Poetry in Progress ~ construction zone

[annaswirls]

surely this has happened to you

deep into the cavern of sleep
a call for water comes
just halfway to the starlight it comes
you recognize the voice
of course you turn back
scrape your knee on the rock
by the time you get there
he is already gone

you wonder when your stories
began to have a beginning
middle end as you climb back
through slick water rock
and reconsider the whispers
stalagtite and stalagmite
because these words are no secret
they will not help you prove anything

silicon and calcium hold hands
and you call to them
because their names
sound like names
Silicon!
Calcium!
you ignore the remainder of their union
the oxides and carbonates
that turn fantasy back into science

and tonight science snores on
you can hear his rattle like a snake
that winds through your days
a greased railling
that gives the illusion of promise
but you know by now
not to bother reaching over
for slippery-scale guidance
the muscle pulses like a wave of peristalsis
but there is no meal
only memory

his teeth have dulled
you bring straws and soft foods
tonight's beasts are caged or
sleeping upon yesterday's cloth
it is safe now to rise
and go

 

[clutching_calliope]

Seeing Spots - or suggest better title...please!

.....

 

[Guest]

Hello all. Its been a while since I've made my way over. I have this... *hesitate*
poem but im not sure of the formatting and well,... need some input.
thanks in advance.


There's a certain beauty to malaise.
Exposed to reality, it loses its hold and becomes a tendril of wistfulness.
Its those moments before awakening, those precious wandering thoughts
which define subtlity...an entire mode of persona.

were i what i wish
not what i wonder
a softened thought
elusive yet grounded
who are you
but who you project
a gossamer shield
interwoven ideation
lose interpretation
of desired speculation

 

[RhymeFairy]

I wrote this last year. Just ran across it. I know there is a poem here. A lot to sort through, but I like it. So I am gonna play around with it. Any suggestions would be helpful, if not ... no worries. Really just wanted it here as a reminder I need to get off my booty and work on it ~

Very rough draft follows ~



whispering images fill my soul
times we oft spent together
now it seems so long ago
dreams derailed, forever pales

riding through the mountains
pulling over on the curb
for a quick kiss or two
remember the truckers,
I still think ... they were placing bets

golden castle sitting
on the mountain
so hot out, sun beating down
riding the glass elevator
glass smudges, when we got off

you wanted to take me,
against the plaid wall
daring lil giggles, wondering hands
bodies pressed, grinding hips

gazing upon rows, of gingerbread houses
two as one, fingers sliding down
ass wiggles, granite groin
prolific union, houses disappear

pina coloda in hand, cherry ... cream
cuddling on the couch, roaring fire flames
dizzy with delight, holding hands
head thrown back, shoulders relaxed
sun shining through chandler glitters

naked jay birds, sliding into bubbly hot tub
do you think they see us, who really cares
bodies merging, gliding ... sliding
skin to skin, hot ... wet
Jack and Jill rhymes, laughter erupting

lunch at a lil spot in town
eyes never leaving the others
fingertips touch, hand in hand
halving the meal, sharing it all
feeling as if two, is yet again, one
two people could never feel closer,
as we did those few moments, in time

pulling in the parking lot
hating like hell to leave
watching as you sleep, in my arms
gently playing with your curls
listening to soft lil snores
wondering, how can I ever leave you
as slow tears slide down
hot cheerless cheeks.

...

 

[champagne1982]

I wrote this last year. Just ran across it. I know there is a poem here. A lot to sort through, but I like it. So I am gonna play around with it. Any suggestions would be helpful, if not ... no worries. Really just wanted it here as a reminder I need to get off my booty and work on it. <snip>

Hi RF, This morning, I only have enough time to say a bit about your beginning.

whispering images fill my soul
times we oft spent together
now it seems so long ago
dreams derailed, forever pales

A lot of poems open this way and you've fallen into using a cliched metaphor for remembering. I usually try to think of how a reader will feel on reading the first line of my poems, which, as I'm sure most will agree, is one of the most important lines in the piece.

Without a unique or emotional statement as we begin to read many people won't involve themselves viscerally in what you're trying to say. With that, could you come up with a unique version of whispering images? You could even use alliteration to begin, sussurant shades, quiet companions.

I think you could create a more interesting piece if you got rid of the first stanza all together and jumped directly into the scenes you're showing us. I appreciate your illustrations more than I do the telling inside the introduction.

I hope this helps you improve the poem. It's not bad for a rough draft at all.

 

[clutching_calliope]

Train

.....

 

[champagne1982]

I’d like to go out like Achilles
in a blizzard of hurled arrows,<snip>Achilles boards at Vermillion.

Achilles boards at Vermillion and takes the train west,

to Vegreville and the great tri-metal pyzonka.

I'd never understood it --

this need to be bigger than the rest​

until I caught sight of the giant Easter egg,

fertility symbol to the prairies.​

Cowboys need to worship something,

even if it is a monstrous

vaginal pyrogy,​

with pinkish outer lips and that eerily gleaming white skin.

It's true, you can see it in Glendon.​

A ten foot mushroom grows like plaster, in Vilna.

Now I know, bigger is better.

Bring on the cowboys --

or is that studs?​

 

[annaswirls]

Hi Vella. I really enjoyed your poem. As far as formatting, the only thing I see that might need some attention is the break between the two diistinct formats-- the longer lines to the shorter ones. I think it would be cool to put another layer of distinction between the two formats, that way it looks more intentional. For example, you could italicize the longer lines or indent the shorter ones to set them aside.

My main suggestion on the rest of the poem is that I think you should consider ending the poem with a line or two in the original format, so that you have a poem sandwich I liked the feel of the shorter lines with the repeated sounds, I just think that it ended abruptly and that a more narrative end would tie things together very nicely.

Let me know how it goes! I hope this was a little helpful-- write on!

~as

ps below I just played with the formatting to see what it looks like. not intended to be a re-write of your poem, I hope you do not mind.

There's a certain beauty to malaise.
Exposed to reality, it loses its hold,
becomes a tendril of wistfulness.

were i what i wish
not what i wonder
a softened thought
elusive yet grounded
who are you
but who you project
a gossamer shield
interwoven ideation
lose interpretation
of desired speculation

Its those moments before awakening,
those precious wandering thoughts
which define subtlity...an entire mode of persona.

 

[vampiredust]

Watching My Little Sister Freeze, 1992

I watched the blue skinned
miners dig their way through
my sisters premature lips,
turning them a shade of velvet
blue.

I never did understand why
at the time, perhaps it was
a joke - like those trick bubblegum
that turns your teeth ink black

and as she slowly froze, I saw
the zinc colored snow create
the perfect burial for her and my
parting image was of her wrapped
in a fur lined shroud,

always wanting to wake up
but never actually doing it.

 

[Guest]

Hi Vella. I really enjoyed your poem. As far as formatting, the only thing I see that might need some attention is the break between the two diistinct formats-- the longer lines to the shorter ones. I think it would be cool to put another layer of distinction between the two formats, that way it looks more intentional. For example, you could italicize the longer lines or indent the shorter ones to set them aside.

My main suggestion on the rest of the poem is that I think you should consider ending the poem with a line or two in the original format, so that you have a poem sandwich I liked the feel of the shorter lines with the repeated sounds, I just think that it ended abruptly and that a more narrative end would tie things together very nicely.

Let me know how it goes! I hope this was a little helpful-- write on!

~as

ps below I just played with the formatting to see what it looks like. not intended to be a re-write of your poem, I hope you do not mind.

There's a certain beauty to malaise.
Exposed to reality, it loses its hold,
becomes a tendril of wistfulness.

were i what i wish
not what i wonder
a softened thought
elusive yet grounded
who are you
but who you project
a gossamer shield
interwoven ideation
lose interpretation
of desired speculation

Its those moments before awakening,
those precious wandering thoughts
which define subtlity...an entire mode of persona.

anna,
thank you so much for taking a look at my poem. i really enjoyed your comments and the formatting suggestions you made ...well, they really make a lot of sense.

thanks again,
v~

 

[polarized]

Dementia

I would love to submit this on Lit. However I am unsure if everything fits together, the grammar, punctuation does it even begin to show an image of some sort? does it outright suck? Anyway tell me what you think.

Dementia

She stood looking bemused, as
if anything remained, I new her thoughtless
void, a mere shell of a person.

Incoherent words, a recognizable string of
syllables within the mix. How rapidly her
decline had come.

Lost to me now, withdrawn without
so much as a trace, dull listless orbs
reveal nothing more.

Reflect upon the past, with
sharpness and wit, conversations
from mundane to poetic.

Tearing at my soul, Cruel
torment of a lost time. How
I wish my mother
were sane.

 

[champagne1982]

Hi, polarized.

First, I'd like to welcome you to the poetry side of litland. we're not too bad.

I'm going to give you what I saw that could maybe be improved on in your poem. Keep in mind that:

• these are my thoughts on your poem, not on you as an individual,
• any ideas I present are yours to discard or use as you see fit and
• anything I have put here, is opinion only. I am not in a position to be the definitive critic on Literotica poetry.

Thanks for sharing.

Dementia

She stood looking bemused, as
How does one look if they are bemused? What was her mouth shaped like? Where were her hands. This is an example of a "tell" line and if you take a moment to describe the answers to my questions and find a few of your own, I'm sure you change from telling us how she looked to showing us and making us decide for ourselves.

if anything remained, I new her thoughtless
I can't find the sense in this statement. It leaves me wondering what remained of what? Did you mean "knew" rather than "new"?

void, a mere shell of a person.
Can you say this same thing without falling into the cliche? I know, sometimes a cliche says exactly what we want to express, but this is pulled into the narrative of your poem almost too soon. If I read an overused statement in the first strophe of a piece, I find that I can't really shake my tendency to look for more flaws, rather than sit back and read for enjoyment.

I've insisted until I've become cliche, myself, that the first line of a poem is the most important but the first strophe, stanza, verse... whatever you like to call it... is the most important one of those as well.

Incoherent words, a recognizable string of
syllables within the mix. How rapidly her
decline had come.

Lost to me now, withdrawn without
so much as a trace, dull listless orbs
reveal nothing more.
I wouldn't change this, you express it beautifully; sad and poignant loss.

Reflect upon the past, with
sharpness and wit, conversations
from mundane to poetic.
Here, you fall back into the narrative story-telling mode. I'd reconsider how much flashback was used and be ruthless in cutting what doesn't either make us emote or show us how you feel.

Tearing at my soul, Cruel
torment of a lost time. How
I wish my mother
were sane.
I prefer this poem with a cloak of anonymity. You give too much away in this last verse and I couldn't help but wonder why you told me, I already knew "she" is a loved one and that's all I need to know.

 

[polarized]

Hi, Champagne.

I want to thank you for taking the time with that thoughtful reply, and for the welcoming words. You have been extremely helpful

She stood looking bemused, as
How does one look if they are bemused? What was her mouth shaped like? Where were her hands. This is an example of a "tell" line and if you take a moment to describe the answers to my questions and find a few of your own, I'm sure you change from telling us how she looked to showing us and making us decide for ourselves.

Struck by demons, I believe Liar was the first one to point this out to me, with another poem I put up earlier. Oh how my mind wanders

No telling! paint an imagine, a picture! I will beat myself silly until I get that engraved into my brain!

Anyway I redid that, Hopefully it came out better

She stood looking bemused, slender
delicate fingers, stroking the side
of her aged weathered face.

Now I ponder, did I just put another cliche in the last verse?

if anything remained, I new her thoughtless
I can't find the sense in this statement. It leaves me wondering what remained of what? Did you mean "knew" rather than "new"?

void, a mere shell of a person.
Can you say this same thing without falling into the cliche? I know, sometimes a cliche says exactly what we want to express, but this is pulled into the narrative of your poem almost too soon. If I read an overused statement in the first strophe of a piece, I find that I can't really shake my tendency to look for more flaws, rather than sit back and read for enjoyment.

I've insisted until I've become cliche, myself, that the first line of a poem is the most important but the first strophe, stanza, verse... whatever you like to call it... is the most important one of those as well.

Yes I meant to have a "K" in that

I have however changed that entire section, still working on it though. For the third time.

Incoherent words, a recognizable string of
syllables within the mix. How rapidly her
decline had come.

Lost to me now, withdrawn without
so much as a trace, dull listless orbs
reveal nothing more.

I wouldn't change this, you express it beautifully; sad and poignant loss.

Thank you

Reflect upon the past, with
sharpness and wit, conversations
from mundane to poetic.
Here, you fall back into the narrative story-telling mode. I'd reconsider how much flashback was used and be ruthless in cutting what doesn't either make us emote or show us how you feel.

Stepping back after you pointed it out, I can see that I was being lazy again.

I can't wait to catch these things on my own.

Time to think that stanza over.

Tearing at my soul, Cruel
torment of a lost time. How
I wish my mother
were sane.
I prefer this poem with a cloak of anonymity. You give too much away in this last verse and I couldn't help but wonder why you told me, I already knew "she" is a loved one and that's all I need to know.

I think you're right, if I remove that and reword it with "she were sane" the reader would have an easier time relating the entire poem, to some one else.

Or I could be insane! ha I can't believe I said that!

Back to work for me!

I am having so much fun, as I slowly grasp little things here and there

Thank you again for all the help

 

[polarized]

I have been working on it some more, hopefully it shows some improvement.



Dementia

She stood looking bemused, slender
delicate fingers, stroking the side
of her aged weathered face.

Staring down through me, like
I was a transparent film
hovering above the floor.

As if anything remained, I perceived her
thoughtless, void, a mere abstracted
confused mind.

Incoherent words, a recognizable string of
syllables within the mix. How rapidly her
decline had come.

Lost to me now, withdrawn without
so much as a trace, dull listless orbs
reveal nothing more.

Tearing at my soul, some diabolical
reaver-like beast, cruel tormenting
dementia.

 

[flyguy69]

:::::::

 

[clutching_calliope]

.....

 

[champagne1982]

I have been working on it some more, hopefully it shows some improvement.

Dementia

She stood looking bemused, slender
delicate fingers, stroking the side
of her aged weathered face.

Staring down through me, like
I was a transparent film
hovering above the floor.

As if anything remained, I perceived her
thoughtless, void, a mere abstracted
confused mind.

Incoherent words, a recognizable string of
syllables within the mix. How rapidly her
decline had come.

Lost to me now, withdrawn without
so much as a trace, dull listless orbs
reveal nothing more.

Tearing at my soul, some diabolical
reaver-like beast, cruel tormenting
dementia.

Wow, this is a more sophisticated work than the earlier version. Be careful that you don't start using complicated language to explain what simpler words can do just as well. It becomes a real challenge to speak to your reading audience as fluently and naturally as you would if we were all right there having a conversation.

A lesson learned from this forum: Big and flowery words don't make a bad poem better.

Your poetry here is NOT bad, but I think if you keep that idea foremost in your thoughts while you write, you'll soon be astounding us with your (ready to google?) -- prosidy.

A suggested edit that you can finish fairly quickly with this piece would be to analyze the end words on each line. If that word is not a noun, adjective, verb or adverb, or if it is very insignificant to the content of the poem, you should move it down into the hidden front of the next line or delete it entirely. Some rationing of words is a very good way to make us write more clearly, so I wouldn't feel bad slicing away an extra conjunction, article or a participle or two.

 

[polarized]

I took those editing suggestions and moved around a couple things. I
think it does look better that way, thank you again for all the help


Staring down through me
I was a transparent film
hovering above the floor.

Incoherent words, a recognizable string
of syllables within the mix. How rapidly
her decline had come.

Wow, this is a more sophisticated work than the earlier version. Be careful that you don't start using complicated language to explain what simpler words can do just as well. It becomes a real challenge to speak to your reading audience as fluently and naturally as you would if we were all right there having a conversation.

A lesson learned from this forum: Big and flowery words don't make a bad poem better.

Your poetry here is NOT bad, but I think if you keep that idea foremost in your thoughts while you write, you'll soon be astounding us with your (ready to google?) -- prosidy.

A suggested edit that you can finish fairly quickly with this piece would be to analyze the end words on each line. If that word is not a noun, adjective, verb or adverb, or if it is very insignificant to the content of the poem, you should move it down into the hidden front of the next line or delete it entirely. Some rationing of words is a very good way to make us write more clearly, so I wouldn't feel bad slicing away an extra conjunction, article or a participle or two.

 

[annaswirls]

oops!

 

[sugarmountain]

Moon walking

moonscape concrete tread
too many nights counting craters
as I dissolve into the dark side
become one with the bleak
barren terrain of my repose

again turn eyes toward stars, scattered
like breadcrumbs on the dark forest floor
trying to discern which path
brought me to this lifeless wasteland
how I can escape back

to air alive with hints of spring rains,
honeysuckle tastes, giggling young girls
the warmth of a woman's embrace
as the sun sets gently upon earth's shoulders
and the knowledge it will rise again

 

[Sabina_Tolchovsky]

Waiting for the Orchid to bloom


green tiped finger
you hold my attention
with slow growth

every day a little more
the promise of bloom

I wait in silence
a practice in paitence
and careful care

I cannot hide my longing
as I wait for your white face to appear

 

[flyguy69]

::

Here Be Monsters

Of course the world is flat, and beyond
this azure sea are monsters, and an edge
over which spills all that is sane. No doubt we'll sail
the turbulent lip, clawing each other
before our ship splits

with a sound like crying, and salty sorrow
floods everything we know.
.................We know we'll go there.
But today let's fold
these ancient charts and turn our thoughts

to yesterday, when we couldn't walk
close enough, and shopped with arms
braided. In a garden market
you filled sacks with laughter
over painted gnomes and their drunken, merry stares.
They grinned obliviously

under my coffeeshop chair later. I loved the touch
of your eyes on my face. Woven fingers
confirmed our blue water, and there was no dark thing
as far as sight could take us. Yes, someday

we'll search each other's eyes for shared panic, two sailors
hauled toward a hollow roar, and we'll admit
the inerrancy of our maps. That day we'll feel
the abyssal plunge in our bellies. But that day is not
today.

::

 

[annaswirls]

before boarding
I ran my fingers over the rivets
they were smooth, smooth and still this friction
we circle Dallas/ Fort Worth for thirty minutes
the captain mutters alive, alive into crosswind current

(if for nothing other than our own safety)
please remain in your own cabin
desire only that which you are accustomed
no lap napkin snap
no twist top family wine
I promise I will not mix my piss
with that of the upper class

our wing tips tilt
we fall like a feather in an updraft
bound rebound pas de chat
down the runway
on padded toe tires

I breathe deep the air jet
slow my heartrate like a monk
in an MRI
while unsettled overhead compartments
are emptied of heavy baggage
everyone knows
we wait our turn for the midnight kisses
from the cockpit
alive alive

 

[Willows_Tears]

I am not sure if you are looking for feedback or not, but I just wanted to make some comments.

First of all, I enjoyed reading this poem, content and presentation, lovely. It broke my heart in two different places.

I enjoy your internal rhyming and repetition of sounds, very clever and far from the standard rain pain you blue

oh no, trouble. I read it again looking for more details to comment on and it broke my heart in three new places and now I am unable to think critically.

::

Here Be Monsters

Of course the world is flat, and beyond
this azure sea are monsters, and an edge
over which spills all that is sane. No doubt we'll sail
the turbulent lip, clawing each other
before our ship splits

with a sound like crying, and salty sorrow
floods everything we know.
.................We know we'll go there.
But today let's fold
these ancient charts and turn our thoughts

to yesterday, when we couldn't walk
close enough, and shopped with arms
braided. In a garden market
you filled sacks with laughter
over painted gnomes and their drunken, merry stares.
They grinned obliviously

under my coffeeshop chair later. I loved the touch
of your eyes on my face. Woven fingers
confirmed our blue water, and there was no dark thing
as far as sight could take us. Yes, someday

we'll search each other's eyes for shared panic, two sailors
hauled toward a hollow roar, and we'll admit
the inerrancy of our maps. That day we'll feel
the abyssal plunge in our bellies. But that day is not
today.

::

 

[Tzara]

Riparian

Now the sudden quiet. Their bodies' joined heat
rises in cool air, dispersing like the mood,

as how a river slows and spreads to enter
a great sea. How it is tranquil at the end,

with the swirls and eddies of each current lost
in the grand harmonic motion of the tides.

It is not unlike death, this calm effacement,
the free gift of one's identity and self

changed for a single motion, single body—
a strange and fluid creature that tastes of salt.