We Met the Wind (revised)

[Travis]

Revised:

We met the wind with one smile between
us. She looked brightly on the winter scene,
a traveler, a guest amidst the glacial beauty.

I found joy in the showing, a vicarious sense
of exotic iciness just outside my door.

I marveled as she did, saw wisps of snow
blown like desert sand in movie, felt the
insulation of the storm.

But nothing I've found can hold back the
coercive tools of the season. I remember
quite distinctly the sting of a particular gust
and how I found myself looking down, defensively.

I saw death. Saw it in the remnants of summer
weeds sticking up through the snow. Husks of
things that lived, just bits of straw now, flapping
about stiffly in the turbulence.

My toes turned cold, turned ugly as I embraced
the scene for what it was. She screamed in delight
as she squinted and stared down a powdery blast.

I smiled an empty smile and looked past her down
the street. As predicted, the neighborhood had taken
on an industrial bleakness. This little world was proper
once, full of open windows inviting every last ounce of
ambience inside. Now there was only a cluster of ugly
homes, each with its own little tribe huddled inside.

Existentially depressed I guess, the houses became
monuments to monkeys having carved out places for
themselves on a rather large and indifferent rock. Each
construct a meaningless shout into the universal night, a
declaration of a shadow and how it was here and how the
mighty must look on these works and…

She tossed a fluffy snowball at me. Was I ok? It was one
of those endlessly cute gestures that women so disarmingly
shoot our way. Of course I was ok. Just a little cold, that's all.

Original:

We met the wind with one smile between
us. She looked brightly on the winter scene,
a traveler, a guest amidst the glacial beauty.

I found joy in the showing, a vicarious sense
of exotic iciness just outside my door.

I marveled as she did, saw wisps of snow
blown like desert sand in a movie, felt the
insulation of the storm.

But nothing I’ve found can hold back the
coercive tools of the season. I remember
quite distinctly the sting of a particular gust
and how I found myself looking down, defensively.

I saw death. Saw it in the remnants of summer
weeds sticking up through the snow. Husks of
things that lived, just bits of straw now, flapping
about stiffly in an aimless wind.

My toes turned cold, turned ugly as I embraced
the scene for what it was. She screamed in delight
as she squinted and stared down a powdery blast.

Dilettante.

I smiled an empty smile and looked past her down
the street. As predicted, the neighborhood had taken
on an industrial bleakness. This little world was proper
once, full of open windows inviting every last ounce of
ambience inside. Now there was only a blockade and
the abject grimness it fought against.

Existentially depressed I suppose, the houses became
monuments to monkeys having carved out places for
themselves on a rather large and indifferent rock. Each
construct a meaningless shout into the universal night, a
declaration of a shadow and how it was here and how the
mighty must look on my works and…

She tossed a fluffy snowball at me. Was I ok? It was one
of those endlessly cute gestures that women so disarmingly
shoot our way. Of course I was ok. Just a little cold, that's all.

[Elphin]

SS

I particularly like the premis of this and there are two stand out stanzas that have a strong emotion to them.

I found joy in the showing, a vicarious sense
of exotic iciness just outside my door

She tossed a fluffy snowball at me. Was I ok? It was one
of those endlessly cute gestures that women so disarmingly
shoot our way. Of course I was ok. Just a little cold, that's all.

The last one in particular - Ok/way rhyme, just a little cold double meaning are excellent.

I just found the mid section over long - its obviously crucial to set up the end but wordy. Maybe its my laziness, maybe some compression needed - I'm not sure, others more qualified will have a different view.

See what you think, the last stanza deserves a great set up.

Elphin

[beautifulloser]

Hey SS

This is rather splendid.

I particularly like the second stanza, I guess because it has truth, which is always nice.

S3 is great, insulation of the storm, like that.

S4 is lovely, a bit straight but just sort of keeps it all flowing.

S5 really is a killer and is a great image, well done, well articulated, it's very good this.

This stanza is excellent:

I smiled an empty smile and looked past her down
the street. As predicted, the neighborhood had taken
on an industrial bleakness. This little world was proper
once, full of open windows inviting every last ounce of
ambience inside. Now there was only a blockade and
the abject grimness it fought against.

Yep, unutterably lovely, but then you know, it's all bollocks.

Sorry, no nits, there's lot to like about this, SS. Look forward to coming back to it for another read which I'll certainly do.

Nice one

Beau
x

[David]

Travis, it's good to see something here again, and I like this. Just a few other random thoughts ...

Lovely set-up in the first two stanzas.

I found the incursion of the desert sand into the wintry scene, in S3, a bit disorientating, and the proximity of storm got me thinking of Desert Storm, which can't be right.Wouldn't that be a great effect to have on your readers, though? Shock and awe!

I think the coercive tools of the season is a great phrase, although I might jib slightly at tools, which sort of suggests the season is knowingly working on you, whereas I imagine it's actually utterly indifferent. (It is, after all, an aimless wind). You're just collateral damage.

I saw death - really? This is a bit Gothick for me. If you can see death in remnants of summer weeds sticking up through the snow, it must take an effort of the will not to see rebirth as well. Birth, death, the whole damn thing.

Dilettante - there's a lot of complicated love in that word.

I thought the whle two stanza interpolation / voice-over was a bit overblown, but I think you do too, because you puncture it beautifully with the snowball. Great final stanza, very good final line, but if you can get away with saying

It was one
of those endlessly cute gestures that women so disarmingly
shoot our way

in mixed company, without being eviscerated on the spot, you must have great force of character. As if I ever doubted it.

Very good. Very wintry. Do you know The Snow Man by Wallace Stevens? That's so cold it makes me shiver.

Cheers

David

P.S. This is more of an apology that a comment, but it's a very whimsical title (despite being just a quote of the first line) - made me think of Donovan! Don't think I'm proud of that.

[redpond]

HI Select Samaritan--

For me, a piece like this depends of whether the reader can totally believe in the protagonist. His sincerity . We are seeing everything from his eyes. You’ve got to get the reader to be 100% simpatico. One false step and does not your chain of dominos breaks?

So why “Dilettante” standing out there like a tollbooth?
.
Just taking a line as an isolated example of how it is better to use a verb than a phrase
you might consider

Instead of “I smiled an empty smile” how about just “I forced a smile...”

And the last stanza what do you think of...

“She fluffed a snowball and tossed at me. Was I OK? It was one
of those endlessly coquettish gestures that women so underhandedly
shoot our way. Of course I was fine. Just a little cold, that’s all.’’

justasuggestionkeepitflowing- Redpond

[Travis]

Thanks everyone. I've made a few minor changes, your thoughts in mind.

[Wabznasm]

Travis, I just wanted to bring up a crit you left on one of geoff's pieces ages ago that has been particularly memorable to me. Hopefully my intentions will seem vaguely clear:

Black. Broken back. Twig-spindly ribs snapped. Lying in a pool of puddle.

What the fuck is that?

Call me what you like, but that's horrendous and contrived to the point of absurdity! And why the rest of ye gave this poem a good grade overall is beyond me...

For me, there's a lot of the forced poetic in here. Y'know, the kind of constructions one has to wrangle into something verging on poetry:

amidst the glacial beauty.

I found joy in the showing

coercive tools of the season

as I embraced
the scene

a vicarious sense
of exotic iciness

This piece doesn't seem to know where it is. It's a monologue, yet there are some terribly inhuman phrases here; the awkward constructions I've pointed out either suggest odd and contrived poetic bits, or just someone trying to fill out the poem.

I think that's the problem. This is over written. There's a lot of stuff in here and, because of that, a lot of the sentences seem to be fluffed with filler. In truth, because of everything in this, I lost the point of the message quite a bit. I kept on having to re-evaluate what was going on. Now of course long poems are fine, but I honestly think a quarter of this is redundant. Because of the length, the poem suffers from awkward or strange constructions that don't help the read in any way.

As for the message, I like it. The 'existential' couplet is a bit much to bite off, but then that's deliberate. I just think on the whole this is, well, messy.

That crit could come across like a big guff of empty wind - give us a shout if you want me to be a bit more specific with the details of this.

Dave

[juliadebeauvoir]

Hey S.S.,
This is a lovely way to describe how two people can be at the same spot in life and look at things so differently. I think the first three verses have a very promising start. "We met with one smile between us" is a great opening line. This begins as a poem but then unravels into prose. Not that I'm against prose, but consistency keeps the reader on track.
I also wasn't sure until the end that it was a full grown woman and not a child.

Did like:

endlessly cute gestures that women so disarmingly
shoot our way.

I didn't even know we did that!

I marveled as she did, saw wisps of snow
blown like desert sand in movie, felt the
insulation of the storm.

I really understand the picture of desert sand--you could leave 'movie' out and 'felt the insulation of the storm' as it doesn't set up the same word picture as 'desert sand'. Snow does look like sand. We are in the midst of an ice storm. Yesterday the wind was swirling the snow on the road--looked just like desert. The wind also picks up the 'snow sand' and whips it into small twisters on the road.
By the way, the high today in in Wisconsin is 2 degrees! Heat wave!

My suggestion is to somehow remove so many personal pronouns--it makes this poem heavy and you wonder what you are reading. As I said before, prose or poem?

I highlighted the personal pronouns that you may want to think of taking out and other phrases that seem to keep an otherwise delightful poem very heavy. Take it for what you will.

Cheers,
Kim

But nothing I've found can hold back the
coercive tools of the season. I remember
quite distinctly the sting of a particular gust
and how I found myself looking down, defensively.

I saw death. Saw it in the remnants of summer
weeds sticking up through the snow. Husks of
things that lived, just bits of straw now, flapping
about stiffly in the turbulence.

My toes turned cold, turned ugly as I embraced
the scene for what it was. She screamed in delight
as she squinted and stared down a powdery blast.

I smiled an empty smile and looked past her down
the street. As predicted, the neighborhood had taken
on an industrial bleakness. This little world was proper
once, full of open windows inviting every last ounce of
ambience inside. Now there was only a cluster of ugly
homes, each with its own little tribe(s) huddled inside.

Existentially depressed I guess, the houses became
monuments to monkeys having carved out places for
themselves on a rather large and indifferent rock. Each
construct a meaningless shout into the universal night, a
declaration of a shadow and how it was here and how the
mighty must look on these works and…

[Travis]

Thanks a bunch Kim and Dave. I mean that.

Well now I have a better idea of the general consensus on my scribblings here in this one. That's good. Just enough posts to know the overall vibe.

When I rewrite this, I'll incorporate as much advice from each of you as I can.

Dave, give me a shout. Be specific. I need it. Need to figure out exactly what I'm doing wrong here. I can see a lot of what you people are saying, but I saw that when I was writing this, and I thought I was doing ok, I thought it worked.

I know that it's often easier to find fault in other people's writing than in your own, but this is one of the few times that I've truly been blindsided by a ubiquitous "Hey Trav, this doesn't really work" when I thought all along that it did work. Why is that? I need to know.

[Wabznasm]

Just to let you know I'll be back on this in 3 or 4 days -- going to be busy for a bit.

[camus]

Why is that? I need to know.

MMMMMMMMmmmmmmmm,

I'd say because of these:

glacial beauty
remnants
Husks
ambience
industrial bleakness

All very nice in context, but still, for a fellow of your intellectual standing you must know these words and phrases are run-of-the-mill - they are those "we" use but really require something more or perhaps something less, with added gravitas.

You get the drift, of course you do.

cheers
Kris

[Travis]

Please, you're making me blush...

But Kris, honest to God, I'm stumped. Of course I get the drift, like you said. But when I penned it I thought it worked. And I want to know why. Seriously, why did I think that?

I can write a better paragraph than I can a poem, I know that. But still, I'm pretty good about keeping my own poetic bullshit out of my own poetic ramblings. Why not in this one? Haha! I thought it worked! Why?!?

I finished this fucker up and I was PLEASED! Happy as a lark! (genuinely laughing) I thought I did good!

And you know, I see perfectly what the bunch of ye are saying, I say the same things myself! And yet here I am, still not completely convinced that the way I have it doesn't work.

I dunno. You know me, it's not about ego. I can be as open as any open book. No show here. I'm genuinely puzzled.

Now, I have to go to bed before I get in trouble. She's feisty, that one.

[barrie]

The irksome phrses have been pointed out and I have to agree that they need replacing, all except for one. I thought industrial bleakness was just right.

I like the innocence v cynicism that runs through it. The couple both enjoying the snow initially, then the N begins to link it to much less idyllic scenes -

I saw death. Saw it in the remnants of summer
weeds sticking up through the snow. - comes over like flashback in a film.

Then the neighbourhood scene - could be a memory of summer, but more likely a comment on society then and now.
The penultimate verse is the crux of it all for me - What the fuck is it all about? What are we doing, and what do we know?.....

...and all the while, the woman, is completely oblivious to all this, just enjoying the moment.

The last verse has a perfectly apt ending - Just a little cold, that's all.

Just one thing - Get rid of that fluffy snowball - it's too twee. Do you really need an adjective?

I like it - it got me thinking, rather than just reading.

Barrie

[emuse]

Travis I think the poem begins when the reader feels engaged. The problem is the first few strophes don't do it. It's not that they aren't lovely but for a reader who has will pick this up and read it in a journal somewhere down the road...the poem doesn't make the reader care. We aren't surprised until we begin to approach a bit of drama.

I saw death. Saw it in the remnants of summer
weeds sticking up through the snow. Husks of
things that lived, just bits of straw now, flapping
about stiffly in the turbulence.

I would start the poem at this point (if it were mine). I know that the female subject of the poem is meant to be a lighthearted bookend to the narrator's dip into darker thoughts but perhaps that intro is not needed.

Helpful maybe?

e