Not For The Thin-Skinned

[wildsweetone]

Thanks for the insightful comments. I went back and fixed up the tense issues and the added "'s as well. <smiles> It always reads right if you wrote it yourself, cause the mind knows what you meant to say, no matter whats on the page.


And thanks again to WSO and Pat as well. Between the three of you, you pushed me in lots of different ways and helped me create something much more than when I started.

So once again...


It started with sunburn

It started with sunburn.
“Nothing to worry about,” the doctor said
while twisting tendrils of disease
lurked deep inside,
undetected.

“I can’t stop itching.”
“Nothing to worry about,” the doctor said,
while tendrils grew and multiplied,
seeking out unsullied places,
spreading the corruption
unabated.
Natural defenses faltered,
then failed,
overwhelmed
while miracles of modern medicine
remained unused.

“Everything hurts inside.”
“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else we can do,” the doctor said,
injecting drugs to ease the pain.
Morphine and Percozet
create facades of
nothing wrong,
while inside,
everything is.

“I’m scared.”
“I know, love. I’m here with you,” I said,
holding a trembling hand.
Surrounded by useless science
and machines,
we shared whispers
of love,
then silence
as your eyes closed
the final time.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
She’s in a better place with God,” the minister said,
but inside my heart
scalpels carved
wide and deep.
Like the cancers that devoured her,
leaving behind
an empty shell.

The aching deadens me.

I have a couple of niggles still... if you're happy with what you have, don't read any further.

'“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else we can do,” the doctor said,
injecting drugs to ease the pain.

A contradiction here, he says there's nothing he can do and then immediately gives pain relief.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
She’s in a better place with God,” the minister said,

This needs something, but I'm not sure what. I 'think' the two sentences would not follow on from one another at a funeral. The first would be spoken at the funeral, the second might be at another time in the service, or perhaps before or after the funeral.

The aching deadens me.

I want more impact here. I'm guessing that this is a passive way to write what could be a powerful active statement (sorry I don't know the right grammatical terms but I think that says what I mean.) I don't think 'aching' is able to deaden a person, it's the whole scenario of a person's illness from start to finish that makes you ache. If you feel anything, then you are not dead. And you ache so you are not deadened to all that is around you. Make it an active statement and you'll see the difference.



by the way... I don't think we pushed you around much... I think we made you think and that's always a good thing.

Gee but this sure is a great thread!

 

[wildsweetone]

Fly, I think your writing is almost beyond my commenting ability but there's a couple of things that I wondered...

Jungle heat creeps on narrow eyes (maybe 'narrowed'?)
and minds through the cool
Wisconsin woods. Blazing hunters
squint and cock their lips, loose
a hail of epithets on gook-eyed (on 'a' gook-eyed)
trespasser, who feels the jungle
close as slurs clip the leaves
around him. These pale bigots

know nothing of Laos
and the cost of collaboration,
the night crossing to Thailand
with two shirts, a knife and a pot
as bullets slap the water. Twenty years
on the jungle fringe before the promise
of America fulfilled.

In the white-tail season
he finds nostalgia in blued steel,
the stock and trigger. He knows
the dimmed eyes of death, the red trail
of quarry. This new bark (what is bark?)
extends a familiar roost (roost? A military term or just a chicken thing?)
for his deadly wait. The ambush

arrives in snarling 4-wheel drive
with shaking fists and 4-letter
suggestions. Hate
cuts through the forest like napalm, (what colour is napalm?)
and a twenty-year-old twitch
in his finger returns. He squints
and squeezes and the eyes of 6 hunters
grow dim.

I like how this poem closes the circle, and personally, I am interested in the topic and feel it's well written.

I don't know if any of those comments help... I'll watch the reviews of others closely and see if I can understand what they find.

 

[PatCarrington]

Jungle heat creeps on narrow eyes
and minds through the cool
Wisconsin woods. Blazing hunters
squint and cock their lips, loose
a hail of epithets on gook-eyed
trespasser, who feels the jungle
close as slurs clip the leaves
around him. These pale bigots

know nothing of Laos
and the cost of collaboration,
the night crossing to Thailand
with two shirts, a knife and a pot
as bullets slap the water. Twenty years
on the jungle fringe before the promise
of America fulfilled.

In the white-tail season
he finds nostalgia in blued steel,
the stock and trigger. He knows
the dimmed eyes of death, the red trail
of quarry. This new bark
extends a familiar roost
for his deadly wait. The ambush

arrives in snarling 4-wheel drive
with shaking fists and 4-letter
suggestions. Hate
cuts through the forest like napalm,
and a twenty-year-old twitch
in his finger returns. He squints
and squeezes and the eyes of 6 hunters
grow dim.

i read about this (it happened in wisconsin, didn't it?). so did everyone else i'm sure, if they recognize the incident you refer to.

is he using his past as a defense? things that happened to him? a sort of temporary insanity defense?

 

[flyguy69]

i read about this (it happened in wisconsin, didn't it?). so did everyone else i'm sure, if they recognize the incident you refer to.

is he using his past as a defense? things that happened to him? a sort of temporary insanity defense?

I'm not sure how far along the trial is-- it is not presently in the news. The incident occured just a couple hours from here.

His confession acknowledges the murders, right down to turning his blaze orange jacket inside out to the camoflauge and chasing his prey through the woods. He is a respected leader in the Hmong community of St. Paul, MN.

It was a tragic event with no clear-cut right or wrong. His assailants were frightening pigs, and he committed murder.

 

[PatCarrington]

I'm not sure how far along the trial is-- it is not presently in the news. The incident occured just a couple hours from here.

His confession acknowledges the murders, right down to turning his blaze orange jacket inside out to the camoflauge and chasing his prey through the woods. He is a respected leader in the Hmong community of St. Paul, MN.

It was a tragic event with no clear-cut right or wrong. His assailants were frightening pigs, and he committed murder.

i meant did he have something in his past ....

(.....These pale bigots

know nothing of Laos
and the cost of collaboration,
the night crossing to Thailand
with two shirts, a knife and a pot
as bullets slap the water. )


....that he is using in his defense.

or did you just take poetic license (which is totally acceptable, of course)?

 

[Liar]

Flyguy and Zanzibar, I juust wanted to let you know that I didn't just drop off the face of the earth after you went through so much effort to comment on my poem. I've had a rough week and this thread went into high gear just now. Both your methods of comments and suggestions have given me a lot of valueable input (along with the one I got via PM), and I'm certain I'll find a way to get the message I want to across better now. Thank you both.

Now, I should really start getting involved here in this thread. Seems like the place to be.

humbly,
#L

 

[flyguy69]

i meant did he have something in his past ....

(.....These pale bigots

know nothing of Laos
and the cost of collaboration,
the night crossing to Thailand
with two shirts, a knife and a pot
as bullets slap the water. )


....that he is using in his defense.

or did you just take poetic license (which is totally acceptable, of course)?

That part is a generalized depiction of the Hmong plight after U.S. withdrawal. I don't know his particular story, but suspect it is similar.

For folks that don't know: the Hmong are a mountain people of Laos, ethnicly distinct from Laotians. They collaborated with the U.S. during the Vietnam war and were brutally punished for it by the North Vietnamese afterwards. Many of them fled to camps in Thailand awaiting American assitance, and many of them still reside there. Since about 1990 the U.S. has helped to relocate some of them and, for some reason, California, Wisconsin and Minnesota have been the sites of choice. Many people, even here in close proximity to Hmong communities, do not realize the assitance they offered and the price they paid.

 

[Liar]

Thought I'd pitch in with a few suggestions here. Bear with me, I haven't done any serious feedbacking in quite a while.

It started with sunburn

It started with sunburn.
“Nothing to worry about,” the doctor said
while twisting tendrils of disease
lurked deep inside,
undetected.

“I can’t stop itching.”
“Nothing to worry about,” the doctor said,
while tendrils grew and multiplied,
seeking out unsullied places,
spreading the corruption
unabated.
Natural defenses faltered,
then failed,
overwhelmed
while miracles of modern medicine
remained unused.

“Everything hurts inside.”
“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else we can do,” the doctor said,
injecting drugs to ease the pain.
Morphine and Percozet
create facades of
nothing wrong,
while inside,
everything is.

“I’m scared.”
“I know, love. I’m here with you,” I said,
holding a trembling hand.
Surrounded by useless science
and machines,
we shared whispers
of love,
then silence
as your eyes closed
the final time.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
She’s in a better place with God,” the minister said,
but inside my heart
scalpels carved
wide and deep.
Like the cancers that devoured her,
leaving behind
an empty shell.

The aching deadens me.

I must say that I actually liked the layout of your first draft better. It is a flowing piece of posaic poetry which imo would gain on more paragraph like paragraphs. More focused that way. Right now I can't see the reason for the multitude of line breaks, no reason you chop where you chop. It's more jagged now, and you've driven the tempo up in your choice of new phrases, but to me a lot of that urgency is lost with the layout.

There are a few places where I feel you say one thing too many:

* For instance, it's painfully obvious that it is cancer you are referring to, and the fact that you mention the actual word in the end feels almost a bit anticlimatic.

* "Useless science and machines" could be shortened to let the machines (or even something that represent the machines, maybe the sound of them?) represent the whole.

* "injecting drugs to ease the pain" is a line that I would strike right away. The passage afterwards becomes even more chilly then, brutally jaded.

There are more, but I'm not focus enough to give you any specific suggestions. Just look out for when you say the same thing wtice but with different images, and see if the effect isn't clearer if you focus on one.

Best of luck, it's already a poem that I as a reader feel instead of just read.

#L

 

[Zanzibar]

Jungle heat creeps on narrow eyes [1]
and minds through the cool
Wisconsin woods. Blazing hunters
squint and cock their lips, loose
a hail of epithets on gook-eyed [2]
trespasser, who feels the jungle
close as slurs clip the leaves
around him. These pale bigots

know nothing of Laos
and the cost of collaboration,
the night crossing to Thailand
with two shirts, a knife and a pot
as bullets slap the water. Twenty years
on the jungle fringe before the promise
of America fulfilled.

In the white-tail season
he finds nostalgia in blued steel,
the stock and trigger. He knows [3]
the dimmed eyes of death, the red trail
of quarry. This new bark
extends a familiar roost
for his deadly wait. The ambush

arrives in snarling 4-wheel drive
with shaking fists and 4-letter
suggestions. Hate [4]
cuts through the forest like napalm,
and a twenty-year-old twitch
in his finger returns. He squints
and squeezes and the eyes of 6 hunters
grow dim.

First of all, a very strong poem. I really enjoyed the wording and images you made me picture. I could feel the tension and coiled spring waiting release right from the beginning. Just a few comments for you.

[1] Consider using "with" instead of "on" in this line, or perhaps "in". Either seems to make the line more consistent to me.

[2] Not sure if it's a missing word here, or possibly using "at" instead of "on". Just something about the flow here is disturbed for me, but its hard for me to put my finger on it. The whole sentence overall reads well, just that tiny ripple of something missing or inconsistent.

[3] I think this line could be even tighter and more effective without "the" at the beginning, just starting with stock - or use a descriptor before stock. Think about this one, easy to go either way.

[4] "suggestions" just doesn't feel like a strong enough word here, especially with the rest of the strophe pumped full of fury and anger. To me, the word you use in line I noted in comment [2] "epithets" and this line could be mirrored, or just find a stronger word here. Word wise, I see two different ways to go, "demands" or "insults".

Toss these around in your head and see what pops up for you.

 

[Zanzibar]

Thought I'd pitch in with a few suggestions here. Bear with me, I haven't done any serious feedbacking in quite a while.


I must say that I actually liked the layout of your first draft better. It is a flowing piece of posaic poetry which imo would gain on more paragraph like paragraphs. More focused that way. Right now I can't see the reason for the multitude of line breaks, no reason you chop where you chop. It's more jagged now, and you've driven the tempo up in your choice of new phrases, but to me a lot of that urgency is lost with the layout.

There are a few places where I feel you say one thing too many:

* For instance, it's painfully obvious that it is cancer you are referring to, and the fact that you mention the actual word in the end feels almost a bit anticlimatic.

* "Useless science and machines" could be shortened to let the machines (or even something that represent the machines, maybe the sound of them?) represent the whole.

* "injecting drugs to ease the pain" is a line that I would strike right away. The passage afterwards becomes even more chilly then, brutally jaded.

There are more, but I'm not focus enough to give you any specific suggestions. Just look out for when you say the same thing wtice but with different images, and see if the effect isn't clearer if you focus on one.

Best of luck, it's already a poem that I as a reader feel instead of just read.

#L

First of all, thanks for the inputs. I see several things I will definitely consider, the line about the injections especially so. Between yours and WSO's input, that makes a huge difference and I am looking for that callous/cutting wound feel.

For the layout, I wanted to explore what it felt like in a different form. I added another strophe as well. I do understand your comment, and I'll be playing with the format some more to tighten up the poem once again.

 

[Zanzibar]

This is the final...

Thanks for all the constructive comments! I think this is going to be the final version. Only thing I am not totally sure of is the final line by itself. I do like the paragragh format better in most places and am quite happy with the finished result.

~Zan

It started with sunburn.

It started with sunburn.
“Nothing to worry about,” the doctor said,
while twisting tendrils of disease
lurked deep inside, undetected.

“I can’t stop itching.”
“Nothing to worry about,” the doctor said,
while tendrils grew and multiplied,
spreading the corruption unabated.
Natural defenses faltered, then failed,
while miracles of modern medicine
remained unused.

“Everything hurts inside.”
"Nothing we can do,” the doctor said.
Morphine and Percozet
create facades of nothing wrong,
while inside, everything is.

“I’m scared.”
“I know, love. I’m here with you,” I said,
holding a trembling hand.
Surrounded by impotent science,
her eyes closed the final time.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…”
“She’s in a better place with God,” the minister said,
but inside my heart
scalpels carved wide and deep.
leaving behind an empty shell.

Like hers, yet I still breathe.

 

[angelicminx]

Two poems in progress...

The first is a tribute to a business a friend owns:

Cedar Hills Archery and Paylake

(Photo of the rolling hills)

Cedar trees stand so tall
On top of rolling hills
In the lake the catfish jump
Creating such a thrill

(Photo of the lake)

Animals, made of foam
Used as practice for the kill
Archers through the forest stalk
Showing off their skill

(Photo of the animals, might include someone shooting)

As the summer fades to fall
The bucks fight for a mate
Hunters dress in their disguise
Preparing for the wait

(Photo of a mounted buck, or one of a hunter in camo: possibly in a stand)

Twilight turns to dark of night
Fishermen stay out late
Fires glow, green lights bob
Anticipation’s great.

(Photo of the lake at night)


The second is another triolet I intend to put on a photo:

What Do You See?

When you look at me, what do you see?
Do you see only my smile?
A smile that hides all the facets of me
When you look at me, what do you see?
Do you see who I have potential to be?
You'd know if you only listened a while.
When you look at me, what do you see?
Do you see only my smile?


Rip 'em to shreds if need be. I'm ready, provided they become better for the effort.

 

[Liar]

hey, minx. It would be easier with the actual photos in question. Could you attach them?

 

[Zanzibar]

Two poems in progress...

The first is a tribute to a business a friend owns:

Cedar Hills Archery and Paylake

(Photo of the rolling hills)

Cedar trees stand so tall
On top of rolling hills
In the lake the catfish jump
Creating such a thrill

(Photo of the lake)

Animals, made of foam
Used as practice for the kill
Archers through the forest stalk
Showing off their skill

(Photo of the animals, might include someone shooting)

As the summer fades to fall
The bucks fight for a mate
Hunters dress in their disguise
Preparing for the wait

(Photo of a mounted buck, or one of a hunter in camo: possibly in a stand)

Twilight turns to dark of night
Fishermen stay out late
Fires glow, green lights bob
Anticipation’s great.

(Photo of the lake at night)

Rip 'em to shreds if need be. I'm ready, provided they become better for the effort.

I'm so tempted to just try and do a rewrite of these... (The proposal editor and ad writer part of me coming out, but I'll ask first...) As they are written, the seem cutesy or trite, kind of like you'd see in a cheesy tourist pamphlet or beginning ad copy. Is it a serious work? Something to be used as ad copy, or?

It's hard for me to get a handle on the kind of comments that would best serve you, until I have a better idea where you want to go with it.

Illustrated poetry as you said they were going to go with pictures. Slide show?

Lots of ways to go with these.

(Photo of the rolling hills)
Cedar trees stand so tall
On top of rolling hills
In the lake the catfish jump
Creating such a thrill

What would pull me deeper into the poem would be words that draw more out of me, and paint a more dramatic picture. Something like:

Cedar trees caress the sky
atop the rolling hills
while catfish leap at passing gnats
and test a fisher's skills

Hopefully you can see what I am getting at by the sample I provided. Both use the same rhyming scheme. Both paint word pictures of the same thing, but in totally different ways. What kind of imagery are you trying to provide?


I'm going to just comment on the first strophe for now, and wait till I get feedback from you for more. Especially since the tone of the second poem is so much different that the first.

~Zan

 

[angelicminx]

I'm so tempted to just try and do a rewrite of these... (The proposal editor and ad writer part of me coming out, but I'll ask first...) As they are written, the seem cutesy or trite, kind of like you'd see in a cheesy tourist pamphlet or beginning ad copy. Is it a serious work? Something to be used as ad copy, or?

It's hard for me to get a handle on the kind of comments that would best serve you, until I have a better idea where you want to go with it.

Illustrated poetry as you said they were going to go with pictures. Slide show?

Lots of ways to go with these.

First let me say thank you for taking the time to help me. I do appreciate it.

Second:
I'm definitely not shooting for cutesy, trite, or cheesy. What I am hoping for is something that I can be proud of and earns the coveted votes.

The majority of my poetry to date seems childish. I have no clue how to change that, though I am willing to learn.

I want this to be a serious piece that my friend would be proud to display as a work of art and not just because I wrote it.

I have so many people in my life fluffing my ego and telling me something is good when in actuality it isn't. That's why I came here. Y'all are the best, IMO, and the answers I seek can be found here.

What would pull me deeper into the poem would be words that draw more out of me, and paint a more dramatic picture. Something like:

Cedar trees caress the sky
atop the rolling hills
while catfish leap at passing gnats
and test a fisher's skills

Hopefully you can see what I am getting at by the sample I provided. Both use the same rhyming scheme. Both paint word pictures of the same thing, but in totally different ways. What kind of imagery are you trying to provide?

This is exactly what I am looking for. What you have done has taken it out of the child realm and moved it into adulthood.

I have a lot to learn. Almost anyone can write poetry. I want to write GREAT poetry. Thank you for taking the time to help me learn!

I'm attaching the pictures I have in mind. At least the ones I currently have, the others haven't been taken yet. My initial thought was just to add the still pics between the stanzas.

 

[Zanzibar]

First let me say thank you for taking the time to help me. I do appreciate it.

Second:
I'm definitely not shooting for cutesy, trite, or cheesy. What I am hoping for is something that I can be proud of and earns the coveted votes.

The majority of my poetry to date seems childish. I have no clue how to change that, though I am willing to learn.

I want this to be a serious piece that my friend would be proud to display as a work of art and not just because I wrote it.

I have so many people in my life fluffing my ego and telling me something is good when in actuality it isn't. That's why I came here. Y'all are the best, IMO, and the answers I seek can be found here.

This is exactly what I am looking for. What you have done has taken it out of the child realm and moved it into adulthood.

I have a lot to learn. Almost anyone can write poetry. I want to write GREAT poetry. Thank you for taking the time to help me learn!

I'm attaching the pictures I have in mind. At least the ones I currently have, the others haven't been taken yet. My initial thought was just to add the still pics between the stanzas.

Angelicminx,

I'm certainly not an expert poet, since most of my experience is working with proposals, writing stories, and editing other folks work where they are looking for rewrites, not suggestions. But the folks here are great at pointing things out, and I'm learning a lot from them in finding ways to point out what I see and feel, without doing it for you.

First off, don't worry if it rhymes. Worry about what it is you want to say first. What jumps out at you and what thoughts and emotions do you want the reader to get from your work. Once you've figured out what that is, if you end up choosing a form that rhymes, terrific, but don't be constrained by that artificial boundry.

Second, use vivid or action words to get your points across. The more "punch" or "zing" you get into the words, the better chance you have in getting your points across.

Third, consistent "voice" through your poem - passive or active. For your work, active voice would seem to be more effective, painting your picture as actions/doing instead of observing or being passive.

Look at your second strophe:

Animals, made of foam
Used as practice for the kill
Archers through the forest stalk
Showing off their skill

Whats the main point you're wanting to portray? Archers stalking through the forest and shooting arrows at dummy animals to hone their archery skills. Look at the kinds of words and phrasing I used in my first comment. What can you come up with to make this strophe come alive? What are possible ways to make it active? Whats most important to you - the archers or the animals? Look at how you've phrased it currently and see what it appears to be.

For me, it's foam animals, since you start your strophe with that image.

Apply some of those thoughts to the rest of your poem and see what you can coem up with. Heck, on my last poem, I went through 5 iterations I posted here (and a half dozen I did offline) and even had a title change before I was happy with it.

Play with it, mess with the words and format a bit, and see what you come up with.

 

[PatCarrington]

First let me say thank you for taking the time to help me. I do appreciate it.

Second:
I'm definitely not shooting for cutesy, trite, or cheesy. What I am hoping for is something that I can be proud of and earns the coveted votes.

The majority of my poetry to date seems childish. I have no clue how to change that, though I am willing to learn.

I want this to be a serious piece that my friend would be proud to display as a work of art and not just because I wrote it.

I have so many people in my life fluffing my ego and telling me something is good when in actuality it isn't. That's why I came here. Y'all are the best, IMO, and the answers I seek can be found here.




This is exactly what I am looking for. What you have done has taken it out of the child realm and moved it into adulthood.

I have a lot to learn. Almost anyone can write poetry. I want to write GREAT poetry. Thank you for taking the time to help me learn!

I'm attaching the pictures I have in mind. At least the ones I currently have, the others haven't been taken yet. My initial thought was just to add the still pics between the stanzas.

angelicminx,

just want to throw a quick 2 cents in here, for what it's worth.

it is my firm belief that no novice poet will improve if they insist on writing poetry with end rhymes.

good, rhyming poetry is very difficult to write, and simply cannot be done by a writer without extensive experience. it always ends up sounding and feeling "forced," and just plain bad.

my advice is to get rid of the rhymes, and first learn to say exactly what you want to say, without those artificial constraints, or any others.

 

[twelveoone]

first learn to say exactly what you want to say, without those artificial constraints, or any others.

Damn, I like you

 

[twelveoone]

First let me say thank you for taking the time to help me. I do appreciate it.

Second:
I'm definitely not shooting for cutesy, trite, or cheesy. What I am hoping for is something that I can be proud of and earns the coveted votes.

The majority of my poetry to date seems childish. I have no clue how to change that, though I am willing to learn.

I want this to be a serious piece that my friend would be proud to display as a work of art and not just because I wrote it.

I have so many people in my life fluffing my ego and telling me something is good when in actuality it isn't. That's why I came here. Y'all are the best, IMO, and the answers I seek can be found here.




This is exactly what I am looking for. What you have done has taken it out of the child realm and moved it into adulthood.

I have a lot to learn. Almost anyone can write poetry. I want to write GREAT poetry. Thank you for taking the time to help me learn!

I'm attaching the pictures I have in mind. At least the ones I currently have, the others haven't been taken yet. My initial thought was just to add the still pics between the stanzas.

What is implied here are goals that can easily pulled together.
There maybe 10 people here, that have written things that have approched greatness. (Pat being one of them) The GREAT poets all have written losers, somethings little more than downright crap. To write great poetry, it must have a great meaning to you, and it must resonate well to a varied audience. Does this subject matter have great meaning to you?
To get the H's is a different matter, a good rule of thumb, is that if your poetry is a little better than average, 50% (maybe higher) of the votes are going to be returned favours, and you can be cutesy, trite, or cheesy, but not too much, but it should have some interest, and for starters forget the end rhyme as Pat advised. Now how many comments have you left? What type of comments, what did you see that you liked, why? Why does it work for you?
Now a work of art is one thing, a poster is another, I suspect that this will be some form of advertising - I defer to Zanzibar.

Some of your statements are admirable.
I have no clue how to change that, though I am willing to learn.
I have a lot to learn.
We all do, we all do; to start, read, learn the basic tools of the trade, don't be defensive about criticism, a good critic will enable you to see another viewpoint. You don't have change what you wrote, just consider what was said. Take a good look at the beginning of this thread. Pat, one of the best writers that ever graced this place put something up, was set upon by two, maybe more, pitbulls, he defended his position, but made alot of changes. And that was one of the few poems that I have seen here that approched greatness.

 

[PatCarrington]

Damn, I like you

it's mutual.

 

[WickedEve]

angelicminx, for a novice poet to expose their words, without rhyme, is a very naked experience.
The rhyme ruins a poem that does have some potential. It sounds juvenile with lines like: "Creating such a thrill" "Anticipation's great." But you need these lines for your rhyme habit. In free verse you can get rid of the thrill.

I did my own thing with your first couple of stanzas. This is a quickie but it's good enough to give you an idea of other ways to say the same thing.

Cedar hills roll on
past the catfish lakes,
beyond the gentle death of foam,

soon a breathless fall
when forests become more
than trees--

snapping twigs
and archer's swift outline.

 

[anotherguyfromsweden]

Go with the flow

Angelicminx, I've just got to say that I like rhymed poetry much better.
It gives it a superior flow compared to WickedEve's alternative, and flow is, at least to me, one of the absolutely most important things when you're writing poetry.
I say go with the flow, go with rhyme!
PS. I'm no good at writing poetry, I'm just sayin' what I like. DS

 

[anotherguyfromsweden]

Go with the flow 2

And it doesn't make it childish at all!

 

[PatCarrington]

angelicminx,

interesting. you said....

The majority of my poetry to date seems childish. I have no clue how to change that, though I am willing to learn.

and then you got these two responses:

angelicminx, for a novice poet to expose their words, without rhyme, is a very naked experience.
The rhyme ruins a poem that does have some potential. It sounds juvenile with lines like: "Creating such a thrill" "Anticipation's great." But you need these lines for your rhyme habit. In free verse you can get rid of the thrill.

I did my own thing with your first couple of stanzas. This is a quickie but it's good enough to give you an idea of other ways to say the same thing.

Cedar hills roll on
past the catfish lakes,
beyond the gentle death of foam,

soon a breathless fall
when forests become more
than trees--

snapping twigs
and archer's swift outline.

Angelicminx, I've just got to say that I like rhymed poetry much better.
It gives it a superior flow compared to WickedEve's alternative, and flow is, at least to me, one of the absolutely most important things when you're writing poetry.
I say go with the flow, go with rhyme!
PS. I'm no good at writing poetry, I'm just sayin' what I like. DS

those opinions are in total opposition to each other.

so as a poet who professed a desire to improve her writing, you have to decide which one is correct. you have to make a decision HOW you are going to improve, and whose advice has more validity.

you have to choose.

and on what basis do you make that decision? you have to figure that out to.

nothing's easy.

 

[Guest]

First I'd read, read and read poetry of all kinds then decide how you want to be read yourself.

I've written in both styles and have no preference but I will say it's harder to pull off a rhyming verse well.