GANG BANG - A Radical Critique Thread

[champagne1982]

Tied, helpless, vulnerable,
senses heightened
by covered eyes
she waits and only feels.
Spread, parted, opened
fingers probing deeply
riding the roller coaster
of sensations
plunging
faster
faster
wave upon wave
crashing
falling
dark abyss below

Tied, helpless, vulnerable,
You give 3 feelings here, I hate to limit the list but seriously, preferring to infer all these with fewer words, I'd use an oxymoronic descriptor: Restrained open or something like that. You could settle with just one simple word; tied

senses heightened
by covered eyes
You're lying to us. All of your senses aren't heightened, in fact one is impaired. So, instead of this tell line, describe how you're forced to hear the ragged breathing or smell the clean perspiration of excited pheremones.

she waits and only feels.
Only feels what? Feels sad, a sting, cold,... what?

Spread, parted, opened
Same as with L1. Choose an adjective and make it the most important word in the section that follows.

fingers probing deeply
Too vague in imagery. Make us feel the questing press of those patient digits and make them open, part and spread.

riding the roller coaster
of sensations
You've got to make us feel the flip flop of our internals as we switch from positive to negative g forces, don't tell me. I can't ride roller coasters anymore since my sternum and aorta can't take the stresses, so make me remember that elevator ride as it comes to a stop.

plunging
faster
faster
wave upon wave
crashing
falling
That's just a list of falling synonyms. Can you create an image that is going to show how those words feel to be caught up in? Make me want this adrenaline fix, the rush, the thrill...

dark abyss below
I don't want to be tumbling into such a gravelike hole. I figure you want us to be tied, splayed and open over this chasm, but I don't feel excited at the prospect or secure in my bonds. Which did you want to leave your reader with?

_________________________

Thanks for sharing Annie. I was hesitant about banging this poem because I'm a bit biased against "list" poetry, even though I'm guilty of writing them myself. I hope what I've said moves you forward from this poem, perhaps to a pared down version or even into a brand new creation.

Blessings be dear lady.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Thanks for that Champ and yes I do see your point I will have to have a rethink trouble is I never seem to have the peace and quiet these days to do just that!

 

[unpredictablebijou]

I very much agree with Champy on your piece so far, but I'll bang you myself when I get a chance. You were next in the train...

bj

 

[UnderYourSpell]

I've never done it in a train though I've come pretty close ..... I did it in an army ambulance once

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Required - a guide

Ooops wrong place - sorry.

 

[EilonwyKareena]

Several Poems Inspired by the Weekend

I.
Black lacing binds my courage.
Leers cannot latch onto my slick, shiny sides
As I slide and glide past on the heights of the spikes
Holding me out of reach of your gaze.

II.
Artemis, loose your white hounds
Fealty not sworn
Touch me not.

 

[loststar]

I absolutely love the first one, I get a complete feeling of the event and of the mood. The second piece is a bit more broad but when taken with the first poem it takes on a completely different feeling then when it stands alone.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

BJ-- on your Denim poem, I love it as a Literotica poem to be sure but also I love how different your voice sounds when so intensely broken. It makes me even more appreciative of your meatier voice. One note for consideration: Notice seems very passive in comparison to the surrounds. It makes me think of distance for some reason. Very interesting and way sexy straight-leg poem.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

I.
Black lacing binds my courage.
Leers cannot latch onto my slick, shiny sides
As I slide and glide past on the heights of the spikes
Holding me out of reach of your gaze.

II.
Artemis, loose your white hounds
Fealty not sworn
Touch me not.

One thing I like about this poem is that you mention the second person only after you already truly have our gaze. I'd pick glide and ditch slide, but that's my preference for the poem to be as sleek as its subject. II completely recasts everything before it. I like that too.

Suggested edit:

Black laces bind my courage.
I glide on high spikes
past the reach of your gaze.

This one will need a very good title to balance that second strophe. Maybe something that reveals the mystery of "high spikes."

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Any way to get a bang on this?

Late

It's late. Fire ate through the log; only ends
remain. It is too late

to blow against the grain and rouse
its flames (and to what point?)

There is nothing to cook: no meal
no plan, no book.

If you poke the darkened bark, it rolls
exposing its charred belly, barely warm.

It never burned as hot, nor burned as long
in hatred as it did in love. Still, I

will scatter what is left out on the ground:
little to bury, nothing to find.

 

[EilonwyKareena]

Late

It's late. Fire ate through the log; only ends
remain. It is too late

to blow against the grain and rouse
its flames (and to what point?)

There is nothing to cook: no meal
no plan, no book.

If you poke the darkened bark, it rolls
exposing its charred belly, barely warm.

It never burned as hot, nor burned as long
in hatred as it did in love. Still, I

will scatter what is left out on the ground
little to bury, nothing to find.

I would leave that line (bolded) out. It distracts from the imagery.
This is a very visual poem, especially to a pyrophiliac.

 

[champagne1982]

Fall Back to Standard

The trees form a sticklish backdrop
for frolick in the fall blow
green gone yellow and amber flakes
away to make room for soggy snow

until December when chill chisels
out a corner in the shade
so sunlight never touches crystals
hiding by the pine from the shovel blade

scraping a pathway down the street
to springtime tulips and birdsong
abloom in the light warmth, that fresh
from southern climes comes along.
____________________________

I'm not sure if the movement through winter to spring works.

Do I need a fourth stanza to drag through summer since I'm only talking about standard time and not daylight savings?

Do you love using limbs as levers and wedging your hips in tightly against pelvis so that you're squeezed as closely together as you can be?

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Fall Back to Standard

The trees form a sticklish backdrop
for frolick in the fall blow
green gone yellow and amber flakes
away to make room for soggy snow

until December when chill chisels
out a corner in the shade
so sunlight never touches crystals
hiding by the pine from the shovel blade

scraping a pathway down the street
to springtime tulips and birdsong
abloom in the light warmth, that fresh
from southern climes comes along.
____________________________

I'm not sure if the movement through winter to spring works.

Do I need a fourth stanza to drag through summer since I'm only talking about standard time and not daylight savings?

Do you love using limbs as levers and wedging your hips in tightly against pelvis so that you're squeezed as closely together as you can be?

*distracted by the extra credit question*

oh hell yeah. I do love that. LEverage. Angles. Stuff like that.


I think the movement works. I like the "chill chisels" line a great deal; good use of sound and stuff.

I hate "abloom." Hate. That's just me, though.

All poems should be in standard time, and not daylight savings.

bj

 

[champagne1982]

*distracted by the extra credit question*

oh hell yeah. I do love that. LEverage. Angles. Stuff like that.


I think the movement works. I like the "chill chisels" line a great deal; good use of sound and stuff.

I hate "abloom." Hate. That's just me, though.

All poems should be in standard time, and not daylight savings.

bj

Oh I'm glad that you like being pressed and pulled and squeezed... la la ..

So, abloom. I was thinking of dropping the last 2 lines completely but didn't since it felt as if the ending was too abrupt. It would solve the hatred karma oozing from your corner over there. That would be the least I could do for a friend.

Daylight savings is a crock here in the extraordinary northern latitudes. It doesn't get bright until after 8 am and gets dark just around 4 by the solstice anyway, so what savings? The farmers in Saskatchewan don't change time since the cows don't care and the farm wives do, apparently. So, right now we're the same time as 20 kilometres from here and when the time changes in the spring, Manitoba will share their space on the clock.

Gotta luv the prairies.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

It's the last line that doesn't sit right for me as if it's forced in a bit

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Oh I'm glad that you like being pressed and pulled and squeezed... la la ..

So, abloom. I was thinking of dropping the last 2 lines completely but didn't since it felt as if the ending was too abrupt. It would solve the hatred karma oozing from your corner over there. That would be the least I could do for a friend.

Daylight savings is a crock here in the extraordinary northern latitudes. It doesn't get bright until after 8 am and gets dark just around 4 by the solstice anyway, so what savings? The farmers in Saskatchewan don't change time since the cows don't care and the farm wives do, apparently. So, right now we're the same time as 20 kilometres from here and when the time changes in the spring, Manitoba will share their space on the clock.

Gotta luv the prairies.

I will be more careful about my oozing from now on. It was just that one word anyway.

I dunno about letting go of the last two lines; they're reasonable but I think the piece does deserve a better bang at the end. That would mean a pretty serious rewrite of that whole section, but hey, that's why you're here.

Well, that and the porn.

I do love the prairies, even though the whole dark-by-5 thing seems to weird everyone out. It's gotta be even weirder that far north, though. Much as I love dark, that might be a little much for me.

From my point of view, though, I don't really feel completely awake and firing on all cylinders til late afternoon. I'm seriously nocturnal; I do my best writing at about 3 am. So long dark has its advantages for me.

smooch.
bj

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Oh sorry, I didn't realize I had to officially register a poem for this do-hickey.

Please disregard it until it has passed the official go-ahead.

Thanks to Eilonwy for commenting anyway. I will definitely consider that edit

So that the various poems do not get lost in what I hope will be a lot of good discussion and commentary, I will update this first post regularly with a sort of Table of Contents, which links to the posts of each poem submitted for the gang bang. Like this:


1. Denim by upbj
2. (whispered in a dark room) by Champagne
3. Rove by EilonwyKareena
4. 'tied, helpless...' by UnderYourSpell

As in all my threads, there are no rules but one: Be Kind.

And grease up, cause here we go.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Oh sorry, I didn't realize I had to officially register a poem for this do-hickey.

Please disregard it until it has passed the official go-ahead.

Thanks to Eilonwy for commenting anyway. I will definitely consider that edit

No no, it's not that formal, and really it's only that I haven't kept up on that list at the top. My bad.

You just go on and bang away; I daresay a gang-bang with rules would be no fun at all.

I'll get it all caught up soon, I promise.

bj

 

[PandoraGlitters]

whew ok. I have a terrible habit of not reading the first post of the thread all the way through and just rushing head long into things. Thank you BJ.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

scuse me muscling in but hoping you are reading in here Bijou ....... please clear your PMs some as I can't post to you!

 

[champagne1982]

Fall Back to Standard

The trees form a sticklish backdrop
for frolick in the fall blow
green gone yellow and amber flakes
away to make room for soggy snow

until December when chill chisels
out a corner in the shade
so sunlight never touches crystals
hiding by the pine from the shovel blade

scraping a pathway down the street
to springtime tulips and birdsong
abloom in the light warmth, that fresh
from southern climes comes along.
____________________________

I'm not sure if the movement through winter to spring works.

Do I need a fourth stanza to drag through summer since I'm only talking about standard time and not daylight savings?

Do you love using limbs as levers and wedging your hips in tightly against pelvis so that you're squeezed as closely together as you can be?

Fall Back to Standard

The trees form a sticklish backdrop
for frolick in the fall blow
green gone yellow and amber flakes
away to make room for soggy snow

until December when chill chisels
out a corner in the shade
so sunlight never touches crystals
hiding by the pine from the shovel blade

drifted out of sight to sleep 'til dawn
begins in the Artic spring
having missed winter's passage
snow melts into birdsong on robin wing.
________________________________________________

upbj, you were right. This last strophe needed a rethink and a rewrite. UYS, I hope it's better now.

I like it, I guess that's good. Thanks for the feedback, ladies.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Much better that last line isn't forced in anymore to make the rhyme

 

[Tzara]

I've been playing around at form lately, a'cause of the Survivor thing and the form (maybe) requirement—just trying things out. Here's my first attempt at writing a curtal sonnet (which, of course, really isn't a sonnet at all but some crazy form made up by Gerard Manley Hopkins). I'd appreciate anyone's comments, on most anything about it. Does it work as a poem? Is the form too obvious? Wrong? I'm the worst poet ever and someone should take my keyboard away?

Liebeslied

Such a small slice of life, these few minutes,
.....Where part of my body is part of yours
..........And even my thought is made physical
As if geometry derived, was writ,
.....From just sweat and muscle and bone. Of course,
..........Of course, yes, I am joined to you. But how?

More than emotionally, for I thrash,
.....Washed in these exquisite sensations—you're
..........Warm, wet, hollowed, busy, strange, spread....Vocal.
That is my trigger: Voice. High, clean, clear, splashed.
....................Life's call.​

I know I'm pushing it with the rhyme and it's neither iambic nor pentameter (decasyllabic, except for the last line). Is that cheating?

Anyway, it's an interesting form, I think. Y'all should try one.

 

[champagne1982]

Tzed, I'll try to look at your Curtal Sonnet soon. I'm having a rough time wrapping my head around that form. Meanwhile:

I wrote this for TheFool's Same Title Challenge, Submissive Origami. It's time to take another look with an editor's eye. If any of you have problems with the breaks, words or feel in this poem, please let me know; even a simple comment of "I don't like ... (insert word, break or whatever here)". I don't mind if you don't tell me why you don't like it, I'll consider the input as valuable regardless. Same thing applies to the features you like. Consider this a quick opinion poll, nothing more.

Submissive Origami (geisha's song)

I am made of stuff that bends
and twists but won't hold a crease
so my white cranes don't fly
and my lotus blossom petals
flatten on the pond to float
as lilypads, bouyant, pliant;
a place to rest. kaero's throat
balloons as he serenades
the maiko outside the door,
who cannot know the agonies
of coming undone in your hands.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

I finally got round to updating the Bang list in the first post and putting in links to each poem. We currently have nine pieces up for critique. I'll see if I can get my critic on for the latest ones sometime in the next couple of days, but everyone feel free to step up. I just don't think it's sticky enough in here yet.

bj