One a Day in May: Spring Cleaning

[champagne1982]

<snip>... saving the comments was a good thing. I have comments from reltne, ydd, 1201, Pat, etc. Really good stuff.
Edited to add a couple more names to my list: darkmaas and jthserra. Getting comments from any of these guys I've listed (I know there are more) really made sharing poetry an incredible experience.

Comments from anyone makes sharing poetry an incredible experience. It's just how we respond to the plucking of our strings that makes it incredibly good or incredibly bad.

But imagine before this wonder of the internet; we would have had to find an agent, an editor and a publisher via snail mail and good fortune in order to share beyond our own communities.

 

[Angeline]

I've been wimping around outside this thread for the past few days, mainly because I think my essay scoring is gonna go into early May, plus I just agreed to take on a big editing job, but damn Swirly you made it too easy!

I'll appreciate any feedback I can get, and I've give, too, if I think I can help.

And yes I too just love that kiddo av, A. Both boys are beautiful, and it reminds me of a pic of my son around the baby's age--sooo serious--looking like there should be an academic journal and reading glasses as props!

 

[annaswirls]

Yeah!!! I think it will be a good experience to go through previous workfrom a few steps forward..... glad you will be joining us! It will be fun to see your poems again.

I have to get a giggly pic of the boy up so y'all don't think he is mr. serious all the time

I've been wimping around outside this thread for the past few days, mainly because I think my essay scoring is gonna go into early May, plus I just agreed to take on a big editing job, but damn Swirly you made it too easy!

I'll appreciate any feedback I can get, and I've give, too, if I think I can help.

And yes I too just love that kiddo av, A. Both boys are beautiful, and it reminds me of a pic of my son around the baby's age--sooo serious--looking like there should be an academic journal and reading glasses as props!

 

[Angeline]

Yeah!!! I think it will be a good experience to go through previous workfrom a few steps forward..... glad you will be joining us! It will be fun to see your poems again.

I have to get a giggly pic of the boy up so y'all don't think he is mr. serious all the time

I promise I will oooh and ahh over the smiley pics too. I'm a total sucker around babies.

Lookin forward to seeing your poems again, Evie's, so many folks who've signed on. It's gonna be fun.

Damn girl you have the best challenge ideas.

 

[TheRainMan]

. . .
Please join me. No pressure here . . .

. . . I will hunt you down if you drop out.

hah! no pressure, eh?

ok, i'm sorta in. maybe, kinda. i will try (see poll vote),

but if you hunt me down i am not beyond rigging up booby traps.

 

[annaswirls]

My boobies shall never be trapped. Have you not heard of their super-powers!


Hey I am loving your voodoo poems-- you are really stretching-- great to see!


Glad you are in! I am confident that you can do it.

I want to start early.

hah! no pressure, eh?

ok, i'm sorta in. maybe, kinda. i will try (see poll vote),

but if you hunt me down i am not beyond rigging up booby traps.

 

[annaswirls]

I promise I will oooh and ahh over the smiley pics too. I'm a total sucker around babies.

Lookin forward to seeing your poems again, Evie's, so many folks who've signed on. It's gonna be fun.

Damn girl you have the best challenge ideas.

thanks I have to make sure to stick this one out!!

I put up a happy baby one. It is hard to snap happy shots of him looking at me because the camera is a bit of a distractor from joy

 

[Anschul]

thanks I have to make sure to stick this one out!!

I put up a happy baby one. It is hard to snap happy shots of him looking at me because the camera is a bit of a distractor from joy

Wait a minute, Anna. What are you going to stick out? Can I watch?

 

[Angeline]

thanks I have to make sure to stick this one out!!

I put up a happy baby one. It is hard to snap happy shots of him looking at me because the camera is a bit of a distractor from joy

Oh he is one beautiful boy. He really looks like you when he smiles. Not that I'm surprised or anything.

 

[Angeline]

Wait a minute, Anna. What are you going to stick out? Can I watch?

That's you in the av, isn't it? Very cute. Wistful-like.

 

[annaswirls]

Wait a minute, Anna. What are you going to stick out? Can I watch?

um... dang... you set me up for a really hilarious response and all I can think about is my tongue.

there



I lost my sense of humor, perhaps under my pillow last night

 

[Anschul]

That's you in the av, isn't it? Very cute. Wistful-like.

<---- Yeah, the kleine Yiddishe boychik. Oy...

um... dang... you set me up for a really hilarious response and all I can think about is my tongue.

there



I lost my sense of humor, perhaps under my pillow last night

That's all you can think about? There's lots that I could think about. But then, you're sleep-deprived, post-partum, undernourished, etc., etc., You'll get your groove back. In the meantime, can I look under your pillow?

 

[WickedEve]

Okay, I guess I get to start the spring cleaning... thanks to stinky anna and my first poem is one that I promised to post for stinky Ange. Stinky? I'm spending too much time with my little kids.

Okay, this poem was written back in the dark ages of 2002. I was just learning to write poetry, even though I had written poems for years. I wasn't a poet until I came to Lit. I actually posted the poem at Lit again back in '04. I think it was revised at that time. Well, it's 2008 and I bet it's ready for some more tweaking.

Here's the original and I will come back today with a revision:

Into the Mountains
by WickedEve
2002

[...]

 

[champagne1982]

May Edit A Day #1

This poem is still posted on Literotica. I wrote it in 2006 (maybe as a 30 in 30 challenge poem) and I liked the swinging rhythm it introduces. I think I may work a bit on cadence and to see if I can make the second half of the poem as rich as the first.

Time Breaks
by champagne1982©
January, 2006.

Time takes a holiday, somewhere, south of forever
with seasons never changing and us, suspended,
grateful for the chance to just lie here
stretched between the birches

and sway. To and fro like the way
the weight slips through the
dimension that we're stuck in, waiting
for time to get back to work.

A vacation from worry, a great notion
that somewhere between the moon
and the ocean there is a tide, ever
changing and us, falling for the moment

and caught up in each other
as we sway to and fro together
beating through the season
as time joins us on our holiday.

V1.1

Time takes a holiday, somewhere, south of forever
with seasons never changing and us, suspended,
grateful for the chance to just lie here
stretched between the birches

and sway. To and fro like the way
the weight slips through the
dimension that we're stuck in, waiting
for time to get back to work.

Ticking through the season
in our pendulum swing, to and fro together
tangled in ever changing tides. Caught up
as somewhere, far from now, time takes a holiday.

 

[annaswirls]

Poem a Day #1

off to the races

 

[annaswirls]

Okay, I guess I get to start the spring cleaning... thanks to stinky anna and my first poem is one that I promised to post for stinky Ange. Stinky? I'm spending too much time with my little kids.

Okay, this poem was written back in the dark ages of 2002. I was just learning to write poetry, even though I had written poems for years. I wasn't a poet until I came to Lit. I actually posted the poem at Lit again back in '04. I think it was revised at that time. Well, it's 2008 and I bet it's ready for some more tweaking.

Here's the original and I will come back today with a revision:

WTG Eve! Dang, this is a creepy poem. Reminds me of Rumplestiltskin before he got into the baby stealing business.

 

[annaswirls]

Great start Carrie!

I love the phrase "south of forever"

May Edit A Day #1

This poem is still posted on Literotica. I wrote it in 2006 (maybe as a 30 in 30 challenge poem) and I liked the swinging rhythm it introduces. I think I may work a bit on cadence and to see if I can make the second half of the poem as rich as the first.

Time Breaks
by champagne1982©
January, 2006.

Time takes a holiday, somewhere, south of forever
with seasons never changing and us, suspended,
grateful for the chance to just lie here
stretched between the birches

and sway. To and fro like the way
the weight slips through the
dimension that we're stuck in, waiting
for time to get back to work.

A vacation from worry, a great notion
that somewhere between the moon
and the ocean there is a tide, ever
changing and us, falling for the moment

and caught up in each other
as we sway to and fro together
beating through the season
as time joins us on our holiday.

V1.1

Time takes a holiday, somewhere, south of forever
with seasons never changing and us, suspended,
grateful for the chance to just lie here
stretched between the birches

and sway. To and fro like the way
the weight slips through the
dimension that we're stuck in, waiting
for time to get back to work.

Ticking through the season
in our pendulum swing, to and fro together
tangled in ever changing tides. Caught up
as somewhere, far from now, time takes a holiday.

 

[Angeline]

Okay, I guess I get to start the spring cleaning... thanks to stinky anna and my first poem is one that I promised to post for stinky Ange. Stinky? I'm spending too much time with my little kids.

Okay, this poem was written back in the dark ages of 2002. I was just learning to write poetry, even though I had written poems for years. I wasn't a poet until I came to Lit. I actually posted the poem at Lit again back in '04. I think it was revised at that time. Well, it's 2008 and I bet it's ready for some more tweaking.

Here's the original and I will come back today with a revision:

Into the Mountains
by WickedEve
2002


The path twines over yonder
'round those trees.
it weaves around
and between them.
<snip>

I couldn't make up my mind about where to start. Sonnets? Jazz poems? But Evie helped me decide. I promised her I'd do my "dust" poem if she did her "mountain" poem. A deal's a deal.

After I Loved You
(V.2: 2008)

After I loved you I became so tiny
I was microscopic. I could not be seen.
I was so quiet I could not be heard.
I was invisible. You walked past me.
I was a ghost. You walked through me.

You left me on the hall table. You forgot
I was there. I looked at the wall for years.
It was smooth and quiet and empty.
I pressed my face to it. I could not scream.
I was smooth and quiet and empty.

There was nothing to say.

After I loved you I became so small
I was trapped. I could not reach
a chair in my own house. I slid off the bed
there behind the hamper, caught
in your blue flannel shirt. I was a particle
of food dropped on the dining room floor.

After I loved you I became a dust mote.
I floated in the still afternoon and landed
on a photograph of myself when I was me.
But I was only dust, and I lay unaware
of the life trapped in the glass beneath me.


After I Loved You
(V.1: 2002)

After I loved you
I was so tiny
I could not be seen
I became microscopic
I was so weak
I could not be heard
I became invisible and people walked past me
I became a ghost and people walked through me
I became a thing you left on the hall table
You forgot I was there
I looked at the wall for years
It was smooth and quiet and empty
I pressed my face to it
I could not scream
I became smooth and quiet and empty
There was nothing to say

After I loved you
I became so small
I was trapped
I could not reach a chair in my own house
I slid off the bed
You walked past me one thousand times
I was behind the dirty clothes
Caught in your blue flannel shirt
I was a particle of food
That fell into a crack
On the dining room table
I was a mote of dust
Picked up from the floor
And blown with the forced hot air
Landed on a photograph of myself
When I was me
But I was only dust
And so was unaware there was life
Trapped in the glass beneath me

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Well, here goes.

I'm not going to bother putting up old drafts. They're so unrecognizable, most of them, that it would be like putting up two different pieces.

As to critique, all is welcome, but basically the stage I'm in with these pieces is that either they work or they don't. I've messed with them long enough and I just want them OFF of me. So it's pretty binary at this stage; if they don't work, they're gone. If they do, I'll keep them and put them somewhere, and maybe publish them someday. Probably after I'm dead.

*** May #1 ***


Cunt

The root
is ku-
meaning a hollow, a swelling,
an empty space defined
by what it contains
or a collection, a hoard.

What accumulates
in an empty space
but hunger to be filled
and defined.
From this same word
comes a church, kirk, containing
Nothing that is
Everything. The cumulus
mounts, enceinte,
cave of water and air
where heat and motion
enter and birth a storm.

ku- is a cavern,
cucullate, hooded, a shelter,
and within it, hidden,
the covert, the core, the cathedral
those hallowed spaces
shaped
by what they
con-
tain.

 

[CeriseNoire]

May Edit A Day #1

Might as well start with the bad, unless this is the ugly

Original

Anticipation
by CeriseNoire©2007

The aroma of your sex fills my head,
while sweat-slick flesh
dares me
to lap at salty dew

Slinking under
your scalding skin
leaves me
liquefied,
anticipating

You tease
with your hands,
with your lips that taste of me,
until my vows of fealty
splinter the silence

Version 2:

Untitled

My head throbs.
Your aroma seeps
from my pores, mirrored
by your sweat-slick self.
My mouth waters.

I am liquid, slinking
between silk and skin,
like waiting sin.

You tease with lips
that taste of me,
until I swear
love in perpetuity
if only you'll grant me
release.

 

[TheRainMan]

. . . .

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Anna, Metronome, E Minor is extraordinary.

bj

 

[annaswirls]

ooh I never read this one, good Ange!

I don't know if you are looking for comments, but I like the shorter lines in the start like you had in the original. It gives the reader an easing into the poem and then gets rolling along.

Glad I got to read the dust poem!

J

I couldn't make up my mind about where to start. Sonnets? Jazz poems? But Evie helped me decide. I promised her I'd do my "dust" poem if she did her "mountain" poem. A deal's a deal.

After I Loved You
(V.2: 2008)

After I loved you I became so tiny
I was microscopic. I could not be seen.
I was so quiet I could not be heard.
I was invisible. You walked past me.
I was a ghost. You walked through me.

You left me on the hall table. You forgot
I was there. I looked at the wall for years.
It was smooth and quiet and empty.
I pressed my face to it. I could not scream.
I was smooth and quiet and empty.

There was nothing to say.

After I loved you I became so small
I was trapped. I could not reach
a chair in my own house. I slid off the bed
there behind the hamper, caught
in your blue flannel shirt. I was a particle
of food dropped on the dining room floor.

After I loved you I became a dust mote.
I floated in the still afternoon and landed
on a photograph of myself when I was me.
But I was only dust, and I lay unaware
of the life trapped in the glass beneath me.


After I Loved You
(V.1: 2002)

After I loved you
I was so tiny
I could not be seen
I became microscopic
I was so weak
I could not be heard
I became invisible and people walked past me
I became a ghost and people walked through me
I became a thing you left on the hall table
You forgot I was there
I looked at the wall for years
It was smooth and quiet and empty
I pressed my face to it
I could not scream
I became smooth and quiet and empty
There was nothing to say

After I loved you
I became so small
I was trapped
I could not reach a chair in my own house
I slid off the bed
You walked past me one thousand times
I was behind the dirty clothes
Caught in your blue flannel shirt
I was a particle of food
That fell into a crack
On the dining room table
I was a mote of dust
Picked up from the floor
And blown with the forced hot air
Landed on a photograph of myself
When I was me
But I was only dust
And so was unaware there was life
Trapped in the glass beneath me

 

[annaswirls]

hehe how you gonna publish them after you are dead? I am getting all kinds of crazy images of that

I do know the feeling of wanting to get a poem "off" me. That is one of the reasons I wanted to start this-- so many poems I got tired of I wanted a reunion with fresh eyes.

Good job, day one, complete!!!

Well, here goes.

I'm not going to bother putting up old drafts. They're so unrecognizable, most of them, that it would be like putting up two different pieces.

As to critique, all is welcome, but basically the stage I'm in with these pieces is that either they work or they don't. I've messed with them long enough and I just want them OFF of me. So it's pretty binary at this stage; if they don't work, they're gone. If they do, I'll keep them and put them somewhere, and maybe publish them someday. Probably after I'm dead.

*** May #1 ***


Cunt

The root
is ku-
meaning a hollow, a swelling,
an empty space defined
by what it contains
or a collection, a hoard.

What accumulates
in an empty space
but hunger to be filled
and defined.
From this same word
comes a church, kirk, containing
Nothing that is
Everything. The cumulus
mounts, enceinte,
cave of water and air
where heat and motion
enter and birth a storm.

ku- is a cavern,
cucullate, hooded, a shelter,
and within it, hidden,
the covert, the core, the cathedral
those hallowed spaces
shaped
by what they
con-
tain.

 

[annaswirls]

Yeah you are here! The new version feels more smooth, put together, intentional. Keep it up!

Might as well start with the bad, unless this is the ugly

Original

Anticipation
by CeriseNoire©2007

The aroma of your sex fills my head,
while sweat-slick flesh
dares me
to lap at salty dew

Slinking under
your scalding skin
leaves me
liquefied,
anticipating

You tease
with your hands,
with your lips that taste of me,
until my vows of fealty
splinter the silence

Version 2:

Untitled

My head throbs.
Your aroma seeps
from my pores, mirrored
by your sweat-slick self.
My mouth waters.

I am liquid, slinking
between silk and skin,
like waiting sin.

You tease with lips
that taste of me,
until I swear
love in perpetuity
if only you'll grant me
release.