It's the Poem-A-Week Challenge Discussion Thread

[Ash999]

Damn

Sweet of U , Lez

 

[SmilingLez]

Just curious, do you also post in the Story section?

 

[Ash999]

Just curious, do you also post in the Story section?

I hv posted in audio stories

 

[Tzara]

Hot Joe

Suddenly,
the coffee
in my cup
tastes of
crows

Your eyes
are ants,
they race
over my tits
the crows
in my coffee
fly.


36/52

There are two main images/metaphors in this poem; both grabbed my attention.

The first was that "tastes of crows" in the first strophe. I'm not sure why I like it so much, as I couldn't say quite what it means to me. I guess it seems a little mysterious, or ominous, maybe—that the narrator suddenly feels odd. Then that second strophe, where it repeats, which seems to clarify the first strophe was, in fact, a warning or premonition.

But the real killer metaphor is "Your eyes / are ants, / they race / over my tits". That perfectly evokes for me (straight male) what a woman must feel when some guy (friend? lover? just some random male walking past?) runs his gaze over her. Creepy crawly ickiness.

It made me squirm a bit, which is a good thing.

 

[Ash999]

There are two main images/metaphors in this poem; both grabbed my attention.

The first was that "tastes of crows" in the first strophe. I'm not sure why I like it so much, as I couldn't say quite what it means to me. I guess it seems a little mysterious, or ominous, maybe—that the narrator suddenly feels odd. Then that second strophe, where it repeats, which seems to clarify the first strophe was, in fact, a warning or premonition.

But the real killer metaphor is "Your eyes / are ants, / they race / over my tits". That perfectly evokes for me (straight male) what a woman must feel when some guy (friend? lover? just some random male walking past?) runs his gaze over her. Creepy crawly ickiness.

It made me squirm a bit, which is a good thing.

Tzara's second observation made me revisit the poem: it is an observant pertinent comment!!!

 

[Tzara]

Iowa City, 1998

The land is flat unrelieved
yellow cornfields that stretch
past the city with its castellated
stone empire of higher learning.

I am ensconced at the Holiday Inn,
by the indoor pool and elevators,
late night voices, chlorine dreams.
I didn't expect to find myself here,

didn't expect anything after years
of your displeasure, lost in piles
of dirty laundry, frozen by routine,
by disapproval and icy silences

until I'm so small,
infinitesimal almost
not anything.

Yet here I am at Martini's
sharing Chardonnay with Jason
who is tall and young, angel wings
tattooed on his back and no, no

I didn't but oh I wanted to, could have.
Instead we talked books and music,
shared pizza and later in my room,
I wrote a poem. Alone. I wrote a poem.

Week 33, Poem 1, Total 37

Sometimes a poem resonates with you for personal reasons. It's probably pretty obvious I like most anything Angie writes, but I particularly liked this poem, possibly because of its setting, both the where of its setting and the time in which it is set.

Iowa City (pardon me if I'm stating the obvious) is the home of the University of Iowa and, I think most relevant to this poem, the Iowa Writers Workshop, arguably the most prestigious creative writing program in the United States. I presume, though don't of course know, that the narrator is in Iowa City for a writing workshop or program of some kind. This seems partly an escape of a kind from the drudgery and distress of her daily life (years / of your displeasure, lost in piles / of dirty laundry, frozen by routine, / by disapproval and icy silences) and partly (one presumes) an attempt to do something personally rewarding (attend the workshop).

The time setting is important to me not so much for what was happening in the world at that time, as that it was in my middle age, where one often reevaluates one's life—where one is, what one is doing, and so on. This reinforces, for me at least, the sense of the narrator apparently looking for a change in her life, to try and stop feeling "so small, / infinitesimal[,] almost / not anything."

The last two strophes, with the companionship that might have been something more intimate than a friendly conversation and the close, where this possibility is channeled into a poem, is perhaps a little sad, but sad in a way that suggests the narrator is taking a bit more control of her life.

All of this strikes me personally because of my having attended a writing residency at a college (way, way less prestigious than the Iowa Writers Workshop), my attraction to some of the other writers there, the semi-loneliness of ending up in a dorm room writing poems late at night, etc. It's not a perfect analogue for my experience—I was older when I attended the program and had/have quite a happy home life—but it is close enough to feel like the experience I had.

It's a good example of what I call the Rorschach Theory of Literary Criticism—that a poem acts like the stimulus in a projective test, where the reader projects their emotions and meanings onto the text.

Or whatever. I really liked this poem.

 

[_Land]

....

Tzara this poem left me speechless......

The way you captured silence was stunningly beautiful


_Land

 

[Angeline]

Thank you Tzara. I'm glad my poem resonated with you. The narrator (aka me) was there for a work project but it did involve a lot of people from the Writers Workshop. It was very exciting work (evaluating writing samples for a large-scale assessment using a specific rubric), and being around so many others who love writing felt like a creative pressure cooker. It was liberating and helped me find my way back to my own poetry. I think I want to write more about it. We'll see.

It's very satisfying when a friend/reader gets what one is trying to say.

 

[Tzara]

Tzara this poem left me speechless......

The way you captured silence was stunningly beautiful


_Land

Thank you, _Land. It was nothing, really.

 

[Angeline]

The soft sky reaches out
in desert streaks

Reality fades like a drop
of sizzling rain

blackness, there are blue
cacti in the desert ink

below in a body of dunes
beneath beige lingerie

watching me watching
her the days heat

undressing Dawn in
the Mojave


N0 28

42 I like this poem a lot. It turns my expectations about a poem on its head (literally, with the title at the bottom...perverse of you lol). It has a ghazal-like quality in that each couplet stands on its own but taken as a group presents a complete image of waking day. I also like the personification: the sky reaches; the dunes are womanly curves wearing sand lingerie; Dawn is awakened by heat undressing and revealing her. And I like that I'm not sure who "me" is: the Sun is my impression. Even if I'm wrong about that it fits with the personification!

I'm not sure I like "Reality" in the second two lines. I'm not sure what it stands for so why would it fade? It feels like it should be something more specific and not just this big concept. But I'm probably being too literal.

Anyway it was a very pleasurable read to discover this morning so thank you.

 

[42BelowsBack]

I'm not sure I like "Reality" in the second two lines. I'm not sure what it stands for so why would it fade? It feels like it should be something more specific and not just this big concept. But I'm probably being too literal.

I have reworded the reality couplet and reordered the ink line in light of your five star feedback.

I really liked the idea of the title as last line in a cycle that rejects closure:

blackness. There are blue
cacti in the desert ink

Dawn steps into
the Mojave

The title remains as the last line in a loop with the first line as above,

Angeline, Thanks

 

[Angeline]

@Wonderer67 glad to see the dam burst on your writer's block! Those are powerful poems that to me seem like three parts of the same poem. They're full of tension then action, lots of movement and vivid images. Imho editing would make them even stronger but y'know I edit everything.

 

[Wonderer67]

@Wonderer67 glad to see the dam burst on your writer's block! Those are powerful poems that to me seem like three parts of the same poem. They're full of tension then action, lots of movement and vivid images. Imho editing would make them even stronger but y'know I edit everything.

Thank you Ang. It was inspired by me renting power equipment and the let down of returning to the “real world.” Lotsa parallels.

I wish I knew what to look for when editing, but for me, it’s really just the basics: punctuation , spelling, and I wish I was good at taking out anything that was not central to the poem.

I have a tendency to ramble and ramble and ramble. But I got a beat generation CD box set many years ago and I liked the rambling , and very casual way that some of the poems were read…

This vid is so bad it’s great.

 

[SmilingLez]

Wish I was part of the beat generation.

Listen, man, stop waiting for the right time.
The moment’s here, right now, don’t dodge it.
Life’s a dirty joke; laugh, cry, scream, drink, smoke.
Because in the end, that’s all we really got,
this fleeting, beautiful mess.

 

[SmilingLez]

My deliciously dark dystopian fairy tale posted today for the Dark Fairy Tale Challenge. Enjoy!



https://www.literotica.com/p/the-lucky-plate-club

 

[Ash999]

My this week's poem was inspired by this international poker, sorry , power play :----
https://ibb.co/8DdGYJQc

 

[Wonderer67]

Wish I was part of the beat generation.

Listen, man, stop waiting for the right time.
The moment’s here, right now, don’t dodge it.
Life’s a dirty joke; laugh, cry, scream, drink, smoke.
Because in the end, that’s all we really got,
this fleeting, beautiful mess.

Go mommy-o, go!!

Snap snap!

 

[Wonderer67]

I have been working on a longer, interrelated poem. I entered it as one poem broken into three.

Last time I wrote three separate ones.

I dunno if that was the right answer or not. Love to hear your opinions.

 

[SmilingLez]

I have been working on a longer, interrelated poem. I entered it as one poem broken into three.

Last time I wrote three separate ones.

I dunno if that was the right answer or not. Love to hear your opinions.

I just read your poem. I don't think you need the titles of each individual part. I enjoyed it very much having been to many a 4H fair when I was younger

 

[Ash999]

I have been working on a longer, interrelated poem. I entered it as one poem broken into three.

Last time I wrote three separate ones.

I dunno if that was the right answer or not. Love to hear your opinions.

In one line " flowers and punkins...." : I think you meant " pumpkins". I loved ur' poems!!!

 

[42BelowsBack]

Sisters by @Angeline is a beautiful rare poem. It flows with purity. It will always be felt in my heart.

 

[Angeline]

Sisters by @Angeline is a beautiful rare poem. It flows with purity. It will always be felt in my heart.

Thank you 42. It's a triolet.

 

[42BelowsBack]

Thank you 42. It's a triolet.

It just keeps getting more and more beautiful. Thank you for sharing that.

 

[Angeline]

I have been working on a longer, interrelated poem. I entered it as one poem broken into three.

Last time I wrote three separate ones.

I dunno if that was the right answer or not. Love to hear your opinions.

Hi Wonderer. I really like that you're putting these connected pieces together. You may eventually discover you have a whole bunch of poems that weave around the same theme and thus a chapbook is born.

Like Smiling Lez (another NJ homie ), I have fond memories of the State Fair (when it was in Trenton) and 4H clubs. More recently I'd go to the Bucks County Ag Fair which always has a big 4H presence. So your poem resonates for me, especially the contests (congrats on that mega sunflower!) and the tractor pulls.

I like the idea of titles although i think an overall title would work better. The separate poems are self-explanatory, but overall the poem is about the fair, right?

The poems are good. They have movement and some strong imagery. My only query is who are these poems for? If the answer is you and your wife then fine. If you think there might eventually be a wider audience then you may want to comb through the poems and edit anything that isn't relevant. But that's just food for thought.

 

[Wonderer67]

Hi Wonderer. I really like that you're putting these connected pieces together. You may eventually discover you have a whole bunch of poems that weave around the same theme and thus a chapbook is born.

Like Smiling Lez (another NJ homie ), I have fond memories of the State Fair (when it was in Trenton) and 4H clubs. More recently I'd go to the Bucks County Ag Fair which always has a big 4H presence. So your poem resonates for me, especially the contests (congrats on that mega sunflower!) and the tractor pulls.

I don’t recall the state fair, but we would go to the hundred and County fair at the old racetrack ever since I was a kid. Great memories!! We did go to Trenton for the races but I don’t think we ever went for the fairs.

The poems are good. They have movement and some strong imagery. My only query is who are these poems for? If the answer is you and your wife then fine. If you think there might eventually be a wider audience then you may want to comb through the poems and edit anything that isn't relevant. But that's just food for thought.

I don’t really know who the poems are for. Mostly for me and my wife. For me, it’s just a good creative outlet.

I really wouldn’t know how to start editing them, although I do edit them down considerably.

I simply like the fact that poetry seems to have very few rules. Sort of works for me.