The Courtesan - is it really a 1?

[ramyanetgrrl]

I'd like some feedback on my very recent "poem" submission. So far it garnered a "1" - does it suck as bad as that? Don't pull any punches, folks.





Old and young smile, and frequently say
Her age and experience hold reign and sway,
She lends her skin to sinning trespassers,
And her grace surely goes a long way.

She bows her ear and murmurs, sweet-voiced,
Assuaging all who will pay.
With little remorse, a simple recourse,
Her forgiveness inducement to pay.

For relief she'll grant you a drink and a touch,
Appeasement, indignity, wounded pride,
Where do they go, the sorrow bereft,
Once shed and forgotten behind?

Not a tear does she waste, nor a drop of liqueur
Falls near the glass, on the table aside.
She sucks it all in, swallows all with a moan,
When she coaxes the juices to fly.

The many who leave heavy hearts at her door
To sad, lonely nights fallen prey,
Trading guilt and some dollars, less than you'd think,
To float so much lighter away.




http://www.literotica.com/p/the-courtesan-1

I think your rhyme is getting in the way of your ability to articulate. try ignoring the rhyme, let the thoughts and words out, see what you get, then decide how to go.

what is rating, who is to say
whether one means nay
or perhaps top of the list,
so no cause for dismay!

write for yourself. others can read for themselves.

Ramya

 

[Magnetron]

1 Star ratings are usually Todski's fault.

He's got bratwurst sized fingers and is always hitting the wrong buttons on his smartphone.

 

[legerdemer]

1 Star ratings are usually Todski's fault.

He's got bratwurst sized fingers and is always hitting the wrong buttons on his smartphone.

He left a nice comment on it, so he's the LAST person I'd ever complain about.

 

[Senna Jawa]

A different user name?

He left a nice comment on it, so he's the LAST person I'd ever complain about.

Were you thinking rather about todski28?

EDIT: Never mind, yes, todski=todski28 (I am sure ).

 

[Senna Jawa]

4 counter-chances

Hi legerdemer (and others too), here are 4 poems from my thread reformatted, related to the topic of prostitution:

• my neighbor
• poemath
• [what if...]
• the cities of the city

You may comment on them, please.

I am sure I am way oversensitive but just in case let me worry that I was a tiny-tiny bit less than gentle in my remarks on The Courtesan. You are welcome though to be even extremely harsh in your comment about the 4 poems listed above. Why, I can even provide you with plenty more poems about prostitutes (I can write them if necessary--after all we need poems about prostitutes bad).

Best,

 

[Senna Jawa]

proetry

Hi legerdemer (and others too), here are 4 poems from my thread reformatted, related to the topic of prostitution:

• my neighbor
• poemath
• [what if...]
• the cities of the city

You may comment on them, please.

One may open a new thread, call it proetry.

 

[legerdemer]

The Janus Bird - wip

(This is the start of something, I hope... Trying to work it out, shape it into submission.)

Upon a plinth it sits,
impervious to myth. It shifts
its eyes and feathered chin
from side to side, and leers a wicked grin.

A statue, white and made of bone,
it rests immobile on its throne,
so unforgiving and so cold,
implacable, wise, and old.

A new beginning after all
the inner turmoil will fall
away...

 

[AlwaysHungry]

A latecomer to the party

L, you have received quite a bit of criticism, and I will echo some of it. I think you need to make a full commitment to rhyme and meter, and then bear down and make it work. A half-commitment is disconcerting for the reader.

Here are some very practical nuts-and-bolts suggestions (from someone who is now trying to learn how not to use strict forms.) I have a set of tools that I use when composing a rhymed and metered poem:

1. A rhyming dictionary, or a comparable on-line site such as RhymeZone

2. A thesaurus. The first word that comes to your mind will have all the enchantment of a first love, but it may not be the right one for you. You will need to find the one that rhymes, or has the correct number of syllables, stressed in all the right places -- and you may find in the long run that that is the word for you. There are many fish in the sea.

3. You need to learn scansion. Simply reading the poem aloud to see whether you like it is too subjective; there are universal principles for how a word is to be pronounced, and you need to be prepared to be analytical about your metric patterns so that you may communicate properly with your audience. It's fun to look at all the possible options for different kinds of metric "feet," how many to include in a line, and so forth. I think that a study of this may also enrich your approach to blank verse.

 

[legerdemer]

L, you have received quite a bit of criticism, and I will echo some of it. I think you need to make a full commitment to rhyme and meter, and then bear down and make it work. A half-commitment is disconcerting for the reader.

Here are some very practical nuts-and-bolts suggestions (from someone who is now trying to learn how not to use strict forms.) I have a set of tools that I use when composing a rhymed and metered poem:

1. A rhyming dictionary, or a comparable on-line site such as RhymeZone

2. A thesaurus. The first word that comes to your mind will have all the enchantment of a first love, but it may not be the right one for you. You will need to find the one that rhymes, or has the correct number of syllables, stressed in all the right places -- and you may find in the long run that that is the word for you. There are many fish in the sea.

3. You need to learn scansion. Simply reading the poem aloud to see whether you like it is too subjective; there are universal principles for how a word is to be pronounced, and you need to be prepared to be analytical about your metric patterns so that you may communicate properly with your audience. It's fun to look at all the possible options for different kinds of metric "feet," how many to include in a line, and so forth. I think that a study of this may also enrich your approach to blank verse.

Thank you, AlwaysHungry, for your suggestions. You have discovered the dirty little secret of my lack of discipline. I will try to do better. At least at poetry.

 

[legerdemer]

The Janus Bird - still very much a wip

Thanks for your detailed and insightful comments, AH. Am I too much of an exhibitionist to work this thing out on this thread? The poem started with an image, in fact a sculpture I saw in the Art Institute of Chicago. That image immediately brought to mind an image of a head looking backwards and forwards, both in time and in space, if you will, and sitting in judgment and perceived disapproval. The disapproval is so perceived (in the beginning) by the watcher, who reflects on the statue what is inside him or herself. We reflect our inner thoughts against what we see, imagining judgment where there may be none. Self-criticism and worry can be both good and bad, constructive at its best, debilitating if taken too far. These are the rough ideas going in. Whether they come out intelligibly at the other end remains to be seen.

(This is the start of something, I hope... Trying to work it out, shape it into submission.)

Impervious to myth it sits upon a plinth.
From side to side it shifts its beady eyes, and with
sharp teeth and feathered chin it leers its wicked grin.

The statue, made of riddled brittle graying bone,
rests haughty and immobile on its rough-hewn throne,
forbidding and relentless, implacable and old.

The face it gazes with behind reflects in front.
It scorches all who look upon it with its blunt
eyes in repose. And you are not mistaken to despair.

In truth, adventure tempts, should inner turmoil fall
away. A blunter instrument to prod a timid soul -
inspire journeys of discovery - has not yet been made.

..

 

[AlwaysHungry]

I have many questions. First, about the title: Apparently, the god Janus is associated with the interpretation of omens, including the flight of birds. However, it seems that you are describing a bird-Janus, a bird, or a sculpture of a bird, with Janus-like qualities? This is ambiguous, and not necessarily in a good way. I understand from what you have said that this poem is embryonic, and it might be premature for me to ask some of these questions. But my sense of composition is that one wants to begin with a perfected sense of the meaning of the poem, and let that meaning generate the epiphenomena of the text.

Based on some of the previous discussion, I am guessing that you are experimenting with meter and rhyme here, and that you intend to refine them as you go along. The first strophe is in a form of hexameter, which would seem appropriate for a discussion of a Roman god. Your second strophe shifts to pentameter (why?), except that the final line is marred by "unrelenting" which trips things up by having an extra syllable. Suggestion: if you want the meter in this strophe to be consistent, you could modify that line as follows:

Relentless, and implacable, and old.

The final two strophes are iambic in character, but the length of the lines is inconsistent. So my question would be this: do you intend to write blank verse, but elements of meter are creeping in uninvited? Or do you intend to write metered verse, in which case, are you still making up your mind about a metric pattern, or do you have a reason worked out in your mind for varying it from strophe to strophe? If the latter, you must ensure that the reader can glean your reason from a diligent reading.

Lots of nice assonance and consonance in the first strophe.

Much like an utterance of Yoda your final sentence is. You could easily rearrange the words to "And you are not mistaken to despair," which keeps the meter exactly the same, but makes the syntax less awkward.

Back to the underlying meaning of the poem -- would it be premature to discuss it? The mood is dark and foreboding, and yet inexplicably, in the third strophe, there is a sudden, hopeful mention of "A new beginning after all, should inner turmoil fall away". But it doesn't seem to go anywhere -- the darkness returns. Is it false hope?


My Literotica history

 

[AlwaysHungry]

I see that you have revised your draft, subsequent to my comments, and edited in answers to my comments, which now appear prior to my comments in the thread. I was initially quite bewildered, but I think I'm on top of it now. I have a few more ideas, based on your comments and revisions:

Should you insert yourself into the poem? Your description of how you perceive disapproval coming from the sculpture helped me understand your intent, so I am wondering whether you, as the poetess, should speak to the sculpture (the way Poe once famously addressed a similar bird).


My Literotica history

 

[AlwaysHungry]

I see that you have a few more lines of hexameter now. Why not cast the entire poem that way? Hexameter was the preferred meter of antiquity.

I am confused by this image:

The face it gazes with behind reflects its front.

I think that there must be clearer way of expressing what you want to say. Also, the hopeful line about a new beginning still sticks out in the wrong sort of way, not as an ironic counterpoint to all the darkness, but as an odd detour. Another small criticism: "new beginning" is a bit of a cliche, sort of like "fresh start" or any number of other common formulations. For this poem, you need something uncommon.

 

[legerdemer]

I see that you have a few more lines of hexameter now. Why not cast the entire poem that way? Hexameter was the preferred meter of antiquity.

I am confused by this image:

The face it gazes with behind reflects its front.

I think that there must be clearer way of expressing what you want to say. Also, the hopeful line about a new beginning still sticks out in the wrong sort of way, not as an ironic counterpoint to all the darkness, but as an odd detour. Another small criticism: "new beginning" is a bit of a cliche, sort of like "fresh start" or any number of other common formulations. For this poem, you need something uncommon.

I'm working on doing exactly what you suggested, AH - that's why it's labeled "still a wip" . But I'm very glad you're still looking. Inspiration comes slowly sometimes, lightning-fast other times. You know how it...

And thanks for all the great comments - my toe shoes are certainly getting worked out, and my big toes are taking a well-deserved beating.

 

[AlwaysHungry]

And thanks for all the great comments - my toe shoes are certainly getting worked out, and my big toes are taking a well-deserved beating.

Are you a ballerina, in addition to being a poetess?

 

[legerdemer]

Thanks for your detailed and insightful comments, AH. Am I too much of an exhibitionist to work this thing out on this thread? The poem started with an image, in fact a sculpture I saw in the Art Institute of Chicago. That image immediately brought to mind an image of a head looking backwards and forwards, both in time and in space, if you will, and sitting in judgment and perceived disapproval. The disapproval is so perceived (in the beginning) by the watcher, who reflects on the statue what is inside him or herself. We reflect our inner thoughts against what we see, imagining judgment where there may be none. Self-criticism and worry can be both good and bad, constructive at its best, debilitating if taken too far. These are the rough ideas going in. Whether they come out intelligibly at the other end remains to be seen.

Are you a ballerina, in addition to being a poetess?

As bad as I am at poetry, my ballet attempts are 1000 times more clumsy.
Try it again and see ... and whack away...

 

[AlwaysHungry]

Hello, Mer,

I see that you have continued to refine this. I am confused by the software here on the forum, and I can't seem to get it to notify properly when new posts are made. But also, I think you are going back in making edits in your last version of the poem, which wouldn't show up anyway. For the benefit of your fans, may I suggest that you leave the old versions intact and post new posts for new versions? That will enable us to track the changes. Here is the most recent version of your Janus Bird:

Impervious to myth it sits upon a plinth.
From side to side it shifts its beady eyes, and with
sharp teeth and feathered chin it leers its wicked grin.

The statue, made of riddled brittle graying bone,
rests haughty and immobile on its rough-hewn throne,
forbidding and relentless, implacable and old.

The face it gazes with behind reflects in front.
It scorches all who look upon it with its blunt
eyes in repose. And you are not mistaken to despair.

In truth, adventure tempts, should inner turmoil fall
away. A blunter instrument to prod a timid soul -
inspire journeys of discovery - has not yet been made.

I notice more changes now. It is almost entirely in hexameter, with a few exceptions:

eyes in repose. And you are not mistaken to despair.

"Eyes in repose" is odd. Normally I think of "repose" as a reclining posture, something eyes are unable to manage, but a visit to the dictionary informs me that repose may also mean "sleep, rest or tranquility." These qualities seem, at first blush, also wrong for your bird, until I consider the possibility that all the stern, judgmental qualities are actually being projected upon the bird by the writer -- which is also suggested by your explanation above. If so, it is very useful to compare this poem to "The Raven"-- are you familiar with it? You might want to search for ways to deepen the irony, which is that you, as the narrator, are finding all these alarming judgments in the bird, while the bird itself is sleeping, oblivious, in dead stone.

But back to the meter of that line. If you want consistency, you need one less metric foot. Perhaps you want that line to stand out, and making it longer is part of the plan?

The two concluding lines also have too many feet:

away. A blunter instrument to prod a timid soul -
inspire journeys of discovery - has not yet been made.

"inspire journeys of discovery" seems somehow inappropriate to the theme of the poem. If I may be a bit of a blunt instrument myself, it sounds like something from a motivational speaker. From the rest of the poem, my sense is that we are talking about withering self-examination here, n'est-ce pas? I like "prod a timid soul" very much, but "blunter instrument" is a conventional usage -- perhaps you could find a fresher image, and one with one syllable fewer?

I must confess that I don't understand what you are trying to do with the final strophe. "Adventure tempts" -- what sort of adventure? I suppose it were consistent with "journeys of discovery", but I am perplexed by both. You have a potentially strong paradox, with the stern assessment coming from the lifeless bird. Do you really want to introduce something to break the tension? If so, you need to be more clear about what it is, the adventure, the journey, or whatever.

All that being said, I am liking the poem more as you continue to tinker with it.

 

[legerdemer]

Another round on The Janus Bird

Impervious to myth it sits upon its plinth.
From side to side it shifts its beady eyes, and with
sharp teeth and feathered chin it leers its wicked grin.

The statue, made of riddled brittle graying bone,
rests haughty and immobile on its rough-hewn throne,
forbidding and relentless, implacable and old.

The face it gazes with behind reflects in front.
Scorches them all who look upon it, eyes confront
the weak. And they are not mistaken to recoil.

Adventure tempts and the new beckons, when inner turmoil
falls away. The bird prods timid souls to venture forth
on journeys not yet made, nor even dreamt e'en by the brave.

And they who've made the journey and returned no wiser,
yet aspire to the wisdom gained, then lost; to them the
bird croaks out a caw, a chilling look, and throws a bone,

a joke in ridicule: come one, come all. They gather round
and leave their fear behind, for nothing ventured, nothing lost.
That's what they're told. It's only then they find their wings

and fly.

 

[JAMESBJOHNSON]

Thank you, Butters. Clearly still have much work to do on it to maintain the rhythm, as well as some of the wording. And I futzed with the order of the some of the stanzas quite a bit.

There's no rhythm in it. You pack concrete and abstract terms together like garbage in a trash bag or piss and turds in a toilet bowl.

Pull your nose from BUTTERS old asshole and start from scratch learning what writing is all about.

 

[AlwaysHungry]

There's no rhythm in it. You pack concrete and abstract terms together like garbage in a trash bag or piss and turds in a toilet bowl.

Pull your nose from BUTTERS old asshole and start from scratch learning what writing is all about.

Edvard Grieg -- March of the Trolls

 

[AlwaysHungry]

I'm watching the evolution of the Janus Bird poem. If I may, I'll get specific again:

Impervious to myth it sits upon its plinth.
From side to side it shifts its beady eyes, and with
sharp teeth and feathered chin it leers its wicked grin. I am a sucker for assonance and consonance.

The statue, made of riddled brittle graying bone,
rests haughty and immobile on its rough-hewn throne,
forbidding and relentless, implacable and old.

The face it gazes with behind reflects in front. this line still confuses me.
Scorches them all who look upon it, eyes confront The word "them" is superfluous and spoils the rhythm.
the weak. And they are not mistaken to recoil.

I'm going to assume that you wanted to try hexameter. The stanzas that follow are problematic, and I'll suggest some alternate wordings that would allow you to maintain the hexameter.

Adventure tempts and the new beckons, when inner turmoil
falls away. The bird prods timid souls to venture forth
Adventure tempts, when inner turmoil falls away.
The bird prods timid souls to venture forth anew
on journeys not yet made, nor even dreamt e'en by the brave. "even" and "e'en" brought to you by your department of redundancy department. Drop both of them, make it "dreamt of", and you have a smooth line of hexameter.

And they who've made the journey and returned no wiser,
yet aspire to the wisdom gained, then lost; to them the "yet aspire to the wisdom gained, then lost" is confusing and redundant; the first line is quite sufficient.
bird croaks out a caw, a chilling look, and throws a bone, Too long. May I suggest:

And they who've made the journey and returned no wiser,
to those who so aspired and failed, the stone-faced bird
bestows a croak, a chilling look, and throws a bone,



a joke in ridicule: come one, come all. They gather round If you were to dispense with "a joke" you would lose only the redundancy, and you would gain a smooth line of hexameter
and leave their fear behind, for nothing ventured, nothing lost. This line is weak. It also occupies a crucial position in the poem -- it needs to be good
That's what they're told. It's only then they find their wings

and fly.

 

[JAMESBJOHNSON]

Edvard Grieg -- March of the Trolls

I'm the Donald Trump of Poets.

 

[legerdemer]

I'm the Donald Trump of Poets.

First thing you've said In the PFD forum I actually agree with!

 

[Magnetron]

I'm the Donald Trump of Poets.

Spambots leave more intelligent posts than you.

 

[JAMESBJOHNSON]

Spambots leave more intelligent posts than you.

Trump was right about you, you wear fake glasses to look smart.