Sleeping on the Wing Challenge: Wallace Stevens (1879-1955)

[twelveoone]

Devastation of Having Tea

Standing on the outside
between every corner, sneering
at those on the inside
are the espresso stand snobs.
They are not ordering
double hazelnut mochas,
no triple French vanilla lattes.
There are no decafs and half-cafs
with half-n-half. No carmel machiatos,
wet cappuccinos with extra foam.
Goodness no, Americanos served
or frappuccinos with whip,
no whip. No hot cocoa, not so on
a whole lotta chocolaty sprinkles.
Those snobs are not drinking
coffee, flirting with baristas.
They don't buzz on caffeine or stay
wide-awake in early morning dead-lands.

Sonically it rocks. I like what you do with the L sound leading into caf caf haf haf, car chi cap, the no's echoed by the os
triple French vanilla lattes.
There are no decafs and half-cafs
with half-n-half. No carmel machiatos,
wet cappuccinos

The whole middle part just chuggs (I mean really chuggs) along to a nice relief of an ending.

As it fits into the exercise, I don't know.

 

[twelveoone]

Just because I liked the title...


Shoegazing

Sturdy lace pulled thru
this way, that way,
zig zag strangulation
cutting off all
circulation.
Wriggle toes and flex
an ankle, let your
skin breathe. Then
tie a knot and take
that first step.


*

We all walk an inch
off the ground.
Only a few actually
levitate.

*

You can tell a man's sin
by his soles. Superbia is worn
at the toes, poised for charge.
Avaritia grinds heels
into the ground, traction
to pull wants closer.
Gula is a sole never worn
before replaced and piled.

*

Silent wish from a shoebox:
Take me out, pick me up
fill me, fullfill me,
take me dancing.


*

Chaplin gorged on leather
shaped liquorice. Things
were easier in monochrome,
when smoke and mirrors
were indeed smoke
and mirrors
and sweet liquorice
shoes.


*

Doug choose shoes.
Doug's dog chews
shoes Doug choose.
Dog: "Shoe, Doug?"
Doug: "Shoo, dog!"
Shoo dog, shoo.

would that Stevens was so lite hearted, this is good mix, even ones good releif, 5 and 6 a little twisty. One starts out on the right foot, stumbles a little and is left with a pun. As an organization superb.

 

[twelveoone]

I.
One face ever present,
accompanies us all
through the wax and wane
of our mortal lives.

II.
Once, I was a clock. Numbers
arranged on my uneven face.
I am six o’clock, standing
awaiting seven’s stride.

III.
Nine-fifteen once ushered in
Red-face and squalling, a sister
And morning and night became
blood ties, siblings forever.

IV.
Midnight and noon are solemn
hands clasped in prayer.

V.
One day in September, time stood still
as good people fell to earth
their only escape
from towers of fire.

VI.
Seasons have no hands
but the hands of God.
I till the earth and wait
for blossoms; their fruit
and joy are jewels
that only time may bear.

I.Never do wax and wane with a straight face.
II. you may consider moving to I.
III. I like, but am reading it as a sister and morning and night this is would step away from Stevens and go to Dickenson dashes
IV. OK consider why solemn
V. Same with good, they are values you are imposing, I don't think they are needed
VI is a good ender

I like this (except for wax and wane) these are merely things to consider.

 

[twelveoone]

The ladies will never ever dance
in the puddling laking streets
no splishy splashing
stomping wellie deep
Their rainbow brollies
flashing at the thunder clouds
amassing.
No tarradiddle ha de ha
homespun pleasures
without crumpets dripping butter
waiting where no log fire blooms.

I don't fully subscribe to the no -ing dictum, but you are useing it too much, having no problems with crumpets dripping butter, although you might want to rephrase.

stomping wellie deep
Their rainbow brollies

well I like those lines, points out to Angeline "rainbow"

I missed the whole discussion on tarradiddle, but you might want to consider paradiddle for the P to compliment homeSpun Pleasures.

Just considerations, this was a great fun piece, sonically nice, if a little cheapened by too many inging.

 

[twelveoone]

The 2nd Door is closed.
The stage is empty. No
gut-bucket blues to wake
the dead, no red skirts flare,
no black ties care, no thigh
to shy from share. No one
is aware where ghosts don't
lean insoucience in freedom
from the blue-eyed stare
gives nothing up to keys
that bell or horns that bask
in midnight's blare, Goodnight
sweet ladies and your juketown
swains who wake the sidewalk
passing knit together by
the empty window, broken chair.

Interesting use of No as an end line.
You may have overdone the use of rhyme by the time you arrive at - it does begin to blare.
wake is used twice, once in an intersting way "swains who wake the sidewalk", the other is a toss away. I'm confused about no thigh
to shy from share. but being not as good with English...The ending may just be a little to stock and easy.

Again, mere considerations, what did you have a week? May be more of an indication of the futulity of the excersise going up against a monster like Stevens, than lack of talent on your part.

Now the good parts:
blue-eyed stare
gives nothing up to keys
that bell or horns that bask
in midnight's blare
I like what you did with the B's here, a tight triad, with a blue as a distant lead finishing with blare

These two lines, you know what you did, but for the readers:
sweet ladies and your juketown
swains who wake the sidewalk
sweet-swain; juke-wake-walk, the s of swain-sidewalk, the w of who wake the walk


That's talent, to do a walkthough and come up with something that good. Very few people can do that. Of course very few people would notice it on a conscious level. Even better. Rybka (bless his soul) would have been too obvious.

and some people say I'm such a prick, sigh

 

[twelveoone]

Misapprehension Of LaLeche

Sports bra clad slimness
behind jogger borne progeny
no jiggle, wiggle
impossible when so tight
held high on mammalian
breast, suckled
nose buried in lactic
salaciousness squirted
on voracious baby
yum-yum slurple
vibrating on spin wheels
while Mommy gets fit.

One question on your two poems. Which do you think is better? Why?

 

[Angeline]

Interesting use of No as an end line.
You may have overdone the use of rhyme by the time you arrive at - it does begin to blare.
wake is used twice, once in an intersting way "swains who wake the sidewalk", the other is a toss away. I'm confused about no thigh
to shy from share. but being not as good with English...The ending may just be a little to stock and easy.

Again, mere considerations, what did you have a week? May be more of an indication of the futulity of the excersise going up against a monster like Stevens, than lack of talent on your part.

Now the good parts:
blue-eyed stare
gives nothing up to keys
that bell or horns that bask
in midnight's blare
I like what you did with the B's here, a tight triad, with a blue as a distant lead finishing with blare

These two lines, you know what you did, but for the readers:
sweet ladies and your juketown
swains who wake the sidewalk
sweet-swain; juke-wake-walk, the s of swain-sidewalk, the w of who wake the walk


That's talent, to do a walkthough and come up with something that good. Very few people can do that. Of course very few people would notice it on a conscious level. Even better. Rybka (bless his soul) would have been too obvious.

and some people say I'm such a prick, sigh

Thanks, you. I love it when I get a review here. That's a rare thing for me these days.

I agree with you about too much blare. I've been tinkering with it and thinking the rhyme goes a little over the top, too. and there are a few lines I'm not making the most of. I'm making some changes here:

the dead, no red skirts flare,
no black ties care, no thigh
to shy from share. No one
is aware where ghosts don't
lean insoucience in freedom
from the blue-eyed stare
gives nothing up to keys
that bell or horns that bask
in midnight's blare,

 

[champagne1982]

One question on your two poems. Which do you think is better? Why?

Why do I get all the hard questions, devil-man?

Nine Pianos is a solid poem but needs tinkering, so I think I've done better with the Misapprehension Of LaLeche, simply because I think I'm successful in my sly innuendoes and I think I fulfilled the spirit of the exercise. Consider moving through the mundane (yes, jogging mommies are common sights here, on fair days) into the slightly forbidden and nonsense comment on sex and parenthood and suburbia.

Besides, my misapprehension about breast-feeding sits there inside the poem as much as it does within the title.

 

[champagne1982]

Why are a child's tears so beautiful
seeming to chime with every drip
off cheek and chin
the tinkling of their tremble
gilding spiky lashes
with crystalline rainbows?
Perhaps it is the child's skin
smooth and poreless
the peerless clarity of which
provides the slate
that tears are writ upon,
each drop a note.
I am in awe of this child's tears
I cannot tell her do not cry
do not miss your mother's arms
do not tear me with your music.
And so I watch her weep
gathering up her salty sorrows
committing them to the well,
the deep and beautiful well,
of children's tears.

Hi KR, thanks for gracing us with this poem. I'm sorry I didn't get an opportunity to pay it any attention before the thread came unstuck. Hopefully, you'll try another exercise with us since this is a really fine answer to the challenge.

You've captured the image of the tear on baby cheeks so well that when you talk of peerless clarity I almost feel as if you refer to the words rather than the gorgeous skin and pure teardrop. You've picked a sad theme but one encased in music and a promise of hope when you speak of passing sorrows into the well of excellent word play and evocative phrasing.

Delightful, and thanks for sharing.

 

[twelveoone]

Why do I get all the hard questions, devil-man?

Nine Pianos is a solid poem but needs tinkering, so I think I've done better with the Misapprehension Of LaLeche, simply because I think I'm successful in my sly innuendoes and I think I fulfilled the spirit of the exercise. Consider moving through the mundane (yes, jogging mommies are common sights here, on fair days) into the slightly forbidden and nonsense comment on sex and parenthood and suburbia.

Besides, my misapprehension about breast-feeding sits there inside the poem as much as it does within the title.

just seeing if we agree

 

[twelveoone]

Thanks, you. I love it when I get a review here. That's a rare thing for me these days.

I agree with you about too much blare. I've been tinkering with it and thinking the rhyme goes a little over the top, too. and there are a few lines I'm not making the most of. I'm making some changes here:

the dead, no red skirts flare,
no black ties care, no thigh
to shy from share. No one
is aware where ghosts don't
lean insoucience in freedom
from the blue-eyed stare
gives nothing up to keys
that bell or horns that bask
in midnight's blare,

a pall of fear?

now this word insoucience does it fit the tenor of the poem?

 

[champagne1982]

just seeing if we agree

And do we? Agree, I mean.

 

[Angeline]

a pall of fear?

now this word insoucience does it fit the tenor of the poem?

I don't know. It fits the tenor of the ghosts I was channeling though. My current edited version is at Writers Cafe. But it's not the final copy.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Yeah. Late.

Nine Coyotes

1.
Not dog
in your headlights,
my green eyes
say something simpler:
eat, be eaten.
You do not know me
but I know you.

2.
Stand in a dark field at sunset
when the west is red
behind one black tree.
Hold a red egg in your palm
take three steps
and throw it, hard
as you can.
Five coyotes will run
in a perfect silhouette
along the horizon.
Red. Black.
These are the only two colors.

3.
Outside the lonely islands
of the farm lights
we circle
in the sparkling black
in the whisper of corn
slick dark fish
we flash and mock
the dogs of the phosphor yellow
They shout
but we sing.

4.
I tempt you to go
backwards. My crazy curses
wake the back of your neck
You hear me with your shoulders
You hear me with your whole spine.

5.
As a stone
defies a plough
so I defy your offerings
of tame comfort.
I steal without looking back
gleeful, unrepentant
and angelic.

6.
Sometimes there are berries
and there are mice among them.
Slide paws forward
underneath the thorns
to pounce.
Scatter birds
and bones.

7.
Follow my voice
round the hill nine times
and you can turn yourself
inside out, as I do.
Learn to sing
in a spiral
and you'll find me.

8.
When one is too hungry
to catch mice
there are fallen apples
and slow moles to dig.
It is provided.

9.
We worry the Winter
with cold teeth
and mock the January Moon.
Thin,
we will come through
and run the Spring raw.

 

[twelveoone]

And do we? Agree, I mean.

Do you care? Why should you? Isn't what Ange said good enough?

Send this off somewhere for publication! And be quick about it!

ah mon cher if i was an editor i would shot it down, too derivative. i would instead tell you to focus on some of the parts II is a good riff, III and V look like something could develop if joined.

Ah but what the hell do I know - seems to be the zeitgeist of this place.

 

[champagne1982]

Do you care? Why should you? Isn't what Ange said good enough?



ah mon cher if i was an editor i would shot it down, too derivative. i would instead tell you to focus on some of the parts II is a good riff, III and V look like something could develop if joined.

Ah but what the hell do I know - seems to be the zeitgeist of this place.

First I must remind you that you're not Ange and in that happy coincidence, you have an infinitely different experience to draw on. Second, Ange was commenting on Nine Pianos and not A Misapprehension Of LaLeche so therefore, I'm left wondering, still, if we agree.

Since you make me explain my answers, I'll put you on the same spot. Where is your justification for thinking one of my poops may be better than another?

 

[twelveoone]

First I must remind you that you're not Ange and in that happy coincidence, you have an infinitely different experience to draw on. Second, Ange was commenting on Nine Pianos and not A Misapprehension Of LaLeche so therefore, I'm left wondering, still, if we agree.

Since you make me explain my answers, I'll put you on the same spot. Where is your justification for thinking one of my poops may be better than another?

Ha,Ha,Ha

you first, Champ

Both you and the nice one, have left a grand total of two comments apiece on something like 50 things (poems, so-called poems) I posted here. Both of you should count how many comments I left (and some on them good, eh?) You seem to remember one, perhaps forgetting one when I weighed in on your side (and Ange's) on a question of redundancy vs reinforcement. Wake up babe, why do you think I am being tough?

Here is the answer, because you are showing talent, drive and independence. Would you prefer I just kissed your ass? You are fast arriving I feel. I grant you I am not the best reader of yours, but I am a pretty good failure analysis person, but I cannot be better than you with your own material, if you and I said this years ago, justify every word, every relationship with the words you use. It is superb when you have done so.

Now I question the premise of this exercise, even though it is a damn sight better than the countless lame threads generated by...never mind. I also question as to why it is stickied and the timing of such.

Doesn't quite strike me as fair dinkum

 

[Angeline]

Ha,Ha,Ha

you first, Champ

Both you and the nice one, have left a grand total of two comments apiece on something like 50 things (poems, so-called poems) I posted here. Both of you should count how many comments I left (and some on them good, eh?) You seem to remember one, perhaps forgetting one when I weighed in on your side (and Ange's) on a question of redundancy vs reinforcement. Wake up babe, why do you think I am being tough?

Here is the answer, because you are showing talent, drive and independence. Would you prefer I just kissed your ass? You are fast arriving I feel. I grant you I am not the best reader of yours, but I am a pretty good failure analysis person, but I cannot be better than you with your own material, if you and I said this years ago, justify every word, every relationship with the words you use. It is superb when you have done so.

Now I question the premise of this exercise, even though it is a damn sight better than the countless lame threads generated by...never mind. I also question as to why it is stickied and the timing of such.

Doesn't quite strike me as fair dinkum

Fair dinkum? In Maine?

Geez, must you always suspect the worst of me? I started the challenge because I found the book.

 

[annaswirls]

I.


II.
Once, I was a clock. Numbers
arranged on my uneven face.
I am six o’clock, standing
awaiting seven’s stride.

terrific poem, lady! This is one of those lines you write that stick stick stick with me. I swear I will be an old senile woman saying "Change minus quarters...."

 

[annaswirls]

lordy this may be my new Liar favorite...

especially these:::

you are so funky cool Liar.

Just because I liked the title...


Shoegazing

Sturdy lace pulled thru
this way, that way,
zig zag strangulation


*

We all walk an inch
off the ground.
Only a few actually
levitate.

*

You can tell a man's sin
by his soles. Superbia is worn
at the toes, poised for charge.
Avaritia grinds heels
into the ground, traction
to pull wants closer.
Gula is a sole never worn
before replaced and piled.

*


Chaplin gorged on leather
shaped liquorice. Things
were easier in monochrome,
when smoke and mirrors
were indeed smoke
and mirrors
and sweet liquorice
shoes.


*

Doug choose shoes.
Doug's dog chews
shoes Doug choose.
Dog: "Shoe, Doug?"
Doug: "Shoo, dog!"
Shoo dog, shoo.

 

[annaswirls]

This Artist, Empty Plates

she swallowed Wallace Stevens
but could only cough up seven blackbirds

pie or no pie
we still count gold
teased with honey
pull feathers for the tar baby decoy
she said she said she said
this will only hurt
if you can feel it

cabin 2
secret get-away
for those like us
who need to get a
way to forget

dearest Three, I am sorry
but Two cannot come to the phone
please try again later

she paints four boat tail grackles
they strut by, eye us up
looking for the one who is going to pay:
he is she is they are
always the next in line
for the crown

our five year old reveals:
the legend of how crow got her rainbow feathers
is actually the legend
of how she lost them

VI.
because you are a perfect number
I will give you this verse properly labeled

you who divides by two or three
with equal ease
what is better
than a table
set for six?

seven, seven
seventy-seven
your extra syllables
tripped up our elementary rhythms
like January and February
like the step you missed
at the bottom of the landing
expecting something more