Poetry in Progress ~ construction zone

[*Catbabe*]

That is what I meant. I was concerned that Fly was peeling people.


Both of you can stop being nice now because you are freakin' me out.

fly,

i don't think Cat meant you were using "harvest" as a verb, merely that your phrasing could be read as having the noun "harvest" modified by one adjective phrase that has a compund object..."of fruits and summer skin".

i think she has a point.

 

[annaswirls]

edit---still in progress

fffffff

 

[Du Lac]

Lost on where to go on this one.....

Any suggestions.. I know it needs alot of work but maybe because I have so much going on right now I can not see other ways. Thank you for any help I can get
du lac

The Price of Stuff

A quiet morn soaked in the now of living,
She sits waiting for dollar bearing divers,
to rummage through pieces of her soul
offering up the sacrificial green paper
with eyes calling to possess more
than what lies in their hands.

Coffee gulped with lo mein noodles
nourishing her morning cravings.
She looks about wondering what crazed need
had once possessed her soul.

Items littered across dew drenched September grass,
Pockets of tears glisten across things she had to have.
Just stuff that did not fill the needs.

Books, candles, crockery of sorts,
Too many chairs,
their mission to gather dust
sitting empty in the corners of her cage.
Paper, pens, garden tools and fabric,
muffling the screams of a soul,
lost in the stuff.

Bulky chains of materialistic conformity,
a thousand tiny voices of family and friends
echoed through each article that glistens in the morning sun.
Grow roots, collect more, forget the dreams that haunt.
Conform to our desires, and be normal.
Here get more stuff it will soothe your soul!

The date slowly sinks into her thoughts,
9/11
Images of fire, body parts, falling buildings,
thick dust clogging the minds of innocents,
fear, hate and despair.
A solitary child stands screaming lost in the mists of terror.
She questions life and what is really important.
She knows now the truth.

Slowly,
her essence once
rotted
buried
under
crock pots,
coffee makers
sweaters
dresses
coffee tables
rocking chairs
and cheap pottery.
Rises with the sun,
burning the tears from the surface.

A diver comes up with lust in their hands,
a moose hat and a quarter
She laughs, at the gesture
replying
Its yours! No charge!

Freedom has costs, she has learned from the pain.
Anger and bitterness swirl in the heads of
one's who swore their devotion through
family bonds of love and blood.
Brittle eggshell of conformity,
smashed and lying on the past's path.
A gray life they cursed her with,
now shattered along with the family ties.

Blood in her past,
scattered across broken china and empty bottles.
Stained linens, used towels and hopeless dreams.
Soot covered memories of yesterday's cares.

Blue lies on her horizon.

Gleefully she tosses the leftovers
into the black bag of plastic.
Hiding the stuff of her once
doomed materialistic life.

 

[flyguy69]

I think it is a bit too long, Du; not because it says too much but rather because it says the same things too many times. The first 5 strophes say essentially the same thing: that she has too much stuff and she is cleaning it out. This is an essential part of the poem, and you need to say it, but i think you could probably condense this down to one or two stophes and keep the pome from bogging down.

Secondly, I would look at all of your modifiers and mercilessly cut those that don't help the poem along. Why are the dollars "sacrificial"? Are "dew-drenched" and "September" both necessary? Is the modifier "too many" (applied to chairs but not books or candles) already understood? Do readers care that the bag is black and plastic?

After cleaning out the distractions I think you may find a very powerful poem.

Good luck.

Any suggestions.. I know it needs alot of work but maybe because I have so much going on right now I can not see other ways. Thank you for any help I can get
du lac

The Price of Stuff

A quiet morn soaked in the now of living,
She sits waiting for dollar bearing divers,
to rummage through pieces of her soul
offering up the sacrificial green paper
with eyes calling to possess more
than what lies in their hands.

Coffee gulped with lo mein noodles
nourishing her morning cravings.
She looks about wondering what crazed need
had once possessed her soul.

Items littered across dew drenched September grass,
Pockets of tears glisten across things she had to have.
Just stuff that did not fill the needs.

Books, candles, crockery of sorts,
Too many chairs,
their mission to gather dust
sitting empty in the corners of her cage.
Paper, pens, garden tools and fabric,
muffling the screams of a soul,
lost in the stuff.

Bulky chains of materialistic conformity,
a thousand tiny voices of family and friends
echoed through each article that glistens in the morning sun.
Grow roots, collect more, forget the dreams that haunt.
Conform to our desires, and be normal.
Here get more stuff it will soothe your soul!

The date slowly sinks into her thoughts,
9/11
Images of fire, body parts, falling buildings,
thick dust clogging the minds of innocents,
fear, hate and despair.
A solitary child stands screaming lost in the mists of terror.
She questions life and what is really important.
She knows now the truth.

Slowly,
her essence once
rotted
buried
under
crock pots,
coffee makers
sweaters
dresses
coffee tables
rocking chairs
and cheap pottery.
Rises with the sun,
burning the tears from the surface.

A diver comes up with lust in their hands,
a moose hat and a quarter
She laughs, at the gesture
replying
Its yours! No charge!

Freedom has costs, she has learned from the pain.
Anger and bitterness swirl in the heads of
one's who swore their devotion through
family bonds of love and blood.
Brittle eggshell of conformity,
smashed and lying on the past's path.
A gray life they cursed her with,
now shattered along with the family ties.

Blood in her past,
scattered across broken china and empty bottles.
Stained linens, used towels and hopeless dreams.
Soot covered memories of yesterday's cares.

Blue lies on her horizon.

Gleefully she tosses the leftovers
into the black bag of plastic.
Hiding the stuff of her once
doomed materialistic life.

 

[RhymeFairy]

It has been a while since I have had so many comments
on one poem. This is it my friends. I would like to submit this one,
just wondering
... would ya change/add/delete anything? What do YOU think?
Thank you and of course ... Happppyyy Writing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Taking stock, hues
of red, scandalized
blushes,
bemuse
your cheeks.

Yes, I see you
watching
and I love it.

Dressing room
mirrors, pronounce
deliverance
of spaghetti straps
falling.

Honey flesh glistens,
advertising
this wearers intent.
Perky breast
inviting. Invitation
to the intimate
partaking
of your taste.

 

[flyguy69]

Whew! OK, I calmed down enough to comment on this poem!


I love the way this poem is all about sexual frenzy without a single sexual act in it (well, I guess her straps fall and her breast perks!)-- a very subtle and powerful approach RF. This is the heart of erotica.

It is a bit choppy for my taste. You are describing a voyeuristic thrill from the sensual slide of clothing; it seems that the poem ought to slide ass well. Oops, I typed ass. I think you could examine some of your line braeks and eliminate some to let the poem flow.

I have noted some below that seem weaker than the others.

Good luck, RF, and thank you for such a deliciously hot poem!

It has been a while since I have had so many comments
on one poem. This is it my friends. I would like to submit this one,
just wondering
... would ya change/add/delete anything? What do YOU think?
Thank you and of course ... Happppyyy Writing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Taking stock, hues <-- Does "Taking stock" add anything here?
of red, scandalized <-- LB
blushes,
bemuse <-- LB
your cheeks.

Yes, I see you <-- LB
watching
and I love it.

Dressing room <-- LB
mirrors, pronounce
deliverance <-- LB
of spaghetti straps
falling.

Honey flesh glistens, <-- LB
advertising
this wearers intent.
Perky breast <-- LB (and maybe lose "inviting" and the period)
inviting. Invitation
to the intimate <-- LB
partaking
of your taste.

 

[Du Lac]

Thank you Fly for the objective look and your comments. When I get settled I will take another stab at it.
blessings
du

I think it is a bit too long, Du; not because it says too much but rather because it says the same things too many times. The first 5 strophes say essentially the same thing: that she has too much stuff and she is cleaning it out. This is an essential part of the poem, and you need to say it, but i think you could probably condense this down to one or two stophes and keep the pome from bogging down.

Secondly, I would look at all of your modifiers and mercilessly cut those that don't help the poem along. Why are the dollars "sacrificial"? Are "dew-drenched" and "September" both necessary? Is the modifier "too many" (applied to chairs but not books or candles) already understood? Do readers care that the bag is black and plastic?

After cleaning out the distractions I think you may find a very powerful poem.

Good luck.

 

[RhymeFairy]

Hues of red, scandalized
blushes, bemuse your
cheeks. Yes, I see you
watching and I love it.

Dressing room mirrors,
pronounce deliverance
of spaghetti straps
falling.

Honey flesh glistens,
advertising this wearers
intent. Perky breast,
invitation to the intimate
partaking of your taste.





~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank You Fly Guy.
Thinking this is what you were referring to?/.
I do like it better this way.


Anyone else gonna put a foot forth and help me
with this one, or do ya'll think it is ready?
Just want to get it near as perfect, as poss.
I do strive for perfection, knowing it is unobtainable,
yet that's the whole point. The journey we take
in the striving we aim for ~
Just me . Thanks everyone ~

 

[champagne1982]

Hues of red, scandalized
blushes, bemuse your
cheeks. Yes, I see you
watching and I love it.(I don't know, this seems to say the same thing in all these words as could be done with fewer: for instance, "Scandalized hues bemuse your cheeks when I see you watching." This is off the cuff though, and may not be the sort of wording you want at all.)

Dressing room mirrors,
pronounce deliverance (I think you need a preposition or some other structural mortar in here, it feels grade 8ish, in that these two words seem so out of place with the language around them.)
of spaghetti straps
falling. (I don't know what the spagetti straps delivered us from, so I hear this big hoopla over a pronouncing of deliverance! ...

then, nothing)​

Honey flesh glistens,
advertising this wearers (you'll want to make the noun, wearer, a possessive with that 's')
intent. Perky breast,
invitation to the intimate
partaking of your taste.

I quite like the last stanza and the preceeding imagery of the spag straps falling off a creamy shoulder. I hope I haven't muddied the poetic waters through this edit. Thanks for letting me.

 

[voyeuresse]

background music

follows something im working on free visual verse... appreciate any critiques or ideas on fonts colors and placement of the quote... oh haha and also content ...also anyone know how to put pictures in my content and where there might be a thread for word art? thanks

 

[voyeuresse]

and thank you very much but ill keep my thin skin its so much more conducive to eroticism... standing on the side a the road levi jacket and 501s thumb out hair buzzed to feel the delicate touch the wafting of a breeze across tips of close cropped hair sending thrrrills across my scalp down my temples cheeks forehead arcing over ears brows closing eyes tracing lips mmm chin ...neck shoulders raising the hairs on my forearms oh yes brrreasts yes circling nipppples yess! theres something to be said for the horse whisperer radiating out around to back and streaking down spine ribs belly mmmyes yess loins flanks ohh yess yoni oh my yoni yess buttocks thighs knees buckling oh shins hands oh yes ankles feet fingers yes and toes oh yes yes ...yesss s s... then... car stops and i run boots pounding fling open door and jump in magically transformed into "Sometimes what seems like surrender isn't surrender at all. It's about what's going on in our hearts. About seeing

clearly the way life is and accepting it and being true to it, whatever the pain, because the pain of not being​

​

​

blond innocence demure but jokey a pal unthreatening but true to it is far, far greater"empowered underneath... strength ...and we listen to his music and he tells me he thought i was a boy and im flattered because im much older than a boy and surprised cuz that wind turned me on so and we laugh and laugh and go down the road and then he lets me out and then... we each go on... .. . .. ...so how was YOUR last hitchhiking trip... hmmm?

 

[RhymeFairy]

Hues of red, scandalized
blushes, bemuse your
cheeks. Yes, I see you
watching and I love it.(I don't know, this seems to say the same thing in all these words as could be done with fewer: for instance, "Scandalized hues bemuse your cheeks when I see you watching." This is off the cuff though, and may not be the sort of wording you want at all.)

Dressing room mirrors,
pronounce deliverance (I think you need a preposition or some other structural mortar in here, it feels grade 8ish, in that these two words seem so out of place with the language around them.)
of spaghetti straps
falling. (I don't know what the spagetti straps delivered us from, so I hear this big hoopla over a pronouncing of deliverance! ...

then, nothing)​

Honey flesh glistens,
advertising this wearers (you'll want to make the noun, wearer, a possessive with that 's')
intent. Perky breast,
invitation to the intimate
partaking of your taste.

I quite like the last stanza and the preceeding imagery of the spag straps falling off a creamy shoulder. I hope I haven't muddied the poetic waters through this edit. Thanks for letting me.

I have been on a rollercoaster ride as of late.
Thank You Champagne !!!
I was not ignoring you, promise.

Just have to say how much I appreciate
all the comments and words of encouragement.
I am setting this one aside, to play with it at
another time.
Again ... Thank You all !!!

 

[voyeuresse]

peacock love

when i was a young mother hippy of the land sunny garden shady yard old farmhouse bordered by sun dappled leaf shaded irrigation ditches... tulips elms apricot trees snowballs and lilacs wild rose brambles and oh asparagus red current bushes with one white one nestled in the midst and daylilies. oh. on a warm summer morning id sit on the swing and call to the peacock as i watched my little ones play on the shady wild lawn. the peacock on the next farm... far away... and he would answer back and come closer with each call ...till his fence! stopped him! and i knew he was in love. and maybe i was too. ive always had a soft spot in my heart for the male in pursuit. but he never saw me. until one day as we walked on the road... i heard him call and i answered back. then even with his driveway, my call his call, then up the drive, my call his call, then in the barnyard... there! at my call! i see him! and he sees me! he freezes. his glorious full blown greengolden purple-eyed turquoisy shimmering shivering tail ....droops then folds. disappointment dejection then anger...then scorn... then...shunning. ...as slowly turning ...walking stately away ...never a glance back ...never a call ever again. never ...ever.



hi im experimenting with a format... and would like feedback and constructive criticism on this piece if anyone can actually get a handle on it... i know its not a normal style. thanks

 

[champagne1982]

<snip>hi im experimenting with a format... and would like feedback and constructive criticism on this piece if anyone can actually get a handle on it... i know its not a normal style. thanks

Hi voyeuresse,
Nice to see you. If you're experimenting with a format that seems to focus on lack of grammar and punctuation, why bother with the ellipses denoting a phrase change? Why not just add a line break, since that seems what you want to do anyway?

 

[voyeuresse]

Hi voyeuresse,
Nice to see you. If you're experimenting with a format that seems to focus on lack of grammar and punctuation, why bother with the ellipses denoting a phrase change? Why not just add a line break, since that seems what you want to do anyway?

thank you nice to see you too. um "ellipses denoting a phrase change?" sorry dont know the lingo. very new here ...thanks if you or anyone can translate that for me !

then i can think about it and then fix it

 

[voyeuresse]

um okay ...ellipses: omissions or suppressions of parts of words or sentences
like this?


when i was a young mother hippy of the land sunny garden shady yard old farmhouse bordered by sun dappled leaf shaded irrigation ditches
tulips elms apricot trees snowballs and lilacs wild rose brambles and oh asparagus red current bushes with one white one nestled in the midst and daylilies. oh. on a warm summer morning id sit on the swing and call to the peacock as i watched my little ones play on the shady wild lawn.
the peacock on the next farm
far away
and he would answer back and come closer with each call
till his fence! stopped him! and i knew he was in love. and maybe i was too. ive always had a soft spot in my heart for the male in pursuit. but he never saw me. until one day as we walked on the road
i heard him call and i answered back. then even with his driveway, my call his call, then up the drive, my call his call, then in the barnyard
there! at my call! i see him! and he sees me! he freezes. his glorious full blown greengolden purple-eyed turquoisy shimmering shivering tail
droops then folds. disappointment dejection then anger
then scorn
then
shunning.
as slowly turning
walking stately away
never a glance back
never a call ever again. never
ever.

 

[voyeuresse]

no! see that doesnt work for me... the first sentence gets broken up and the end of it looks like a new line. okay i will think about this. i need to know how you read this... how it stops and starts for you. i need to control the tempo right so you read it the way i want it read... tempo wise.

 

[voyeuresse]

when i was a young mother hippy of the land sunny garden shady yard old farmhouse bordered by sun dappled leaf shaded irrigation ditches... tulips elms apricot trees snowballs and lilacs wild rose brambles and oh asparagus red current bushes with one white one nestled in the midst and daylilies. oh. on a warm summer morning id sit on the swing and call to the peacock as i watched my little ones play on the shady wild lawn. the peacock on the next farm... far away... and he would answer back and come closer with each call ...till his fence! stopped him! and i knew he was in love. and maybe i was too. ive always had a soft spot in my heart for the male in pursuit. but he never saw me. until one day as we walked on the road... i heard him call and i answered back. then even with his driveway, my call his call, then up the drive, my call his call, then in the barnyard... there! at my call! i see him! and he sees me! he freezes. his glorious full blown greengolden purple-eyed turquoisy shimmering shivering tail ....droops then folds. disappointment dejection then anger...then scorn... then...shunning. ...as slowly turning ...walking stately away ...never a glance back ...never a call ever again. never ...ever.

please forgive my anality i needed to repost it as it was.

 

[flyguy69]

::

New Leaf

Old leaves shed
each fall, as if trees had reason
to think next spring will be
different. In winter I turn over
my self and shed habits
rattling in corners swirling
into themselves, thinking I’ll grow back
lush and many-lobed, full
of sap and spirit. I’ll write,
I say, or get in shape. This
is the year for piano, wood-carving
or just finishing
the bathroom. But my feet grow cold
in the short days
of December, and I pull old habits
around my shoulders like wool, warm
and familiar. The ambitious sun
stretches days into spring
like clockwork: that one
never misses a season. I watch
the buds burst green as ever; a summer unfolds
like my junior year of high school, when studying
seemed important, or my divorce,
when I promised to keep promises. Leaves open
their empty hands but I no longer
shake my head in disappointment. I pat the bark
(a bit thicker this year) on my morning walk
and ask “What did you expect?”

::

 

[champagne1982]

Hello Mr blue bottle flyguy,
I've taken some liberties with the words in red and explained somewhat in blue italics. This seems a different poem for you.

New Leaf

Old leaves shed
each fall of course, this is what happens in autumn, as if trees had reason
to think next spring will be
different. In winter I turn over
my self This should be one word, myself, unless you're referring to your id, then you could have said so and shed habits
rattling in corners swirling
into themselves, thinking I’ll grow back
lush and many-lobed, full
of sap and spirit.I'd break this here and begin a new strophe, symbolically turning over a new leaf. (ouch) I’ll write,
I say, or get in shape. This
is the year for piano, wood-carving
or just finishing
the bathroom. But my feet grow cold
in the short If you made this word shorter then you could prune away the phrase of December, days
of December, and you could likely rid yourself of that conjunction, too I pull old habits
around my shoulders like wool, warm
and familiar. If you said that, this way, I pull warm and familiar woolen habits around my shoulders, it sounds smoother to my ear. The ambitious sun
stretches days into spring
like clockwork: that one
never misses a season. How does this statement tie into what comes before? I feel like I'm on the outside of an inside joke when I miss the significance of a line in poetry. I watch
the buds burst green as ever; a summer unfolds
like my junior year of high school, when studying
seemed important, or my divorce,
when I promised to keep promises. This all seems disjointed and I can't make connections through the jumble. Is your intention to show us that your thoughts are all piled together like autumn detrius? I don't really like this last passage of your poem. It seems to be punctuated differently than at the beginning. The whole thing reads as if you had stopped writing while you were in one mood then took up your pen while you were in another. This isn't a bad thing neccessarily, but I feel as if two people wrote it. Maybe you should find the id you left behind in L5. Leaves open
their empty hands but I no longer
shake my head in disappointment. I pat the bark
(a bit thicker this year) on my morning walk
and ask “What did you expect?”

 

[voyeuresse]

New Leaf

Old leaves shed
each fall, as if trees had reason
to think next spring will be
different. In winter I turn over
my self and shed habits
rattling in corners swirling
into themselves, thinking I’ll grow back
lush and many-lobed, full
of sap and spirit. I’ll write,
I say, or get in shape. This
is the year for piano, wood-carving
or just finishing
the bathroom. But my feet grow cold
in the short days
of December, and I pull old habits
around my shoulders like wool, warm
and familiar. The ambitious sun
stretches days into spring
like clockwork: that one
never misses a season. I watch
the buds burst green as ever; a summer unfolds
like my junior year of high school, when studying
seemed important, or my divorce,
when I promised to keep promises. Leaves open
their empty hands but I no longer
shake my head in disappointment. I pat the bark
(a bit thicker this year) on my morning walk
and ask “What did you expect?”

ohhhhhhhh ...i see!

 

[flyguy69]

ohhhhhhhh ...i see!

As one might expect a voyeuresse to do! But what about the poem?

Thanks for your comments, Champagne. I think it is essential to keep the "each" and "next" modifiers because the poem is about annual resoutions that the next time will be different than the last time, not just that spring will be different than fall. Hence the reference to school terms and relationships: recurrent experiences that the narrator once expected to be different on successive tries.

I appreciate your input, and will bear you in mind as I edit.

 

[voyeuresse]

As one might expect a voyeuresse to do! But what about the poem?

the poem is true and beautifully written. the format is what i was seeing... as a possible solution to my peacock love formatting problem. thank you

 

[voyeuresse]

hi ...you know... i have posted a couple of experiments here and elsewhere and the only feedback i get is that they are too hard to read because of format and/or lack of punctuation. most of the comments have been rude and unfriendly. and i have been called an ass, jerk, bitch and fuck when i reacted to those mean comments. no comments have been made on the content... on what the pieces are saying or on the words or phrases used.

im toying with the idea that my stuff is so worthless that the most polite thing you all can do is ignore it... and of course the worst thing some of you can do is be so enraged by its ineptness that you lash out at me for having the gall to inflict it on you.

i just recently restarted writing and making this stuff has brought me great joy... so i know it is not worthless. however... because of the reception it has received here on the literotica forum...

im am toying with the idea that i shouldnt share it.

 

[champagne1982]

hi ...you know... i have posted a couple of experiments here and elsewhere and the only feedback i get is that they are too hard to read because of format and/or lack of punctuation. most of the comments have been rude and unfriendly. and i have been called an ass, jerk, bitch and fuck when i reacted to those mean comments. no comments have been made on the content... on what the pieces are saying or on the words or phrases used.

im toying with the idea that my stuff is so worthless that the most polite thing you all can do is ignore it... and of course the worst thing some of you can do is be so enraged by its ineptness that you lash out at me for having the gall to inflict it on you.

i just recently restarted writing and making this stuff has brought me great joy... so i know it is not worthless. however... because of the reception it has received here on the literotica forum...

im am toying with the idea that i shouldnt share it.

Hi again,
In your first presentation here in this thread, I could barely see it, nevermind read it for its content. It's very cool even if it is difficult to see. My background colour is grey, so you see, I can't see silver very well. Now, if I knew you and if I also knew I wouldn't be disappointed by the content of such a painstakingly formatted poem, I'd just go in and maybe, paste the content and the format to word. After those steps, then, I reiterate - if I knew you, I'd take the time and possibly critique the poem.

The second, I asked a question, you answered with a no, so I have to tell you that since I can't "get a handle" on what you're trying to do, I can't get past the format and actually read the poem for content.

Sorry, but that's what my problem is. Not with you, not because I won't read them, but simply because I cannot read them.