Same Title Challenge

[sandspike]

I didn't know simple could be so serious.

I don't rewrite peoples poems, hell I don't even proofread my own. I at least
liked all the poems and have given them grades. Using our 5 pt. scale.

impressive (4) I like it but it ain't simple.

echoes (4.5) Good rhythm and a little rhyme - almost a five

angeline (4.5) I loved the opening lines in the longer verses.

champage (4) I like this, you did well not being old enough to remember
simpler days.

pat c. (4) I like it but ain't simple.

TRENDYREDHEAD (5) You covered this challenge well. If this was a contest
you would win my vote. This is a poem the average
person would love. That is a good thing.

boo (4) "always rode the crest" I love that.

bluerains (4.5) An easy reading poem, I loved the last line.

trent dutch (3.5) Nice but I thought of age and not simpler days.
I think you took less time than I even did so I
docked you .5.

Sandj (4) I loved this poem. I didn't like the "()"s.

wildsweetone (4.5) A real, real, real, good 'simpler days' poem.

sandspike (3.5) This poem I should of sit down and finished.
Maybe I will. (one about the widow)
sandspike (4) It contains the words beer, beach, pizza, Howard's,
Bud, and pickled eggs.

 

[sandspike]

Thank you Ang.

You put a coat and tie on my 'simpler days' about the widow. I felt I left her
too soon. When I started with 'she's got email' I didn't realize the poem would
turn out the way it did. Thanks again.

 

[sandj]

Simpler Days

I have seen enough the blur of days
to know time as gravity sideways.
We plummet horizontal, whizzed toward
tombs like safes to sidewalks. I looked
behind and there they were, flat.

They passed in a rush, the long gone
men of docks and slaughterhouses. I
saw them shiver in tattered coats
and rag-wrapped hands, smoke curling
from coffee and Camels as they firmed
for work. I watched their shoulders shrug
in silence, their eyes betray indifference.
With backs straight and proud they were
propelled to graves. So I have seen

winter’s fast teeth, the grip hoist our lives
on ropes as from dark holds of ships
and hook in chilly lockers on chains
the meat of blossomed pastures. How quick
we hang undone. This arrogance of wires

I have witnessed, how too it conjures faces
and steals love, how it traps tender sound
in copper and spits white breath of frozen
codes typed by numb strangers, icing
those chords that move us to sing. Stone,

speed me in to join the memories I envy,
to slow courage to a visible pace, to rosin
bows and unwrinkle the beauty I remember.
I need another voice, just one, one blessed
brush across my cheek, one holding hand
assuring me that time will stop and share
those gifts if I no longer blink my eyes.

Excellent poem. Everything works together to produce a somber tone, a sad harmony, almost a sustained chord that is quietly, defiantly dying out. Elegiac, in a way.

I like this approach to the past because you acknowledge that the past too was full of hardship and struggle; "the memories I envy" carries not a desire to relive an idealized time of life without the accompanying difficulties and pain, but rather a desire to live up to the examples of the past; not avoiding but confronting. Death is thick in this poem, but it's not a deathwish; it's more wanting to face death "With backs straight and proud."

I agree with Angeline's comment about the repetition of the word "one." It seems unnecessary.

"I need another voice, just one blessed
brush across my cheek, one holding hand"

still has the list quality of a recitation or incantation, and to my ear it rolls more smoothly. The extra "one" breaks the rhythm too much, probably because it's back-to-back ("one, one"), you almost have to stop in between just to process the words. Ange also makes a good point about "my eyes" ("what else do you blink?"). But I get a feeling that the line does need that extra foot, though I'm not sure what else to put there. Still, "to rosin" is the verb, right?

I must echo the judgment of other readers: a highly effective and affecting poem.

 

[sandj]

she's got email and voice mail
so far she can't tell
either helps her with the boys

she longs for a simple time
life with rhythm and rhyme
he was her life and her joy

three years since he past
is she ready at last
her hunger scares her so

she can't love a stranger
theres always the danger
he'll take what he wants and go

on the brink of giving in
going back in time again
his voice, his scent, his ways

thirty good years
now heartache and tears
missing the simpler days

sandspike,

Very touching treatment of the difficulty of loss and letting go. I like the opening; while "she's got email" is, as imp points out, grammatically incorrect, it echoes such a familiar phrase, to change it would detract from that.

I like the rhyme scheme (I'm sure there's probably a technical term to describe it, but it escapes me), but I'm a little distracted by the lack of meter. At first glance, it appears to be an approximation of a form, but the lines do not follow any discernible pattern of syllables or accents. I'm not a stickler for strict adherence to form ("It must be uniform! consistent! straightjacketed!), but it might be good to iron this out a little, establish a pattern, and then pull against it; gives the lines a tensile energy.

As always, take what is helpful and ignore the rest. I noticed a comment that you don't proofread. I'm just the opposite; I revise obsessively. So, you know, I'm probably not the best person to listen to. Good work.

 

[sandj]

Howard's used to be on the right
Jo and I hit opening night
frozen pizza and budweiser
pickled eggs the appetizer

the first bar in a dry county
man that night was something to see
cheese pizza and beer hold the egg
it was bud after bud keg after keg

since that night they moved cross the street
still nuts to butts still feet on feet
over two hundred kinds of beer
I should be grinning ear to ear

But I hit the beach fry my brain
race to Howard's and go insane
too many beers an amber haze
sometimes I miss the simpler days

sandspike,

I really enjoyed this poem. Here, you do have a syllabic pattern, 8 syllables every line, with the exception of "it was bud after bud keg after keg." This is a great departure from the pattern, as it gives a sense of excess, of too much, that really matches the meaning; complementary meaning and rhythm to great effect. (I may have counted wrong and there may be other lines with more than 8 syllables, but I was never good at math anyway). Your rhymes are fun and inventive; I love budweiser/appetizer! The double double entendre of "nuts to butts" is great, too! My vote for cheekiest poem of the lot. And that's meant to be a compliment.

Good work.

 

[sandj]

Simpler Days

When self seeded grasses grew tall and wide, and
seed floating fairies bounced on the breeze;
When athletic green mantis preyed at dawn, and
mumble bees hovered near lavender spikes;
When butterflies trembled around full blown flowers, and
lady bugs landed modelling bright coloured cloaks;
When sparrows bathed, etching dust-filled whirlpools, and
a young girl sat on the grass in the shade,
making daisy chain necklaces for sister in jade;
When time traversed slow and occupations lacked vigour,
life’s Simpler Days flaunted a rose laden vista.

wild,

I enjoy the way you string together these images of natural beauty; it's painterly (not sure if that's actually a word, but there it is). It's nature doing its thing (you know, the more of these reviews I write, the more my diction devolves. I apologize. Let me try that again) ... It's nature operating uninterrupted. And then the human presence floats in without disturbing the overall peace of the images, not an easy thing to pull off. Good work.

Not sure I like "athletic green mantis," but "preyed at dawn" is probably my favorite phrase, so I guess it balances out. And "mumble bees" I like very much. Is that something you came up with, or is that what you call them in ... New Zealand, is it? Either way, it's great. Still, the closing line could use some work. "Flaunted" I like, but "rose laden vista" doesn't work as well as the rest of the images in the poem, and being the last, it should work as well or better. I forget who said it recently somewhere else on the board, but the most important lines of a poem are the first and the last. Just like a Broadway play. Open strong and hook your audience; close strong and they leave happy, forgiving and forgetting any minor slips in between. And taking my own advice, I'll leave it at that.

 

[sandj]

Simpler Days

Boys chasing girls, kickball games in the gym,
Kool-aid and summers spent learning to swim.
Long August nights lit by green fireflies,
The wind in my hair and the stars in my eyes.

Those were simpler days.​

When all of my crushes were felt from afar,
And my wishes came true when I wished on a star.
Prom night, graduation and yearbook goodbyes,
A twenty-first birthday, best friends who were guys.

Those were simpler days.​

When Fridays would end at the dark corner bar,
Cold beer was a salve that could heal any scar.
Pour me straight up tequila with plenty of lime,
And I’d have sex any way, anywhere, anytime.

Those were simpler days.​

A nap in the morning and toys on the floor,
Afternoons in the sandbox and supper at four.
Milky sweet breath and ten pudgy fingers,
The scent of the baby-soft lotion that lingers.

These are simpler days.
Yes, these are simpler days.​

There's a strong sense of contentment here that's very appealing. The steady accents propel the lines along in an easy, comfortable way that seems just right. And I like the refrain, particularly the way it sort of hangs indented at the end of each quatrain, though I suppose since it strings the stanzas together, it might be more accurate for me to say that the stanzas dangle from the refrain like charms on a bracelet. Then again, that might be a dumb thing for me to say; I'm having trouble distinguishing at the moment.

 

[sandj]

Simpler Days

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
it wasn't simpler being young
though to some its so, I guess

a child lost in a crowded house
found it safest being a little mouse
and then cleaning up the mess.

a teen with all the angst inside
who went along just for the ride
not caring what was best

an adult with a child to raise
no child support and little praise
yet she rose above the rest

I'm older now and looking back
at how I once took up the slack
and always rode the crest

the house is empty 'cept for me
most bills are paid; my time is free
with too much time to rest!

Ahead of me, I hope
are simpler days.​

boo,

I see what you mean about starting on the second line, though unfortunately I'm not sure I can offer any suggestions. The form you chose (or maybe the poem chose it, I don't know) seems like it might have been a hindrance rather than a help. So my main suggestion would be to choose a different form or no form. The fifth tercet (counting the opening with the implied first line) is my favorite of the piece. It seems more effortless and natural and sums up the preceeding lines rather nicely, the idea of an aimless past. And you end on a high note, looking forward rather than back, which works well, I think.

 

[wildsweetone]

Okay, here's my thoughts on all your incredible poetry. Please forgive me if I'm barking up the wrong tree, I'm still learning how to read poetry and comment on it. But, maybe something in among these waffling thoughts will be helpful.

~~~
SIMPLER DAYS
By Impressive

In the coarse intercourse of human events
I became unrecognizable
to the wild child –
my sexy savage.

The purity of impurity
burned from my being
for light and transient causes
masquerading as wisdom.
Perhaps too abstract? Use specific imagery?

I stepped willingly,
eagerly,
into a parched landscape
dotted with the absolute tyranny of
expectations – places
unusual, uncomfortable, and distant.
'places' - What places? More specific please.

Decades of patient sufferance
slowly consumed my self
leaving only a charred crust;
crumbling and unstable.

I declare my independence,
now and forever.
I shed this shell
to once again drench my soul
in the dawn rain of simpler days.
Is your 'self' your 'soul'? If your self has been consumed - a specific image in previous verse - then can it be 'drenched' in the last verse? Would it still exist on a purely concrete basis? I like the rhythm and alliteration.


~~~
Simpler days
By echoes

quartets swayed
thrumming blends
of beguiled rhythm
and tap-danced
with throbbing
footfalls in neon
doorways by
dark, closed shops

saxophones wailed
on street corners
burning debris
from pavement
through blazed notes,
spiraling tire screeches
to yearning sweeps
and elegant bows

the moon laughed
with maple trees,
mountain retreat,
autumn leaves,
coating brown,
faded-green grass,
overwhelmed by
kisses of cold

sour cream pancakes
simmered languid
on an old woodstove
fire, her husband
Quebec, her lover
and I a simple
bystander
touched by all this
Good, vivid images. How does 'bows' fit? Probably my ignorance, but I cannot see a connection. Verse 3 the commas are not quite right for pauses. Could be my inept reading. 'kisses of cold' what? What is cold? The poem works together, though I feel the last verse brings me too suddenly inside. How about the scent of the pancakes drawing my attention inside?

~~~

Simpler Days
Angeline

If calendar pages would only quit
their restless bird flight to my oblivion,
I’d hold an infant in my arms again,
no need for imagination to reconstruct
how warm a little face feels
nudged against my skin.

No one would walk away
to independence,
not even me.

If clocks would just untick
the toiling metronome of my age,
I’d never flee to opportune the last
capture of my youth,
no need to discover
how warm my face feels
held lightly in the palms of joy.

I’d stay put, having turned the wheels
back far enough to fill their spokes
with Beatle cards and whistle
my bike down Hamilton Avenue,
left on D’Arcy and again to Hobart,
where simpler days parked
next door to Mrs. Kurtz’s daffodils,
against the brick wall of 528,
and a green bench with a rose trellis
that once whispered
Home.
'against my skin' - is that face, chest or breast? 'walk away', 'to' Can one walk away TO something? 'never flee to opportune the last capture of my youth' this sounds a little wordy (probably because I need basic language to understand). 'face feels' - this phrase is twice in your poem. With 'whistling my bike down' you are not 'stay(ing) put'. I like the imagery you've used.

~~~

Simpler Days?
By Champagne1982

I find it hard to look fondly back
to a nostalgic past. Those days
of zits and braces still howl
through today, fresh
like they were there just yesterday
and the orthodontist reassuring
me about my smile.

The blood and tears of lost
innocence rinsed away, simply
in a pinkened rivulet
across the cold porcelain of the tub.

Like that time in school, when I
didn't know maturity and menses
lay in wait just at the beginning
of science class.
Glad it was the lady
substitute rather than doddering
Mister J. teaching physics
that day.

So, forgive me if I hesitate
to call them simpler days.
The complicated processes
of growing up
haven't gotten any simpler
with the silicon chip
and a cellular phone.
Verse 1, would changing 'and the' to 'with' make the wrong kind of difference? Verse 2, I think delete 'of the', to read 'cold porcelain tub'. I almost wish the silicon chip and the cellular phone related to previous verses. Yes I understand they are modern day 'miracles' lol, but a tiny thread of direct relationship to one of the previous 'difficulties'. I can relate to this poem, as most likely many women can. Good work.

~~~

Simpler Days
By PatCarrington

I have seen enough the blur of days
to know time as gravity sideways.
We plummet horizontal, whizzed toward
tombs like safes to sidewalks. I looked
behind and there they were, flat.

They passed in a rush, the long gone
men of docks and slaughterhouses. I
saw them shiver in tattered coats
and rag-wrapped hands, smoke curling
from coffee and Camels as they firmed
for work. I watched their shoulders shrug
in silence, their eyes betray indifference.
With backs straight and proud they were
propelled to graves. So I have seen

winter’s fast teeth, the grip hoist our lives
on ropes as from dark holds of ships
and hook in chilly lockers on chains
the meat of blossomed pastures. How quick
we hang undone. This arrogance of wires

I have witnessed, how too it conjures faces
and steals love, how it traps tender sound
in copper and spits white breath of frozen
codes typed by numb strangers, icing
those chords that move us to sing. Stone,

speed me in to join the memories I envy,
to slow courage to a visible pace, to rosin
bows and unwrinkle the beauty I remember.
I need another voice, just one, one blessed
brush across my cheek, one holding hand
assuring me that time will stop and share
those gifts if I no longer blink my eyes.
'plummet' is to fall straight down, for me it doesn't quite work with 'horizontal'. 'coats, 'curling', coffee and Camels' great alliteration in several places. 'firmed', then 'shrug' and 'indifference', doesn't seem to go together, then they are 'proud' again. Too many different emotions too close together, perhaps? Does 'stone' relate to 'grave'? How does it relate to 'rosin bows'?

~~~
Simpler Days
By sandspike

she's got email and voice mail
so far she can't tell
either helps her with the boys

she longs for a simple time
life with rhythm and rhyme
he was her life and her joy

three years since he past
is she ready at last
her hunger scares her so

she can't love a stranger
theres always the danger
he'll take what he wants and go

on the brink of giving in
going back in time again
his voice, his scent, his ways

thirty good years
now heartache and tears
missing the simpler days
'mail' and 'tell' doesn't rhyme for me - that could be our accent differences, good rhyme otherwise. Verse 3, 'past', should that be 'passed'? Verse 4 'theres', should that be 'there's'? I like the simple, clear language you've used.

~~~
simpler days
by sandspike

Howard's used to be on the right
Jo and I hit opening night
frozen pizza and budweiser
pickled eggs the appetizer

the first bar in a dry county
man that night was something to see
cheese pizza and beer hold the egg
it was bud after bud keg after keg

since that night they moved cross the street
still nuts to butts still feet on feet
over two hundred kinds of beer
I should be grinning ear to ear

But I hit the beach fry my brain
race to Howard's and go insane
too many beers an amber haze
sometimes I miss the simpler days
'budweiser' should be 'Budweiser', it's a tradename. Verse 3 'cross', should that be 'across' or ' 'cross'? Good poem, good rhyme and rhythm, easy images to picture. Punctuation would help me with reading, i.e. commas.

~~~

Simpler Days
By trendyredhead

Boys chasing girls, kickball games in the gym,
Kool-aid and summers spent learning to swim.
Long August nights lit by green fireflies,
The wind in my hair and the stars in my eyes.
Those were simpler days.

When all of my crushes were felt from afar,
And my wishes came true when I wished on a star.
Prom night, graduation and yearbook goodbyes,
A twenty-first birthday, best friends who were guys.
Those were simpler days.

When Fridays would end at the dark corner bar,
Cold beer was a salve that could heal any scar.
Pour me straight up tequila with plenty of lime,
And I’d have sex any way, anywhere, anytime.
Those were simpler days.

A nap in the morning and toys on the floor,
Afternoons in the sandbox and supper at four.
Milky sweet breath and ten pudgy fingers,
The scent of the baby-soft lotion that lingers.
These are simpler days.
Yes, these are simpler days.
This poem gave me trouble. Everything within it seems just right. So, suggestions for improvement are difficult. How about... what would happen if you added more involvement with the senses?

~~~

Simpler Days
by Boomerengue

it wasn't simpler being young
though to some its so, I guess

a child lost in a crowded house
found it safest being a little mouse
and then cleaning up the mess.

a teen with all the angst inside
who went along just for the ride
not caring what was best

an adult with a child to raise
no child support and little praise
yet she rose above the rest

I'm older now and looking back
at how I once took up the slack
and always rode the crest

the house is empty 'cept for me
most bills are paid; my time is free
with too much time to rest!

Ahead of me, I hope
are simpler days.
L2 'its', should that be 'it's'? Verse 2 'safest' is perhaps a comparison, so should 'and then' be changed to 'than'? Overall I liked this one but found that the third lines seemed to be an abrupt ending to the flow of my reading - again my own ineptitude I think.

~~~

By bluerains
Cobwebs swept from
sepia tinged snapshots
wrapped in yesterdays hues.

Flashbacks rethread
each simple day,
while maintaining the
insanity of a now complicated
world infused with mindless
distractions.

Memory carved out pieces of you
and me and passions of the heart
now only traced vapor trails and
wall papered mind moods
in watercolored transfusions.

For a moment ,I sigh floating
on clouds of vanilla skies
musing each singular season.

Drifting along intersections
cavorting upon time’s impermanence ,
an array of simple memories
take root in currents of today.
'sepia tinged snapshots' is a good image but is it being repetitive to include 'yesterday's hues'? Verse 2, I'd like to know what 'distractions' exactly. Verse 3, is 'pieces of you' a cliche? I like the sense of wholeness about this poem.

~~~

Simpler Days (A Haiku).
By Trent_Dutch

When I was Younger,
Never did I miss sunset,
Wake now at sunrise.
I like this Haiku and its implications of how age changes us. I like the first two lines, though should the second comma be a fullstop? The third line seems just a little stark, and doesn't quite 'feel' right... without rewriting I wonder if something like 'awaken at dawn' or 'awake now at dawn' or something... not sure. I think it's the word 'Wake' coming after a comma that makes me feel it's not quite flowing.

~~~

Simpler Days
By sandj

Whatever happened to simpler days,
when the lines were clear and you didn’t
cross them; when a man was a man and a woman
was not; when yes meant yes and no meant
nothing; when “us” and “them”
was something to rely on (and there was only US
and them); when you could tell the difference
between white and black (two-fifths, apparently);
when a man knew his worth and the world
was small enough that you knew where you stood.

There were trees then, enough to fill a forest
or a lumberyard, and our days were numbered
endless as the sky (because we were too busy dying
to count or look up).
Easy to read, would different line breaks make it even better? Interesting how I'm drawn to what is NOT said... it begged me to re-read several times. The phrases sound a little chiche-y, but they work because they slot together and are enhanced with the last verse.

~~~

Overall, I have to say this has been an interesting, worthwhile and challenging project. I love how we are all being helpful and how the reciprocal feedback idea works. Excellent idea, Boo! , and let's do it again!

 

[bluerains]

hope you don't mind sandspike

I borrowed your format...it seemed a simpler way to comment....as I am not great at really critical eye..this is the best I can offer....



impressive 4.5 because it would be a poem I would like to write...
the rebel against the sheep world...

echoes 4.5 for neon doorways luv that phrase...

angeline 5 just because I wanted to write about a past simple moment in detail and it was to lengthly and she was able to do it in fewer words...great..job....



boo 5.. because I liked the experience of the verse and its flow....

trent dutch 5 Loved the idea but I, too thought of age...






sandspike 4.5 for rhyme and rhythm...but I had a little problem with the timeline of this one....was the email present with boys and the thirty years. but I liked the flow...
*

 

[sandj]

Cobwebs swept from
sepia tinged snapshots
wrapped in yesterdays hues.

Flashbacks rethread
each simple day,
while maintaining the
insanity of a now complicated
world infused with mindless
distractions.

Memory carved out pieces of you
and me and passions of the heart
now only traced vapor trails and
wall papered mind moods
in watercolored transfusions.

For a moment ,I sigh floating
on clouds of vanilla skies
musing each singular season.

Drifting along intersections
cavorting upon time’s impermanence ,
an array of simple memories
take root in currents of today.

blue,

I love looking through old photographs (even when I don't recognize the people in them), so your opening connects with me. My favorite line is "Memory carved out pieces of you and me" (memory really is a patchwork at times, isn't it?), but the following lines leave me confused. A bit of punctuation might clarify things. What is doing the tracing? Is it memory? or passions? or something else altogether? And I like the idea of memories taking root that you close with. I think I read somewhere (though my memory's not so good) that each time we remember something, it creates a whole new brain wrinkle, so that the memory is created new each time. Not like rewinding and rewatching a video, but watching a new video each time, if that makes sense. The point being that memories do "take root." They are actively created all the time rather than sitting statically in a box in the back of our minds until we decide to dust them off. However, "take root in currents of today" seems like a mixed metaphor. Taking root is a plant metaphor, but a current brings to mind a river (or possibly electricity, but for me it was a river) and plants can't take root in rivers. Anyway, did I mention that I revise obsessively? Don't mind me.

 

[Angeline]

Okay, here's my thoughts on all your incredible poetry. Please forgive me if I'm barking up the wrong tree, I'm still learning how to read poetry and comment on it. But, maybe something in among these waffling thoughts will be helpful.

<snip>
Simpler Days
Angeline

If calendar pages would only quit
their restless bird flight to my oblivion,
I’d hold an infant in my arms again,
no need for imagination to reconstruct
how warm a little face feels
nudged against my skin.

No one would walk away
to independence,
not even me.

If clocks would just untick
the toiling metronome of my age,
I’d never flee to opportune the last
capture of my youth,
no need to discover
how warm my face feels
held lightly in the palms of joy.

I’d stay put, having turned the wheels
back far enough to fill their spokes
with Beatle cards and whistle
my bike down Hamilton Avenue,
left on D’Arcy and again to Hobart,
where simpler days parked
next door to Mrs. Kurtz’s daffodils,
against the brick wall of 528,
and a green bench with a rose trellis
that once whispered
Home.
'against my skin' - is that face, chest or breast? 'walk away', 'to' Can one walk away TO something? 'never flee to opportune the last capture of my youth' this sounds a little wordy (probably because I need basic language to understand). 'face feels' - this phrase is twice in your poem. With 'whistling my bike down' you are not 'stay(ing) put'. I like the imagery you've used.

<snip>
[/B]

Will you be my editor?

Thank you so much. Wonderful review and suggestions.

 

[sandj]

Simpler Days (A Haiku).

When I was Younger,
Never did I miss sunset,
Wake now at sunrise.

Trent,

This is a well written haiku; it conveys an incredible amount of wisdom and experience in just a few short lines. I don't know that I have anything new to add, so I'll just second some other's comments. No need to capitalize "younger;" probably just a typo, no problem. A full stop after "sunset" would be more appropriate.
Concise and effective. Good work.

 

[Angeline]

Simpler Days

When self seeded grasses grew tall and wide, and
seed floating fairies bounced on the breeze;
When athletic green mantis preyed at dawn, and
mumble bees hovered near lavender spikes;
When butterflies trembled around full blown flowers, and
lady bugs landed modelling bright coloured cloaks;
When sparrows bathed, etching dust-filled whirlpools, and
a young girl sat on the grass in the shade,
making daisy chain necklaces for sister in jade;
When time traversed slow and occupations lacked vigour,
life’s Simpler Days flaunted a rose laden vista.

Am I allowed to have a favorite? This one is it because as sandj pointed out, it's so musical and full of beautiful imagery. It reminds me of lyric poetry and of Yeats.

I have a few editorial suggestions, plus I'd shift it around a bit, maybe like this:

When self-seeded grasses grew tall and wide,
and seed-floating fairies bounced on the breeze;
when athletic green mantis mantises? manti? preyed at dawn,
and mumble bees hovered near lavender spikes;
when butterflies trembled around full-blown flowers, and
ladybugs opened their bright-coloured cloaks;
when sparrows bathed, etching dust-filled whirlpools,
and a young girl sat on the grass in the shade,
making daisy-chain necklaces for sister in jade;
when time traversed slow and occupations lacked vigour,
life’s simpler days flaunted a rose-laden vista.

I'm not sure if the hyphenation would be required on your side of the globe--I went by American conventions, so they may not apply here.

 

[bluerains]

Simpler Days

Whatever happened to simpler days,
when the lines were clear and you didn’t
cross them; when a man was a man and a woman
was not; when yes meant yes and no meant
nothing; when “us” and “them”
was something to rely on (and there was only US
and them); when you could tell the difference
between white and black (two-fifths, apparently);
when a man knew his worth and the world
was small enough that you knew where you stood.


just read this and it reads as more of a short essay but I liked the view...as to the distractions..they are the many things going on around us as weather ,,,bush....omg...
and the meaningless mind boggling crap we are powerless to do anything about...enuff said...thanks so much for the comment...peace/blue

 

[Angeline]

Simpler Days

Boys chasing girls, kickball games in the gym,
Kool-aid and summers spent learning to swim.
Long August nights lit by green fireflies,
The wind in my hair and the stars in my eyes.

Those were simpler days.​

When all of my crushes were felt from afar,
And my wishes came true when I wished on a star.
Prom night, graduation and yearbook goodbyes,
A twenty-first birthday, best friends who were guys.

Those were simpler days.​

When Fridays would end at the dark corner bar,
Cold beer was a salve that could heal any scar.
Pour me straight up tequila with plenty of lime,
And I’d have sex any way, anywhere, anytime.

Those were simpler days.​

A nap in the morning and toys on the floor,
Afternoons in the sandbox and supper at four.
Milky sweet breath and ten pudgy fingers,
The scent of the baby-soft lotion that lingers.

These are simpler days.
Yes, these are simpler days.​

This is excellent. The simple AB rhyme scheme and the way the poem builds from childhood to motherhood as well as the refrain all work together beautifully.

I have a thing about poems not capping the start of each line when it's the middle of the sentence, but I know it's a preference, not a rule. Anyway, it works fine in a poem that is more formally structured.

 

[bluerains]

I thought this was quite an easy read as well..and nectar of yesteryear in those sweet times ...we shall never get back...all in all I enjoyed the flow and the verse was
pleasing....blue

Simpler Days

Boys chasing girls, kickball games in the gym,
Kool-aid and summers spent learning to swim.
Long August nights lit by green fireflies,
The wind in my hair and the stars in my eyes.

Those were simpler days.​

When all of my crushes were felt from afar,
And my wishes came true when I wished on a star.
Prom night, graduation and yearbook goodbyes,
A twenty-first birthday, best friends who were guys.

Those were simpler days.​

When Fridays would end at the dark corner bar,
Cold beer was a salve that could heal any scar.
Pour me straight up tequila with plenty of lime,
And I’d have sex any way, anywhere, anytime.

Those were simpler days.​

A nap in the morning and toys on the floor,
Afternoons in the sandbox and supper at four.
Milky sweet breath and ten pudgy fingers,
The scent of the baby-soft lotion that lingers.

These are simpler days.
Yes, these are simpler days.​

 

[Angeline]

Here is my pathetic offering, and I want to apologize. I just could not get my mind around it.

Simpler Days

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
it wasn't simpler being young
though to some its so, I guess

a child lost in a crowded house
found it safest being a little mouse
and then cleaning up the mess.

a teen with all the angst inside
who went along just for the ride
not caring what was best

an adult with a child to raise
no child support and little praise
yet she rose above the rest

I'm older now and looking back
at how I once took up the slack
and always rode the crest

the house is empty 'cept for me
most bills are paid; my time is free
with too much time to rest!

Ahead of me, I hope
are simpler days.​

Mea culpa, Mea culpa, Mea maxima culpa

Ok, so it needs a little work. Most poems do, right? This section:

a child lost in a crowded house
found it safest being a little mouse
and then cleaning up the mess.

is my favorite, simply stated, honest and moving. And you've sustained that across much of the poem. I think the main thing you might consider revising is that the poem seems to be trying to go in two directions--is it a moving or a lighthearted remembrance? I like moving well cause I always like that better, lol.

And whether you do any editing or not, you nailed it on this challenge my friend. Look at the poems it elicited.

 

[Angeline]

had a little time to work on this...not sure if complete .liked your Idea....bluerain
*


Cobwebs swept from
sepia tinged snapshots
wrapped in yesterdays hues.

Flashbacks rethread
each simple day,
while maintaining the
insanity of a now complicated
world infused with mindless
distractions.

Memory carved out pieces of you
and me and passions of the heart
now only traced vapor trails and
wall papered mind moods
in watercolored transfusions.

For a moment ,I sigh floating
on clouds of vanilla skies
musing each singular season.

Drifting along intersections
cavorting upon time’s impermanence ,
an array of simple memories
take root in currents of today.

Another lovely write. The images in this are just gorgeous, blue. I am in love with "vanilla skies." I can see it and mmmm the scent.

I'd lightly edit, maybe like this:


Cobwebs swept from
sepia tinged snapshots
wrapped in yesterday's hues.

Flashbacks rethread you could just say "thread" here, imo--sounds better and "Flashbacks" already implies recall
each simple day,[just my opinion, but I think if you ended this section on "day" the poem would flow better
while maintaining the
insanity of a now complicated
world infused with mindless
distractions.

Memory carved out pieces of you
and me. Passions of the heart,
just traced vapor trails,
wall-papered mind moods,
watercolors transfused.

For a moment I sigh, float
on clouds of vanilla skies,
musing each singular season.

Drifting along intersections,
cavorting upon time’s impermanence,
an array of simple memories
take root in currents today.

 

[champagne1982]

Hi echoes, I'm so glad you rescued this from the trash! My ideas and thoughts are in bold. Please feel free to accept or reject any comments I may make, since this is merely my opinion and I'm often off the mark. This is a very telling set of images from --
Simpler days

quartets swayed
thrumming blends
of beguiled rhythm
and tap-danced
with throbbing
footfalls in neon
doorways by
dark, closed shops

saxophones wailed
on street corners
burning debris
from pavement
through blazed notes,
spiraling tire screeches
to yearning sweeps
and elegant bows

I enjoy the contrast/division of the urban vs. rural settings in this poem and the gentle way you draw us through them. It's like I'm out moving through it all. Maybe just adding a bit more punctuation or removing what you have would clear up any preconceptions I have about reading this. It may go more smoothly if you made your verses longer by combining some lines, taking it from short, sometimes choppy to maybe a little longer, more breathlessly-ending line.
For example:
saxophones wailed on street corners
burning debris from pavement
through blazed notes,
spiraling tire screeches
to yearning sweeps and elegant bows

the moon laughed
with maple trees,
mountain retreat,
autumn leaves,
coating brown,
faded-green grass,
overwhelmed by
kisses of cold

sour cream pancakes
simmered languid
on an old woodstove
fire, her husband
Quebec, her lover
and I a simple
bystander
touched by all this

Such beautiful visions and scent memories are awakened by these lines. Thankyou.

 

[Angeline]

Wow... you all wrote so much. I saw the topic a week or so ago, and as my innocent and quickly dissapearing youth and my newfound responsibilities are an ever present thought in my head I bashed out this little haiku. Hope you like it. BTW, wasn't this meant to be posted last Sunday (6th)?

Simpler Days (A Haiku).

When I was Younger,
Never did I miss sunset,
Wake now at sunrise.

Hi Trent.

I like it, but I don't know why "Younger" is capped.

And I know zip about haiku. I just like it.

 

[wildsweetone]

Comments for me...

Thank you so much to those so far who have written feedback for me. Your comments are very much appreciated.

Impressive
Would you ever have guessed that one of my rewrites actually took the form of couplets? lol I might well end up with it the same again.

sandspike
Thank you, I am glad you enjoyed my poem.

sanj
We call them 'bumble bees' here, but they wander through my garden mumbling so it seemed very apt. I agree with you on my last line. I couldn't figure out a better one in the time we had, I know full well it was not right but I think Angeline has some thoughts that may help in her comments about it. Thank you for taking the time to comment sanj.

Angeline
Now that I'm in a full-time blush, lol thank you from my heart for your comments. I had thought about manti, but hadn't gotten around to actually trying it out. Your idea for the lady bug's outfit works perfect as does your suggestion for the last line. Thank you for those. We do have hyphenated words here in NZ but I hadn't even thought to use them. I have been spending a little time playing with an odd use of hyphens and forgot completely about their general use, so thank you for the reminder.



~~~

Each constructive criticism not only gives me an interesting perspective but it helps to make me think harder and to improve my writing.

Again, thanks Boo, You Wonderful Woman You, for creating this idea. It's paying off Big Time.

 

[sandspike]

wildsweetone called me sandspit

I'm going to drop her poem to a 4.0 and an only real good simpler poem.

 

[wildsweetone]

Oh good grief! I am very sorry sandspike!

Going to edit it right now!

*hiding in complete shame*

 

[flyguy69]

Oh good grief! I am very sorry sandspike!

Going to edit it right now!

*hiding in complete shame*

That's probably the worst thing spike has ever been called!