an open invite to tear a poem to pieces

[HarryHill]

It still stands in isolation, either add so it is not so lonely, or get rid.
Just my opinion. Some people like that, I don't, i.e. where is the wire the electricity the crackle, the misfire
?

Since you brought it up, I'd drop the dirty and grainy, leaving the gritty because they're all essentially describing the same. Gritty fits best here because of the next line "crusted in salt painted..." Or drop all three adjectives because they're adjectives, "crusted in salt painted..." could stand alone as it is much stronger without gritty, dirty, grainy then it is with them.

I think I understand what you are driving at, the word stands out but has no other linkages to the poem and is too obscure a reference where it is to be of any use in it's current place?

I was thinking of dropping all three, I feel it creates a less wordy stronger imprint, thanks for the input neo

Assimilation

 

[Senna Jawa]

1942

I once wrote a poem called 1942 about children in the Warsaw Ghetto

Angeline, can I read it?

 

[Senna Jawa]

Hard

I am attempting my hand at metaphors to try and get away from my to literal thinking and trying to build better poems in general.

Todski, you selected a very hard topic for a poem. Perhaps it's possible but such things don't happen, not often. Whenever you have a topic which itself is it then there is hardly any room for a poem.

This is also why any topic like a disaster, Holocaust, war, ... has to be treated with extra artistic sensitivity (as opposed to BS-sensitivity). And now I am not talking about your poem but in general, in the case of many poems about things larger than poetry the poems are an abuse, they take an advantage of the drama rather (say, in the me too style) than doing anything good for the cause. And the best an artis can do in such situations would be a perfect artist, free of any judgment etc - let the events speak in their own voice.

Best regards,

 

[todski28]

Todski, you selected a very hard topic for a poem. Perhaps it's possible but such things don't happen, not often. Whenever you have a topic which itself is it then there is hardly any room for a poem.

This is also why any topic like a disaster, Holocaust, war, ... has to be treated with extra artistic sensitivity (as opposed to BS-sensitivity). And now I am not talking about your poem but in general, in the case of many poems about things larger than poetry the poems are an abuse, they take an advantage of the drama rather (say, in the me too style) than doing anything good for the cause. And the best an artis can do in such situations would be a perfect artist, free of any judgment etc - let the events speak in their own voice.a

Best regards,

Thank you for the comment senna, the only education I have re poetry has come 95% from this forum, and is only about 11-12months in length, so i am definately a novice in almost everything. I believe I was attempting a snap shot into an experience, which is most likely taking advantage of the drama of the situation to evoke an emotional response, having been through it and it being a personal experience I didn't think beyond the "snap shot"

 

[Senna Jawa]

the only education I have re poetry has come 95% from this forum

I am so sorry for you.

 

[butters]

todski, you may come late to the classics (if you ever do - i'm way behind as any scholar will be able to see) - but the fact you now love to write and read means you'll experience them from a better perspective.

no-one's comparing Lit to the classics, but there are far worse places to start. not everyone had access to, or a lifestyle that allowed, the extensive study of wonderful literature. if this place has inspired anyone to write, has allowed anyone to embrace a natural talent for writing, then i, for one, applaud that.

 

[todski28]

I am so sorry for you.

It is what it is Nuances in poetry, techniques, just thinking about it in general is a start, I don't profess to be a poet but I enjoy writing so it can be a foundation of sorts, you can not deny that there are talented poets here that you can learn the basics from the rest is about studying the right literature and developing reading skills to discern poetry.

 

[todski28]

todski, you may come late to the classics (if you ever do - i'm way behind as any scholar will be able to see) - but the fact you now love to write and read means you'll experience them from a better perspective.

no-one's comparing Lit to the classics, but there are far worse places to start. not everyone had access to, or a lifestyle that allowed, the extensive study of wonderful literature. if this place has inspired anyone to write, has allowed anyone to embrace a natural talent for writing, then i, for one, applaud that.

Not the place but the people in it it may be amidst the dreck of sister, brother fucking in enema bondage but the people here are encouraging and share the knowledge they have learnt wether they have been at it for weeks or decades in the process trying to improve writing in general. I may only be at the best a mediocre poet but that is far better than where I started and I would be nowhere at all without lit.

 

[twelveoone]

It is what it is Nuances in poetry, techniques, just thinking about it in general is a start, I don't profess to be a poet but I enjoy writing so it can be a foundation of sorts, you can not deny that there are talented poets here that you can learn the basics from the rest is about studying the right literature and developing reading skills to discern poetry.

right literature?
is what YOU determine, although KJV is not bad for a start. King James put the best literary hacks (hacks has more than one meaning) on the dole, since writers generally are trouble makers -see what you can do to punch up the parts where it looks like Kings are part of God's plan for the order of things, eh?

developing reading skills to discern poetry.

well, well, all is well

Now whatever the right literature you wade though, make sure you break from it and watch cartoons. Sorta cleanses the soul of pretentiousness.

You are right about Literotica, nowhere else will you find this valuable advise. You also have to determine the right cartoons.

 

[twelveoone]

fucking in enema bondage

you can skip the cartoon part, I see you've arrived.

 

[butters]

right literature?
is what YOU determine, although KJV is not bad for a start. King James put the best literary hacks (hacks has more than one meaning) on the dole, since writers generally are trouble makers -see what you can do to punch up the parts where it looks like Kings are part of God's plan for the order of things, eh?

developing reading skills to discern poetry.

well, well, all is well

Now whatever the right literature you wade though, make sure you break from it and watch cartoons. Sorta cleanses the soul of pretentiousness.

You are right about Literotica, nowhere else will you find this valuable advise. You also have to determine the right cartoons.

because cartoons can burn you

you can skip the cartoon part, I see you've arrived.

*snerk*

 

[twelveoone]

because cartoons can burn you


*snerk*

the sasticity of Thunder Girl

So lop the knobs off Barbie
Christ, look what you did to Ken

the Flesh fuckin rocks
and Stinky Diver is the man
and Meltman lives again.

reason for edit off not on, dunderhead, types faster then he edits

 

[butters]

the sasticity of Thunder Girl

So lop the knobs off Barbie
Christ, look what you did to Ken

the Flesh fuckin rocks
and Stinky Diver is the man
and Meltman lives again.

reason for edit off not on, dunderhead, types faster then he edits

that saved a little confusion *nods - off*

i knew it had to be christ's fault

meltman, yay!

 

[Senna Jawa]

Hi Todsky, I am still thinking about your poem. In the past an unknown but very good and mature poet wrote about domestic violence, about a man beating up his wife (or would it be about killing her? I am afraid so). It was written from the man's (primitive) point of view. The poem ended in: if she would just listened. (Perhaps the man was explaining things in court, to the judge).

In another case from the past a 14-year old girl wrote about her sister (or friend) dying of cancer. The other poems by this girl were just so-so, ok but nothing special. This one poem, like the one by a mature artist, was incredible. The lirical subject, say for the simplicity the girl herself (at a still much younger age), was envy of the sick girl, of the attention which the poor girl was getting from adults, ...

Thus it is possible to write a great poem about things which are greater (more important) than poetry. Also Wilfred Owen wrote a great poem about harsh, even tragic events. The WWII Jewish getto poets, from more than one under Germans, did too.

In the next post I'll try to write directly about your own poem, The smile of breaking.

 

[todski28]

traveling the tarmac (re-write1)

artificial synapse fire
sparks unreasoned response
have to flee that moment
a flash
of shining steel, a pale throat
begs to be opened to
set blood free to mingle
with the cross
hatching of tiles over
a laugh in jest
the last laugh a clatter of metal
thrown as I see me
reflected in the glinting
gleam of his eyes

feet echo
a transient beat
dull thuds
trees breathe in this state
of being laugh at the wonder
I discover, thoughts leap

trickle and flood
ebb and flow in blood
moons eye shattered
then recreated in a thousand
waves

teleported time distorted in
illusioned stupor
owl sized eyes see clear
as day in black a cactus stalk
sways, waves me forward
race to the cliff face
trail narrows to a foot wide
on either side perilous
death in misted breath
cackle at being mortal
taste it on the wind

that threatens to upend
my travelling feet
stamp out a perilous
beat

On the road again time
bends
skin crusted in salt
head bowed at my faults
tumultuous thoughts
shoes filled with blistered
blood

foot falls crunch
day light burns
somewhere I fell
somewhere I caught
myself

 

[twelveoone]

artificial synapse fire
sparks unreasoned response
have to flee that moment
a flash
of shining steel, a pale throat
begs to be opened to
set blood free to mingle
with the cross
hatching of tiles over
a laugh in jest
the last laugh a clatter of metal
thrown as I see me
reflected in the glinting
gleam of his eyes

feet echo
a transient beat
dull thuds
trees breathe in this state
of being laugh at the wonder
I discover, thoughts leap

trickle and flood
ebb and flow in blood
moons eye shattered
then recreated in a thousand
waves

teleported time distorted in
illusioned stupor
owl sized eyes see clear
as day in black a cactus stalk
sways, waves me forward
race to the cliff face
trail narrows to a foot wide
on either side perilous
death in misted breath
cackle at being mortal
taste it on the wind

that threatens to upend
my travelling feet
stamp out a perilous
beat

On the road again time
bends
skin crusted in salt
head bowed at my faults
tumultuous thoughts
shoes filled with blistered
blood


somewhere I fell
somewhere I caught
myself

wow, what a mess. Tess has a thread...suppose you take out
foot falls crunch
day light burns
Does it detract?
cackle? when was the last time you cackled?

trickle and flood
ebb and flow in blood
moons

this is interesting, what happens...
trickle and flow
ebb and flood in blood

moons eye shattered
then recreated in a thousand
waves

moons eye shattered
spreads in purple waves ? violet waves?

Not really suggesting any of these changes, but this is the bullshit you go through...after awhile some of it becomes instinct

Now with the material you are going to play a game between cohesion and fragmentation...where are you now?

 

[todski28]

Fragmented cohesion is the essential undertow of the piece, I will be back later with my own thoughts and comments on you questions and suggestions, perhaps an explanation of what transpired will unlock all the allusion and things I wrote around to give you a contextual understanding of the head space and the back story of the thing?

 

[twelveoone]

Fragmented cohesion is the essential undertow of the piece, I will be back later with my own thoughts and comments on you questions and suggestions, perhaps an explanation of what transpired will unlock all the allusion and things I wrote around to give you a contextual understanding of the head space and the back story of the thing?

Sometimes I scare myself...
What I see are some real poetic wheels turning...
trickle and flood
ebb and flow in blood
moons
sustainment and interplay of sounds - this is something that most (not all) of the good writers do
...but you are tossing too much mud
now I also see something else...but
I would have to use analogies that you as an Aussie might not understand, the object is too stay ahead of the reader (the hitter) and you threw a nasty curve, now this flies in the face of what most think poetry is about (connecting) which really is what weak poetry is about. You the pitcher (writer) want to stay in the game, lob the easy ones, you get hammered out of the park and yanked...
you threw a nasty curve...I will PM you on this. Why should I give away the good stuff? Within two days.

 

[todski28]

ice shots

hyped up neurons
spark a flare of dark
over a laugh in jest
flee that moment
of serrated blade steel shine,
a pale throat
begs to be opened to
set blood free
to mingle with the cross
hatching of tiles,
metal clatter laughs across the floor
thrown as I see me
reflected in the glinting
gleam of his eyes

feet echo
a transient beat
trees breathe
in this state of being
laugh at the wonder
I discover, thoughts leap
through ice crystal cold frost

teleported time
distorted in illusioned stupor
owl sized eyes see clear
as day in black
a cactus stalk sways,
waves me forward
a race to cliff face darkened descent
trail narrows to a foot wide
perilous death in misted breath

mortal taste on the wind
that threatens to upend
travelling feet
pulse beats trip hammer techno
dance rhythms

On the road again time
bends
skin crusted in salt
head bowed at my faults
tumultuous thoughts
shoes filled with blistered
blood
day light burns

somewhere I fell
somewhere I caught
myself

 

[twelveoone]

hyped up neurons
spark a flare of dark
over a laugh in jest
flee that moment
of serrated blade steel shine,
a pale throat
begs to be opened to
set blood free
to mingle with the cross
hatching of tiles,
metal clatter laughs across the floor
thrown as I see me
reflected in the glinting
gleam of his eyes

feet echo
a transient beat
trees breathe
in this state of being
laugh at the wonder
I discover, thoughts leap
through ice crystal cold frost

teleported time
distorted in illusioned stupor
owl sized eyes see clear
as day in black
a cactus stalk sways,
waves me forward
a race to cliff face darkened descent
trail narrows to a foot wide
perilous death in misted breath

mortal taste on the wind
that threatens to upend
travelling feet
pulse beats trip hammer techno
dance rhythms

On the road again time
bends
skin crusted in salt
head bowed at my faults
tumultuous thoughts
shoes filled with blistered
blood
day light burns

somewhere I fell
somewhere I caught
myself

tod, is there any comedic relief in this?
and remember what I said about the ing crap, ignore it here:
metal clatter laughs across the floor, ho, ho, ho, fuck no
metal clatter laughing across the floor

bring the throat closer to the gurgle
...glinting
gleam of his eyes
throw in another G preferably Gr

the blade closer to the throat

anyway, I was thinking of this, think of poetry as a problem
,this poem here is why I'm doing that ugly thread, look at the organization in broken villanelle, the interplay between protagonist and foils (actually I don't see one in this) GM is shifting to break the linearity and the tunafish sandwich acts as a kind of a root.
Anyway, three more, all different tacts, that is, if this is still an ongoing project.

 

[todski28]

tod, is there any comedic relief in this?
and remember what I said about the ing crap, ignore it here:
metal clatter laughs across the floor, ho, ho, ho, fuck no
metal clatter laughing across the floor

bring the throat closer to the gurgle
...glinting
gleam of his eyes
throw in another G preferably Gr

the blade closer to the throat

anyway, I was thinking of this, think of poetry as a problem
,this poem here is why I'm doing that ugly thread, look at the organization in broken villanelle, the interplay between protagonist and foils (actually I don't see one in this) GM is shifting to break the linearity and the tunafish sandwich acts as a kind of a root.
Anyway, three more, all different tacts, that is, if this is still an ongoing project.

this I am still mucking around with, this last one I wasn't happy with I lost the feel of it, I have ser it aside for a while to let it settle, the core is there but the structure has been bothering me without knowing why, I will think on it, but I understand what you are saying now with the "ing" sound near the knife as well as the frustrated "gr""g sound.

Protagonist, foils, when I wrote this and even when I was editing no idea about any of it, I think I see where you are going, but will watch the thread in curiosity because every little bit helps. Thanks again 1201

 

[todski28]

Break Down

Here the days blur together
in a head space where it’s one sleep till Saturday
and it’s just turned Monday midnight……

hyped up neurons twitch
a flare of powdered dark
black bags full of pupils too wide
how normal it feels
how right to just let it all go

what are you laughing at
Shane, what the fuck are you laughing at
FUCKING SHUT YOUR MOUTH

next thing I’m pulling
a serrated blade
from the knife block

and
his pale throat

begs to be opened to silence laughing jest
to set his blood free
to mingle with the cross
hatching of diamond tiling

metal clatters
laughing
thrown as I see me
reflected in the glinting gleam of his eyes
hunched and foetal curled he gurgles
a garbled growl shaking fear his blanket

my hands grip my face
finger slit like prison bars

in two blinks of micro sleep
my feet echo an echo beat
teleported time distorted in illusioned stupor
owl sized eyes slice through night
a cactus stalk sways
waves me forward
so I race to the cliff face
dragged by a mind that wont
that can’t
that
just sleep

head down into darkened descent
the eroded trail narrows to a foot wide
on either side perilous death in misted breath

the wind tastes mortal
and threatens to upend
the thump of footfalls pulse
my heart beats
like prey fleeing a predators carnage

the moon shatters in pale shimmers
reflected twins co-joined in sin
and meth crystal hoar frost
dine on salted grit
crusted skin stinks of stale sweat
and
somewhere

I fell
somewhere I caught myself

it’s Sunday

 

[twelveoone]

black bags full of pupils too wide
how normal it feels

now that's a juxtaposition

and meth crystal hoar frost (reason for inversion?) crystal meth hoar frost - anyway like

I've lost track of the time

in a head space where it’s one sleep till Saturday
and it’s just turned Monday midnight……

it’s Sunday
a lost week?

rearranged, just playing with
and

somewhere

I fell

somewhere

I caught myself
it’s Sunday

 

[todski28]

"Here the days blur together"

"one sleep till Saturday
and it’s just turned Monday midnigh

"Teleported time distorted in illusioned stupor"

"it's Sunday"

I figured if I lost a week then so could the reader, it was not a fun week.
___"____________________________


and meth crystal hoar frost (reason for inversion?) crystal meth hoar frost - anyway like

Reason the Sonics, the 'H' from meth and hoar weren't juving for me,plus it highlighted it as an inversion to force it to the front.

I was going to put a third gem in the piece as well but it felt too heavy. Still a work in progress but getting closer I think. Thanks for the input along the way 1201

 

[twelveoone]

"Here the days blur together"

"one sleep till Saturday
and it’s just turned Monday midnigh

"Teleported time distorted in illusioned stupor"

"it's Sunday"

I figured if I lost a week then so could the reader, it was not a fun week.
___"____________________________


and meth crystal hoar frost (reason for inversion?) crystal meth hoar frost - anyway like

Reason the Sonics, the 'H' from meth and hoar weren't juving for me,plus it highlighted it as an inversion to force it to the front.

I was going to put a third gem in the piece as well but it felt too heavy. Still a work in progress but getting closer I think. Thanks for the input along the way 1201

telegraphing not a suggestion for a word, but what you are doing

it's Sunday is enough, you have Sat and Mon at the top. Unless you love teleported drop it