Yesterday, there was a buzz in my head,
a promise of exploring the deep
throb of my pulse with my feet,
my hips, my flesh.
Shit.
Last night, between the dancing
and the drummer, the wine lied
in soft pink tones,
fabricating invitations
from my feathered hopes,
promises of things
that could never happen.
Shit.
Today, back in my familiar room,
I understood why alcohol is a depressant.
Shit.
____________
(Revision II)
Shit.
Yesterday, there was a buzz in my head, a promise of exploring
the deep throb of my pulse with my feet, my hips, my flesh. Shit.
Last night, between the dancing and the drummer,
the bottle of wine lied to me. It whispered to me
of intrigue and shadowed possibilities. With soft,
pink toned words, it fabricated inviting images
from my stagnant memories and feathered hopes,
promises of things that never could happen. Shit.
Today, back in my familiar room,
I understood why alcohol is a depressant.
Shit.
(Original)
Shit.
Yesterday, there was a buzz in my head, a promise of mimicking
the deep throb of my pulse with my feet, my hips, my flesh. Shit.
Last night, between the dancing and the drummer,
the bottle of wine lied to me. It spoke to me in
friendly whispers of intrigue and possibilities.
With soft, pink toned words, it fabricated inviting images
from my stagnant longings and feather-down hopes,
promises of things that never could happen. Shit.
Today, back in my familiar room,
I remembered alcohol is a depressant.
Shit.
The party
I enjoyed the way one line flows into the next, with the punctuating 'Shit' nicely breaking things up, capturing the mood perfectly. A couple of lines I think could do with some work - 'a promise of mimicking', 'friendly whispers', 'stagnant longings and feather-down hopes' all felt a little out of place, and could probably do with a little more rework.
Cheers,
Jon
Cheers,
Jon
-
Suzanne
- Perspicacious Poster
- Posts: 4902
- Joined: Sun Oct 19, 2008 4:46 pm
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- Location: Land of the Midnight Sun
Thanks for the replies, Gentlemen.
Charles, I admit that I wrote it and laughed every time I read it. It is a bit of a chuckle, and a bit sad.
I am not sure what your reason for lack of chisel critique meant but I have decided not to take it as an insult.
Jon, I tweaked the things that you suggested. Changing a few other things here and there. I hope it flows better.
I enjoyed writing this one. .. maybe because, generally, I am not one to swear... but it fit the mood so well, and it is such a great sum-it-up word.
Shit.
Suzanne
Charles, I admit that I wrote it and laughed every time I read it. It is a bit of a chuckle, and a bit sad.
I am not sure what your reason for lack of chisel critique meant but I have decided not to take it as an insult.
Jon, I tweaked the things that you suggested. Changing a few other things here and there. I hope it flows better.
I enjoyed writing this one. .. maybe because, generally, I am not one to swear... but it fit the mood so well, and it is such a great sum-it-up word.
Shit.
Suzanne
Suzanne
I am sure we all recognise something in this. A couple of thoughts for you - you could get some rhyme/half rhyme in to add to the "poetics" and maybe trim out some fat - for example the two to mes and s3. I know you have stuck to couplets but maybe less organisation suits the subject. I would maybe cut back on the shits too. Something like
Yesterday, there was a buzz in my head,
a promise of exploring the deep
throb of my pulse with my feet,
my hips, my flesh.
Shit.
Last night, between the dancing
and the drummer, the wine lied
in soft pink tones,
fabricating invitations
from my feathered hopes,
promises of things
that could never happen.
Shit. Today,
back in my familiar room,
I understood why alcohol is a depressant.
Shit.
Just some thoughts - bottle of irn bru will do the trick.
elph
I am sure we all recognise something in this. A couple of thoughts for you - you could get some rhyme/half rhyme in to add to the "poetics" and maybe trim out some fat - for example the two to mes and s3. I know you have stuck to couplets but maybe less organisation suits the subject. I would maybe cut back on the shits too. Something like
Yesterday, there was a buzz in my head,
a promise of exploring the deep
throb of my pulse with my feet,
my hips, my flesh.
Shit.
Last night, between the dancing
and the drummer, the wine lied
in soft pink tones,
fabricating invitations
from my feathered hopes,
promises of things
that could never happen.
Shit. Today,
back in my familiar room,
I understood why alcohol is a depressant.
Shit.
Just some thoughts - bottle of irn bru will do the trick.
elph
