New Poetry Recommendations

Testing a theory

New Poems

Here are my recommendations. I am a bit poeted out and somewhat cranky, this being the middle of mannequin's reading period... It is also why I have peetered out of the Survivor contest, but I WILL be back or my name is not Octavia Rima!

These are the ones I like and think are quite good! There were many others that might be more to your liking.

Eve and Tess give us several to choose from! Always good to read these ladies. Check out their offerings and see how wide their range stretches.

Here are a few new (or semi-new)names to watch out for.

literaryslave©
DocktorWu©
zack_constantine©

I have pasted teasers so hopefully someone reading this might be inspired to click and go read the rest for themselves. Sometimes the best review is a mirror-- hey poet, look what amazing stuff you have written!!!



I am sorry this is a lame review...Please go leave some comments, vote, leave suggestions. I will be better next week :)

~

Family Butcher
by Tristesse2©

Bill Bryson
made me laugh today
and spit my coffee

Cathedral Grove
by Tristesse2©

No consecrated ground this,
redolent with rebirth,
but still we whisper, awed.

This reminded me of something I might find while reading through my Unitarian Universalist hymnal.

~


Some Agitated Dawn

by zack_constantine©

Some Agitated Dawn

is where she waits for me, beaming
on the shelf of early dreams—

~

Unattainable Saint
by literaryslave©

My faith is transferable.
You are the rock that I am unable to climb.


~

a clown at the wake
by DocktorWu©

we held our breath almost as tight as the corpse
I hesitate to call it father,
father was always so animated

Funeral poems are not easy to write, this poet captures some details that may seem small, but are very telling.
~

sugared out
by WickedEve©

his brow creases
when her day is slick,
when she is an oiled
and empty cat,


Tattoo Animal

by WickedEve©

She is henna and bare,
fluid along the palm,
subdued in tiger skin.

~

New Poems
 
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I Am Music And I Write The Songs

I’m feeling musical today, so I will divide my picks by a theme. The glorious sun shall be my muse. If you know the tunes that prefaces the reviews hum along.

Let the sunshine in.

A little feel good puts a hop in your step and these three poems are likely to make you skip just a little.

Family Butcher by Tristesse2 starts of the list with humor and a wee bit of irony. It is short and to the point and makes you put your hand out. “Please Mam may I have another?”

Some Agitated Dawn by zack_Constantine is pleasant and flowery a sweet little diddy that gives you a lot of sugar but doesn’t put you in a coma. I almost bailed out after the line “beaming on the shelf of early dreams” and I am not quite sure what enigmatic breasts are? But so what? The poem moves along nicely if a bit muddled. I chalk it up as a side effect of the sugar.

Catherdral Grove by tristesse2 is a wonderful sounding poem, I know I always say read it aloud. Every poem should be read aloud, poetry is an auditory art. Some poems don’t reach their full potential until they are read aloud. This is such a poem when read silently it is just a good poem, when read aloud it is a very good poem that rolls and writhes and fires out the intent and imagery. When I read it silently I thought the alliteration was over done. On my second read I immediately knew I was wrong, so wrong, tragically wrong.


Don’t let the sun go down on me.

Time to draw the curtains something politely wicked peeks below the surface of routine. I don’t want to go to that funeral and I don’t want to be in that car. I’m not scared I just believe in being careful. Read these two and see if you agree.

a clown at the wake by Docktorwu is not funny just quirky and dark. The poem moves at a frightening pace, too quick in my opinion. Still, it is a good poem that lets the reader sort out the meaning do you take what’s on the surface or try to dig deeper?

Sugared out by wickedeve continues the somber trend and I like it. I must admit I haven’t figured it out what she means here and I don’t need to. Eve’s poem joins the previous in the “I know what it means to me, but make it your own column”. So I did and I encourage you to make it your own.

Afternoon Delight.

Erotic is damn hard to do so I am surprised at the shiver of arousal that exist in these three poems. Two poets of the previous section make the leap
into this one. I guess that’s odd, same themes too that is also odd. Maybe all poets that write melancholy to dark also write on a bdsm theme. There is a difference though one offers the few from the top and the other from the bottom. Certainly brings new meaning to the slang term Hittin it!

Surrender by wickedeve is almost perfect. It is short and intimate looks at the desire to please as an unknown impulse. Allows us to submit with her and ponder the feeling as though it was our own. “why must I be this curve along you backbone” the protagonist ask? I say why the hell not?

Performance Art by Docktorwu is a wonderful example of well-used metaphor. Again we ride the thoughts of the protagonist but this time from a different desire. “Perfect the practice of cubism with temporary tattoos of line and oval crop and hand print.” Seldom have I heard the act of striking sound so nice. I’ll pass on the experience but the Docktor sure makes me want to watch.

One Minute More by miss_trust breaks up the sexual tension with wit and good lines. The poem is erotic but not intimate so we get a little distance in the poem, which is appropriate given the ending line. I will have a smile on the side with that orgasm.

Red Sails In The Sun Set.


That’s it for me I left out one poem by Wickedeve that probably should be on my list but I liked the poem by miss_trust just a bit more. I tend to think of my poetry reviews as a lifeboat, not every body can get in. Literaryslave who I have mentioned in previous reviews presented a poem that misses the mark but has potential, again I extend an offer for her and everyone to join in on the forum hijinxs. Read and learn about poetry. You will not improve much if you just write it, you have got to study it, practice what you learn from the study. I promise its fun. Its so much fun it not even like learning.

U.P.
 
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No Poets Were Harmed In The Discussion Of This Poem.

Opps I meant to post this yesterday, pretend we are going in the old way back machine...

Today I will take a look at a poet I have not spoken about and go into detail why I think the poem is good and where I think the poem is fails. This will straddle the line of review and critique. I will confine my in-depth opinions to the first strophe. I believe the technical failings of a poem differ from the intent of the poem. I also believe the poem is not the poet.

Whaddya Gonna Do? By Greenmountaineer. Is a diamond in considerable rough. There are wonderful phrases that are cut off. Wandering thoughts that lead into colloquialisms that are inconsistent along with line breaks that harm the poem. With all that said it is still a diamond and here is why I think so. I ask that you read the poem first silently, then aloud and then once more aloud.

You swallowed the cottonmouth Wonder Bread
Wafer each Easter Sunday but prayed
Instead for the New York Yankees and beer
Before your blues-collared Monday began.

There were always, however, pig latin
Minstrel shows good Friday nights after Lent:
"Oh what an assy-chay on this fair assy-
Lay" and Sister Kate so Honoré,
Swapping jokes with the knights of Columbus.

"How 'bout that Series with Yanks and the Mets?
Jayzus! Had to go to confession, though.
Fill it up, Joe" who gets one for himself
And sits down with the best of the parish
To start again the same old episode.

The poem begins with a good line done wrong by the second line.

“You swallowed the cottonmouth Wonder Bread
Wafer each Easter Sunday but prayed”

Why do I think that? Because in my opinion the second line does not need the word wafer go back and read the second line again. It clearly indicates the religious connection with the words Easter Sunday and prayed. So the word wafer can be removed it is extraneous and I think poems should strive for that often-impossible goal of making every word count. Now the poet could be striving for alliteration by using the word wafer to go with wonder “Wonder Bread Wafer” but I doubt that because of the way the line is broken. The phrase “wonder bread wafer” is not connected so I assume and it is an educated guess that alliteration was not the goal. The word wafer may still be important if the poet’s intent was to place the body of Christ aspect to the wafer. Again I don’t think so and I base that on how the word is used in conjunction with the surrounding words. So now you know why I think the opening line is damaged by second line.

Now a close look at that second line:

“Wafer each Easter Sunday but prayed”

In this case I am unsure whether the placement of each and Easter are on purpose. Based on how the remainder of the line is written I think it is fortunate happenstance. Why do I think this is not intentional alliteration again? Because the key part of this line is: Easter Sunday which is a two word phrase. And the line does not begin with the word each but wafer. Why does that matter? The stress on a word is slightly different depending on the position of the word in the sentence. This leads me to think that again alliteration is not the intent. The remainder of the line ends on the word prayed. Some might argue that prayed is not needed because the phrase Easter Sunday appears in the same line. I say no because the act of praying is different and shows the poets intent on creating an image of kneeling and thus a feeling of subservience although hypocritical or insincere in this case, which is expressed in the next line:

"Instead for the New York Yankees and beer"

I think it is just fine but I don’t like the word beer This discrimination is not because the word beer is bad but because it requires the conjunction “and” this makes the beer reference seem tacked on rather than an organic part of the poem. Conjunctions are not all bad just try to avoid tacking them on the end of lines. So I would suggest the poet remove it since it doesn'r seem to add meaningful detail. The last line of the first strophe:

"Before your blues-collared Monday began"

I like this and again I am unsure about the intention of alliteration. The line works well Read it aloud; remember what I said about placement and stresses with regard to alliteration?

Consider the original strophe again:

You swallowed the cottonmouth Wonder Bread
Wafer each Easter Sunday but prayed
Instead for the New York Yankees and beer
Before your blues-collared Monday began.

Pretty good despite my nitpicking, now that we have looked at words indulge me in a brief diatribe about line breaks. Try to break your line in a breath. That means you should be able to read the line aloud without turning blue from oxygen deprivation. It also means you should not chop up a sentence or thought just to make the poem look even. If brevity is not your strong suit use longer lines. There is nothing wrong with longer lines, please put away the hatchet!

What would all my dissecting and anal analyzing lead to if I were this poets editor? I ask you to consider and read aloud the new strophe:

You swallowed the cottonmouth wonder bread each Easter Sunday
but prayed for the New York Yankee’s before your blues collared Monday began.

You may disagree but I will argue until the end of the time that the edited strophe is more powerful and now has a wonderful rhythm. Notice I did not rewrite the poem. I did not change words. Deft use of the scalpel with an application of line breaks produced a better strophe in my opinion. Also realize I started out with a strophe that was a diamond in the rough. Often in my reviews you will notice that I say things such as “I hope the poem continues to evolve.” That is my plea for editing; Every poet needs an editor to bounce things off. That can be one person or a group. Just try to find those people whose opinions you trust and are willing to edit without remaking the poem in their image. Sometimes that means throwing away everything except the concept and sometimes it means removing one word and changing line breaks.

Back to this poem, I enjoyed the writers attempt to show hypocrisy. I felt the middle strophe was weak and delves too far into sarcasm and quaint dialect. The final strophe overindulged in this also and did not say anything that wasn’t said in the first strophe. This lack of a good middle and end limited the ability of the poem to resonate with me. The first strophe alone is a complete and good poem in my opinion. I hope this long discussion has illuminated some of the process I use when looking at poetry for a review. My favorite poem by the author is Lord Gym I enjoy the made up words and what I think is the successful execution of tongue in cheek banter.
 
Once More Into The Breach

Can a title alone be a poem? I asked myself that question when reading Straight Razor Searching by wickedeve. The wonderful title had me salivating like Pavlov’s furry friends. The poem is okay not nearly as good as the title for me. The opening “not tortoise, an ivory moment” is quite nice I can see the handle but for me the poems fades from there. So why am I talking about it because I love the title and the very last 3 lines. While it’s not enough for a poem it is enough for a moment.

Origin by zack_constatine is okay, zack does love the dramatic verse. The poem is effective but words like mere and unto make me think of men in tights. The entire poem takes place in the last stanza. The last stanza is good and I read it several times for the joy of it.

There are other poems on the list of course but these two are the ones that gave me something. Good execution of several forms exists on the list. In those forms you may find something that reaches you I wish you luck in that search. Today my pleasures were a tough nut to crack.

U.P.
 
You gotta be kidding. Cruel joke. That's all this is. Planned. Of course.
It did not escape my notice that today's review would occur on a Friday the 13th. Not only that, but this Friday the 13th happens to be the day before the 14th, which is February 14th which is Valentine's Day. Oh I do not fear Valentine's Day. In fact I anticipate a weekend filled with love. But to attempt a New Poems Review amid all these strange coincidental circumstances of time? Something will go wrong. Terribly wrong. What? Oh anything and everything.

But I came into an awake state mere minutes ago and so far the world is well. Oh yes we still see winter has its cozy seat, but at least the heavens are a happy hue of blue.

So then I gathered together some courage, created hot caffeinated Maxwellian beverage, raised a Bic to a tobacco stick and clicked so a flame licked.

Only then did I feel able enough to enter this strange world and I knew where to locate New Poems. I did so.

And you gotta be kidding: 13 new poems on this Friday the 13th, on the eve of Saturday February 14, also known as Valentine's Day.

I did not read them yet.

I will. And will bring a report. But I think this will be one of the bit-by-bit methods today.

So let us all breathe deep and slow and we will somehow get through what will have to be a strange day in every way possible. Even if it turns out relatively uneventful that would make a strange day, considering the day this is and the day it comes before, practically comes on its... heels... yes it's heels.
 
Whaddya Gonna Do? critique

There's alot to think about there, and I appreciate knowing that this work got more than a casual look.

There was another error that I reflected upon almost immediately after hitting the submit button. I wasn't very effective at displaying the societal hypocrisy of the fifties when organized religion in the New York metropolitan area sponsored minstrel shows where white men would paint their faces black and adopt an "Amos 'n Andy" dialect to tell jokes and sing. There were even fund raisers where students would paint their faces black, dress up in gawdy costumes, and do dance routines known as cakewalks, patterned after a social event practiced by poor blacks in the South. In that context, Unmasked Poet was right: pig latin, Eddie Cantor's signature song, and Sister Kate were all rather superfluous compared to the hypocrisy of their "same old episode." Add to that the reference to the NY baseball Mets who didn't play the Yankees until the year 2000, and I sent at least some readers to a place in time I didn't intend to go.

These minstrel shows, not surprisingly, died an appropriate and quick death during the civil rights movement of the sixties.

I'll also admit to sometimes being more impatient in the telling of the story when I should spend more time on the compositon of it and look forwarded to mastering some of the technical subtleties mentioned. That said, I'll gladly accept "diamond in the rough" status assigned by Unmasked Poet and the counsel will stay with me when I look at my other work.
 
Well it's been a mostly uneventful 13th so far. In fact, I've been feeling so good it's very unusual. Maybe hitting some open country after being lost so long in woods of winter.

Hasn't been completely uneventful. One small one just a few minutes ago as I crossed the avenue to come into this review post. Won't tell it here. Elsewhere sometime if anyone's so inclined to hear it. Happens to involve a black cat. I'd bet six sestinas that this brief event wouldn't have happened on a Thursday 12th or a Saturday 14th.

In observance of a recent life-changing revelation that involves restraining the urge to expend unnecessary labors when the minimum will do just as well, I'm going to slightly alter the way this is ordinarily done. TODAY'S NEW POEMS ARE HERE. Whatever the reader finds bolded or otherwise-fonted you can simply go to the List and the indicated name/poem really isn't hard to find.

Any other day I might find it somewhat freaky that two poems by two different poets appear with the same title on the same day. But not today. The freaky feeling that is. But that's what we have: two poems titled Electro-Convulsive Therapy. Even their hyphens are identical.

Electro-Convulsive Therapy #1 is by none other than champagne1982. She had one the other day which I would have preferred to have appeared on a Friday, because I thought it was just... just... it was the one in the movie theater. I can still see that kid sucking down his soda. I think champ really shines when she can stretch out and hang those words out on her terrace, and you can do nothing except let them become a brief reality around you. This one, Electro-Convulsive Therapy, my first reaction was to just say I didn't quite get it but as I gander at it again, I think the second part... well, I'd call it creepy, in a good way. I could see an Anthony Hopkins playing a creepy movie character and saying this line. In the Sigmund Freud section I am confronted with this Friday 13th strangeness. I can't tell if the third line is splotched with a misstep or if it was intentional. Actually, it could really work if it was intentional.

Electro-Convulsive Therapy #2 is brought to us by the one and only pushkine. If this was not a Friday the 13th I would step out on a limb and guess that this stuff about brains and electro-doodads is part of the Survivor challenge, which I signed up for but have not yet gone forth into it. Less dank-room-floral-afghaned-sofa than the other Electro poem. Lots of keeper lines though. Just pick one. I picked this one: To that great zap her brain has taken.

Oh yes.

Another pushkine poem, House of Foil Windows, well, it's just a beaut. Visual clarity. And a message about loving thy neighbor.

Oh yes.

If someone came along and said to me something like, "oh great humble hmmnmm, can you show me where be the erotic poetics for I do wish to learn" and if I wasn't married up, I'd give them the link to bflagsst's Where Under the Organic Cross. Really, editorially and honestly speaking, for the erotic stuff I do favor those written by chicks (or those I can believe are chicks). But I almost didn't back out of this one fast enough. Got that strange voyeur feeling for sure. I'll be studying it when no one is looking. And I'd suggest that to anyone. Nothing to be ashamed of. We'll all be bettered.

An Office Affair by al_Ussa. I'll admit the first impression, the first lines, knowing what the poet was up to, almost coerced me to back out. But really, there's a feel here. Its brevity is its salvation. Visual strength and another cheap motel (or was it a hotel). Call it a Loving Wives/Stroker poem. Which is nothing to be ashamed of. Oh! Excuse me. A seedy motel.

Secret rendezvous in a seedy motel,

Seedy motel. I like that.

Origin by zack constantine is another very effective erotic work. As Unmasked might say, something to learn from and have fun with too. Brief, tight, visual, tactile, and auditory. I can hear the liquid hitting sand now, and I live in a landlocked world.


I remember when UYS/Annie lamented the blizzard that visited her world. She effectively carries the spirit of that lament into No birds sing. In fact it's so effective I crave the sooner the better arrival of spring and/or the sound of liquid hitting sand or even seedy motel sex. I mean that as a compliment. Because if I let it, it would easily make me sad and I don't want to feel sad today or tonight or tomorrow.

Of course we all know that WickedEve exists on a plane beyond mere mortal comprehension. If I am not mistaken she mentioned somewhere that these (serial sumie & Straight Razor Searching) are examples of her older stuff that she is returning after an absence, that she doesn't write like this these days. No matter. We should be glad she did and that she is giving them back. She lives in a place that few can understand and where we may not feel comfortable because it is her place and she knows it. But, we can look at it, and maybe visit, get ideas. She started a thread about Dos and Don'ts. Now, I'm not much of a do or don't guy but one I thought of dropping in there was to the effect of knowing your limits yet don't limit yourself within those limits all the time. Step across and see if the boundaries might stretch a little. Razor is... well, sharp.

ramonathompson asks Who Wants To Be Ramona's Valentine? You know, ramona's a brassy chick. Controversial. That's good. If everyone liked the controversial the controversial would not be controversial and the controversial are necessary to society. I'll admit she kind of grows on me. She's got heart. If I wasn't married... but her standards are pretty high. I doubt I'd make the cut. Not now. Said something about working hard. I'm out. But I wish her well and all that.

Let's see.

I missed something. Sure of it. No stones please. Just point them out.
 
Saturday, 2/14

Hey there, welcome to the Reviews. We had 13 poems for you to check out on Saturday. Ones that stuck out to me were:

The Man Who Wasn't There by pushkine

Yellow Pining and A Conrad Dimple Poem II by WickedEve are a pair of older poems (resubmitted?) that are both nicely spare and intriguing in the way they draw you in and make you wonder if you're getting them they way she wanted you to or not. (I keep thinking I should go research Conrad Dimple and see if that helps.)

At an Ostentatious Funeral & Others by Cal Y. Pygia is another compilation submission that contains six poems of varying degrees of success at conveying a clear theme, message, or emotion. However, I would say that, in my limited experience, that most of their poetic submissions are worth looking over for tidbits of this and that contained within at least one of the poems involved in a given submission.

We Almost Got Caught by ramonathompson was the one of her three poems to post that I liked the most. All three seem to be a bit Anti-Valentine's Day, to me, but perhaps that was part of why they were submitted when they were. "We Almost Got Caught" had several bits that stuck in my mind, but I really liked:

"You don't love me
And I certainly don't love you
End of Story"

poem for twitter by zack_constantine

That's my thoughts. Please, read and develop your own, and I will see y'all in two weeks (being a bi-weekly reviewer, of course *g*)

:cool:
 
Sunday February 15

There are ten new poems today by a diverse group of writers.

The first line to catch me was "her breath changed the world" in Scorpio 44a's Once There are some errors and it is quite sentimental, but something there.

EriAliSaa gives us a water ride in her erotic poem, you called the rain.

I liked the use of repetition in Hmmnmm's erotic poem we should. There are not too many so skim what else might catch your fancy. Happy President's Day tomorrow.:rose:
 
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There are 14 new poems today. Unfortunately, I do not have much time to spend on this today as I should. If anyone has a poem from today's new poems that they want to suggest, please feel free to add your thoughts. I'll just take a few minutes to point out my favorites.

Hmmnmm's word play in Cruxes made me smile. I would recommend this poet to anyone who enjoys a literary flight of fancy. And though I loved Cruxes, I must be too distracted to decipher his other submission for today, location location location. I'm sure that it has more to do with my frame of mind today than the actual poem. I'll have to revisit that one on a day that I can see straight.

I have to give PandoraGlitters kudos for her Tritina called Sharp. The first line cut through my fog immediately pulling me in.
"Sunset bleeds down the neck of the knife" is a killer first line. No pun intended.

A speck of dust by UnderYourSpell is a lovely triolet. I have not attempted the form yet, so forgive me if it has a fault that I should mention. At face value, it is absolutely lovely with well-crafted lines. The repetition of the form suits her message. I feel like it was a good match of form and message.

Method Acting by annaswirls is another example of a tritina. It's very well-crafted and gives an erotic spin to the form.

So, please, take some time to read and comment on today's new poems. I apologize for my hectic retreat to my abyss of half-written non-fiction.
 
Everybody hung over after the long weekend? It's Tuesday but it has a Monday vibe to it. The cure? Japanese Pop music and the New Poems.

::

Well last week the Survivors were slowing down. Or so I thought but they seem to have been just saving up for this week.

::

This week's secret password must be carpet. UYS takes the tritina for a spin on A persian Carpet, replete with nubile maids. Need I say more?

Not to be outdone, pushkine delivers a less nubile rubaiyat, but with Robert Frost providing inspiration, how can you not love it?

::

Pushkine has been a busy poet. In The Night Wears a Sombrero, none other than T.S Eliot steps in to give a rhyme to a sordid synopsis of damsels, private dicks and silk stockings ...

Then he wanders over to try his hand at Italian sonnettry. It's a meta poem that except for an equine allusion won't disappoint.

::

UYS has also been beavering away. Apart from her flying carpet ride, we get Payback time, a triolet, bleeding for our pleasure.

::

Don't miss Miss PandoraGlitters. Start with Ninja on Soft Paws. It seems to be about an old girl-friend of darkmaas although how she would know about Natashya is beyond me.

Then read A Brick House, Dreaming. Read it again. It will grow on you.

::

I know it's early here in the eastern time zone, so save Heart Break on the Rocks by candylandsky for happy hour. Nine bittersweet lines washed down with chilled vodka; Skol.

::

Wait, there are more, but I have to run ...




::
 
Pandoras poetry this morning is haunting. In a good way
Persian Rug, Spinning -
Submitted by PandoraGlitters (Non-Erotic Poetry) 02/18/09
Lucky Pantoum -
Submitted by PandoraGlitters (Erotic Poetry) 02/18/09

Sand Tracks and Other Poems -
Submitted by Cal Y. Pygia (Erotic Poetry) 02/18/09
of the collection I liked this the best, seemed to stretch beyond the usually way in your face theme.
BOYFRIEND POEMS

For his birthday, yesterday,
I gave my boyfriend poems
Instead of cookies, and he
Sampled them, finding each
A little pasty or overdone,
Despite their heart shapes
And candy sprinkles; next year,
I am baking him a gift certificate,
Which has no heart or tears,
And shall let my girlfriend
Lick frosting from the spoon.



Burnt oak trees on top of the hill.
-
Submitted by PrinceThelo (Erotic Poetry) 02/18/09
In a forest clearing, seldom traveled,
We are burnt oak trees on top of the hill,
We’re destined to never be unraveled.

This was a very impressive shot at the Valentine bonus challenge. My one trip up was the desire to sing a song about a girl on a flying trapeze, due to the over-familiar phrase used in this poem. Sorry, don't want to spoil it for you, but I really wished that phrase was not there.

But seriously, Go read it, some really lovely lines like this one:
Petrified waterfall of amber glue
Might be my favorite Valentine terzze that I have read.


Sedge and the Rubbage -

Take a look.....I will definitely be back to read this one again when I am feeling better.

She was frightened
at how close he lay to the saw grass,
where the ducks stayed
through summer,
Submitted by CBDannieD (Non-Erotic Poetry) 02/18/09


I am sorry so sparse again this week. I am feeling pretty awful all over today. :eek:

Go read em, vote, leave comments, I know I missed some good ones, including two illustrated and one technically on target Champy poem. They are ALL HERE
 
Don't change that dial!

Thursday, February 19th.

It's Evie's day off, so I'm here. I brought a foot of snow with me. Here, have some.

There's a slew of new poems: crude poetry, crude and angry poetry and god help us, even Elvis poetry. But there's some pretty good stuff there, too.

Anything from the lovely Tristesse2 is well worth your reading time. So check out Low expectations, where she does a very servicable job on an acrostic cinquain and my favorite of the pair, the double dactyl Joe Cocker does Farsi influenced You Can Keep Your Fez On.

Cal Y. Pygia has a sextet of excellent little poems posted under the title Stretched Silk and Other Poems. Don't miss them and make sure to read them all. Cal continues to show talent, versatility and growth. I hope he is trying to publish his poetry elsewhere. More people should be reading this stuff.

hmmnmm's sizzling circuitry starts off with merry weirdness and then, well, doesn't go far enough imo. It's good, he's always good, but I felt like I wanted more from this poem, something that would help me understand what all these delightfully strange images and wordplays have to do with circuitry. Maybe it's a work in progress, maybe I just don't get it. You won't know whether you agree unless you read it.

bflagsst is down on the farm awaiting his someone in Clockwise By Owlwise. It's a great title and an interesting poem, short but complete. And he's re-birthing Yeats, which makes me like the poem even more. (A poet here once told me I have a Yeats infection; he was right and I still do.)

That's it for me. If you have comments to add, please do so. Keep writing and Surviving, poets.

:rose:
 
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A mercifully light load today.

a couple from familiar suspects:

if you're into cal Y Pygia, you'll be into today's presentation. If you're like me and can certainly respect the hell out of the poet's sheer eye-popping output and the vivid imagery strength that comes ready-built into just about every work, but you're just not always in the mood, you'll be glad it's available to go back to when the mood is better. Coda was thoughtfully splintery.

zack's got a snippet little ditty which I'm not sure about. Ange got on me yesterday for stopping too short, which she's right about as always because I can't think of a time she hasn't offered a crit that one would not be unwise to consider for their ultimate betterment. I'll humbly pass along the same sentiment to zack's twitter #2. What's there is good, but... well there's not much there. I preferred the last week's about the ocean.

Two standouts today and one not far behind. Two and a half standouts. Two and three-quarter standouts. You get the drift.

Now when I first saw the title, At The Intersection Of You and Me, I thought: Song. Song lyrics. Country song. I'm not much of a country music fan. Leastways not nowadays. When it comes to country I like and frankly miss, the old steel guitar crying, pill-popping, sittin-alone-in-this-bar-drinkin-myself-to-death days. This modern stuff doesn't do much for me. I mean, if somebody comes along and says we're gonna listen to country music today and I have a choice, I'm going with Conway Twitty and not Billy Ray Cyrus. If they say we're gonna listen to rock and roll and I have a choice I'm going with Jerry Lee Lewis, AC/DC and Bad Company and not something that's sorta rock and roll and sorta country. And I don't trust anything that wins a network national talent show. That's just me.

Well, all those fears were completely unfounded, because this poem has nothing to do with country song lyrics, old or new. It's about... well, it doesn't take a Sherlock Holmes to investigate where I have a few, oh, weak spots. Constructed so my favorite line,

hunger clenched around steel

sits right where it ought, in the middle, at the top, peaked, now tumbling downward, but not to disappoint with the heartwarming finale,

lattes were drunk
while lewdest acts passed unnoticed
– almost.

this knee-weakening work is courtesy of herecomestherain, who has chosen to turn off comments. I might've respected the hint to refrain from training the attentive zoom lens on it, except I just couldn't help it. Call it a weakness. And actually, when I think of it in this Unexpected Context, the title becomes less countryish and can apply to an early '30s pop feel. Which I love, those old '30s songs. The Hmmnmmish Highly Recommends.


If poems were adoptable and I was financially solvent I'd definitely highlight PandoraGlitters'

When Our Love is a Waning Moon. I'd just sit and look it over from every angle and distance. I'd delve into it, to find its life force source. I'd shamelessly and selfishly draw out all the cellular Stuff I could find. When I signed up for Poetry Survivor and would envision how I'd want to work with form poetry, my fantasies bore a lot of resemblance to this one. It reaches, it speaks, it flaunts, it coerces a second and third look. It's printable. It's tangible. It's elusive, but it's accommodating. The moon trailing "its toe in velvet sky" and "When our love is a silver slip". If I ever break down and get into survivor/form poetry this is what I'd aspire to. This feel.

And finally, hey, I'll let the Real Poets dicker and quibble about the poetic merits of shesbecumming's Thoughts of Him. I thought it a nice little vignette/storyish brightness and honesty, and freefall frolicking. Just to say, boy if I was the him, I'd be taking a new philosophical gander at the concept of sanctity.

Well, I had more on my mind and there's certainly plenty I've looked over, but the old dog's pestering me to take him outside, plus by now the only cure for these weak-knee wobbles is a dose of that crisp February air. Well it's not the only cure..
 
Holy blazin' blueberries- there's no friggin' poems today! :eek:

I will revisit.

But while I am here, let me just second Hmmnmm's review of Dora's poem from yesterday. Pandora writes love, admiration, adoration, hurt and self-reflection in the way poets who are long-since shuffled off the earth once used to. She makes you believe it.

I've always been both a huge fan and raised-eyebrow skeptic of love poems. If they are done well (and I use the word "well" knowing it is a descriptor for my own opinion), they move me immensely and make me wish I could eat the words down, just to keep them safe. If they are thick and sappy and cliched the eyebrow goes up. I have never once raised my eyebrow with Pandora's poetry.

Love is such a tricky emotion to capture, not only because it's so complex, but because you run the risk of saying something in the exact same way that someone else has already said it. It also effectively nails your emotions to the wall of one moment, or a series of moments. It is for that reason that I tend to be very shy of what I mush together on the subject.

But Dora...Dora makes it infinite and lovely. She makes it forever. And I know I've gone on terribly and I always thrust this sort of praise at her and I wonder sometimes if it mortifies her that my admiration for her work never seems to go away. That there's always more for me to muse on. But her mind- it shows us glorious things. :)

(And this is not to take away from any other poet. Not at all. There are some extremely gifted wordsmiths kicking around this place. I thank you all.)
 
WTF bluebell! No fair shoving all the poems into today! There are twenty-six of the freakin things, dammit! I'm gonna have to get busy reading! (unless that slacker Bluebs wants to help *insert protruding bottom lip*)
 
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WTF bluebell! No fair shoving all the poems into today! There are twenty-six of the freakin things, dammit! I'm gonna have to get busy reading! (unless that slacker Bluebs wants to help *insert protruding bottom lip*)

Check the gym.
Look for parenthetically odd facial expressions.
 
Wowzers! Scads of new poets today. That is just TOO COOL!

Lots of good stuff from some of the best and brightest as well!

With twenty freaking six poems to pick from I don’t even know where to start, so let me group/comment on them by Lit posting experience levels:

New / Newer Poets (3 months or less)
(Welcome dudes / dudettes)

A_SILENT_LOVE'S (2)
Naturemithya (1)
EroticOrogeny (3)
Laurambell (2)
CBDannieD (1)
bequ23 (1)
greenmountaineer(1)
ouiouiBroek (1)
assco (1)

Some REALLY good stuff here. A few of them could do with some editing and I would encourage all of you to get involved with this forum cuz it will do your poetry good and we want to get to know you better. You ARE welcome here.

This is SO tough. I really am having a hard time picking, but I guess I’d have to give my N00bie Fav to greenmountaineer’s poem “Seeking Alchemy, Finding None.” WAY vivid imagery, dude. Well done!


Expierienced(er) / Bestest(er) / Brightest(er) (3+ months)

XXplorher (2)
Cal Y. Pygia (2)
Tristesse2 (2)
Redgiantuk (2)
Sadean (1)
Ramonathompson (4)

K, now it is getting even tougher(est).
XXplorher’s poem “Please, Don't Feed the Birds” made me laugh;
“I Need Pleasure” by Redgiantuk is a terse piece that rocks and
Sadean’s “Migirl” is just plain great.

However, (prolly cuz I know just how freaking difficult it is to write a truly good Ghazal), I have to give my mega Fav to Tristesse2’s “Tonight I speak my thoughts”. How can it EVER get better when you have lines like “Melted ice will find a river and my arms will be your tributary.” That is just too, too good.

As usual, I’m sure I skipped some really good poetry. I would encourage everyone to read them all and then tell us why you like it. Ta.
 
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Check the gym.
Look for parenthetically odd facial expressions.
You will never release this, will you?
Never shoulda said...


Since I'm here I'll echo Betsy's sentiments about Naturemithya's Fried Egg.
Aside from having a way cool title, it's a fun, onomatopoetic little poem. Compact, precise, pleasing. It made me smile.
 
Monday, February 23, 2009

As expected, there are several new poems today, though most are more prose than poetry.

The Day the Laughter Died is quite an ironic title for a poem that made me chuckle. Thanks for the fun lymric, AChild.

AChild's other submission is worth gleaning from the pool of prose. The Night Wears a Sombrero is incredibly short, but interesting. This poem may be a senryu.

And those are my picks for today. So, take a few minutes and explore the new poems. Please don't forget to read, comment, or provide feedback on the poems.
 
Wowzers! Scads of new poets today. That is just TOO COOL!

Lots of good stuff from some of the best and brightest as well!

With twenty freaking six poems to pick from I don’t even know where to start, so let me group/comment on them by Lit posting experience levels:

New / Newer Poets (3 months or less)
(Welcome dudes / dudettes)

A_SILENT_LOVE'S (2)
Naturemithya (1)
EroticOrogeny (3)
Laurambell (2)
CBDannieD (1)
bequ23 (1)
greenmountaineer(1)
ouiouiBroek (1)
assco (1)

Some REALLY good stuff here. A few of them could do with some editing and I would encourage all of you to get involved with this forum cuz it will do your poetry good and we want to get to know you better. You ARE welcome here.

This is SO tough. I really am having a hard time picking, but I guess I’d have to give my N00bie Fav to greenmountaineer’s poem “Seeking Alchemy, Finding None.” WAY vivid imagery, dude. Well done!



Thank you for the welcome, SB! Glad I could be included in the list of new poets :D
 
Tuesday:

Hmmnmm has just informed us that "Twat" is his favourite word. Alas poor fellow, there are no uses of the word in today's poetic offerings. I should think though that we could take up the challenge and by Friday, fill up his review "space" with "happy twat" poetry.

::

So, what have the poetry gods tossed down from the heavens to brighten our squalid existence? Well, I have to say it's a rather nice selection. I must be living right or something.

There's a preponderance of poets from the "cave days". Not that that means anything. Typing away on a steam-driven laptop makes for a good story to tell the grand-kids but it doesn't, in my humble opinion, make anyone a better writer.

::

Tristess has been very busy (apart from tearing off UYS' strategically placed beer mats) at nubile, well-tanned, lightly-buffed, beach ... er ... sorry Survivor poetry. Read Sister Josephine for a gratuitous attack on holy orders. I'm assured that no pigeons were harmed in the production of the poem itself. Art takes us to disturbing places.

Twisted history is a clerihew and is twice damned by the form: rhyming couplets and no naughty lyrics. Waste of rhyme but in this case a clever waste of rhyme

Then there's Tough Love which is a senryu. I'm saving my commentary on Japanese forms for Senna, so just read it and enjoy.

Last, my favourite, Sweet Scarecrow, which is a sestina. Now I always like to reduce forms to their most minimal form as a test of "rigour". A sestina with one word lines is technically possible but the form then dictates the poem to a degree that seems absurd. Therefore the two-word-per-line sestina is imho as short as you can go. Make every word (almost) monosyllabic and you have a damned rigour-ous sestina. So damned rigourous it looks phallic on the page. Top that with what is a rather nice play on crows (Back off, Sister Josephine!), love and a most daring enjambment in the last sestet ... well ... a tour de force.

::

Fresh meat ... er poems by RazzRajen are rare enough that we are blessed today. Mood is a nice, well, moody poem that hides a subtle D/s theme inside a wistful glance. Enjoy.

::

Read Cal Y. Pygia today. Each of the poems in Mirror, Mirror and Other Poems has something to offer. Lesson from Voltaire was my favourite for it's first stanza.

::

I'm not finished by a long shot but I must lunch. Back shortly.




::
 
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Tuesday - Second Round

Back again.

::

One Cave Poet left. Senna Jawa has posted tanka, 1995-11-27. Now I rarely get to review poems by Senna, and perhaps this is a good thing. You have to work a bit harder and think a lot longer and I'm lazy and often thoughtless.

As the title implies, this is a tanka. Now I can rarely resist a shot at Japanese forms when used in English. It's like shooting fish in a barrel. There's no sport in it and I always feel a bit unclean when I'm finished.

Having said all that, when it's done well, it can be sublime.

So, go read the poem. Only 17 words. Then read it a few more times. Think about it a bit and repeat. When you are ready read on.

One thing that struck me was the inability to form a coherent sentence taking the lines in order. And yet our minds (well my mind at least) pull at least three coherent images from the "rubble" all the while trying to make sense of the words linearly. This bit of intellectual "grit" sharpens our awareness and ultimately we make some sort of "pearl" of it all. This, in my mind, is one path to great poetry. Senna might reply that it is the only path. (Maybe some day I'll see the light.)

::

Senna's a hard act to follow, so let's pause the review for a few moments while I re-read the rest of today's contributions.



::
 
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