Not For The Thin-Skinned

[flyguy69]

Was it "An Ode To My Mother-In-Law's [insert dirty word here]" type of poem? I mean, really...

You send shivers up my spine, Carrie. Bad ones, this time.

 

[wildsweetone]

Your mother in law was probably flattered.

 

[flyguy69]

Your mother in law was probably flattered.

Yes, but now she insists I wear chaps when I do chores around her house.

 

[wildsweetone]

And that's a hardship, how?

 

[flyguy69]

And that's a hardship, how?

The straps chafe my bare butt.

 

[champagne1982]

The straps chafe my bare butt.

If you cinch them up real tight they stop slipping and are actually more comfortable...

Sincerely,

Canadian Cowgirl.

 

[champagne1982]

I thought it was time someone offered a poem here for some input.

This comes from a poem on the passion thread and a bit of tweaking I've done today. Any critique is appreciated.


Come to me dear friend
I long to have you in my mind
it's been an eternity since
we've shared
more than smiles and tears.

My lips whisper need into your kiss
then drop to your skin
and there, slake this incredible thirst.
My water of life in the midst
of this sear landscape --
my life.

My fingers touch desire through a caress
along your heated arousal
and there, draw you closer to release.
My blanket of love around me
during this cold winter --
my love.

Just to hold you close
inside this hollow heart
prooves that summer deserts
bloom with autumn rains
and winter cold will thaw
always with the spring

 

[flyguy69]

If you cinch them up real tight they stop slipping and are actually more comfortable...

Sincerely,

Canadian Cowgirl.

Whoop! Too tight! Thanks for the cheap vasectomy, Cowgirl!


Now, as to your poem (and an attempt to stay on topic!):

My initial response is that it is way too sentimental. Phrases like "I long to have you" and "My fingers touch desire" give it a 19th century romanticism that sticks in my throat. It needs some concrete details (it hasn't really been "an eternity," now, has it?) on which the allegories can stand.

Keep the "rain on a sere landscape" notion, but tell us why you are suddenly able to share more than smiles and tears (which doesn't, in my mind, equate with a drought) and what it means to bloom. In 21st century phrases!

 

[PatCarrington]

In 21st century phrases!

ahhh, the on-going debate between Bukowski and Petrarch...

...you'd think those two old coots could meet in the middle somewhere,

but no.

they dig in their heels instead.

 

[flyguy69]

You realize what a poem this is, of course:

ahhh, the on-going debate between Bukowski and Petrarch...

...you'd think those two old coots could meet in the middle somewhere,

but no.

they dig in their heels instead.

 

[PatCarrington]

You realize what a poem this is, of course:

i hadn't read it. i just saw you're statement, and thought it was amusing.

i'm very glad this thread has caught on. poets open to opinion, and others willing to give it, straight up.

i've stayed away since the beginning of the thread, just glad that it gets crowded from time to time.

 

[flyguy69]

i hadn't read it. i just saw you're statement, and thought it was amusing.

i'm very glad this thread has caught on. poets open to opinion, and others willing to give it, straight up.

i've stayed away since the beginning of the thread, just glad that it gets crowded from time to time.

No, I mean your response. It is, bluntly, poetic!

 

[PatCarrington]

No, I mean your response. It is, bluntly, poetic!

oh. you meant,

...he's a poet
and don't know it.

hey! that's somewhere between Bukowski and Petrach, i guess.

 

[flyguy69]

oh. you meant,

...he's a poet
and don't know it.

hey! that's somewhere between Bukowski and Petrach, i guess.

If they're in non-adjacent bathroom stalls, yes.

I've gotta run. Later, poets!

 

[PatCarrington]

If they're in non-adjacent bathroom stalls, yes.

from what i can tell, Bukowski's whole life was a bathroom stall...or he would've liked you to believe that, anyway.

and Petrach would insist it be called a water closet, i'm pretty sure.

they both have preferences strict enough to extend even to body functions.

I've gotta run. Later, poets!

it must be getting crowded in there.

 

[flyguy69]

Looking for feedback

Salt of the Earth
I.
Black journey, across ten nights
before the rise
of an eternal sun. The door
that swings one way,
once. Here the placards
of priests, incantations
of faith in faith. The divine

documents we present
to a dog-head god: our acts,
our intents, our love and love
returned. The measured
obsidian stare, the exacting scale.

II.
Natron, sacred salt
of earth, of sun-burnt lakes.
Its holy task: to suck
the putrid life; the offensive odor
of living fluids, of blood
of pus, of tears and preserve the leather

record of Pharaoh, swaddled
as a child. Desert boy
dry as mined salt sails
on a boat of stretched skin
through the long black
sea of night. Ten times the moon rises
as the dry Nile descends. At dawn

he pleads his case
with entrails, amulets,
papyrus devotion to his journey.
Against the feathered standard
his fortune weighs as Ammit, crocodile, drools
for the heavy heart.

III.
The Book of the Dead, ancient
text of undead scribes, written daily
with desperate tongues. We hear Anubis’
padded approach, the swing
of the scale. As night descends
we cast off sins in frenzied prayer,
wrap ourselves in unblemished skin
and fill our cavities with salt.

 

[Guest]

Only had time for verse I -

I.
Black journey, across ten nights (black and night same, try “long”)
before the rise
of an eternal sun. The door
that swings one way, (swings once, one way)
once. Here the placards
of priests, incantations
of faith in faith. The divine

documents we present
to a dog-head god: our acts, (dog-headed)
our intents, our love and love (our love given and returned)
returned. The measured
obsidian stare, the exacting scale.

If I may - I'll fiddle some more later.

 

[flyguy69]

Only had time for verse I -

I.
Black journey, across ten nights (black and night same, try “long”)
before the rise
of an eternal sun. The door
that swings one way, (swings once, one way)
once. Here the placards
of priests, incantations
of faith in faith. The divine

documents we present
to a dog-head god: our acts, (dog-headed)
our intents, our love and love (our love given and returned)
returned. The measured
obsidian stare, the exacting scale.

If I may - I'll fiddle some more later.

I've seen your av. You've been fiddling enough!




I can't decide if this captures the awe of an Egyptian exhibit I saw last summer, or if it is simply pretentious. Any thoughts are appeciated.

 

[wildsweetone]

Oh fly I love this one! I understand it! That's gotta be a first for me. lol
Not sure if my thoughts will help or hinder. Please just ask if they don't make sense.

Salt of the Earth
I.
Black journey, across ten nights
before the rise
of an eternal sun. The door (can the sun be 'eternal'? - there is no clue here as to the actual sun you are referring to. does it need more explanation?)
that swings one way, (can it 'swing' if it only goes one way?)
once. Here the placards
of priests, incantations
of faith in faith.(incomplete sentence?) The divine

documents we present
to a dog-head god: our acts,
our intents, our love and love
returned. The measured
obsidian stare, the exacting scale.(another fragment?)

II.
Natron, sacred salt
of earth, of sun-burnt lakes.
Its holy task: to suck(I think the : are the wrong punctuation)
the putrid life; the offensive odor (is 'the offensive odor' needed, is 'offensive' needed and perhaps 'odor' left in? - show don't tell stuff?)
of living fluids, of blood
of pus, of tears and preserve the leather

record of Pharaoh, swaddled
as a child. Desert boy
dry as mined salt sails
on a boat of stretched skin
through the long black
sea of night. Ten times the moon rises
as the dry Nile descends. At dawn (nb:'dry' is twice in this verse; is the Nile ever completely dry?)

he pleads his case
with entrails, amulets,
papyrus devotion to his journey.
Against the feathered standard
his fortune weighs as Ammit, crocodile, drools(i think crocodile is a stark noun and therefore makes 'drools' seem out of place, perhaps define in a different way that Ammit has a crocodile head...?)
for the heavy heart.

III.
The Book of the Dead, ancient
text of undead scribes,(was it 'of' the undead scribes or 'by' them?) written daily
with desperate tongues. We hear Anubis’ (was it the scribes that had desperation?)
padded approach, the swing (does this 'swing' relate to the first? if so then perhaps it would be clearer to state this one is swinging its return arc?)
of the scale. As night descends (which of the ten nights?)
we cast off sins in frenzied prayer,
wrap ourselves in unblemished skin
and fill our cavities with salt.

I can't decide if this captures the awe of an Egyptian exhibit I saw last summer, or if it is simply pretentious. Any thoughts are appeciated.

I just saw your thought... So, some thoughts of my own...

In my opinion you have done a great job with the things one can 'see' when looking at ancient Egypt. Run through and check to see if you have used all the senses. Oftentimes they can enhance the ambience. Think some more about the salt. Have you ever been to a salt mine? What does salt do to skin, what does dry salty heat do to skin? Can you capture those effects in your writing? - one adjective might do it...? Be aware that not everyone knows who the gods are and what they look like. Do you want to 'feed' your reader or let them wonder and research?

I like your black and white contrast. Does Egypt conjure up any other colour for you? Can it be included?

Do you want to include the tiny items that were wrapped in the mummy bandages? Will that help enhance the presence of the gods?

 

[flyguy69]

Oh fly I love this one! I understand it! That's gotta be a first for me. lol
Not sure if my thoughts will help or hinder. Please just ask if they don't make sense.

....

Thank you, Sweetie!

You have a lot of good ideas, here, and I will certainly keep them in mind as I procede. And if this is the first poem of mine you have understood you display remarkable patience!

 

[wildsweetone]

i meant the first on first reading, or something like that. lol most poetry in here takes me several reads before i understand it...

then again, maybe it was that flash of insight that got me all excited...

either way, i love this one.

 

[flyguy69]

i meant the first on first reading, or something like that. lol most poetry in here takes me several reads before i understand it...

then again, maybe it was that flash of insight that got me all excited...

either way, i love this one.

You sure it's not menopause?

 

[wildsweetone]

is there a measure of wishful thinking in that question?

 

[flyguy69]

is there a measure of wishful thinking in that question?

Reading poetry to menopausal women is very affirming for men. We assume they are fanning their cheeks because of our verse.

 

[wildsweetone]

and do you have an excuse for non-menopausal women who fan their cheeks because of your poetry?