should have looked up the exact definition of facsimile before I used it there.
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Oct 4, 2013 20:25
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StickySweater posted:Here's one I wrote a day or two ago. It's called Austerity. I'm new to this so feel free to correct anything obvious I should be aware of. The syllables go 8,8,10 and its iambic. Why? I don't know. Line edits and word suggestions in the quote! Overall: This is a neat piece. The shifting repetition in your third lines is enjoyable and has a nice "mutating villanelle" form. I'd be hesitant to change anything in the last stanza, the enjambment is perfect and you have a nice pun on "round" (round as in shape or as in "around"). Yes, the piece is sufficiently "austere" if you were wondering. Content: A plane is flying over a desert without direction or fuel, crashes in a "partisan" desert--i.e., a space which is fiercely contested though it bears no value. The burial and suffocation is interesting, but I'm curious about why you chose "mountain folk." Finally, a fantasy that the curtains will be pulled back on capitalism, and a nightmare of what that may entail. I do feel confused about where the action of the poem is, because of your conflicting images of location. The political statement in stanza 4 is nice, but "partisan" feels a bit shoehorned. "Spice of life" works but I want to see you do even a little something with the cliche phrase. Third lines: I wonder if you need "real." What's wrong with just saying "soon"? Formal thoughts: so, you say it's 8/8/10 iambic (  :tetrameter and pentameter). But right away, your first line is actually trochaic (I am ON a RUStic SEAplane), while the second line wants to go trochaic ("but there is no map and gas") but is disappointed by that second "no." You might take another look at your meter and see if it's really working for you, because sometimes it turns out great (especially in the third lines) but in other places I think it's getting in your way. And on a more interpretive note, I think using a strong meter might be the opposite of austere--this is a gross oversimplification, but meter can have associations with both the Bible and ornate, "rich" poems from the Renaissance and Romantic periods.E: I just realized you said you're new to this, but I think there's good promise in the poem so I wrote more detailed comments. Let me know if you're unfamiliar with any terms.
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Oct 5, 2013 19:13
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I checked out an anthology of American light verse on a whim, and it's gotten me interested in the rhythmic structure of poetry. I was delighted by its examples of the double dactyl verse form, and I wrote a silly poem of my own to try to get a better grasp on meter. Higgledy-Piggledy William Harrison Gave a monotonous Speech at a price. Will learned post-factually, Autodidactically: Any good speaker should Keep it concise. What are some good resources for learning about meter?
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Oct 10, 2013 03:45
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quote:Cold weather? said the body The hell is this? I actually quite like this, except for the penultimate line. There's something nice about the lackadaiscal tone and the punctuation (lack of) excites me. Plus I like the scenario, which seems to be hypothermia... a nifty exploration of the drifting off and loss of decision-making power. "The hell is this" is a little awkward, I like the idea of colloquialism but it doesn't come across quite right here. quote:Higgledy-Piggledy According to the Wiki page you linked, it's a very good example of the form: it meets all the criteria, and it's cute and funny. Untitled (The space between) The space between the eyeballs and the glasses' lenses a muscular distance, twisted and tense. This gives the head a strange new sensation, overfull-dimensional. She, with her hair falling out. It will grow back, do not doubt. Yes God is in the bandstand, a dog is on the field; we'll try our best, give it a go, give it a whirl, we'll laugh and run around and have our fun, play the game pretend the way we saw it on TV, it's true that was a live feed, nothing fictional. In the room the motors whir, giving the air a sonic thickness. She can see the fibrillation; outside the glasses' lenses the soupy light of the fluorescents takes on a different timbre. The gown is like a cornflower bib. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong. Her diaphragm is paper, folded seven times. There was that day on the beach she laughed and cried Nothing is hidden, Nothing is hidden from me. She tasted the tears of everyday triumph, how she would go in and out with the sun and the moon and the stars. Each day its little differences, and the dumb-wise birds, and the flower-fields without any answers, and the silent sky cascading down invisibly. Here is how she prepares an ice cream cone: with a spoon, not a scoop; delicately. A little at first, pressed and finessed and tamped down and poked at to fill the depths. A little more, the middle and the top now, shaped and smoothed. If more than one flavor, the second scoop unlike the first, and the order carefully considered. Finally, a plop or two on top, shaped as well for integrity and edibility. Licking and biting, she reduces it, curating with diligence, attending first this side, then that; the cone she leaves untouched until the ice cream is level, then biting to reduce it, another new mound exposed, this reduced, then the cone further removed; at last, at long last, the end-melt, in one long-awaited, sharp and mushy mouth- ful. The stupid sea into which sinks the 'snow,' so called 'sea snow,' the grey-white descent of death into the deep, the dark where colors bioluminesce; skin cells, deceased biota, birdshit and fishshit, turtleshit and squidshit, expired jellies; these and others, cycling slowly, ever-downward, a thousand feet down and nine hundred feet up, churned and churned for a hundred years, two hundred, three; an exchange of energy and ecosystem, this vertical transmission. The hairband on her wrist is a long-forgotten constriction. Today will not be the day.
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Oct 11, 2013 07:24
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Kevin DuBrow posted:What are some good resources for learning about meter? Derek Attridge's Poetic Rhythm: An Introduction. If you want more detail, his earlier The Rhythms of English Poetry is excellent.
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Oct 11, 2013 10:29
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nomadologique posted:I actually quite like this, except for the penultimate line. There's something nice about the lackadaiscal tone and the punctuation (lack of) excites me. Plus I like the scenario, which seems to be hypothermia... a nifty exploration of the drifting off and loss of decision-making power. "The hell is this" is a little awkward, I like the idea of colloquialism but it doesn't come across quite right here. Do you think it would be better to simply cut the offending line then? I'm not married to it and part of me likes cutting it. However, I'm worried that without something in between "But I can't" and "Then be sick"... I don't know. There's just something abrupt about it.
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Oct 11, 2013 13:59
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Rewrite it. What I don't particularly like is the repetition of blah blah blah... and the responsibility/responsibility doesn't really make sense to me (I don't actually know what it means). There's something a little too loose, overall, about the tone, despite the fact that I said I liked the lackadaisical tone of the rest of the poem.
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Oct 12, 2013 19:38
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When it happened you started crying And I ran inside to get towels I got back, and there it was A red snail trail down your leg to the shin You kept saying you were sorry you had no reason to be I licked my thumb and wiped away that lighting bolt Repeating the process I taste iron I held the rags to your thigh I held them tight And these vermilion minor shapes appeared On to my hands An accident you said I know I replied There were no band aids So I held your thigh until it stopped.
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Oct 13, 2013 16:47
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FellowAmerican posted:
I've been on a poetry kick lately, and really miss getting critiques. I've been toying with this one so long, I can't see the holes, so tear away: Little Sister The bottom of the fourth largest river in the world is hilled and holed, current slithering under sun-stained shallows, mud stirred by pearl-sized toes. Two tiny girls, we could tread, dive, and paddle, hold our own; wouldn't be a Monday morning announcement because we swam too close to a barge, a dam. Curls inhaled with thrashing bubbles, eyes and freckles running together the third time you force my head under it roars it really roars the Mississippi when it swallows someone pushed off a sandbar just get one foot just get one foot up where the sand won't slide away (my legs are flailing, failing) but -breathe- but I won't be a moment of silence; I have nails in your arm, vomiting "If you shove me again, we will both drown." Later, when you get on a plane with the gift of a black eye and we don't talk at christmas, won't have to tell you why.
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Oct 19, 2013 02:08
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Greetings all, really looking for some input here. I've been writing poetry for myself for something like half my life and only recently started to take it seriously. I've started work towards self-publishing my first collection with the help of my lovely girlfriend. Anyway, I found this thread and quite liked some of what I read and hope you can give me some critiques. First one: Looking back on autumn, the air colored warm with turning oak leaves, and dry dust kicking up from dying lawns, as I walk along calm suburban streets, my feet dragging on the pavement in front of a church. And nothing yet felt a rush before living life on borrowed time, so with my backpack heavy on my shoulders, I stared steadily at my shoes thoughts caught up in the fresh memory of school. Passing strangers here and there, taking barks from tied up dogs with no patience, the small fears pushed me on, gently hurried me home to more familiar things, to safer grounds where I could be distracted from myself. The day would draw itself up on its tired legs, and walk out into the night, and I prayed for it to never come back, to leave me alone, to let me stop and relax to let me dream for a while, to let me think. But the day would grow while I had my eyes closed and some dread would linger in my heart while I wished to stay contained in fantasy. So obligation pushed me on, became my reason, which is no good reason at all. ... Second one: because i sing to you and mark my heart with the memory of your kiss, because i sigh to an empty bed and wrench my sheets into a twist, because you let me in and buy me things and laugh so sweet, i turn the volume up and play warm love songs on repeat because i think too much and say strange things with awkward grins, because you see right through everything i do, every single sin, because we talk all night and dance to music only we can hear, i hold you gently in my arms so that you don’t disappear. ...
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Oct 21, 2013 03:16
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quiet enjoyment posted:Greetings all, really looking for some input here. I've been writing poetry for myself for something like half my life and only recently started to take it seriously. I've started work towards self-publishing my first collection with the help of my lovely girlfriend. Anyway, I found this thread and quite liked some of what I read and hope you can give me some critiques. Revise. Revise. Revise. Every single word needs to be examined, even the ones you just throw in as part of a sentence. This isn't a sentence or song lyrics; it's poetry, and any word that doesn't contribute directly to the piece needs to go. Is it there because of your rhyme structure? Why are you using that structure? quote:The day would draw itself up on This, to me, is the meat of the poem. These three lines are strong and personal and I really like them. Everything else is just repeating or waffling. Over a decade ago, I had a writing professor who taught me more than anyone before or since, and when critiquing poetry, he liked to say, "Don't be upset that you only saved one line. That one line was worth writing everything else to produce." Also, "don't get married to your metaphors. If something's really good but doesn't fit, ax it. It deserves a poem of its own."
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Oct 22, 2013 15:08
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Attempt #1 Drip across Between my eyes, down my nose, onto red cheeks. Salty streaks born high above, spiraling down, weighed with pity. Sinking through porous skin, near-frozen veins, heavenly mercy within me. Forgiven for believing in all-powerful winged holy babies. ~Fin yo. Seriously though, my English sucks and I stopped really trying after "veins", I really need to brush up on my punctuation, grammar, and general knowledge of the English language before I attempt to write poetry.
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Oct 30, 2013 08:33
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It was the other day... A single White Flower Fell from the sky. Its path got interrupted By a granite monolith. The cement was hard. We enjoyed the moment Just the flower and me Together. Yet so apart. We fell through each other Our paths met for one moment Then we touched the ground. There are so many paths to get to our destination It's not always the fastest route We go to We go through Intersections. Interconnectedness I liked the way the flower smelled And I smiled.
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Oct 30, 2013 08:36
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Khashie posted:Attempt #1
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Oct 30, 2013 08:40
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Franke My Dear posted:What is the imagery you're trying to evoke? The narrator's a woman right? Yeah, but the gender wasn't the focus. I started it with an idea of a kind of paradox(?), the heavens were crying for the person ( the people) because they felt sorry that the people believed in heaven.
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Oct 30, 2013 08:51
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Franke My Dear posted:It was the other day... Did my best 
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Oct 30, 2013 09:06
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Franke My Dear posted:
The idea I get from this is an unexpected connection between living things, which is more than amply explained by the interaction of you and the flower. People will get the metaphor, so focus on the details. Qualify your statements, flesh out the sensations. If you're focusing on something that made an emotional impact on you, don't go into a lecture. My turn! Rip away, ladies and gents. Rock in the Age of Yuppies Pressed against the smell of digesting lunches/cigarettes, elbows, doughy guts, and lack of respect guy behind me whooping like punctuation/breath want to spit in your open yap but i’m prepossessed, glaring around the tallest fucker here and see on stage fat white men, poorly dressed shuffling past fog machines with hangovers, half-smiles, nodding like Alzheimer queens incanting one two three and we drown in pit-stained oval office-clenched community swear the roof will pop swear the room can’t hold the thump of bodies on rails teeth locked in a vibrating smile cells split and filled with sound eardrums lost in the bleat of feedback, then re-found you’re forgiven, guy behind shrieking like your heart has burst revived with splattered strobelights and heat all you did was miss the beat
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Oct 30, 2013 17:52
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yes yes yes yes gently caress that is glorious
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Oct 31, 2013 15:48
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Wow.. That was fantastic.
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Nov 1, 2013 03:55
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Spark Sometimes you see a tiny spark Tiny indeed it does not last long But far goes a little light in total dark It can awaken, it can start A whole range of motions, a whole train of thought
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Nov 6, 2013 08:51
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Thank you.  Poetry got shoved to the wayside for years while I concentrated on fiction, but man, it feels so good to be writing this poo poo again. Khashie posted:Spark Overall, it reads like a good start to something. A light in the dark can be a metaphor for so many things, so I'd expand this out and elaborate on what you're going for. If you're continuing the last line, go into what sort of motion is inspired by a spark, specifically, what YOU would do. Poetry should be personal. Don't worry about alienating readers because they may think differently. I've been mucking with this for the past week and a half. It's almost as much of an rear end in a top hat as the person that inspired it, and I think it's close, but not exactly there yet. Two Sociopaths (you) your body’s warping space the steps away are ex-ponentially ex-potentially harder to make (inherent charismatic quality) swirling around every mistake (absorbed from those who get too close) who event your horizon and can’t escape (i) infrared revealed a heart (energy expended leaves a mark) observation can’t back up (been digging through this rib-lined hole) just supernova wit so far (while) ten million light years distant, two self-centered galaxies are (how many satellites will be inhumed?) eclipsing, colliding, crashing, collapsing (the weaker one consumed)
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Nov 7, 2013 15:08
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Bag of Hamsters posted:Two Sociopaths Apologies in advance if I read like I'm writing a paper over this. I like it and, for as much as my opinion is worth, I think you've succeeded in what you say you were trying to do with the poem. The dual personas (if that was what you were aiming for) really add depth to the poem, and excellently subvert the meaning of each other's lines, especially "Infrared reveals a mark // (Expended energy leaves a mark)" and the last two lines, both of which I thought made excellent use of differing points of view to destroy the imagery of the line before it. The unromantic "well scientifically here's why the heart can be seen" contrasts quite nicely to the more philosophical "The weakest will be eaten by the strongest - such is life" messages which help create a persistent character for the brackets as a 'realist', focused on what's in front of him - and an rear end in a top hat. I find the assholery serves to make the more metaphorical imagery in the poem more stronger (try taking that out of context) because the imagery still seems poignant after reading the perspective the 2nd persona puts on the poem. I'm interested in the choice of ex-potentially where exponentially could work just as well - though I know both meanings are valid and both add very different meanings, but I'm interested in your choice. If I were to offer any criticism (which I know is half the point, but), you attempt to use a single bracket of words in-between verses (stanzas?) - while the last one quote:just supernova wit so far quote:
TL;DR version - I really liked the imagery, the techniques used and the poem overall. You're basically entirely right with your opening statement. See whatever people think, but I like it.
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Nov 9, 2013 00:51
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The criticism is greatly appreciated, and you pointed out a few stylistic choices or metaphors I wasn't fully aware of, such as the idea that the bracketed lines are one of the two personas. As much as I'd like to say the piece is high-minded or a debate between the realistic and romantic self, it's really just a person I have a crush on, why we're attracted to each other, and talking myself out of it. [Required disclaimer that it's not up to the author to dictate a reader's meaning.] Originally, I had a glib closing line about canceling a date, recognizing that we're not at all good for each other and bringing the piece back down to a personal level, but cut it since I couldn't get it to fit. Perhaps I should find a way to work it or a similar idea back in since not having it seems to change the context a lot. I had the '(you) your', '(i) infrared' for the matching opening letters, to set up a clear delineation between myself and the guy, and to interrupt the flow of the poem because sociopaths are very much ME and MINE [also why the rhythm and length of each sub-section differs]. That said, it may be too much of an interruption, or it needs to be compensated for in some way. 'The weaker one' is pretty ham-fisted, I agree. Removing 'eclipsing' also fixes the cadence concerns and lets the poem work with 'present tense,' 'present tense,' 'present tense,' 'past.'
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Nov 11, 2013 19:38
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It hasn't been a good year for me. Locked-Ward Blues Darnell poo poo in the sink, again; wedged his narrow rear end into the basin and fogged the steel mirror chestnut-brown. Woke me with that animal stench while the Restoril wrestled me bodily back down into the fluorescent hum of the dream-pit. The nurses caught him trying to scald his balls off in my shower. Carried him out on the vinyl curtain, moaning. No one-- least of all me-- knew why he kept returning to my bathroom. I suppose, when everything past the nurse's station is off-limits, you take your freedom where you can.
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Nov 12, 2013 01:51
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I'm sorry. I hope it's getting better.  I really liked this piece, and by liked, I mean my stomach churned and I started sweating from the memories. It's loving terrifying and isolating when you're under, and your poem calls out a facet of mental illness that a lot of people just try to ignore: actions that look like random crazy usually aren't random; they're all you can do to gain a semblance of control. The voice you used here is perfect: yourself as an empathetic observer draws us into examining Darnell's actions in a different light by the end, and there's a horrifying clinical feel to how you relay these events that's extremely effective. You don't have to call out that the environment itself is hosed up, because of course it's hosed up. There's no option of it being otherwise, and that awareness/resignation is baked into every line. There's a suggestion that only the drug's restraints prevent you from doing what he's doing and no one should be sure that that restraint is the better option. budgieinspector posted:It hasn't been a good year for me.
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Nov 12, 2013 16:47
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| # ? Jun 9, 2024 22:07 |
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Thanks so much for the feedback. It really pinpointed some of the issues I was having with the piece. And this:quote:while the Restoril - You've personified the drug with 'wrestled,' Now that you mention it, if I'm already personifying the poo poo, it ought to have an honorific, or a title, or something.
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Nov 12, 2013 17:51
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