The Gymnasium

[vampiredust]

thank you honey

 

[LasciviousSanity]

I have this new poem I'm working on and I would really appreciate honest critiques. I didn't post in the Poetry circle because I'd have to give critiques to others and honestly I really don't have a clue what to write. It's not that I don't want to help others but I feel a bit sophomoric here to be lending advice. Hope you all understand, it's just how I am. Here's the poem:

To Wonderland

© 2007 MLB (LasciviousSanity)

The bed swallows her
in it’s vast wonderland.
A tiny frame
of fragile years
peaceful yet fretful
chasing a dream.
Aching with anticipation
of brushing rosy cheeks
against soft fur
her journey starts
at the snap of a branch.

Each moment more elusive
than the last.
The agony of curiosity unfulfilled
becomes the fire
under her kettle of perseverance.
She forwardly pursues the minutes
leaving unwanted seconds
trailing behind.

Brown droppings provide clues
which lead through twisted corridors
and deceptive trapdoors.
A wrong step sends her falling
into the rancid bowels of darkness.
The sting emanating through soft bottom
signals the end of her fall.

Eyes adjust to dim lighting
and focus toward rooms’ center.
There lay a single box.
The mystery of its contents
reveal little to the unwise
but sad confusion.
The guardian of its secrets
rest in a gold lock labeled “Pandora”

She stands with quiet disappointment…

Then the answer
of hope unveils
a glint in the darkened corner.
One delicate hand
calms erratic heartbeats
As she looks to the box and grins.

 

[TheRainMan]

I have this new poem I'm working on and I would really appreciate honest critiques. I didn't post in the Poetry circle because I'd have to give critiques to others and honestly I really don't have a clue what to write. It's not that I don't want to help others but I feel a bit sophomoric here to be lending advice. Hope you all understand, it's just how I am. Here's the poem:

To Wonderland

© 2007 MLB (LasciviousSanity)

The bed swallows her
in it’s vast wonderland.
A tiny frame
of fragile years
peaceful yet fretful
chasing a dream.
Aching with anticipation
of brushing rosy cheeks
against soft fur
her journey starts
at the snap of a branch.

Each moment more elusive
than the last.
The agony of curiosity unfulfilled
becomes the fire
under her kettle of perseverance.
She forwardly pursues the minutes
leaving unwanted seconds
trailing behind.

Brown droppings provide clues
which lead through twisted corridors
and deceptive trapdoors.
A wrong step sends her falling
into the rancid bowels of darkness.
The sting emanating through soft bottom
signals the end of her fall.

Eyes adjust to dim lighting
and focus toward rooms’ center.
There lay a single box.
The mystery of its contents
reveal little to the unwise
but sad confusion.
The guardian of its secrets
rest in a gold lock labeled “Pandora”

She stands with quiet disappointment…

Then the answer
of hope unveils
a glint in the darkened corner.
One delicate hand
calms erratic heartbeats
As she looks to the box and grins.

some thoughts, as you request:

i think the poem is too vague, in most spots, to pull me in as a reader.

i like the first two lines, and think they could be the start of something really good -- but what follows directly after them . . .

A tiny frame
of fragile years
peaceful yet fretful
chasing a dream

. . . says nothing, never mind being over-reliant on adjectives instead of nouns and verbs, as it should be.

that same problem occurs for me over and over throughout the poem --

Aching with anticipation
of brushing rosy cheeks
against soft fur
her journey starts
at the snap of a branch

. . . makes me feel nothing.

is she now a squirrel in the dream?

and to what point? . . .

it is just too muddled and non-specific to affect me . . .

Each moment more elusive
than the last

. . . is not only vague, but cliche . . .

The agony of curiosity unfulfilled
becomes the fire
under her kettle of perseverance

. . . is far too wordy for what it says . . .

i would have stopped reading long before that.

my suggestion is to be more specific -- say what you mean, instead of trying to be poetic by reaching for language that might seem flowery but has only the aroma of the artificial.

i do think your handling of words is indicative of someone with sound language skills, and someone who will quickly improve the quality of his/her poetry with time and practice.

you are new to me, so by all means welcome.

stick around.

 

[LasciviousSanity]

Thank you SO much Rain Man. I will work on this over the weekend. I truly appreciate your comments and critiques.

 

[TheRainMan]

Thank you SO much Rain Man. I will work on this over the weekend. I truly appreciate your comments and critiques.

you're welcome.

if you wish, throw the rewrite up here. if you ask for opinions, you'll get them. there are lots of writers here who have a fine combination of knowledge, talent, honesty, and kindness.

 

[clutching_calliope]

.....

 

[LasciviousSanity]

Here's the revised version of "To Wonderland"

any helpful comments and critiques are appreciated. Thanks in advance.


To Wonderland
© 2007 MLB (LasciviousSanity)

The bed swallows her
in its vast wonderland.
Consumes her in
a world
of parallel reality.

Where’s the cloudless
canvas of blue
and paths lined
with brilliant flowers?
Where’s the endless
Landscape of green?

She wonders where
the fables have gone.

Eaten by the dark
alone she stood
in a nightmare of her making.
Chasing a invisible dream.

She wonders where
the land of hearts
has gone.

.

 

[TheRainMan]

Here's the revised version of "To Wonderland"

any helpful comments and critiques are appreciated. Thanks in advance.


To Wonderland
© 2007 MLB (LasciviousSanity)

The bed swallows her
in its vast wonderland.
Consumes her in
a world
of parallel reality.

Where’s the cloudless
canvas of blue
and paths lined
with brilliant flowers?
Where’s the endless
Landscape of green?

She wonders where
the fables have gone.

Eaten by the dark
alone she stood
in a nightmare of her making.
Chasing a invisible dream.

She wonders where
the land of hearts
has gone.

.

i think it's MUCH improved.

it is still redundant in spots, and clichéd in spots, and too vague, IMO . . .
but the language is clearer, and there are more "fresh" lines of interest.


The bed swallows her
in its vast wonderland.
Consumes her in
a world
of parallel reality.

. . . the words in red are redundant, for instance, it seems to me . . . of no purpose.

Where’s the cloudless
canvas of blue
and paths lined
with brilliant flowers?
Where’s the endless
Landscape of green?



. . . the second strophe, above -- i think it's too wordy for what it says. surely, you can be more efficient, no?

She wonders where
the fables have gone.


. . . that grouping is of interest. by itself, it's a big improvement over the first draft.

it should be followed up on, i think.


Eaten by the dark
alone she stood
in a nightmare of her making.


. . . the above lines seem way too vague for me. they really don't say anything, give no information . . . what nightmare?

and they are also too stock, IMO.

and this . . .

Chasing a invisible dream.

. . . is a cliché if i ever saw one . . . the worst line in the poem.


the last strophe, this . . .

She wonders where
the land of hearts
has gone.

. . . is similar to the 3rd strophe (not that there is anything wrong with repetition, per se), but not nearly as effective, to my eyes.


you really did do a good job in editing. it's a big step up.

i think you still need to be more specific, and make some of the language less stale.

 

[LasciviousSanity]

Thank you and I'll be working on it. Your comments have been helpful. I thought of scraping this piece all together but I didn't want to give up. It's a challenge for me.

-LS

 

[loserstyx]

For Angela

For Angela,

Underneath the cold, dark soul of the night
A mirror of pale beauty hung
Reflecting not the inferno of the son,
Rather the dark serenity of a daughter.
The remembrance of raven locks surrounding pale Luna's face.
The remembrance of something lost and not yet gained.
Reflected in her honey hair.
Realized in her smile.

My breath leaves me...

(Hi I'm new here, my buddy darkerdreamer steered me toward this forum, and I just wanted to say hello)

(All criticism is appreciated)

 

[clutching_calliope]

.....

 

[darkerdreamer]

For Angela,

Underneath the cold, dark soul of the night
A mirror of pale beauty hung
Reflecting not the inferno of the son,
Rather the dark serenity of a daughter.
The remembrance of raven locks surrounding pale Luna's face.
The remembrance of something lost and not yet gained.
Reflected in her honey hair.
Realized in her smile.

My breath leaves me...

(Hi I'm new here, my buddy darkerdreamer steered me toward this forum, and I just wanted to say hello)

(All criticism is appreciated)

Thanks for coming by styx. Love where it is going so far. My only suggestion is to chop it down (the eternal poetic struggle). It gets a little wordy sometimes making me stumble when I read it. But who am I to say that, I write the most verbose bullshit ever

 

[loserstyx]

Thanks for coming by styx. Love where it is going so far. My only suggestion is to chop it down (the eternal poetic struggle). It gets a little wordy sometimes making me stumble when I read it. But who am I to say that, I write the most verbose bullshit ever

Yeah, you guys will all get to know that I am extremely long winded when I get a few more on here. But you're right, you are verbose man, I'll catch you later.

 

[darkerdreamer]

Underneath the cold, dark soul of the night
A mirror of pale beauty hung
Reflecting not the inferno of the son,

I thought of another one. In these opening lines, you establish a scene for the woman in the poem to be viewed in. I know from the description that over head is a night sky, but nothing further. Where did the mirror of pale beauty hang?

My $.02

-2d

 

[loserstyx]

I thought of another one. In these opening lines, you establish a scene for the woman in the poem to be viewed in. I know from the description that over head is a night sky, but nothing further. Where did the mirror of pale beauty hang?

I was trying to use words like "mirror", "pale", and "reflecting" along with the line, "...raven locks...pale Luna's face" to establish that a full moon was out when this took place. Luna being the Latin word for moon. I wanted it to be fairly ethereal, more like a memory then anything else, so I can see where the confusion would result, but all I really wanted visualized was the night sky with a moon overhead so that the reader could use their imagination to put the scene anywhere they wanted, or could attach it to any memory that they wished. I hope that makes sense, but thanks for bringing that to my attention, I'll try to keep that in mind when I write more.

 

[darkerdreamer]

Please tear me a new one on this poem, I want to make it better. (after it is already submitted, I know, genius.)

Brutal

symphony of sweat-soaked sheets,
she tells me,

"fuck me hard,"
brutal,
and I oblige.

we are a mechanical motion
pumping and gyrating into infinity,
so much so that she needs that pain
to feel real.

she shifts into that gear called reality,
screaming and writhing.

I feel like the conductor of an orchestra
when she lets me play her

like an instrument:
I sound a melody and she howls,
sunday's finest church choir.

honestly, I hope the neighbor
keeps pounding on the wall,

that bass line is incredible.

she rips at my hair, tears at the skin
grasping for something beyond physical.
I bear it but I don't even

feel it, anymore.

hands pinned, pistons flaring in fevered
frenzy.
her eyes are wild for the kill.

predator,
fucking brutal.

"hit me,"
and I strike a chord like a rock star,
reunion tour style.

---------

Specifically, I hate clichés, do the few in here work? I have tried multiple replacements, but for certain ones I cannot find an alternative that gave the same feeling (especially the last stanza).

 

[Tathagata]

rework

all her paintings are organic
no blue or orange
only a symmetrical indigo dog
on a tangerine peel rug

the colors both savage and innocent,
untamed and unlearned,
like Gauguin or a child
they are pure
free from expectation or convention
expressions of a mind
where all things are possible
passionate
sensuous

I remember when i saw this way
the fact she still can
makes her even more desirable to me
reclaiming by violation
such madness

i should ask what color she'd paint my presumptuousness

she comes to bed in lavender moonlight
breasts slashed across the middle
thunderhead gray,lake bottom black
noir sex in a world of shadow
nothing like her art
there is no color left in my embrace


in the morning i will buy one of her paintings
the crimson flower girl
under a snowfall streetlight
with a basket full of dying
emerald
roses

 

[serendipity_lost]

All i can say to darkerdreamer...is WOW...have you slept with me?? lol

Would like some feed back on my work...does not compare to yours darkerdreamer..so help me out here!
Serendipity_lost
http://www.literotica.com:81/stories/showstory.php?id=295067

 

[darkerdreamer]

Would like some feed back on my work...does not compare to yours darkerdreamer..so help me out here!
Serendipity_lost

His lips on mine.. ravishing every part of me like I was his feast of hunger. His hands exploring not just the darkness of me but all of me, even the parts he doesn’t think count. To look into his eyes so that I feel lost, dizzy and I see his needs and I shall know his wants and I will feel his desires. To hear his voice guiding me, defining and expressing his most urgent yearnings. Commanding me and demanding his intentions of me, with me, from me. His power to make me feel helpless in his grasp, a prisoner of his selfish desires. With those desires I shall fulfill him. To just feel his caress is a gift to me. A gift I shall return two fold..

I might have, I am a pretty big slut. Now, now, my work is glorified excrement so let's not get ahead of ourselves.

My comments/critiques of your piece based on two reads:

The hard part about prose-form poetry; you need to make a clear distinction if you want it to read like a poem or like a story. You have a lot of good devices for both in this piece, but in my opinion it would benefit from choosing one or the other. For example:

..ravishing every part of me like I was his feast of hunger.

This line works great in a piece supposed to read like a poem, repetitive wording (feast of hunger) can be poetic gold if used properly, however it is a huge "no-no" in most forms of prose. (granted, some authors can pull it off without a second thought)

To look into his eyes so that I feel lost, dizzy and I see his needs and I shall know his wants and I will feel his desires.

(This might read better without shall, I don't really know.)

This line in my opinion (in this current form devoid of line breaks), reads wordy to the glancing poetic gaze. However, for prose, I find it borderline genius.

At this point I don't see any inherent flaws in the piece; I might after a few more careful reads. All I see so far is a duality in this piece, when it might benefit from a concise decision between the two forms it takes.

 

[darkerdreamer]

P.S. Where the hell are my "rip me a new one" critiques...

TRM I'm waiting.

 

[annaswirls]

P.S. Where the hell are my "rip me a new one" critiques...

TRM I'm waiting.

don't hate me, but this poem does not inspire me to rip. Do you have another one you would like us to dig into?

I do not want to discourage you, because I have enjoyed what I have read of your poetry, mainly because it has images I have not seen before, but this one.... I could not find anything new

I will give some technical suggestions though. Insomnia.

 

[annaswirls]

Please tear me a new one on this poem, I want to make it better. (after it is already submitted, I know, genius.)

Brutal

symphony of sweat-soaked sheets,
she tells me,

"fuck me hard,"
brutal, does the brutal go with the "fuck me hard" or "I oblige." it seems lost here
and I oblige.

we are a mechanical motion
pumping and gyrating into infinity,
so much so that she needs that pain
to feel real.

just a point: "so much so that that" are all words that clutter without doing much else

she shifts into that gear called reality,
screaming and writhing.

I feel like the conductor of an orchestra
when she lets me play her
~this space is distracting, is it necessary?~
like an instrument:
I sound a melody and she howls,
sunday's finest church choir.

honestly, I hope the neighbor
keeps pounding on the wall,
~this space is distracting, is it necessary?~
that bass line is incredible.

she rips at my hair, tears at the skin
grasping for something beyond physical.
I bear it but I don't even
~this space is distracting, is it necessary?~
feel it, anymore.

hands pinned, pistons flaring in fevered
frenzy.
her eyes are wild for the kill.

predator,
fucking brutal.

"hit me,"
and I strike a chord like a rock star, very James Brown, my favorite part of the poem
reunion tour style.

---------

Specifically, I hate clichés, do the few in here work? I have tried multiple replacements, but for certain ones I cannot find an alternative that gave the same feeling (especially the last stanza).

The last stanza does not need alternatives that I can see.

Overall, I do not object to the subject, au contraire. It is familiar territory, but it seems you have overdone it a bit--- for example, your use of "infinity" made me wince.

I like the idea that you bring in, moving like machines she needs the pain to feel real. Maybe go with that?

Again, I do not want to be discouraging. I think that around here, it is harder to pass the sex poem test because we have read (and written) so many.

I am glad you are here, I am trying again, to be here too.

 

[clutching_calliope]

Mark John

.....

 

[wildsweetone]

my thoughts...

it's got great potential. basically i think, take it back to the bare bones. it might have more impact if the writing mirrored the title... take a look and see if what i suggest helps that effect.

i am not sure you can have the impact of 'brutal' and the softy-easy of 'symphony' within the same poem... is that your aim, to have them together? if it is, then how about a back and forth between the two ideas, if that's possible.


wso

Please tear me a new one on this poem, I want to make it better. (after it is already submitted, I know, genius.)

Brutal

symphony of sweat-soaked sheets,(In a symphony)
she tells me,

"fuck me hard,"
brutal,(brutal, should be within the speech marks i think)
and I oblige.(is 'and' necessary? make the comma after brutal a stop and then end the stanza with 'I oblige.' - gives impact. brutality in the writing mirrors the act, perhaps)

we are a mechanical motion(We and delete 'a')
pumping and gyrating into infinity,
so much so that she needs that pain(is 'so much so that' necessary?)
to feel real.

she shifts into that gear called reality,(She, another 'that' - 3 in 3 lines might be too much. how about 'she shifts into reality'?)
screaming and writhing.(take out 'and', add a comma in its place)

I feel like the conductor of an orchestra
when she lets me play her

like an instrument:(cliche)
I sound a melody and she howls,(she is an animal now, not an instrument?)
sunday's finest church choir.(Sunday's)

honestly, I hope the neighbor(Honestly)
keeps pounding on the wall,

that bass line is incredible.(love this!)

she rips at my hair, tears at the skin(She)
grasping for something beyond physical.
I bear it but I don't even(if you bear it then you must feel it - reword)

feel it, anymore.

hands pinned, pistons flaring in fevered(Hands, do pistons flare?)
frenzy.
her eyes are wild for the kill.(Her)

predator,(Predator)
fucking brutal.

"hit me,"(Hit)
and I strike a chord like a rock star,(replace 'strike a chord' - what else does a rock star do? think of microphone, drums, sing, dance, act, etc)
reunion tour style.

---------

Specifically, I hate clichés, do the few in here work? I have tried multiple replacements, but for certain ones I cannot find an alternative that gave the same feeling (especially the last stanza).

 

[darkerdreamer]

Originally Posted by darkerdreamer
Please tear me a new one on this poem, I want to make it better. (after it is already submitted, I know, genius.)

Brutal

symphony of sweat-soaked sheets,(In a symphony)
she tells me,

"fuck me hard,"
brutal,(brutal, should be within the speech marks i think)
and I oblige.(is 'and' necessary? make the comma after brutal a stop and then end the stanza with 'I oblige.' - gives impact. brutality in the writing mirrors the act, perhaps)

we are a mechanical motion(We and delete 'a')
pumping and gyrating into infinity,
so much so that she needs that pain(is 'so much so that' necessary?)
to feel real.

she shifts into that gear called reality,(She, another 'that' - 3 in 3 lines might be too much. how about 'she shifts into reality'?)
screaming and writhing.(take out 'and', add a comma in its place)

I feel like the conductor of an orchestra
when she lets me play her

like an instrumentcliche)
I sound a melody and she howls,(she is an animal now, not an instrument?)
sunday's finest church choir.(Sunday's)

honestly, I hope the neighbor(Honestly)
keeps pounding on the wall,

that bass line is incredible.(love this!)

she rips at my hair, tears at the skin(She)
grasping for something beyond physical.
I bear it but I don't even(if you bear it then you must feel it - reword)

feel it, anymore.

hands pinned, pistons flaring in fevered(Hands, do pistons flare?)
frenzy.
her eyes are wild for the kill.(Her)

predator,(Predator)
fucking brutal.

"hit me,"(Hit)
and I strike a chord like a rock star,(replace 'strike a chord' - what else does a rock star do? think of microphone, drums, sing, dance, act, etc)
reunion tour style.

---------

Specifically, I hate clichés, do the few in here work? I have tried multiple replacements, but for certain ones I cannot find an alternative that gave the same feeling (especially the last stanza).

I didn't understand what you were suggesting in this line:

hands pinned, pistons flaring in fevered(Hands, do pistons flare?)

But yes, pistons can flare if flare (or flaring) can imply sudden movement.

I was also wondering, is this terminology obscure (or unheard of) outside of the US?:

I sound a melody and she howls,(she is an animal now, not an instrument?)

I have heard many references to various instruments wailing, screaming, etc., but it might just be in my little corner of Earth, I have very little global consciousness, sadly.

and I strike a chord like a rock star,(replace 'strike a chord' - what else does a rock star do? think of microphone, drums, sing, dance, act, etc)
reunion tour style.

I know this is a cliché, as I posted when I posted this poem, I have tried literally dozens of alternatives but none make sense with what I am trying to achieve. She tells me to hit her, I was trying to find a way to tie it into the music theme, "striking a chord" sounded a bit better than "so I punched her in the face" However, I hate using a cliché in this line, it is my favorite portion of the poem except for that. I am really looking for other people's ideas of what if anything could replace that, I don't think singing or dancing really inspire the same violence ("So I waltzed on her head"?) but none of my ideas are doing the trick.

Do you have any more cropping suggestions ws1? It would be highly appreciated; I agree that it needs to read brutally, to the point with little or no excess.