Same Title Challenge 2

[sandspike]

Promises

My love is retiring
after thirty-two years,
tough love and teaching
not a job a career.
BUT NOW IT'S ASSESSMENTS!
ARM WRESTLING PARENTS!
......she knows it's time.

They'll take her to lunch
pat her on the back.
She'll return and sub
less frequently till...
THERE IS ONLY ONE STUDENT!
I'M HEAD OF THE CLASS!
......an apple won't get it.

What do I give her
when she is everything.
keep the rhythm going
promise what she needs.

BE A BETTER MAN!
BE THE BEST I CAN!

......Lord knows it's time

 

[Angeline]

Oh my god. This IS April 3.

<rushes off pulling hair out>

 

[wildsweetone]

"Promises"
by Remec


Sacred oaths and vows I swore,
gave way to time and an unanswered heart.
You'll always be the love I adore...
sacred oaths and vows I swore;
healthy or sick, rich or poor;
I thought only death would keep us apart.
Sacred oaths and vows I swore,
gave way to time and an unanswered heart.

 

[wildsweetone]

Promises
by wildsweetone

Winter’s stark dark emptiness cowers
Under a new blue sky.
Daffodils sway gently in a warm
Eastern breeze.
Young oak leaves
Nourished by night rain
Unfurl,
Stretching in sun-rayed luxury.
A once dormant ivy vine mocks wig and gown
Sending tendrils around and up the solitary, scholarly oak
Curling and gripping crevices. A
Fat bud squats against a rose bush
Gleaning warmth and shelter out from the
Drip-line.
In the leaf litter, a shoot sprouts,
One leaf, two, an oak in miniature!
And beneath the Old Teacher, a mother, with
child suckling swollen breast,
Smiles.

 

[BooMerengue]

I have mine!! *pant! *pant!

Be back in a sec... Don't start without me!

Sorry!

 

[BooMerengue]

Sonnet to a Whiskey Bottle

No promise ever served my needs so well
as this that takes me far away from here
and drops me in a valley made so dear
by mountains blocking all the rings of hell.

Euphoria my guide as I step forth
my beauty turning every head I see
now nought but witty thoughts are spoke by me
and troubles in my life bear weight no more.

The love I feel for Everyman shines out
in waves that emanate to all around
returning joy to me by leaps and bounds
and life is perfect; now there is no doubt.

The only promise ever kept to me
Was bottled by Jack Daniels Brewery!​

[SIZE=-1]edited cuz I forgot to put the title...lol[/SIZE]


.

 

[Angeline]

Promise me
my rollar skates and key,
my blue Schwinn ten-speed
bike. Promise me the lilacs
that we planted by the fence
will bloom, and dogwood
flutter pink in June, that soon
roses will climb again
behind the bench you
painted green.

Promise me
I won't forget how sweet
the Tuesday wash could smell
when cotton tangled damp sheet
giggles hidden in a breeze,
or that I won't forget
when slumber's ease was blanketed
with scent of skin and cigarettes
and Dial soap.

Promise me
because these memories of rain
and root beer nights and Lincoln Logs
are where I've built a promised land
of hope stronger than any word
or deed could ever break,
and in return I promise
you will live forever, cresting
in the wake of every poem.

 

[champagne1982]

Promises

It seems the universe
was only just begun
when infinity became ours.

Words of forever
were spoken.
And love, always love.
Time counted down
in promises.

Too late, too late.
I cannot make time stand still.
Our hour of eternity
changes meaning
with each promise that we speak.

Yet, I would make
them all again.

 

[sandj]

My love is retiring
after thirty-two years,
tough love and teaching
not a job a career.
BUT NOW IT'S ASSESSMENTS!
ARM WRESTLING PARENTS!
......she knows it's time.

They'll take her to lunch
pat her on the back.
She'll return and sub
less frequently till...
THERE IS ONLY ONE STUDENT!
I'M HEAD OF THE CLASS!
......an apple won't get it.

What do I give her
when she is everything.
keep the rhythm going
promise what she needs.

BE A BETTER MAN!
BE THE BEST I CAN!

......Lord knows it's time

sandspike,

I really like that you've chosen a subject that often seems overlooked, namely how love evolves as we age (at first I typed "mature love," but I was afraid that might have too many other connotations that I wanted to avoid for this discussion). While I was in school, I certainly never imagined what life might be like for a retired teacher; in fact, I was certain that some of my teachers were well beyond the retirement age, and since they were still going, they would probably never retire. There is a full life implicit in the opening lines of the poem that helps me identify with the speaker and his "love." It's very sweet that, of course, the speaker would not define her by her career: he never calls her a "teacher." This really implies a life independent of profession; she is a person first and foremost. I also like the way the last line echoes the end of the first stanza. There's a sense of reluctant acknowledgement, of resignation, knowing what needs to be done, but not knowing exactly what will happen next.

Stylistically, the lines in ALL CAPS are distracting for me; I would stick with lower case; the exclamation points supply enough emphasis. I also think the poem would benefit from more specificity of detail (though, as this is something I struggle with myself, I don't know that I can provide any examples).

Thanks.

 

[wildsweetone]

my comments:

disclaimer - I am still learning about poetry and about what and how to comment on it. Please excuse my ignorance. I hope some of my comments help in some manner. Please ask if you need me to explain my thoughts better.


promises
By sandj

The promise on your finger speaks softly in the dark
where I lie, still, unmoved. The air thick with breath
and the memory of words--echoed footsteps down
an empty hall, a ringing in my ears--draw around us
like ghosts we refuse to name.

Forever seemed so much closer at the start,
when our eyes were clear and our hands clean,
and we knew what we wanted. A kiss held
power the tongue could not gain through speech,
though we knew what to say: vous et nul autre
por tous jour, and for a moment

the words seemed right, complete. We never imagined
feet might kick or mouths bite, never saw a vow
as risk, love as loss or pain. So now we’ve learned,
I’ll try again; my promise to you: I will hurt you
as you will me, but we will heal and forgive.

This poem says so much and I seem to understand it well, from my own perspective. I like the metaphors – ‘air thick with breath and the memory of words’ it almost doesn’t need the ‘echoed footsteps…’ but that phrasing enhances the thickened air. Is the ‘ringing in my ears’ too much? I don’t think so. I also like the comparisons of ‘before’ and ‘after’ and the commitment to continue even knowing mistakes will be made. Your imagery is good, the language tells me all I need to know. I don’t understand French so have no idea what that phrasing means. Thinking about your first line, I want to know more detail about the ‘promise on your finger’ – how, specifically, does that work? Perhaps something a little more concrete for my mind to grasp…?

###

Promises
By sandj

Your love is a promise
like the ground

the ground below, hard
concrete, littered with people
specks of dust, autumn leaves

leaves flutter downward
with only the air
to cushion their fall

falling in love is a hope for joy
and a promise of pain

pain is what binds us together
what keeps us apart

a part of my joy
is you beside me
when I wake

to wake is to know
eventually you will
sleep, just as birth
carries the weight of death

the dead and the dying
are all, we are one
or the other, life’s angry secret

a secret is a promise
perpetually unfulfilled

a promise is a circle
we are trapped inside

inside this room, behind
this glass, the echoes of sex

sex is a promise
of glass easily
broken

breath upon glass condenses
cold, the world strung out on all sides
from this window, the ground is calling

I call all the time, but you
never answer

the answer to life is
the force of attraction, the pull
of my body to yours

gravity is a promise we will
not lose the ground without finding it
hard, rushing up to greet us

the wind greets me, its thin embrace
solid as stone, as this stone ledge
that holds me up

you are the ground;
I will step out from this window and then
you will have to come back to me

I like the unity, the complete circle within this poem. At first I found the mechanics of your poem, choppy but then the reasoning and rhythm seemed to click and I understood as I continued reading. I find the way you’ve picked up on a single word and carried it forward, interesting and surprising which is great. With the flow of the poem, the ending is unexpected. Well done. Would adding a little aliteration improve it?

###

Promises
By sandspike

My love is retiring
after thirty-two years,
tough love and teaching
not a job a career.
BUT NOW IT'S ASSESSMENTS!
ARM WRESTLING PARENTS!
......she knows it's time.

They'll take her to lunch
pat her on the back.
She'll return and sub
less frequently till...
THERE IS ONLY ONE STUDENT!
I'M HEAD OF THE CLASS!
......an apple won't get it.

What do I give her
when she is everything.
keep the rhythm going
promise what she needs.

BE A BETTER MAN!
BE THE BEST I CAN!

......Lord knows it's time

Oh, I liked this. Probably because I teach and can relate Lol I admit to not much liking the capitals, but the consistence and the way you use them fit with the poem. The rhythm of the first two lines made me jump to the conclusion that there would be rhyming following. I think I would fiddle a little with the punctuation for this poem. i.e. ‘not a job(comma) a career’; ‘They'll take her to lunch(comma)’; ‘till’ should be ‘until’ or ‘ ‘til’; ‘What do I give her when she is everything(question mark)’; ‘keep(Keep) the rhythm going(comma)’; What would the last verse ‘look like’ if it were set out the same as the previous two verses?

###

“Promises”
By Remec

Sacred oaths and vows I swore,
gave way to time and an unanswered heart.
You'll always be the love I adore...
sacred oaths and vows I swore;
healthy or sick, rich or poor;
I thought only death would keep us apart.
Sacred oaths and vows I swore,
gave way to time and an unanswered heart.

I read this three times, letting the words just flow through my mind. On the third reading I understood what you were saying. (I’m a slow learner.) I like how you’ve repeated ‘Sacred oaths and vows I swore’. I wonder if it would read a little easier by separating the couplets (is that the right word?). It is almost too much, too quickly. Would the spacing make a difference? Should the fourth line begin with a capital and end with a comma to keep the consistency with the rest of the poem? I’ve fiddled with the spacing and I can now ‘see’ the lines better.

#
Sacred oaths and vows I swore,
gave way to time and an unanswered heart.

You'll always be the love I adore...
sacred oaths and vows I swore;

healthy or sick, rich or poor;
I thought only death would keep us apart.

Sacred oaths and vows I swore,
gave way to time and an unanswered heart.

#
Sacred oaths and vows I swore,
gave way to time and an unanswered heart.

You'll always be the love I adore...
sacred oaths and vows I swore;
healthy or sick, rich or poor;
I thought only death would keep us apart.

Sacred oaths and vows I swore,
gave way to time and an unanswered heart.

#
Sacred oaths and vows I swore,
gave way to time and an unanswered heart.
You'll always be the love I adore...
sacred oaths and vows I swore;
healthy or sick, rich or poor;
I thought only death would keep us apart.
Sacred oaths and vows I swore,
gave way to time and an unanswered heart.

I don’t know. Maybe it’s me (highly likely) but for some reason it still seems too visually condensed for me.

###

Sonnet to a Whiskey Bottle
by BooMerengue

No promise ever served my needs so well
as this that takes me far away from here
and drops me in a valley made so dear
by mountains blocking all the rings of hell.

Euphoria my guide as I step forth
my beauty turning every head I see
now nought but witty thoughts are spoke by me
and troubles in my life bear weight no more.

The love I feel for Everyman shines out
in waves that emanate to all around
returning joy to me by leaps and bounds
and life is perfect; now there is no doubt.

The only promise ever kept to me
Was bottled by Jack Daniels Brewery!

Man oh man, what on earth can I say about this poem? *taking a deep breath and getting out magnifying glass* I don’t know enough about anything to comment. *gulp* okay the first verse indicates that you have swallowed the contents of a whiskey bottle (borrowing the title too) and landed in Paradise. Second, you walk oblivious to your own shortcomings and Life difficulties. Third, because you feel great, you see the wonder in everything and everyone around you. Fourth, whiskey has promised you this gift of Paradise.

Okay, now I understand a little better. Let’s see if I can comment. Imagery: I like your ‘mountains blocking all the rings of hell’. However this image has me imagining you are in a valley surrounded by high mountains – and the ‘rings of hell’ are on the outside. It gives me a bird’s eye view, rather than a view as if I am in your shadow. The love shining out in waves is clear. Is the word ‘emanate’ necessary when you’ve already said the love shines out in waves? ‘leaps and bounds’ has me thinking. I pictured the love shining out in waves in something akin to ripples after a stone has plopped into water – see the ripples? Perhaps ‘leaps and bounds’ doesn’t quite fit… maybe it should be something to do with ‘rebounding’ like when the water ripples out from the drop zone, then moves out across the pond and bounces back after touching a rock at the water’s edge. Does that make sense at all? ‘leaps and bounds’ makes me think of frogs, not of the water rebounding back as the ‘returning joy’ might. Okay, probably I am barking up the wrong tree. Just a thought. I love the language, the rhythm and sound of your words and your poem has a clear theme. Well done.

###

Promise Me
By Angeline
Promise me
my rollar skates and key,
my blue Schwinn ten-speed
bike. Promise me the lilacs
that we planted by the fence
will bloom, and dogwood
flutter pink in June, that soon
roses will climb again
behind the bench you
painted green.

Promise me
I won't forget how sweet
the Tuesday wash could smell
when cotton tangled damp sheet
giggles hidden in a breeze,
or that I won't forget
when slumber's ease was blanketed
with scent of skin and cigarettes
and Dial soap.

Promise me
because these memories of rain
and root beer nights and Lincoln Logs
are where I've built a promised land
of hope stronger than any word
or deed could ever break,
and in return I promise
you will live forever, cresting
in the wake of every poem.

What is the key for? Car, house? For some reason, I am trying to pick up on an age of the ‘me’ in this poem. Roller skates, key, ten speed, seem to suggest an age, and then the ‘lilacs we planted’ seems to indicate someone older. The more I read, the more I want to know who the ‘you’ is in this poem. Can you enlighten me or am I just really really thick and haven’t seen the obvious? Highly likely the latter! Lol ‘when cotton tangled damp sheet giggles (were) hidden in a breeze,’ What is a ‘Lincoln Log’? I like the images you conjure in your writing. I also like your rhyming and almost-rhyming i.e. bloom, June, soon; sweet, sheet, breeze; I looked for similar in the last verse but couldn’t see any. Perhaps the instigator could be ‘rain’, adding in pain and gain might be possible. Well done.

###

Promises
By Champagne 1982

It seems the universe
was only just begun
when infinity became ours.

Words of forever
were spoken.
And love, always love.
Time counted down
in promises.

Too late, too late.
I cannot make time stand still.
Our hour of eternity
changes meaning
with each promise that we speak.

Yet, I would make
them all again.

Hmm another challenging one for me to comment on because of my lack of skill. Let’s see. I think I would alter the first verse to read something like: ‘It seemed the universe had only just begun…’, the word ‘was’ seems to stick out for me. Also, there doesn’t seem to be a concrete image that I can grip and hold onto. I can almost take hold of ‘time’ but I need the tick or the clock or something else to visualise. Again, I might well be barking up the wrong tree here, my poetry skill is virtually non-existent. I can understand what you are saying, but for some reason my mind craves for more. I see this poem as a great basis that can be built on. A great theme is there, well done on that. I just need the imagery to help me along.

###

 

[sandj]

"Promises"
by Remec


Sacred oaths and vows I swore,
gave way to time and an unanswered heart.
You'll always be the love I adore...
sacred oaths and vows I swore;
healthy or sick, rich or poor;
I thought only death would keep us apart.
Sacred oaths and vows I swore,
gave way to time and an unanswered heart.

Remec,

This poem leaves me wanting more, as though it were unfinished. Maybe I'm just greedy, but what's here I like, and I want more of it. There's sadness and regret and disbelief here, but nothing concrete beyond that; the poem doesn't seem to go anywhere; it sets up an emotional state, but doesn't engage the emotions, which left me as a reader with little to grab onto. I hope I'm not being insensitive, and my apologies if I am. It's just that I honestly believe that, fleshed out and expanded, this could yield something really good. The form, if it is a traditional form, is not one I recognize, but reminds me of a villanelle, and perhaps extending it into a full villanelle would allow you to work through the difficult emotions laid out here.

And, nitpicky little grammar thing, sorry-- You don't need the comma at the end of the first and seventh lines; it separates your subject from your verb.

Thanks for this poem and for your patience with my comments.

 

[Angeline]

<snip>
###

Promise Me
By Angeline
Promise me
my rollar skates and key,
my blue Schwinn ten-speed
bike. Promise me the lilacs
that we planted by the fence
will bloom, and dogwood
flutter pink in June, that soon
roses will climb again
behind the bench you
painted green.

Promise me
I won't forget how sweet
the Tuesday wash could smell
when cotton tangled damp sheet
giggles hidden in a breeze,
or that I won't forget
when slumber's ease was blanketed
with scent of skin and cigarettes
and Dial soap.

Promise me
because these memories of rain
and root beer nights and Lincoln Logs
are where I've built a promised land
of hope stronger than any word
or deed could ever break,
and in return I promise
you will live forever, cresting
in the wake of every poem.

What is the key for? Car, house? For some reason, I am trying to pick up on an age of the ‘me’ in this poem. Roller skates, key, ten speed, seem to suggest an age, and then the ‘lilacs we planted’ seems to indicate someone older. The more I read, the more I want to know who the ‘you’ is in this poem. Can you enlighten me or am I just really really thick and haven’t seen the obvious? Highly likely the latter! Lol ‘when cotton tangled damp sheet giggles (were) hidden in a breeze,’ What is a ‘Lincoln Log’? I like the images you conjure in your writing. I also like your rhyming and almost-rhyming i.e. bloom, June, soon; sweet, sheet, breeze; I looked for similar in the last verse but couldn’t see any. Perhaps the instigator could be ‘rain’, adding in pain and gain might be possible. Well done.

###

<snip>

###

The key was for my roller skates. When I was a kid, I had metal skates that you adjusted to fit the length of your foot and then tightened with a key. Most kids I knew wore the key on a shoelace around the neck cause you had to keep tightening those skates up. (I'm dating myself. No roller blades then.)

The poem really comprises a series of events that happened in my life between the ages of about 6 and 10, roller skating, riding my bike, planting lilac bushes in the backyard with my grandfather and a dogwood in the front with my sister as a Mother's Day gift. All are memories from my childhood in the house where I lived then.

And these are Lincoln logs.

They were my favorite toy. I wasn't too into dolls as you can see. I more more the ride a bike, climb a tree kinda kid.

I thought about working that rhyme in the last verse, but everything I came up with sounded contrived and not really what I wanted to say, so I let the poem go where it wanted.

Thank you for your comment.

 

[wildsweetone]

The key was for my roller skates. When I was a kid, I had metal skates that you adjusted to fit the length of your foot and then tightened with a key. Most kids I knew wore the key on a shoelace around the neck cause you had to keep tightening those skates up. (I'm dating myself. No roller blades then.)

The poem really comprises a series of events that happened in my life between the ages of about 6 and 10, roller skating, riding my bike, planting lilac bushes in the backyard with my grandfather and a dogwood in the front with my sister as a Mother's Day gift. All are memories from my childhood in the house where I lived then.

And these are Lincoln logs.

They were my favorite toy. I wasn't too into dolls as you can see. I more more the ride a bike, climb a tree kinda kid.

I thought about working that rhyme in the last verse, but everything I came up with sounded contrived and not really what I wanted to say, so I let the poem go where it wanted.

Thank you for your comment.

Aah! Thanks so much for the answers to my questions! I played with Tonka trucks and matchbox toys. My dolls tended to end up getting dragged along in the dirt while I played with my brothers' things. lol

I understand better the poem now. Thank you for explaining.

 

[sandj]

Promises
by wildsweetone

Winter’s stark dark emptiness cowers
Under a new blue sky.
Daffodils sway gently in a warm
Eastern breeze.
Young oak leaves
Nourished by night rain
Unfurl,
Stretching in sun-rayed luxury.
A once dormant ivy vine mocks wig and gown
Sending tendrils around and up the solitary, scholarly oak
Curling and gripping crevices. A
Fat bud squats against a rose bush
Gleaning warmth and shelter out from the
Drip-line.
In the leaf litter, a shoot sprouts,
One leaf, two, an oak in miniature!
And beneath the Old Teacher, a mother, with
child suckling swollen breast,
Smiles.

wild,

You demonstrate a real gift for nature imagery, simply beautiful. And I like your use of rhyme, scattered throughout to great effect. The line "Sending tendrils around and up the solitary, scholarly oak" really mimics, as the longest line, a vine stretching and growing and reaching; great image. And it all works together, nature, renewal, life, "miniature oak" and "solitary, scholarly oak" (great phrase, though not sure you need the comma), mini human and regular sized human, nice parallels (somehow I stopped writing in complete sentences, my apologies). Good work! Thanks.

 

[sandj]

Haven't forgotten the rest of the poems, but I'll need to pick them up tomorrow. This is it for me today. Good night.

 

[wildsweetone]

wild,

You demonstrate a real gift for nature imagery, simply beautiful. And I like your use of rhyme, scattered throughout to great effect. The line "Sending tendrils around and up the solitary, scholarly oak" really mimics, as the longest line, a vine stretching and growing and reaching; great image. And it all works together, nature, renewal, life, "miniature oak" and "solitary, scholarly oak" (great phrase, though not sure you need the comma), mini human and regular sized human, nice parallels (somehow I stopped writing in complete sentences, my apologies). Good work! Thanks.

Thanks for taking the time to read my poem and comment, sandj. Much appreciated.

 

[BooMerengue]

Hi Everyone!!

I've got all the poems collected into a document. I'm going to look them over tomorrow and try to get back here tomorrow night! Lots of good work. I love challenges!

 

[Remec]

Hi Everyone!!
I've got all the poems collected into a document. I'm going to look them over tomorrow and try to get back here tomorrow night! Lots of good work. I love challenges!

I had the same plan. Going to do it in just a minute and, hopefully, have comments later this afternoon or else tomorrow morning. Great job, everyone!

 

[sandspike]

The dog ate my.......

Yeah! I'm late for an important date. I have eaten and I'm digesting now.
Will report my findings when the dog dies and the Zantac kicks in, probably
tomorrow.

 

[sandj]

Sonnet to a Whiskey Bottle

No promise ever served my needs so well
as this that takes me far away from here
and drops me in a valley made so dear
by mountains blocking all the rings of hell.

Euphoria my guide as I step forth
my beauty turning every head I see
now nought but witty thoughts are spoke by me
and troubles in my life bear weight no more.

The love I feel for Everyman shines out
in waves that emanate to all around
returning joy to me by leaps and bounds
and life is perfect; now there is no doubt.

The only promise ever kept to me
Was bottled by Jack Daniels Brewery!​

boo,

I like the tongue-in-cheek approach here, especially since the speaker seems to realize the temporary nature of the promise of euphoria offered by the bottle, even if it isn't acknowledged, even if it is actively denied. The diction and syntax seem appropriate, slightly awkward, as though the speaker has already imbibed a good deal and is trying to elevate the language artificially. I'm referring specifically to the semi-classical allusion in "rings of hell" (though perhaps unconscious on the speaker's part, as it just sounds 'profound,' though that's precisely what I'm getting at) and the allegorical "Euphoria my guide" and "Everyman." Also, the line "now nought but witty thoughts are spoke by me," which I like because it does seem so unnatural; I don't think a sober person would actually say this with any delusion that it makes her sound intelligent or "witty," so it seems to convey something about the speaker's state of mind (i.e., blasted, pissed, wasted, tipsey... you get the point). Plus, since the awkward syntax of the line (esp. "spoke by me," which I'm pretty sure violates some grammatical dictum or other) is in service to meter and rhyme, the artificiality of it is highlighted. (Not sure if that made sense, just now. Oh, well.) And then the final couplet (a very witty rhyme, if you don't mind my saying so) ends the poem on a darkly comic note. Yes, it's an absurdly funny concept that a bottle of Jack Daniels could be a promise, but man, what a depressing thought that that could be the "only promise ever kept."


Good work. Thanks.

 

[sandj]

Promise me
my rollar skates and key,
my blue Schwinn ten-speed
bike. Promise me the lilacs
that we planted by the fence
will bloom, and dogwood
flutter pink in June, that soon
roses will climb again
behind the bench you
painted green.

Promise me
I won't forget how sweet
the Tuesday wash could smell
when cotton tangled damp sheet
giggles hidden in a breeze,
or that I won't forget
when slumber's ease was blanketed
with scent of skin and cigarettes
and Dial soap.

Promise me
because these memories of rain
and root beer nights and Lincoln Logs
are where I've built a promised land
of hope stronger than any word
or deed could ever break,
and in return I promise
you will live forever, cresting
in the wake of every poem.

Angeline,

I love the rhythm of this poem. Aided by the scattered rhyme, the words move so fluidly down the poem, with what Elliot calls "the ghost of meter." It seems effortless, which is a mark of success, to make something difficult look easy. I'm not sure I completely accept the idea of memories comprising "a promised land / of hope stronger than any word / or deed could ever break," but that's probably largely to do with differences in temperment. Just because I don't personally have the same capacity doesn't invalidate such an experience. Does that make sense? I guess it's really a question of the function of memory. Memories are vital and do create experiences adjacent to the present. But I'm reluctant to believe that memory can replace the present. However, I'm not entirely surely that these lines make that suggestion (I could easily be misinterpreting them).

Still, there's a very comfortable, comforting feeling in these memories, and in the details you chose: the "blue Schwinn ten-speed," climbing trees, the green bench, the "cotton tangled damp sheet" (what an incredible phrase!), and "root beer nights" which I love, made me want a root beer float in the worst way! And the reciprocal promise I like, too: "cresting / in the wake of every poem." What a great tribute, and a great way to end this poem.

Good work.

 

[sandj]

It seems the universe
was only just begun
when infinity became ours.

Words of forever
were spoken.
And love, always love.
Time counted down
in promises.

Too late, too late.
I cannot make time stand still.
Our hour of eternity
changes meaning
with each promise that we speak.

Yet, I would make
them all again.

champagne,

I must agree with wildsweetone's comment about the word "was" in the second line; seems too passive. And I'm not sure infinity can ever really be possessed. But I really like the idea of "Time counted down / in promises." And how meaning changes "with each promise that we speak." That's right on the mark, so true. As is the conviction in the closing lines that one would make the same promises (and implicitly the same mistakes) all over again. That sense of living without regrets, of understanding that we are who we are precisely because of the choices we have made and the experiences we have had and shared, and that to change any of those would change who we are, just as meaning is changed with repetition and variation, subtly perhaps, but altered nonetheless. Quite a lot in these few lines. I would focus revision on the opening, though really, not much is needed. This is pretty strong already. Good work.

 

[sandj]

closing thoughts

Well, that's the lot of the them. Thank you, wildsweetone, I have really enjoyed this format, getting to read other people's ideas and takes on common themes. You are to be commended.

 

[wildsweetone]

Thanks sandj, but it was Boo's idea and I just loved and got so much out of the first challenge that figured it would be great to carry on.

I have to say, I'm not only learning through writing, but also through critiquing AND through reading the critiques of others. It's an awesome way to improve one's learning and we are so lucky having a place like this in which to learn.

It's neat how we all see different things in other people's writing. I love it!

Well done all of us!

 

[Angeline]

Angeline,

I love the rhythm of this poem. Aided by the scattered rhyme, the words move so fluidly down the poem, with what Elliot calls "the ghost of meter." It seems effortless, which is a mark of success, to make something difficult look easy. I'm not sure I completely accept the idea of memories comprising "a promised land / of hope stronger than any word / or deed could ever break," but that's probably largely to do with differences in temperment. Just because I don't personally have the same capacity doesn't invalidate such an experience. Does that make sense? I guess it's really a question of the function of memory. Memories are vital and do create experiences adjacent to the present. But I'm reluctant to believe that memory can replace the present. However, I'm not entirely surely that these lines make that suggestion (I could easily be misinterpreting them).

Still, there's a very comfortable, comforting feeling in these memories, and in the details you chose: the "blue Schwinn ten-speed," climbing trees, the green bench, the "cotton tangled damp sheet" (what an incredible phrase!), and "root beer nights" which I love, made me want a root beer float in the worst way! And the reciprocal promise I like, too: "cresting / in the wake of every poem." What a great tribute, and a great way to end this poem.

Good work.

Thank you Sandj. I think the promised land part is rather hyperbole in retrospect, lol. I was writing and the phrase came to mind and it just fit so well with the title that I was dying to work it in, but you're right--memory can be affected by word and deed. Makes perfect sense.