Poetry in Progress ~ construction zone

[UnderYourSpell]

Children


God's gift.... His curse
Our Hope... Our challenge
Deliver us to the future
Send us letters when you get there

Choose wisely my young ones
Have no fear of young ones
I love you more than you know
Laugh at yourself to stay sane
Do the Right thing always
Run.... Play... both in moderation
Enjoy Life... It's too short as it is
Nothing compares to the wonder of you


What do you think?

If you don't mind me saying so it reminds me of 'If' which is a compliment

 

[annaswirls]

BTW Anna.... You are a very beautiful woman... I mean that beyond the physical sense. Anyone who writes with such passion has a beautiful gift and nature to share with the world.

oh my I am going to save this post for a rainy day (they do come even in Texas) Thank you!

 

[IAboy]

oh my I am going to save this post for a rainy day (they do come even in Texas) Thank you!

No problem... I meant every word. Thanks for the advice. I will take those first two lines and create a new poem out of it. Thanks again so much.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Think I've gone invisible

 

[Epmd607]

sorry annaswirls, I meant to get back to you on the Bicycle poem, just forgot. If you're still looking for ideas for it just re-post.

 

[annaswirls]

Think I've gone invisible

poke poke tickle tickle, nope you are still there.

I was totally looking at your fingernail wrong-- I saw Champ's post and realized I thought it was a side view of an injured finger! It is like one of those optical illusions!

Very pretty.

I bite my nails. They are awful.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

poke poke tickle tickle, nope you are still there.

I was totally looking at your fingernail wrong-- I saw Champ's post and realized I thought it was a side view of an injured finger! It is like one of those optical illusions!

Very pretty.

I bite my nails. They are awful.

Oh heck I am going to take it down in case there are anymore like you and Champ with a weird outlook on life!

 

[annaswirls]

Into the Mirror

Certainly you would never do this
trigger finger river boy
cutting February by days and verse,
would you?

This is a farce
writing to you
as if it was ever really you I loved.
As if it were ever me you adored.

I was writing to "you"
since adolescent diary days of
dear dear journal how
I need you.
Self-invented "I love yous"
(myself, myself!)

No, You, my love my life my reason for
waking, for closing eyes, for toes
cold with no time for socks.
I cannot even stop to rub
these numb extremities,
no, not even yours my love.
Yes, love!

I read their love letters
I want their you's to be for me.
But you made us believe
we were the one,
when we all were one to you,
to me.

Collection one, signing in.
Sure you took me sure you tuned me in
turned me over opened wide for your oh god
good girl
good girl you crazy slut

but you always allowed me to fuck myself
fucked me with my own words
my image my ego my body
you with your tools and tune lock magistrate
you held the mirror
I held the mirror
our breath condensed letters tracing
fuck yourself baby do it
fuck yourself do it do it
always love made it real
(real enough)
inside never half way never quite all
these cheesecloth patchwork letters
stitched all of these you's and I stitched together
and twisted between thighs I climb
higher over edges missed
roll me down roll me down.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

What do you do when you have written ¾ of a Sestina then decide it is crap?

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

What do you do when you have written ¾ of a Sestina then decide it is crap?

Flush it? Or keep trying, it'll suddenly click into place. With any luck you'll get immunity.

 

[annaswirls]

What do you do when you have written ¾ of a Sestina then decide it is crap?

My suggestion? Put it aside. Decide next week if you want to start over (it will be easier this time with the experience under your belt and the first try will not be for nothing) or work on fixing it.

I have found sometimes if there is something intrinsically wrong with a poem, it is so so so so much easier to scrap it and start fresh.

Good luck!

~Anna


ps you WILL get immunity at least once! Mark my words....

 

[UnderYourSpell]

I need an immunity for the Onegin Stanza I did a Sestina many months ago so I have done one before. Suppose I could post what I do have so you can confirm it's crap I promise not to get huffy lol I think the idea is ok but it seems to be come over like a brick wall lol

 

[annaswirls]

I need an immunity for the Onegin Stanza I did a Sestina many months ago so I have done one before. Suppose I could post what I do have so you can confirm it's crap I promise not to get huffy lol I think the idea is ok but it seems to be come over like a brick wall lol

You might also kick back and read some other people's poems. That often helps me to climb over the brick wall.


I have never done a sestina, so I won't be much help.

 

[IAboy]

If you don't mind me saying so it reminds me of 'If' which is a compliment

Thank you so much for that compliment. I missed your comment the first time around. I definitely wasn't ignoring you. Being reminiscent of Kippling is not a bad place for any poet to start.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

There's murder afoot but I hadn't got that far but it's all wrong isn't it which is a bloody shame seeing as I got so far into it ? Entitled something like 'From a prison cell'

There's ghosties coming from the cigarettes
see them all caspian and dancing across the room
filter through the heavy metal bars to escape
like a picture show that is going too slow.
My Momma said there'd soon be a loads of trouble
she was always so damn right, never been wrong.

Now I'm not wanting you to be getting me wrong,
Have you brought me any or those cigarettes?
It wasn't me who wanted to make all this trouble
Momma she would have that photography room,
I've always been what you might call a bit slow
But there come times you just got to escape.

Up on the top of the hills and Bobby are my escape
don't you try to tell me were doing anything wrong
and Bobby was good he took it really nice and slow
afterwards we'd share us a few cigarettes.
When it got colder we started use my room
Guess that's what they call getting into trouble.

I've got a little brother, now he's the trouble
sneaking round the house when we had no escape
should have known to stay out of his sisters room
if anyone it was always him in the wrong
wouldn't leave when we offered cigarettes.
left there at a run, from the bed we were too slow.

 

[annaswirls]

You must know you are losing me

Three miles back
prerequisite compliments
of my poetry and mothering
were delivered with skill.
Three miles back he lied
about his wives
and to his girlfriend.

You must know
he already found us a room,
transferred funds you must know
the market by now. The supply,
the demand. You must know the hands
that pull me are constant.

Did feel the wind through the open door?
Boxing ring biceps and new silken shirts,
darling even your quick feet are beautiful.
But you must know by now
your flattery cannot tie me
and those gloves have no grip.
You must know,
I am already gone.

 

[annaswirls]

Can you give some background? Is this a sestina? What do you think is all wrong about it?

There's murder afoot but I hadn't got that far but it's all wrong isn't it which is a bloody shame seeing as I got so far into it ? Entitled something like 'From a prison cell'

There's ghosties coming from the cigarettes
see them all caspian and dancing across the room
filter through the heavy metal bars to escape
like a picture show that is going too slow.
My Momma said there'd soon be a loads of trouble
she was always so damn right, never been wrong.

Now I'm not wanting you to be getting me wrong,
Have you brought me any or those cigarettes?
It wasn't me who wanted to make all this trouble
Momma she would have that photography room,
I've always been what you might call a bit slow
But there come times you just got to escape.

Up on the top of the hills and Bobby are my escape
don't you try to tell me were doing anything wrong
and Bobby was good he took it really nice and slow
afterwards we'd share us a few cigarettes.
When it got colder we started use my room
Guess that's what they call getting into trouble.

I've got a little brother, now he's the trouble
sneaking round the house when we had no escape
should have known to stay out of his sisters room
if anyone it was always him in the wrong
wouldn't leave when we offered cigarettes.
left there at a run, from the bed we were too slow.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

It is supposed to be a Sestina yes but it just seems to me to be like a bit of prose not poetic enough

 

[annaswirls]

It is supposed to be a Sestina yes but it just seems to me to be like a bit of prose not poetic enough

I did a syllable count, they range from 9-14... that is something you could work on--the one with 14 syllables could easily be cut without affecting your intent.

I liked the tone of it, it rambles a bit but you have the speaker saying she is a little slow, and seems to be written from a young girl anyway, and they do tend to ramble so I would not worry about that.

There were a few typos, I will go back and mark them if you want.

I don't think I could do a sestina. It kind of scares me. The tritina will be hard enough! Good job getting this far!

 

[annaswirls]

I would pick the syllable count that works best for you and try to stick between 1-2 within that number.

There's murder afoot but I hadn't got that far but it's all wrong isn't it which is a bloody shame seeing as I got so far into it ? Entitled something like 'From a prison cell'

There's ghosties coming from the cigarettes (10)
see them all caspian and dancing across the room (13)
filter through the heavy metal bars to escape*filtering? to make the verb tense match the dancing and going
like a picture show that is going too slow.
My Momma said there'd soon be a loads of trouble either "a load" or "loads "
she was always so damn right, never been wrong.

Now I'm not wanting you to be getting me wrong,
Have you brought me any of those cigarettes?
It wasn't me who wanted to make all this trouble
Momma she would have that photography room,
I've always been what you might call a bit slow
But there come times you just got to escape.

Up on the top of the hills and Bobby are my escape (14 syllables--kind of awkward feeling line)
don't you try to tell me were doing anything wrong
and Bobby was good he took it really nice and slow (13)
afterwards we'd share us a few cigarettes.
When it got colder we started use my room
Guess that's what they call getting into trouble.

I've got a little brother, now he's the trouble
sneaking round the house when we had no escape
should have known to stay out of his sisters room
if anyone it was always him in the wrong
wouldn't leave when we offered cigarettes.
left there at a run, from the bed we were too slow.

I am still confused as to what happened in the story, what was her crime. I am seriously not good sometimes at interpreting, so it is nothing personal for sure.

Hope this helps, not sure if you were looking for this kind of feedback.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Her and her boyfriend are going to bump off her brother for taking a photo of them humping and she's caught through that pic but she's a bit ermmm slow and can't see what they did is wrong and is telling the story from her prison cell or secure hospital ..... any feedback that doesn't tell me to dump it is good!

 

[IAboy]

Into the Mirror

Certainly you would never do this
trigger finger river boy
cutting February by days and verse,
would you?

This is a farce
writing to you
as if it was ever really you I loved.
As if it were ever me you adored.

I was writing to "you"
since adolescent diary days of
dear dear journal how
I need you.
Self-invented "I love yous"
(myself, myself!)

No, You, my love my life my reason for
waking, for closing eyes, for toes
cold with no time for socks.
I cannot even stop to rub
these numb extremities,
no, not even yours my love.
Yes, love!

I read their love letters
I want their you's to be for me.
But you made us believe
we were the one,
when we all were one to you,
to me.

Collection one, signing in.
Sure you took me sure you tuned me in
turned me over opened wide for your oh god
good girl
good girl you crazy slut

but you always allowed me to fuck myself
fucked me with my own words
my image my ego my body
you with your tools and tune lock magistrate
you held the mirror
I held the mirror
our breath condensed letters tracing
fuck yourself baby do it
fuck yourself do it do it
always love made it real
(real enough)
inside never half way never quite all
these cheesecloth patchwork letters
stitched all of these you's and I stitched together
and twisted between thighs I climb
higher over edges missed
roll me down roll me down.

I really like this one. It's full of emotion and imagery. Someone fighting back but also fighting with themeselves.

 

[IAboy]

Three miles back
prerequisite compliments
of my poetry and mothering
were delivered with skill.
Three miles back he lied
about his wives
and to his girlfriend.

You must know
he already found us a room,
transferred funds you must know
the market by now. The supply,
the demand. You must know the hands
that pull me are constant.

Did feel the wind through the open door?
Boxing ring biceps and new silken shirts,
darling even your quick feet are beautiful.
But you must know by now
your flattery cannot tie me
and those gloves have no grip.
You must know,
I am already gone.

I really like this one too. Shorter and to the point. Good as usual

 

[IAboy]

Her and her boyfriend are going to bump off her brother for taking a photo of them humping and she's caught through that pic but she's a bit ermmm slow and can't see what they did is wrong and is telling the story from her prison cell or secure hospital ..... any feedback that doesn't tell me to dump it is good!

For God's sake don't dump it. It's very good. It has a "Lights went out in Georgia" feel to it. A slow southern way of things.... I loved it. Take Anna's advice though. She can help you take it to the next level. But again.... I loved it.

 

[IAboy]

Deliver us to the Future
Send letters when you get there
Tell us what you see...
What you hear, and how you feel.

How do you feel about the world
Left to you? Can you fix it? Can Anyone?
Is it too late? Will you be the One?

When I was you I had hope.
I had dreams... Prayers... Fears
Dreams of Flying cars and Robots
Prayers for my family and friends
Fears of the Soviets, Nukes, and War

My Future is now... Yours still to come.
My Future is .com and cell phones
What is yours? Is it Living on the Moon?
Is it a new 9/11 or “Yes We Did!”?

Are you the person you want to be?
Are you happy and free?
Are you still free to dream?

P.S. I love you. You know I do.
Here’s to the present we’ve delivered you to.