Our burnt backs take
turns weathering orange.
Cool face/warm face,
red fleece jaw lines
and her goose down lips
connect, warp my spine.
Fireplace crackle: her hips
like bricks of a chimney:
elegantly open toward my side,
much like her trusting father’s walls.
Hammered dulcimers lay out thoughts:
perplexing chords, slopped on thick.
We feed each other preventative
pills: abstinence, pureed carrot
shoved off a highchair.
Piercing rounds dispurse
the imagined featherbed;
sheets will not consume us.
Coherent scalds pull her away.
Only delicate noses are left to nudge
the wounds: taped up mouths, folded fingers.
Fools stare. Deep hot blue silver eyes
turn technicolor ceiling fans volcanic.
I watch one panel at a time,
rotating passion fruit, forgetting why
we decide to wait another night
to peel this layer.
Abstained
-
alex69williams
- Persistent Poster
- Posts: 136
- Joined: Wed Mar 16, 2005 4:08 pm
- Location: London, UK - the gateway to anonymity
My harsh critique is this:
I got to the end of this and thought "this poem is shit...why couldn't I write it?"
Hmmmm. Not sure I was thinking clearly.
So there!
al
I got to the end of this and thought "this poem is shit...why couldn't I write it?"
Hmmmm. Not sure I was thinking clearly.
So there!
al
Sue, Donny, Mouse:
first thing that hits me with this one is that the adjectives are taking over the asylum. I think of asjectives as like salt - just a touch to bring out the flavours - and this piece is saltier than a salty sea-dog at the end of an a-salt course. For example I think you could prune "hammered" and three of "deep", "hot", "blue" and "silver"; generally, maybe you could let the nouns speak for themselves more often.
I understand the idea behind "hips / like bricks of a chimney" but it's a rather unflattering image I think. Must be a more delicate way of describing a young lady's hips. Not sure there's sufficient clarity in"coherent scalds", or the following two lines.
Finally I think it shows that this was originally posted as prose (although maybe that was just an error). It seems to have been written without regard for line-breaks. I'd love to see you use more form in your poems - not necessarily traditional forms but just something repetitive, say three stanzas rhyming ABCBAC or anything of your own devising. Well, you did ask for harsh crits. But it's an interesting poem - good subject - definitely worth working on. And lucky her, having an open fire.
first thing that hits me with this one is that the adjectives are taking over the asylum. I think of asjectives as like salt - just a touch to bring out the flavours - and this piece is saltier than a salty sea-dog at the end of an a-salt course. For example I think you could prune "hammered" and three of "deep", "hot", "blue" and "silver"; generally, maybe you could let the nouns speak for themselves more often.
I understand the idea behind "hips / like bricks of a chimney" but it's a rather unflattering image I think. Must be a more delicate way of describing a young lady's hips. Not sure there's sufficient clarity in"coherent scalds", or the following two lines.
Finally I think it shows that this was originally posted as prose (although maybe that was just an error). It seems to have been written without regard for line-breaks. I'd love to see you use more form in your poems - not necessarily traditional forms but just something repetitive, say three stanzas rhyming ABCBAC or anything of your own devising. Well, you did ask for harsh crits. But it's an interesting poem - good subject - definitely worth working on. And lucky her, having an open fire.
Thanks for honesty Alex.
Thanks for a good eye, kj. Yes that's generally been everyone's critique. It seems to need less images and adjectives, more direct nouns and a soul. But I also think it might be wise to let this one sit a couple of months before I have another go at it. A traditional form is also a good idea. Perhaps that 5-7-5 syllable form (do-de-da-di renga?), or a loose (non-rhyming) sonnet.
Thanks for a good eye, kj. Yes that's generally been everyone's critique. It seems to need less images and adjectives, more direct nouns and a soul. But I also think it might be wise to let this one sit a couple of months before I have another go at it. A traditional form is also a good idea. Perhaps that 5-7-5 syllable form (do-de-da-di renga?), or a loose (non-rhyming) sonnet.