Double Blind Challenge

[Piscator]

Poem 2

Overall a powerful poem but as noted by others it can use an edit

summer storm

such viscosity
living liquid melts against the walls
of life
gravity pulls
it trickles a trail
down
and nestles wet and beautiful
on the palm of my hand
Sorry this opening put me off, images of sperm leaking form vaginas flashing through my perverted brain and also it doesn't seem to flow with the rest of the poem and the ocean, rhythm climax theme. I'd remove

soft moans and whispers
entreat the beast in me
as she demands more
slide my whispering over skin raised to life,
swells, that rival an ocean squall also not sure about comma
forked lightning rends the air
I feel the rain, eyes closed
breath held I dive in to taste
fresh water salted in life
lap from the valley's stream
savour it, before it is lost
in the storm n+1 clicjhes???

I have never felt so much heat, as that which beats
a drummers thump,
a heart beat
bumpbump, bumpbump agree with Harry

each flash of light
and touch of liquid
drives me toward the edge

I want to kneel naked in the sand
where the ocean meets the land
let the rain wash away
the last of the day
cleanse me
let me feel
take me into your depth
hold me there suspended in sensation
and take it all

 

[greenmountaineer]

Poem #3 posted for feedback

The Curator

See how our combustion blooms!
A fragrant flame too hot to touch
For more than just these fleeting months
Of lush and fruitful spring.
The way it overawes my eyes
And warms me from a distance
Makes me yearn to reap it, singe my fingers,
Press it, quick, between the pages of a book,
In airless preservation 'til the heat is just
A memory, ethereal and flat.

~

The firstline really grabbed my attention. The declarative sentence ending the line forced me to stop and think about the inconsistency. I'm usually not a big fan of getting metaphorical in the first line of a poem, but it works here because of the sentence structure, at least for me.

I think introducing a desert climate in line four would work better, perhaps in the form of a desert flower. Deserts can be "lush" in their own way and would reinforce the theme of heat throughout the poem.

I might have worked the last two lines thus:

In airless perservation 'til
The heat is just a memory.

and then maybe

That's pressed between two leaves.

although that may be stretching word play a bit much; not sure.

 

[Magnetron]

The Curator

See how our combustion blooms!
A fragrant flame too hot to touch
For more than just these fleeting months
Of lush and fruitful spring.
The way it overawes my eyes
And warms me from a distance
Makes me yearn to reap it, singe my fingers,
Press it, quick, between the pages of a book,
In airless preservation 'til the heat is just
A memory, ethereal and flat.

This is about Harry's prize winning daffofils.

 

[butters]

The Curator

See how our combustion blooms!
A fragrant flame too hot to touch
For more than just these fleeting months
Of lush and fruitful spring.
The way it overawes my eyes
And warms me from a distance
Makes me yearn to reap it, singe my fingers,
Press it, quick, between the pages of a book,
In airless preservation 'til the heat is just
A memory, ethereal and flat.

Title: like
Theme: like
Iambic meter: like

However: The very fact this begins in such a structured way – iambic tetrameter – makes the break from that interrupt the way it unfolds as I hear it in my head. It took me several reads to adjust the pacing and then it worked better for me. I toyed with moving 'makes' up to the end of L6, but that did nothing to iron out the differences between the tetrameter and Ls 8 & 9 so, in other words, I got nuthin'! Would it benefit from iambic consistency throughout? Possibly. Does it work as it stands? Yes. If I were to tinker with it, it'd be something like this:


The Curator

See how our combustion blooms!
A fragrant flame too hot to touch
For more than just these fleeting months
Of lush and fruitful spring.
The way it overawes my eyes
And warms me from a distance makes
Me yearn to reap it, singe my fingers,
Press it, 'tween the pages of a book,
In airless preservation 'til
The heat has lost its colours -
A memory, ethereal and flat.

or:

Press it 'tween a book's cool leaves
In airless preservation 'til


adds further to the conceit of 'flower' and continues the sound-link through to 'ethereal' but is it overkill? dunno.


Is that an improvement on the original? Not really. Sorry I wasn't much help, whoever wrote this.

 

[AlwaysHungry]

I like the tension of the double metaphor -- is it a flame? is it a flower? -- but it seemed like it could have been developed in more depth. I was also disappointed by the ending. Ending on the word "flat" was sort of brutal. What if the flame/flower caused the book to catch fire? That would be interesting.

 

[HarryHill]

The Curator

See how our combustion blooms!
A fragrant flame too hot to touch
For more than just these fleeting months
Of lush and fruitful spring.
The way it overawes my eyes
And warms me from a distance
Makes me yearn to reap it, singe my fingers,
Press it, quick, between the pages of a book,
In airless preservation 'til the heat is just
A memory, ethereal and flat.

This is about Harry's prize winning daffofils.

It's a poem about Mags annual chicken BBQ

The Curator

snip //

Title: like
Theme: like
Iambic meter: like

love how it reads/flows except for the word combustion, it's almost as if the original word/phrase was transplanted by this (non combustible) description
snip..//

Is that an improvement on the original? Not really. Sorry I wasn't much help, whoever wrote this.

It's always amazing what you see, missus

 

[AlwaysHungry]

The word "reap" bothers me a little. It seems too precipitous.

 

[Magnetron]

It's a poem about Mags annual chicken BBQ

Darn grease fire flare ups!

 

[Magnetron]

Poem #3
The Curator

Can't say that I would tamper with this much.

If I was tempted to, I would change this

Makes me yearn to reap it, singe my fingers,
Press it, quick, between the pages of a book,

to something like this

Yearning fingers singed at prospect of reaping,
Pressing it quickly within book's pages

but only better than what I just wrote.

 

[Magnetron]

To clarify, whenever I offer up any major deviations in lines, it's a generic alternative. I'd rather steer the original writers towards generating new lines of their own.

It's all too easy to rewrite someone else's work and cheat them out of the opportunity to finish their own work with the choicest wordage.

 

[legerdemer]

The Curator

See how our combustion blooms!
A fragrant flame too hot to touch
For more than just these fleeting months
Of lush and fruitful spring.
The way it overawes my eyes
And warms me from a distance
Makes me yearn to reap it, singe my fingers,
Press it, quick, between the pages of a book,
In airless preservation 'til the heat is just
A memory, ethereal and flat.

I don't have many suggestions on this one:

I agree that 'reap it' somehow doesn't quite work (for me); the line could easily be:

Makes me yearn to singe my fingers

To be followed by:

Press it between the pages of a book

I also don't like the 'flat' at the end the last line; that is a prime location! Flat just kills the line for me. As for suggestions, I've tried a few in my head but haven't yet come up with a suitably killer word. I'll keep thinking.

 

[greenmountaineer]

summer storm

such viscosity
living liquid melts against the walls
of life
gravity pulls
it trickles a trail
down
and nestles wet and beautiful
on the palm of my hand

soft moans and whispers
entreat the beast in me
as she demands more
slide my whispering over skin raised to life,
swells, that rival an ocean squall
forked lightning rends the air
I feel the rain, eyes closed
breath held I dive in to taste
fresh water salted in life
lap from the valley's stream
savour it, before it is lost
in the storm

I have never felt so much heat, as that which beats
a drummers thump,
a heart beat
bumpbump, bumpbump

each flash of light
and touch of liquid
drives me toward the edge

I want to kneel naked in the sand
where the ocean meets the land
let the rain wash away
the last of the day
cleanse me
let me feel
take me into your depth
hold me there suspended in sensation
and take it all

~

I'd eliminate the first stanza. I don't think it adds much and "demanding more" in the 2nd can allude to many things, not just coitus.

Maybe it's just me, but whenever I read about "viscosity" in a poem I think of motor oil or maple syrup. That's tongue in cheek, I know, but everything else in the poem suggests a frenetic passion and the anticipation of release in S4L3, which I like leading to the wonderful conclusion of the last stanza.

I like the comma after "heat" in S2. Although grammatically it's not necessary, poetically I thought with the pause emphasized, it nicely set motion the beat of

.......as that which beats
a drummer's beat
a heart(felt?) beat
bumpbump bumpbump

 

[Piscator]

The Curator

See how our combustion blooms!
A fragrant flame too hot to touch
For more than just these fleeting months
Of lush and fruitful spring.
The way it overawes my eyes
And warms me from a distance
Makes me yearn to reap it, singe my fingers,
Press it, quick, between the pages of a book,
In airless preservation 'til the heat is just
A memory, ethereal and flat.

The first four lines really grabbed me - then I was confused by mixed messages and I have problems with pressing a flame in a book. Potential edits are in red

The way it overawes my eyes - The way it's brilliance overawes
And warms me from a distance
Makes me yearn to reap it, singe my fingers, - I yearn to collect it,singe my fingers,
Press it, quick, between the pages of a book, - Surround it, quick, within the bell jar's glass
In airless preservation 'til the heat is just
A memory, ethereal and flat. - A memory, ethereal and fixed ????

 

[greenmountaineer]

As editor, my comments on poem #2 got appended to the original posting.

I'm bumping them by way of a hyperlink:

http://forum.literotica.com/showpost.php?p=76334056&postcount=27

 

[Lyricalli]

The Curator

See how our combustion blooms!
A fragrant flame too hot to touch
For more than just these fleeting months
Of lush and fruitful spring.
The way it overawes my eyes
And warms me from a distance
Makes me yearn to reap it, singe my fingers,
Press it, quick, between the pages of a book,
In airless preservation 'til the heat is just
A memory, ethereal and flat.

I don't have very much on this one, because I quite like it as it is. I would suggest perhaps 'pluck' instead of 'reap', which makes me think more of a flower. I also like that it adds another 'p' along with 'press' and 'pages' on the next line.

I understand what some are saying about ending the poem on 'flat', but pressed flowers are flat, and I can't think of an alternative. Just can't help but think that a memory of that kind of heat isn't likely to be flat, even after being pressed and preserved. I liked GM's reworking of it, that leaves it just at memory.

 

[legerdemer]

I don't have very much on this one, because I quite like it as it is. I would suggest perhaps 'pluck' instead of 'reap', which makes me think more of a flower. I also like that it adds another 'p' along with 'press' and 'pages' on the next line.

I understand what some are saying about ending the poem on 'flat', but pressed flowers are flat, and I can't think of an alternative. Just can't help but think that a memory of that kind of heat isn't likely to be flat, even after being pressed and preserved. I liked GM's reworking of it, that leaves it just at memory.

I quite like 'pluck' -I think it is really an inspired choice that would fit very well.

 

[AlwaysHungry]

I quite like 'pluck' -I think it is really an inspired choice that would fit very well.

There are certain aural associations...

 

[HarryHill]

There are certain aural associations...

..
Damn, Mags didn't pick that up it's a plucking good poem, *whispers, except combustion*

 

[greenmountaineer]

Poem #4 posted for feedback

Sonograms

I saw
a dolphin’s song today,
clicks and squeaks
whistles and purrs,
signature squawks
with jokey trills.
Smiling secrets
they find in the deep
silver slicing through the calm
joyful leaps before our bow
and aft in widening wake.
How can they know
why their eardrums break
leaving them directionless,
floundering, bleeding
or that huge, stealthy metal fish
are silently killing them?
Helpless, they watch
their brothers struggle,
drowned in drift nets’ cruel embrace.
Do they mourn the loss?

 

[Magnetron]

Poem #4

Sonograms

I saw
a dolphin’s song today,
clicks and squeaks
whistles and purrs,
signature squawks
with jokey trills.

Other than the word saw bringing little added dimension, it gets the job done.

 

[todski28]

The Curator

See how our combustion blooms!
A fragrant flame too hot to touch
For more than just these fleeting months
Of lush and fruitful spring.
The way it overawes my eyes
And warms me from a distance
Makes me yearn to reap it, singe my fingers,
Press it, quick, between the pages of a book,
In airless preservation 'til the heat is just
A memory, ethereal and flat.


Butters covered a lot of the technical jargonology
I liked Calli's suggestion for pluck

The Curator

See how our combustion blooms!
A fragrant flame too hot to touch
For more than just these fleeting months
Of lush and fruitful spring.
The way it overawes my eyes
And warms me from a distance
Makes me yearn to (pluck) it, singe my fingers,
Press it, (would drop this comma) quick, between the pages of a book,
In airless preservation 'til the heat is (branded
in memory, ethereal, a constant reminder)

I dunno what else to suggest, but flat seems like a dull ending for such a beautiful write.

 

[Piscator]

two of four poems about Cetacians
two of four poems involve flame
great minds think alike?
I forget the other part

 

[todski28]

two of four poems about Cetacians
two of four poems involve flame
great minds think alike?
I forget the other part

Elements are universal and powerful for metaphors I guess.

 

[butters]

re The Curator

seems to me the overall theme is about a passion's heat that the narrator believes cannot last beyond its spring days. rather than allow it to fade slowly and die, the narrator speculates on pre-emptive action in order to preserve at least its flat memory (lacking colour, heat, or perfume) of that love as a lover might press a flower between the pages of a book. reap and pluck both suggest a cutting/breaking off. sooo... rather than get too close to the other person, the N prefers to collect pressed flowers. preservation in an arid condition - even the name 'curator' alludes to looking after or overseeing things of the past, sounds dry. and, in this instance, very sad. i believe the ending works to enforce this completely.

 

[butters]

Sonograms

I saw
a dolphin’s song today,
clicks and squeaks
whistles and purrs,
signature squawks
with jokey trills.

on first read, i enjoyed it. familiar enough material to 'get' though the ending felt ... um. the intro is strong, and grabbed my attention. loved the concept of looking at the pictoral representation of the sounds.

can't place my finger on exactly why right now, but my brain wants to swap that about to:

Today I saw a dolphin's song/Today I saw a dolphin sing/Saw a dolphin's song today

L's 2 to 6 are all sound; since the sonogram's a graph i don't think it'd harm this to include some reference to x-y axis or the beautiful colours sonograms can produce. just to take it to the next step.

Smiling secrets
they find in the deep
silver slicing through the calm
joyful leaps before our bow
and aft in widening wake.

like all of this

How can they know
why their eardrums break
leaving them directionless,
floundering, bleeding
or that huge, stealthy metal fish
are silently killing them?

Helpless, they watch
their brothers struggle,
drowned in drift nets’ cruel embrace.
Do they mourn the loss?

hmmn. i feel this whole section needs looking at again. it comes across to me as a 'what i want to say but not the way it needs saying' area. maybe something along the lines of how, with burst eardrums, they can no longer see the songs of their pod-mates, caught in the drift nets.... maybe just as well, considering.

don't like the question on the ultimate line. mammals mourn, at least for a while. but i kinda think this needs to finish off by tying back into the opening - the graph, the sound-picture. maybe some weighing up of the sonogram of joy v the sonogram of grief.

'sall i got.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencet...evealed--look-lot-like-view-kaleidoscope.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spectrogram#/media/File:Dolphin1.jpg