Poetry in Progress ~ construction zone

[The Poets]

you're so smart

Thanks Eveypoo

I'll break up that verse

Wait until you get a second opinion on that. That's what I'd do with my poem but the crap I do with my stuff may not work for you. lol

 

[Tathagata]

Wait until you get a second opinion on that. That's what I'd do with my poem but the crap I do with my stuff may not work for you. lol

hey
you're an influential poet
so influence me

 

[flyguy69]

Thank you, Pat.

I agree-- the piece is really about the decay of the protagonist's life (he is currently serving time for domestic battery) and warrents a smoother contruction. I will look at your suggestions, but perhaps stay with a more staccato presentation in that one stanza regarding the fight.

it's a very good piece, fly.

my first thought is to reconsider the line-breaking in the entire thing. though it is about violence, there is no action. it seems contemplative instead, written from afar, and i think it might benefit from a slower pace.

the last stanza is a perfect example (though if it were mine, i would start at the top) - i see no reason to break at "skip" in the first line, or at "stockyard's." here's a rework, just for you to compare and see what you think:


But Monday he will skip school,
unable to muster the hatred
to face those swollen eyes
in English class. He'll flee the scrutiny
of daylight for the lowing fear
of the stockyard’s dark windows.

there are some vivid and fresh images. really well thought-out and written.

 

[WickedEve]

hey
you're an influential poet
so influence me

A moth could influence you!

 

[Tathagata]

A moth could influence you!

a 3 legged moth perhaps

 

[PatCarrington]

That's the role I am meant to play in your life--to argue with you about poetry, but sweetly. It's a tough job, but I'm a tough cookie.

we all have our cross, darling.

 

[Angeline]

we all have our cross, darling.

for you it's a cross.

 

[PatCarrington]

for you it's a cross.

good morning, froggy.

i like your love poem to T.

i didn't comment because it seemed like an intrusion.

.....and you ain't heavy at all on my back.

 

[annaswirls]

be back

 

[PatCarrington]

.....

 

[Angeline]

I wished a thousand starry nights
to fly beyond the clouds. I wished
I may, I wished I might hear your voice
one more time and then it wouldn't be
a crime to leave it all behind me.

My baby drew a picture
of a silly smiling family. I'm in the sky,
the bluebird flying upside down,
so if you ever do come back around,
look up, that's where you'll find me.

I have no wings but sometimes
just like Icarus I set my sights too high
feeling there's nowhere else to go,
yet if I plummet melting slow,
my troubles all might turn
to lemon drops and butterscotch
and bluebirds right side up.

 

[Tathagata]

Kelli O' Leary
appeared in front of the Erie pub,
by the salt-scalded sign post
that points absent sons of the sod back across
the Atlantic
to Dublin, and Mayo, and Athenry.

There on Cape Cod
beside an orange dinosaur
on a miniature golf course.

Kelli O'Leary
used to dot her i's with little hearts
and smilie faces
Now she just says
" With an I"
the symbols of her childhood
abandoned for precision.

Sheathed like a switchblade,
form fitted black,
sleek, shimmer of 5th avenue silk,
nyloned legs and heels,
open toed and spiked.

Crucifying heels.

Her hair an explosion
of carefully controlled abandon
and her make up
a still life
of bored sexuality.

She was used to the door being held but
thanked me anyway
and again when I lit her
petite fashion cigarette.
Everything is a statement.

Kelli O'Leary,
with an "i",
was down for the weekend
with a phantom husband I never saw,
and a daffodil daughter,
whom she danced with in her murderous heels
and abrupt midnight skirt
in front of a hall full of people.

We all watched.
No choice.

We saw the perfect thigh tops flex,
smooth jungle muscle,
swinging her child
and we felt those thighs flexing
against our ribs.

All the boyos exchanged glances over their pints,
and the ones with girlfriends or wives
made sure they studied the paintings on the wall
or the menu
the whole time she danced.

Kelli O' Leary
told me to enjoy my evening
as she strode back inside
to resume her get away.
The phrase flew of her lips with the practice
of a hawk launched from
a masters arm.
It had no more emotion
than the cigarette she annihilated
under the toe
of her genocide shoe.
__________________

 

[PatCarrington]

1st revision

.....

 

[flyguy69]

Snoop

Rainbowed nylon
anecdotes, elastic borders
on a land of silk
and honey. Flimsy promises
flank sturdy modesty,
scented scandals slipped
beneath.

Cupped splendor, twin
peeks at parted pillow
comfort. Clasped in wonder,
pushed, padded and folded
one in another.

Spun slinky and nude,
rolled long along
a stitched seam, coiled
and crackling static;
graciously offering
slipped space for guests.

The bottom drawer
is empty.

 

[Angeline]

Revision

I wish a thousand starry nights
to fly beyond the clouds.
I wish I may, I wish I might
hear your voice one more time.
If I remember how you sound,
maybe I'll close my eyes and finally
leave it all behind me.

My baby drew a picture
of a silly smiling family. Not you
of course, you're not even
her memory, but I'm there
in the sky, a bluebird flying
upside down, so if you ever do
come back, look up;
that's where you'll find me.

I don't have wings like you,
but sometimes I pretend I'm Icarus
and dream my flights Sun high
because where else is there to go?
I see me falling, melting slow,
watching my troubles turn
to lemon drops and butterscotch
and bluebirds right side up.

 

[PatCarrington]

2nd revision

.....

 

[Tathagata]

We're doing the May pole crepe streamer sugar kool aid dance,
with cowlicks and pigtails,
short checkered knee pants,white socks,
and Buster Browns.

It is one of those boundless days,
before time, before school,
each day is a lifetime , an adventure, a virgin birth.

It is the mind I try and get back to
through meditation and drugs, music, sex, and finally
through writing.

Card tables bearing bowls of Frito's and Cheeto's
Wise Potato chips and split silver mushrooms of Jiffy Pop.
Dixie cups of yellow-green Zarex,
The boys drink it and gag pretending to be poisoned.
We stagger around retching and laughing.
The girls are not amused.

Performing some pagan ritual in suburban back yards in the early 60's
I can't recall if it was before or after Dallas..
The sun was safe , people laughed,
I was snug in the belief
the world would always be this way.

Welcoming spring with a sucrose powered mania
and noticing skirts for the first time.

Sonic booms and cigarettes ,
moms all sipped Schlitz..or a cocktail,
Tall frosted glasses that looked like tubes from the mad laboratory
sometimes truly a Jekyll and Hyde potion.

Grab bag of goodies and real fake tattoos,
made from blue food coloring that lingered for weeks,
only blue..just like uncle Chicky's anchor,
he got while fighting Japs.

The railroad tracks next to the house are rusted
red powder forms a skin on the tadpole pool,
but you cant really have any fun in dress clothes.
You can eat candy,cake and get wired,
watch the grown up drink and laugh,
years later you realize they were all hitting on each other
but mom was smiling so I guess it was ok.

The boys play army and the girls aren't allowed to climb trees in dresses

Storm drains are bases
trees are " goals"

Your world is divided up into markers
adult things you have no use for
become playthings
fences for imagination

The streetlights come on and we know the day is over.
The Bat signal for boys to head home.
There will be a bath,
we have managed to get dirty after all,
and as your putting your pajamas on your mother says something about Mimi Roberts..
how cute she is...and how she seemed to like you.

Liked me?
the fear rises mixed with something else
don't tell anyone
liked me??

and later that night as your body winds down
you think about those skirts.

 

[Syndra Lynn]

We're doing the May pole crepe streamer sugar kool aid dance,
with cowlicks and pigtails,
short checkered knee pants,white socks,
and Buster Browns.

It is one of those boundless days,
before time, before school,
each day is a lifetime , an adventure, a virgin birth.

It is the mind I try and get back to
through meditation and drugs, music, sex, and finally
through writing.

Card tables bearing bowls of Frito's and Cheeto's
Wise Potato chips and split silver mushrooms of Jiffy Pop.
Dixie cups of yellow-green Zarex,
The boys drink it and gag pretending to be poisoned.
We stagger around retching and laughing.
The girls are not amused.

Performing some pagan ritual in suburban back yards in the early 60's
I can't recall if it was before or after Dallas..
The sun was safe , people laughed,
I was snug in the belief
the world would always be this way.

Welcoming spring with a sucrose powered mania
and noticing skirts for the first time.

Sonic booms and cigarettes ,
moms all sipped Schlitz..or a cocktail,
Tall frosted glasses that looked like tubes from the mad laboratory
sometimes truly a Jekyll and Hyde potion.

Grab bag of goodies and real fake tattoos,
made from blue food coloring that lingered for weeks,
only blue..just like uncle Chicky's anchor,
he got while fighting Japs.

The railroad tracks next to the house are rusted
red powder forms a skin on the tadpole pool,
but you cant really have any fun in dress clothes.
You can eat candy,cake and get wired,
watch the grown up drink and laugh,
years later you realize they were all hitting on each other
but mom was smiling so I guess it was ok.

The boys play army and the girls aren't allowed to climb trees in dresses

Storm drains are bases
trees are " goals"

Your world is divided up into markers
adult things you have no use for
become playthings
fences for imagination

The streetlights come on and we know the day is over.
The Bat signal for boys to head home.
There will be a bath,
we have managed to get dirty after all,
and as your putting your pajamas on your mother says something about Mimi Roberts..
how cute she is...and how she seemed to like you.

Liked me?
the fear rises mixed with something else
don't tell anyone
liked me??

and later that night as your body winds down
you think about those skirts.

some brilliant pictures here, some fabulous memories. This promises to be a beautiful poem.

I stumbled a bit on virgin birth. May just be the pagan in me. I know what ya mean-a fresh start, but you can find a better way to say it.

What is Zarex?

Performing some pagan ritual in suburban back yards in the early 60's

to

he got while fighting Japs.

is so good, Tath!

After that, I thought you got a bit off track, but you tied it all up so neatly at the end that it just works!

A bit of trimming and tightening and I'd give it a 5.

 

[Tathagata]

some brilliant pictures here, some fabulous memories. This promises to be a beautiful poem.

I stumbled a bit on virgin birth. May just be the pagan in me. I know what ya mean-a fresh start, but you can find a better way to say it.

What is Zarex?


is so good, Tath!

After that, I thought you got a bit off track, but you tied it all up so neatly at the end that it just works!

A bit of trimming and tightening and I'd give it a 5.

More trimming to be done for sure
and yeah i stuck virgin birth in this morning just to get past that point
when i go back it will be a red flag for me
I do that alot as I rewrite, throw stuff in that doesnt fit so I'll know next time through to stop and think.

Zarex..was a flavored syrup that came in a glass bottle, you'd add it to water to make a drink for kids
Like Kool -aid only not a powder
the lemon/ lime flavor looked just like anti freeze
we called it bug juice


Thanks for the feedback

 

[flyguy69]

We're doing the May pole crepe streamer sugar kool aid dance,
....
you think about those skirts.

Without any specific suggestions, i think it is simply too long, Tath. You have some wonderful images, and I love the allusion to sexual awakening, but the nostalgia seems overworked.

 

[Tathagata]

Without any specific suggestions, i think it is simply too long, Tath. You have some wonderful images, and I love the allusion to sexual awakening, but the nostalgia seems overworked.

well there is still trimming to be done
and
when you get to be my age, nostalgia is a big deal.

You'll be there someday

 

[flyguy69]

well there is still trimming to be done
and
when you get to be my age, nostalgia is a big deal.

You'll be there someday

Yeah, I fondly remember nostalgia.

 

[Syndra Lynn]

Without any specific suggestions, i think it is simply too long, Tath. You have some wonderful images, and I love the allusion to sexual awakening, but the nostalgia seems overworked.

The nostalgia is the part that really worked for me!

 

[flyguy69]

The nostalgia is the part that really worked for me!

You just remember the fondling!

 

[PatCarrington]

2nd draft

.....