Criticism Forum
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KatPurrs
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jul 24, 2001
- Posts
- 540
Declaring war on SA Storm!
Wow! If only all wars were like this!
My only suggestions for improvement on "Truce" are these:
1. The recognition that each part of you has it’s it own voice, (remove "it")
2. Vestiges of surrender scatter down my body in rumors of surrender.
I don't care for the word "surrender" twice in the same sentence. Could it be:
Vestiges of victory (or my/her victory) scatter down my body in rumors of (my/her) surrender.
Not necessrily in both places, but one or the other?
Thanks for the read SA.
Now where'd I leave that white flag? I could at least fan myself with it...whew! Those "collapsing walls" did me in!
Kat~
Wow! If only all wars were like this!
My only suggestions for improvement on "Truce" are these:
1. The recognition that each part of you has it’s it own voice, (remove "it")
2. Vestiges of surrender scatter down my body in rumors of surrender.
I don't care for the word "surrender" twice in the same sentence. Could it be:
Vestiges of victory (or my/her victory) scatter down my body in rumors of (my/her) surrender.
Not necessrily in both places, but one or the other?
Thanks for the read SA.
Now where'd I leave that white flag? I could at least fan myself with it...whew! Those "collapsing walls" did me in!
Kat~
Vailyn
Quixotic Paradox
- Joined
- Nov 15, 2000
- Posts
- 2,639
Answer to SA
Hey you! Haven't seen you on the board for a good while. Where have you been hiding? And welcome aboard this small boat of people lay out their hearts and writing in a way to be devoured or divined.
<Grins> I started to write a critque of your poem and ended up with this instead! It was a lot of fun to write, even if it's not a great poem. I love it when I get carried away to write something in response to someone else's work.
Hope ya like it. And I'll try to get back a critque of Truce for you later. =)
Take me, fill me in my body's heart
and hold your wild passions, my love.
Acknowledge my divergent varied parts,
chorus of voices singing one song, as I.
Surrender your battling soul within the fluid solidarity,
and perceive how distinctly your mark resides.
Crying out in triumphant submission to your forceful thrust!
Our passions cover us in musky salt of hedonistic lusts.
Shivering aftereffects of impulsive voracious appetites,
rendered and repleted in a frenzy of fierce desires.
Taking you as you've taken me,
my mark I'll leave above your heartbeat.
Wantonly rejoicing in your savage possession!
Stark awareness of how lost I am without you...
Raking feline claws down braw back,
thrown white glove, undulating loins 'pon rod,
press of swollen red lips and teasing sultry tongue.
Challenging your inner demonic fears for affirmation,
the glorious seizure of not only my body, my mind.
Hey you! Haven't seen you on the board for a good while. Where have you been hiding? And welcome aboard this small boat of people lay out their hearts and writing in a way to be devoured or divined.
<Grins> I started to write a critque of your poem and ended up with this instead! It was a lot of fun to write, even if it's not a great poem. I love it when I get carried away to write something in response to someone else's work.
Hope ya like it. And I'll try to get back a critque of Truce for you later. =)
Take me, fill me in my body's heart
and hold your wild passions, my love.
Acknowledge my divergent varied parts,
chorus of voices singing one song, as I.
Surrender your battling soul within the fluid solidarity,
and perceive how distinctly your mark resides.
Crying out in triumphant submission to your forceful thrust!
Our passions cover us in musky salt of hedonistic lusts.
Shivering aftereffects of impulsive voracious appetites,
rendered and repleted in a frenzy of fierce desires.
Taking you as you've taken me,
my mark I'll leave above your heartbeat.
Wantonly rejoicing in your savage possession!
Stark awareness of how lost I am without you...
Raking feline claws down braw back,
thrown white glove, undulating loins 'pon rod,
press of swollen red lips and teasing sultry tongue.
Challenging your inner demonic fears for affirmation,
the glorious seizure of not only my body, my mind.
Vailyn
Quixotic Paradox
- Joined
- Nov 15, 2000
- Posts
- 2,639
"Battling Poetry"
So literal! Hiding is only an expression, ya know! And it looks like life may soon take me up in it's tornado of events. We'll see if I can keep up!
<ducks> I already posted my original to your Truce. <laughing eyes> I shared it with two of my friends and they both said the fifth stanza needs lots of work. =P And I agree. So I'll work on that as I can.
As for a continuation of the poetic battles? I'm up for it, if you are!
This is sooooooooo much easier than the Olympics. I'm struggling like mad to write something for it.
Life is sinking her claws into me once more, I'll have something about the Truce said sometime tommorrow, promise!
-V
So literal! Hiding is only an expression, ya know! And it looks like life may soon take me up in it's tornado of events. We'll see if I can keep up!
<ducks> I already posted my original to your Truce. <laughing eyes> I shared it with two of my friends and they both said the fifth stanza needs lots of work. =P And I agree. So I'll work on that as I can.
As for a continuation of the poetic battles? I'm up for it, if you are!
This is sooooooooo much easier than the Olympics. I'm struggling like mad to write something for it.
Life is sinking her claws into me once more, I'll have something about the Truce said sometime tommorrow, promise!
-V
Savage Kitten
Image IS Everything
- Joined
- Apr 16, 2000
- Posts
- 2,677
Re: Truce
Talk about inspiration!! Vailyn, I really like what you did in return. Here's my version. I like to think of it as reverse psychology.
A Truce Will Not Do
I lift my eyes in wonderment of you.
You speak of facts and philosophies,
Exploring the why’s and how’s.
You voice tantalizes my desires.
You strum my heartstrings,
Creating seraphic melodies.
All the while, the hunger
Inside me grows.
Eager to surrender, I beg of you
Invade not only my mind,
Assault my body and soul.
Brand my flesh with the
Scent of your sex.
Victory is yours,
Victory is mine!
You must invade me, again and again.
Continuously claiming territory
I so willingly surrender.
Sk~
SA Storm said:
Talk about inspiration!! Vailyn, I really like what you did in return. Here's my version. I like to think of it as reverse psychology.
A Truce Will Not Do
I lift my eyes in wonderment of you.
You speak of facts and philosophies,
Exploring the why’s and how’s.
You voice tantalizes my desires.
You strum my heartstrings,
Creating seraphic melodies.
All the while, the hunger
Inside me grows.
Eager to surrender, I beg of you
Invade not only my mind,
Assault my body and soul.
Brand my flesh with the
Scent of your sex.
Victory is yours,
Victory is mine!
You must invade me, again and again.
Continuously claiming territory
I so willingly surrender.
Sk~
Last edited:
godslovechild
Virgin
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2001
- Posts
- 5
Hi guys,
As you'll gather from the number of posts, I'm a total "newbie" but I love reading the poetry on the site and have even submitted a few of my own. I'd really appreciate some criticism of my efforts so far, but please be gentle I'm only young! Perhaps, with your help I can realise my mistakes and may even feel confident enough to attempt something erotic! Though I don't mind which of my poems gets a going over, I've pasted my most recent attempt below:
Unrequited Scepticism
True Love?
Is such a thing sheer
Optimism? Can it
Exist in today’s
Realist world, home of
Cynicism?
I, for one,
Have never been
Impaled by Cupid’s
Arrow, that icon of
Love Legend. Or
Flight of Fancy?
I can be
Involved, but not
Inlove. Care
Deeply but
Still not wholly. Yes,
Love is lost.
Love is lust,
Mistakenly accepted
After years of
Hurt. A
Locum for true
Feelings.
Yes, Eros
Leaves me sore.
Cynicism? Yes, I’m
Full of it, I’ve
Given up on hopeless
Optimism.
------------------
I'll be really greatful for any feedback and promise not to e-stalk anyone who isn't a fan!
As you'll gather from the number of posts, I'm a total "newbie" but I love reading the poetry on the site and have even submitted a few of my own. I'd really appreciate some criticism of my efforts so far, but please be gentle I'm only young! Perhaps, with your help I can realise my mistakes and may even feel confident enough to attempt something erotic! Though I don't mind which of my poems gets a going over, I've pasted my most recent attempt below:
Unrequited Scepticism
True Love?
Is such a thing sheer
Optimism? Can it
Exist in today’s
Realist world, home of
Cynicism?
I, for one,
Have never been
Impaled by Cupid’s
Arrow, that icon of
Love Legend. Or
Flight of Fancy?
I can be
Involved, but not
Inlove. Care
Deeply but
Still not wholly. Yes,
Love is lost.
Love is lust,
Mistakenly accepted
After years of
Hurt. A
Locum for true
Feelings.
Yes, Eros
Leaves me sore.
Cynicism? Yes, I’m
Full of it, I’ve
Given up on hopeless
Optimism.
------------------
I'll be really greatful for any feedback and promise not to e-stalk anyone who isn't a fan!
KatPurrs
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jul 24, 2001
- Posts
- 540
Riding the .wav
HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! WIPE OUT!!!!!!! Pick me up, wipe the sand off me and throw me back in!
Riding the .wav
I dream of planes and camping trips
poetry read into the night, sipping
scotch by the campfire, and I know
I want him.
No history, no face, no idea! Only words
on my screen, in my head, finding their way
to my secret places, and I know
I need him.
I dream of romantics and poets
whose passions were purity of words
He is my Cyrano and Whitman, and I know
I read him.
No insight, no basis, no reason! Only words
played over and over again, leaning
into his .wav sounds, and I know
I adore him.
I dream of freedom in the here and now
making room for him in my life, this journey
winding to who knows where, and I know
I love him.
Kat~
HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! WIPE OUT!!!!!!! Pick me up, wipe the sand off me and throw me back in!
Riding the .wav
I dream of planes and camping trips
poetry read into the night, sipping
scotch by the campfire, and I know
I want him.
No history, no face, no idea! Only words
on my screen, in my head, finding their way
to my secret places, and I know
I need him.
I dream of romantics and poets
whose passions were purity of words
He is my Cyrano and Whitman, and I know
I read him.
No insight, no basis, no reason! Only words
played over and over again, leaning
into his .wav sounds, and I know
I adore him.
I dream of freedom in the here and now
making room for him in my life, this journey
winding to who knows where, and I know
I love him.
Kat~
Last edited:
daughter
Dreamer
- Joined
- Oct 22, 2001
- Posts
- 1,561
Re: Riding the .wav
Kat, sounds like a net infactuation. LOL Like the title.
Riding the .wav
I dream of planes and camping trips
poetry read into the night, sipping
scotch by the campfire, and I [know]
I want him.
No history, no face, no idea! Only words
on my screen, in my head, finding their way
to my secret places, and I [know]
I need him.
I dream of romantics and poets(,)
whose passions were purity of words
He is my Cyrano and Whitman, and I [know]
I read him.
***'passion' is empty. can you illustrate what you mean here?
No insight, no basis, no reason! Only words
played over and over again, leaning
into his .wav sounds, and I [know]
I adore him.
I dream of freedom in the here and now
making room for him in my life, this journey
winding to who knows where, and I know
I love him.
***L1 is bland. What other description would convey what you mean here? Rework this strophe. Heavy with well-worn images and words.
Thanks for the read.
Peace,
daughter
Kat, sounds like a net infactuation. LOL Like the title.
Riding the .wav
I dream of planes and camping trips
poetry read into the night, sipping
scotch by the campfire, and I [know]
I want him.
No history, no face, no idea! Only words
on my screen, in my head, finding their way
to my secret places, and I [know]
I need him.
I dream of romantics and poets(,)
whose passions were purity of words
He is my Cyrano and Whitman, and I [know]
I read him.
***'passion' is empty. can you illustrate what you mean here?
No insight, no basis, no reason! Only words
played over and over again, leaning
into his .wav sounds, and I [know]
I adore him.
I dream of freedom in the here and now
making room for him in my life, this journey
winding to who knows where, and I know
I love him.
***L1 is bland. What other description would convey what you mean here? Rework this strophe. Heavy with well-worn images and words.
Thanks for the read.
Peace,
daughter
JUDO
Flasher
- Joined
- May 1, 2001
- Posts
- 2,240
Way with words
You do have that, don't you, girl?
I wanted the second "like" to be something else. You had two in one stanza and it poked out at me.
The "cooled like threadbare linen" also stuck me and stuck out. Couldn't quite wrap the logic around it (i know you were trying to bridge the lunar surface to threadbare linen but this didn't work for me. Tell me if I missed it.)
It's a nice repeat of the line "breath trace beginnings in places long forgotten." Worked so well, I didn't mind hearing it twice.
Sounds like a wonderful poem of love or lust healing "old wounds."
My crit.
- Judo
You do have that, don't you, girl?
I wanted the second "like" to be something else. You had two in one stanza and it poked out at me.
The "cooled like threadbare linen" also stuck me and stuck out. Couldn't quite wrap the logic around it (i know you were trying to bridge the lunar surface to threadbare linen but this didn't work for me. Tell me if I missed it.)
It's a nice repeat of the line "breath trace beginnings in places long forgotten." Worked so well, I didn't mind hearing it twice.
Sounds like a wonderful poem of love or lust healing "old wounds."
My crit.
- Judo
KatPurrs
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jul 24, 2001
- Posts
- 540
more than i should have imagined
daughter,
I agree with Judo that the "threadbare linen" didn't quite bridge the gap. Perhaps, since at the end, you used "fevered winds" to smooth things out, here you might have used:
"Jagged and cooled like a polar shelf" ?? (same meter)
But, overall, the poem worked for me.
It showed how love can transform, repair, smooth out the rough edges, bring about growth. "Like new rain dancing on ancient grounds" spoke to me. Told me how he awakened her sensuality. Very nice.
Thanks for the read.
Kat~
daughter,
I agree with Judo that the "threadbare linen" didn't quite bridge the gap. Perhaps, since at the end, you used "fevered winds" to smooth things out, here you might have used:
"Jagged and cooled like a polar shelf" ?? (same meter)
But, overall, the poem worked for me.
It showed how love can transform, repair, smooth out the rough edges, bring about growth. "Like new rain dancing on ancient grounds" spoke to me. Told me how he awakened her sensuality. Very nice.
Thanks for the read.
Kat~
daughter
Dreamer
- Joined
- Oct 22, 2001
- Posts
- 1,561
shaking out the sheets
Thank you, ladies.
I'll look for a better image to replace the linen. Polar doesn't work for me, Kat because it makes me think of too cold temperatures and that's not the symbolism I want here.
Judo, the refrain is a standard device and given the theme: renewal and cycle, I thought it was appropriate.
Any thing else you can think of is appreciated. I've a deadline for a submission call. I'm hoping to have this polished fairly soon. I'd like to have this published.
Peace,
daughter
Thank you, ladies.
I'll look for a better image to replace the linen. Polar doesn't work for me, Kat because it makes me think of too cold temperatures and that's not the symbolism I want here.
Judo, the refrain is a standard device and given the theme: renewal and cycle, I thought it was appropriate.
Any thing else you can think of is appreciated. I've a deadline for a submission call. I'm hoping to have this polished fairly soon. I'd like to have this published.
Peace,
daughter
Senna Jawa
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- May 13, 2002
- Posts
- 3,272
KarmaDog, r U still interested?
Let me know (and what about the others?)
Regards,
Let me know (and what about the others?
)karmadog said:
Regards,
WickedEve
save an apple, eat eve
- Joined
- Oct 20, 2001
- Posts
- 11,470
Senna Jawa
Glad you revived this thread. It's been hibernating for almost two months. This is an excellent place to get an honest critique (without any sugar coating.)
While you wait to sink your teeth into KD's poem, would you like a snack?
I don't think this poem ever received any feedback. (or votes... lol)
Owned
by WickedEve ©
I submit to my demons,
kneel before the ones
with protrusions and dirty mouths.
My lips part and tongue beckons,
as they flog me with wicked tails.
Hell-shattering summons,
twisted forms sink beneath.
I rumble across exploding abyss,
with agile limbs and winged mind.
Serpentine reins twine Master's fingers.
He rips forward furious flesh
and begging bones; I follow,
with chaos raging behind me.
Flattened skin shrouds the dead ground.
Lips pay homage to breathing fire.
Absorbed through His soles,
I am consumed in Him and soul lost.
Glad you revived this thread. It's been hibernating for almost two months. This is an excellent place to get an honest critique (without any sugar coating.)
While you wait to sink your teeth into KD's poem, would you like a snack?
I don't think this poem ever received any feedback. (or votes... lol)
Owned
by WickedEve ©
I submit to my demons,
kneel before the ones
with protrusions and dirty mouths.
My lips part and tongue beckons,
as they flog me with wicked tails.
Hell-shattering summons,
twisted forms sink beneath.
I rumble across exploding abyss,
with agile limbs and winged mind.
Serpentine reins twine Master's fingers.
He rips forward furious flesh
and begging bones; I follow,
with chaos raging behind me.
Flattened skin shrouds the dead ground.
Lips pay homage to breathing fire.
Absorbed through His soles,
I am consumed in Him and soul lost.
Unmasked Poet
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Nov 15, 2001
- Posts
- 429
When men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go
Eve, One pill makes me larger and one pill makes me small!
I submit to my demons,
kneel before the ones
with protrusions and dirty mouths.
My lips part and tongue beckons,
as they flog me with wicked tails.
Hell-shattering summons,
twisted forms sink beneath.
I rumble across exploding abyss,
with agile limbs and winged mind.
Serpentine reins twine Master's fingers.
He rips forward furious flesh
and begging bones; I follow,
with chaos raging behind me.
Flattened skin shrouds the dead ground.
Lips pay homage to breathing fire.
Absorbed through His soles,
I am consumed in Him and soul lost.
Eve darling I love you! You know there is a but coming!
But this is not good poetry, it is not bad either but coming from you something like this stings all the more.
The first line alone sends me into a trip induced by wild mushrooms or that blotter I had way back when. Could be that peyote too. Damn my wicked youth!
“I submit to my demons” if your going to say something as heavy handed as this in a poem you must prepare us. Soften the blow by alluding to why you want to submit. Launching us into the pit of hell with you is scary. In the first stanza alone I found myself covering my various orifices. We simply need to know a bit more before you launch us into the first stanza.
The second stanza is confused, all four lines are tanked up on LSD. (Laborious Sensory Descriptions) sure is pretty but it doesn’t say anything. aww look at all the colors!
It doesn’t get better with the third. You have buried a good image in the first line. That of serpents entwining around fingers. Now those appendages touching you should be the focus of this stanza. How they make you feel, the sweet wisp of tongue teasing your skin the shiver of fright and delight. The drag of the fangs piecing skin, biting deeply in flesh alternating between digit and demon. These are the things worth telling us!
The fourth stanza ends with a whimper. Here you could have continued the snake thing snakes molt their skins so the skin shrouds would tie in nicely.
Lips pay homage to breathing fire? (Argh! you can do better) and don’t say your lips burn with hunger or any nonsense like that!)
The last two lines are phoned in! “Absorbed through his soles? Come on! How about shorten the last line and move soul up to sole watch:
Flattened skin shrouds the dead ground.
Lips pay homage to breathing fire.
Absorbed through his souls,
I am consumed.
At least in this version we are back on the LSD. Damn flashbacks! You never know when they will occur. Why my last trip was 1967 I was 18 and… forgive me I must now lay down on my surrealistic pillow.
U.P.
Eve, One pill makes me larger and one pill makes me small!
I submit to my demons,
kneel before the ones
with protrusions and dirty mouths.
My lips part and tongue beckons,
as they flog me with wicked tails.
Hell-shattering summons,
twisted forms sink beneath.
I rumble across exploding abyss,
with agile limbs and winged mind.
Serpentine reins twine Master's fingers.
He rips forward furious flesh
and begging bones; I follow,
with chaos raging behind me.
Flattened skin shrouds the dead ground.
Lips pay homage to breathing fire.
Absorbed through His soles,
I am consumed in Him and soul lost.
Eve darling I love you! You know there is a but coming!
But this is not good poetry, it is not bad either but coming from you something like this stings all the more.
The first line alone sends me into a trip induced by wild mushrooms or that blotter I had way back when. Could be that peyote too. Damn my wicked youth!
“I submit to my demons” if your going to say something as heavy handed as this in a poem you must prepare us. Soften the blow by alluding to why you want to submit. Launching us into the pit of hell with you is scary. In the first stanza alone I found myself covering my various orifices. We simply need to know a bit more before you launch us into the first stanza.
The second stanza is confused, all four lines are tanked up on LSD. (Laborious Sensory Descriptions) sure is pretty but it doesn’t say anything. aww look at all the colors!
It doesn’t get better with the third. You have buried a good image in the first line. That of serpents entwining around fingers. Now those appendages touching you should be the focus of this stanza. How they make you feel, the sweet wisp of tongue teasing your skin the shiver of fright and delight. The drag of the fangs piecing skin, biting deeply in flesh alternating between digit and demon. These are the things worth telling us!
The fourth stanza ends with a whimper. Here you could have continued the snake thing snakes molt their skins so the skin shrouds would tie in nicely.
Lips pay homage to breathing fire? (Argh! you can do better) and don’t say your lips burn with hunger or any nonsense like that!)
The last two lines are phoned in! “Absorbed through his soles? Come on! How about shorten the last line and move soul up to sole watch:
Flattened skin shrouds the dead ground.
Lips pay homage to breathing fire.
Absorbed through his souls,
I am consumed.
At least in this version we are back on the LSD. Damn flashbacks! You never know when they will occur. Why my last trip was 1967 I was 18 and… forgive me I must now lay down on my surrealistic pillow.
U.P.
Last edited:
WickedEve
save an apple, eat eve
- Joined
- Oct 20, 2001
- Posts
- 11,470
Ahhh... that was good UP. I need a cigarette. No one has torn into a poem of mine like that since... since you last did! What passion! What brutal honesty! What a crush I have on your mind! lol
Okay, I shouldn't write down every weird dream I have. I'll salvage some of this poem, and see if I can come up with something readable.
Hey, if you're still around, will you do me again? tee hee
edit: I changed my mind. I don't want to waste time getting feedback for After 36 Months of Phone Sex I have a more interesting one that you may want to critique.
Studly in Stilettos
by WickedEve ©
Vulgar ass-swaying
sashay across the room
to where I'm suspended
in disbelief.
Bound and hanging down,
he comes around.
Head touches the floor,
blood rushes.
I see double dongs
dirty dancing
against my hips.
Double jointed,
I bite my lips.
Okay, I shouldn't write down every weird dream I have. I'll salvage some of this poem, and see if I can come up with something readable.
Hey, if you're still around, will you do me again? tee hee
edit: I changed my mind. I don't want to waste time getting feedback for After 36 Months of Phone Sex I have a more interesting one that you may want to critique.
Studly in Stilettos
by WickedEve ©
Vulgar ass-swaying
sashay across the room
to where I'm suspended
in disbelief.
Bound and hanging down,
he comes around.
Head touches the floor,
blood rushes.
I see double dongs
dirty dancing
against my hips.
Double jointed,
I bite my lips.
Last edited:
Unmasked Poet
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Nov 15, 2001
- Posts
- 429
Getting it up
Again? So soon! I'm old and fragile Eve, I stroke more with my mind than with my hips. Although reading this poem I think I could get it up just one more time. You are wicked, why this hasn't happened since my second wiife. Stay tuned. I'm feeling frisky!
U.P.
Again? So soon! I'm old and fragile Eve, I stroke more with my mind than with my hips. Although reading this poem I think I could get it up just one more time. You are wicked, why this hasn't happened since my second wiife. Stay tuned. I'm feeling frisky!
U.P.
Last edited:
Sweetwood
Really Experienced
- Joined
- May 11, 2002
- Posts
- 263
Permit me to comment daughter
daughter:
I was also led astray by the threabare linen. The image feels like a broken fragment of something else in there. I would stay within the image.
For instance:
i am lunar spheres, crests jagged and cooled
like frosted vapour on glass
since you contracted the largeness of lunar spheres to threadbare linen I felt safe to use a similar small symbol.
"he is waves"
I realize the image you are trying to convey. If I understand that correctly it MUST be an image of power? If so I would suggest:
he is the tide
waters cresting through tributaries on
lakes of greys and blue
This could also set off the crests jagged against the smoothing of cresting waters.
One last comment: "fevered winds" will never sing renewal: they are desert stalkers. I ran into this as if into the jagged edge a broken wood plank. Also the fevered is too strong for the "floral sprouts and roots take hold" either they signify the beginnings in which case fevered overwhelms the delicacy of the beginnings OR they refer back to the coursing waters and the symbolism does not work.
Yikes, uhmm, just some suggestions if you will permit.
Thanks for giving me this opportunity
Sweetwood
daughter:
I was also led astray by the threabare linen. The image feels like a broken fragment of something else in there. I would stay within the image.
For instance:
i am lunar spheres, crests jagged and cooled
like frosted vapour on glass
since you contracted the largeness of lunar spheres to threadbare linen I felt safe to use a similar small symbol.
"he is waves"
I realize the image you are trying to convey. If I understand that correctly it MUST be an image of power? If so I would suggest:
he is the tide
waters cresting through tributaries on
lakes of greys and blue
This could also set off the crests jagged against the smoothing of cresting waters.
One last comment: "fevered winds" will never sing renewal: they are desert stalkers. I ran into this as if into the jagged edge a broken wood plank. Also the fevered is too strong for the "floral sprouts and roots take hold" either they signify the beginnings in which case fevered overwhelms the delicacy of the beginnings OR they refer back to the coursing waters and the symbolism does not work.
Yikes, uhmm, just some suggestions if you will permit.Thanks for giving me this opportunity
Sweetwood
Last edited:
Sweetwood
Really Experienced
- Joined
- May 11, 2002
- Posts
- 263
if at first you don't succeed, try, try again
Somehow no one wanted to touch this poem with feedback. Since this thread appears to be fearless to have at poems I'll submit it here again. The poem was written during an internet chat session on ICQ and never edited.
Tigers
Before I noticed
She had let
All of the tigers
Out of the cage
Prowling growling
Mass of urgency
Jumping playing
Biting howling
Bunched energy
Hungry
Teeth showing
Aroused by
The music she plays
On her magic instrument
Hair tousling
Moaning pleasure
Need of her
I’ll never get them
In again
MCD (c) 1999
Somehow no one wanted to touch this poem with feedback. Since this thread appears to be fearless to have at poems I'll submit it here again. The poem was written during an internet chat session on ICQ and never edited.
Tigers
Before I noticed
She had let
All of the tigers
Out of the cage
Prowling growling
Mass of urgency
Jumping playing
Biting howling
Bunched energy
Hungry
Teeth showing
Aroused by
The music she plays
On her magic instrument
Hair tousling
Moaning pleasure
Need of her
I’ll never get them
In again
MCD (c) 1999
Senna Jawa
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- May 13, 2002
- Posts
- 3,272
Re: sure it does
We have an image of a "her" driving on a freeway.
And another of a boy in his bed. This immediately creates space, a triangle with the boy being in the vertex, and the highway being the opposite edge of this triangle -- a very pleasing effect, one can breath easily.
The poem has space, images, and also sounds and music. It has Nature ("modern Nature"). That's a lot. A very good poem.
Just in case, let me mention that the poem is extra dramatic,
the boy at one time in his life became an invalid, now he is bound to his bed forever. That much we can deduce from the text. We may also suspect, back in our head, that the woman was the culprit. Perhaps not. We don't know (and that's, poetically, good that we don't). The boy's tragedy and the drama itself make this poem, in its present form, weaker. But I am saving my critical remarks for the next session (they will be minor but essential).
BTW. Do I have to write all the time that everything I write (save for quotes) is my (unbelievably humble) opinion?
Best regards,
KD, during this session let me write first about the strong aspects of your pem. I like your poem anyway, I think that it is a very good poem. It is composed as a juxtaposition of two images, i.e. as a parallel display of two images without spending a word on connecting them. But in the reader's mind, consciously or subconsciously, the two r connected. Juxtaposition is a very simple, easy to use, pure(!) and efficient device.karmadog said:
We have an image of a "her" driving on a freeway.
And another of a boy in his bed. This immediately creates space, a triangle with the boy being in the vertex, and the highway being the opposite edge of this triangle -- a very pleasing effect, one can breath easily.
The poem has space, images, and also sounds and music. It has Nature ("modern Nature"). That's a lot. A very good poem.
Just in case, let me mention that the poem is extra dramatic,
the boy at one time in his life became an invalid, now he is bound to his bed forever. That much we can deduce from the text. We may also suspect, back in our head, that the woman was the culprit. Perhaps not. We don't know (and that's, poetically, good that we don't). The boy's tragedy and the drama itself make this poem, in its present form, weaker. But I am saving my critical remarks for the next session (they will be minor but essential).
BTW. Do I have to write all the time that everything I write (save for quotes) is my (unbelievably humble) opinion?
Best regards,
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