Poetry in Progress ~ construction zone

No Title

What do I see?

An ink well thrown, cracked.
It's sable contents spreads like a plague,
like dark venom dripped on scattered sheets.

Folded once, all pain is enclosed, contained.
Now open, ever stimulating, provoking.
Over-zealous electrodes peak, distorting vision.

Then, a blink.

There, do you see?

See... I see nothing. Nothing but ink.

whatever

no matter what goes down
whatever..

my job, my life,

whatever..

bedtime,

whatever...

love, like

whatever

Bulltlr; Turn this poem into an illustrated one. White text on a black Rorschach inkblot.

You may need to work on shape and edit a few words, but I think it would carry a strong impact.

Do it in word, convert the document to html and then upload it. Explain in your notes what's going on and the Lit editors should be able to get 'er done quite easily.

Sorry, I've been gone...

champagne1982 said:

Bulltlr; Turn this poem into an illustrated one. White text on a black Rorschach inkblot.

You may need to work on shape and edit a few words, but I think it would carry a strong impact.

Do it in word, convert the document to html and then upload it. Explain in your notes what's going on and the Lit editors should be able to get 'er done quite easily.

Click to expand...

Thanks for the idea... I will get started on it and see what I can come up with.

feeling green as spring

Hey everyone~ I've been a writer for several years, but very new to Literotica here. I used to write a lot of things; poetry, short stories for myself, erotica in small cliques. I don't think I've ever had any formalized training or exposure, though. So, I'm gonna post a couple poetic odds and ends, things I've felt were forever under construction. I guess the plan is, what do I do terribly, on account of never really having anyone that knew much of poetry take a look at it? I'm friendly, and very open to criticism.

I should probably get around to giving them titles at some point.


A nightmare fair has filled the air,
And loosed loud crowds on slumber square.
For me they dance a dark ballet,
Danced in the most macabre way,
Dressed in sanguine gowns and death's flair.

"No, Not tonight!" I dare declare,
My fear-fraught voice soft with despair.
I stand dismayed, as they display
A nightmare fair.

What once came to town here and there
Is now an everynight affair,
Where heartshock ghosts mold soft dream clay,
So in vengeance they may portray,
A scare for which I can't prepare,
A nightmare fair.



I get by on not tellin' people much.
It works out, 'cause they're jus' here for my touch.
I tell 'em they gotta pay their way to this soiree,
and they jus' ask how much, and such.
To them, I'm just a buffet. A sexual stray on display.
One that knows how to do everything but kiss.
But they don't care today. Not my John, my Jose.
Tonight, to them, I'm all that exists.
They just want to get lost in this bliss abyss.

So.. yuh. Hope you guys like it~

Why does this sound trite and stilted?

Hi, I'm a "non-poet-artist-whom-isn't-doing-her-art-right-now-so-does-poetry-to-not-go-bonkers" person and I'm looking for a bit of feedback. Why doesn't this work the way I want it to?
Any help is dearly appreciated; thanks.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Oh world,
why must you turn so?

Tossing about and retching
amidst the stagnant afternoon air,
dreaming of becoming a
quivering
scarlet, paper fan
that I may never open.

Shh, rest here with me.

We belong together in this quiet,
inevitable moment;

We are nothing but the echoing susurrus
of teardrops
fallen
while they were dreaming of
the lovers they left behind
in the deep,
fitful oceans
which brought me tossing about
and retching
upon your shore.
_____________________________________________________________________________

WillowedCabin said:

Hi, I'm a "non-poet-artist-whom-isn't-doing-her-art-right-now-so-does-poetry-to-not-go-bonkers" person and I'm looking for a bit of feedback. Why doesn't this work the way I want it to?
Any help is dearly appreciated; thanks.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Oh world,
why must you turn so?

Tossing about and retching
amidst the stagnant afternoon air,
dreaming of becoming a
quivering
scarlet, paper fan
that I may never open.

Shh, rest here with me.

We belong together in this quiet,
inevitable moment;

We are nothing but the echoing susurrus
of teardrops
fallen
while they were dreaming of
the lovers they left behind
in the deep,
fitful oceans
which brought me tossing about
and retching
upon your shore.
_____________________________________________________________________________

Click to expand...

You can't ask a question like that, how would anyone know what you want it to do? That may be part of the problem, defining what you want.

WillowedCabin said:

Hi, I'm a "non-poet-artist-whom-isn't-doing-her-art-right-now-so-does-poetry-to-not-go-bonkers" person and I'm looking for a bit of feedback. Why doesn't this work the way I want it to?
Any help is dearly appreciated; thanks.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Oh world,
why must you turn so?

Tossing about and retching
amidst the stagnant afternoon air,
dreaming of becoming a
quivering
scarlet, paper fan
that I may never open.

Shh, rest here with me.

We belong together in this quiet,
inevitable moment;

We are nothing but the echoing susurrus
of teardrops
fallen
while they were dreaming of
the lovers they left behind
in the deep,
fitful oceans
which brought me tossing about
and retching
upon your shore.
_____________________________________________________________________________

Click to expand...

hello as twelve sort of says, that's one hell of a big question. reading through this, it seems to suffer from an abundance of words that don't strengthen but add clutter (something i have been guilty of from time to time ). when you clutter a poem, whether with sound/imagery/things that impact upon the sensory levels of a reader, then you're asking for trouble.

reading your write aloud can be one of the best ways of deciding what to keep and what to drop, defining line-breaks, and where words are best-placed for the emphasis you wish to place on them.

now as i don't exactly know what it is you want from your write, all i can offer is the sort of thing i'd do with yours to clean it up a little. my own tastes might intrude on where you'd wish to go, however, so take it only as thinking aloud and not commands from the auditorium

Oh world,
why must you turn so?

ok, i like the intro lines

Tossing about and retching
that line there, though, is awful. you could opt for 'wave-tossed and retching' or 'wave-struck and gagging/retching...' if you use wave-struck, it's a stronger image considering the tsunami events of late. depends on how strong you want that to be, because you might want to go with more the sea-sickness sensation - you probably should - of 'tossed'.

amidst the stagnant afternoon air,
too awkward, too many words... 'on afternoon air' might be enough. it might not, but since you follow up with the dreaming of becoming a fan, i think the reader can surmise it's hot

dreaming of becoming a
quivering
scarlet, paper fan
that I may never open.
you start off addressing 'the world' - is the 'world' the person who means the whole world to the N? i think it's the meaning you intend, but it wasn't clear at first. i think this can also benefit from swapping about the placement of some of the words:

Oh world,
why must you turn so?

wave-tossed and retching on afternoon air,
you quiver and dream,
becoming a paper, scarlet fan -
one i may never open.

ok, i am asking why might the N never open this scarlet paper fan-creature, revealing its exotic interior? why would the n's 'world' be dreaming of being something that the N will never be able to appreciate or use in times of need... is this, then, the N's world's nightmare? to be unloved for what it/he/she really is?



Shh, rest here with me.
this could lose the 'shh' and not lose anything at all.

We belong together in this quiet,
inevitable moment;
ok, do you absolutely NEED 'together'? it might read better as

We belong
in this quiet
inevitable moment

or even:

We belong
in this inevitable moment

We are nothing but the echoing susurrus
of teardrops
fallen
while they were dreaming of
the lovers they left behind
in the deep,
fitful oceans

suggestion:

We are nothing but echoes
susurration of teardrops
spilled as they dreamt
of lovers left behind
in deep, fitful oceans

which brought me tossing about
and retching
upon your shore.
again, i'm having problems with that particular phrasing of 'tossing about and retching'. am i even reading this right, that it's about two people who've broken off relationships/come from broken relationships to be with eachother, but there are fears and worries... baggage?

clarity of meaning is the main problem for me in this write. some judicious editing should help strengthen your meaning by cutting back on what's causing the confusion. good luck!

WillowedCabin said:

Hi, I'm a "non-poet-artist-whom-isn't-doing-her-art-right-now-so-does-poetry-to-not-go-bonkers" person and I'm looking for a bit of feedback. Why doesn't this work the way I want it to?
Any help is dearly appreciated; thanks.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Oh world,
why must you turn so?

Tossing about and retching
amidst the stagnant afternoon air,
dreaming of becoming a
quivering
scarlet, paper fan
that I may never open.

Shh, rest here with me.

We belong together in this quiet,
inevitable moment;

We are nothing but the echoing susurrus
of teardrops
fallen
while they were dreaming of
the lovers they left behind
in the deep,
fitful oceans
which brought me tossing about
and retching
upon your shore.
_____________________________________________________________________________

Click to expand...

This form of poem is called an address. You speak directly to someone, in this case, the world, which is a metaphor for your life.

This makes the second part confusing, because it is not clear who is "Tossing about and retching". Is it you or the world. "Turning" implies a uniform and smooth motion. The confusion continues with the fan metaphor. Is the speaker becoming a fan, or is it the world.

In the last section, I wonder who "they" are. Every pronoun must be matched to a noun, seen or unseen.

"We are nothing but the echoing susurrus
of teardrops
fallen
while they were dreaming of
the lovers they left behind
in the deep"

Do the teardrops dream of left behind lovers? Is it the susurrus? (congratulations for finding a word I needed to add to my spell check dictionary)

This is my reading of the poem"

Life is turbulent and although you have hopes and plans, the current chaos prevents any progress. Although the chaos inspired the plans, you must have calm before any plan can be made to work.

You have good material here, but it needs to be worked to say what you intend it to mean.

Thank you

First off, I am spoiled by the wealth of wonderful replies. Thank you.

twelveoone said:

You can't ask a question like that, how would anyone know what you want it to do? That may be part of the problem, defining what you want.

Click to expand...

Unfortunately, that is the product of being young and confused. Sometimes, your art is young and confused.

bronzeage said:

Do the teardrops dream of left behind lovers? Is it the susurrus? (congratulations for finding a word I needed to add to my spell check dictionary)

Click to expand...

--Yes, the teardrops are dreaming of left behind lovers. Actually, I'm a big Pablo Neruda fan and that line was partially inspired from his wondering about tear drops, "Do tears not yet spilled wait in small lakes?"
--And yes, that word is marvelous. It is even better in Spanish: "susurro" *with a rolled 'rr'

bronzeage said:

Life is turbulent and although you have hopes and plans, the current chaos prevents any progress. Although the chaos inspired the plans, you must have calm before any plan can be made to work.

You have good material here, but it needs to be worked to say what you intend it to mean.

Click to expand...

--I cannot agree more; I have a cloudy vision. The poem is a lot about my struggling with nostalgia for the present. I can see a number of different, possible realities for me, but none are as appealing as what I can create. Thus the world, or all the known realities are stuck, retching, on what they could never be for me. *sigh* Ah, youth.

I think chipbutty hit the nail on the head, saying "it seems to suffer from an abundance of words that don't strengthen but add clutter"

chipbutty said:

too awkward, too many words... 'on afternoon air' might be enough. it might not, but since you follow up with the dreaming of becoming a fan, i think the reader can surmise it's hot

Click to expand...

--Yes, I agree.
--The word stagnant wasn't necessarily relating to just temperature. I wanted to capture something in the environment that was oppressively still (not at rest, yet not able to bare fruit; full of unpossibles). I never even realized the fan was related to heat, but I can absolutely see where you made that obvious connection. The fan for me was the tactile sensation of opening up something, to spread something before myself, that is brilliant and beyond myself. Does that make any goddamned sense?
--And as for your editing, I'm in love with it. I think I need to absorb and marinate on this information and 'look within'. Whatever the hell that really means.

Thank you so much for all your help and any additional advice is so, greatly appreciated!

Also, that would be 'bearing fruit' not 'baring fruit'... goodness.

Maybe it was a Freudian slip?

WillowedCabin said:

--Yes, the teardrops are dreaming of left behind lovers. Actually, I'm a big Pablo Neruda fan and that line was partially inspired from his wondering about tear drops, "Do tears not yet spilled wait in small lakes?"
--And yes, that word is marvelous. It is even better in Spanish: "susurro" *with a rolled 'rr'



--I cannot agree more; I have a cloudy vision. The poem is a lot about my struggling with nostalgia for the present. I can see a number of different, possible realities for me, but none are as appealing as what I can create. Thus the world, or all the known realities are stuck, retching, on what they could never be for me. *sigh* Ah, youth.

I think chipbutty hit the nail on the head, saying "it seems to suffer from an abundance of words that don't strengthen but add clutter"

Click to expand...

susurrus doesn't really go well with puke

retching , are you confusing with wrenching?

struggling with nostalgia for the present. raises eyebrow, and wonders does this person need meds or are they on to something so profound (or is that prefound?) - alright just kidding around.

Congratulations - what you have done, is passed the first cardinal rule of writing, which is:
Don't bore too much.

I do like the idea of the world turning and puking and retching on the shore. (which they do have meds for)

Truthfully, your poem I thought about. Most I don't. I would rather see a "What the fuck is going on" than an "Oh, god, I know what is coming next" anytime, even if it involves upchucks.

chipbutty said:

hello


We belong
in this inevitable moment

as twelve sort of says,

Click to expand...

We belong in enviable moments
or in español

Let us create enviable momentos

think about it Chipper, all moments are inevitable (redundant adjective) unless they are past moments then they would be irretrievable, which does not have the same degree of redundancy.

twelveoone said:

We belong in enviable moments
or in español

Let us create enviable momentos

think about it Chipper, all moments are inevitable (redundant adjective) unless they are past moments then they would be irretrievable, which does not have the same degree of redundancy.

Click to expand...

i like 'enviable moments', and would create enviable momentos if i could

for me, 'inevitable' creates a very different emotional weather than 'enviable'. it imparts (for me) a wearier, more accepting, given-over-to-fate kind of moodiness, more in keeping with the stagnant, heavy, waiting-for-something-to-happen afternoon air... having said that, your interpretation takes this off at an unexpected tangent; it might be the fulcrum on which Willowedcabin can balance the write, having once decided quite where it is supposed to be balancing.

Bump..

Seriously? I disappeare for a bit, no one??

is working
on poetry??

*work it my friends


RF~

Still Waters Run Deep

(I'm working on this one. It is about someone I know who will recognise some of the references that may seem obscure. Not sure if I like it, or if it works, though.)

I see your surface, smooth and calm.
Painted with blue of sky and green of tree.
Shimmering, glassy; transparent?
No, not transparent. Reflective.

I softly touch your face.
The meniscus holds, then yields
To my caress, ripples spreading
Over my reflected body.

You wrap yourself softly around my fingers,
Cool, yet welcoming.
I cannot hold you.
If I try you slip away in rivulets,

Gathering yourself back into yourself,
Leaving only a trace behind,
Sparkling on my skin
Before evaporating.

I lie on your peaceful shore.
Sleep drifts in and with it a dream.
A small girl stands at the edge
Flinging flat stones at you.

They hit, you splash in protest.
She giggles, collecting more.
You tense yourself in readiness
As they bounce across you.

Quietly you admit them to your depths.
They sink, unseen by the girl and her mother,
Down to the bottom of your soul
Where you crush them mercilessly to sand.

Dark clouds gather overhead
Then part as the wind goddess appears.
She whirls around your edges
Her dark hair billowing behind.

Faster now she flies across you,
Back and forth, swirling round,
Touching, tantalising, teasing.
Your waves form and grow

Reaching higher as she hovers,
Trying to touch her, bring her in,
As she blows soft kisses
Making you swell and foam.

You are turbulent, tossing,
Roiling and seething,
Powerless against her attentions
Until she leaves as quickly as she came.

You subside slowly, sulkily,
Eddying and rippling
At the memory of her breath
More ungraspable even than you.

I wake to feel you lapping
At my skin, shyly yet insistently.
Beckoning, suggesting, then retreating
Over the pebbles with a sigh.

I am drawn to your depths.
What lies beneath the mirror
You present to the world?
Quietly, slowly, I proceed.

Surrounded by you, enveloped
By your silky touch, I bask.
A current pulls me down beneath,
Spinning me helplessly as I submit

And smile, my arms trailing
My body following your lead
As you dance me deeper
Revealing yourself to me.

try less poetical

Surrounded by you, enveloped
By your silky touch, I bask. < inverted syntax
A current pulls me down beneath,
Spinning me helplessly as I submit < let's see about Spinning and helplessly

Surrounded by you, enveloped
By your silky touch; I bask
As a current pulls me beneath, <down tossed out- redundancy
Spins me, helpless, I submit.

Can:
Dark clouds, wind goddess, Q.yourself, what is this goddess and why the hell is she showing up in my poem?

etc. etc.

Thanks twelveo - that's helpful.

The goddess represents the women of various unhappy past relationships. That's why she's there, along with the mother and girl who are the "water"'s mother and sister.

Scrubber said:

Thanks twelveo - that's helpful.

The goddess represents the women of various unhappy past relationships. That's why she's there, along with the mother and girl who are the "water"'s mother and sister.

Click to expand...

ok, I think a little more something more would have helped the audience to see that.

He lit the candle.
Flame flutters,
Shadows weave,
Bodies meld.

While apart
Minds touch,
Dreams germinate,
Feelings grow.

For both?

Bland words,
Scalpel sharp,
Mortally wound.
Hope expires.

Truth dawns.
Brain wakes.
Whhhhhhhhhh.
He blew out the candle.

I need this
a moment in
time. space
special fragments
soft snow
hard
times. direct me to the nearest
exit. this is
here,

now. I
am happy, really, yes

happy

but
but
I long for soft
words,
sleek
fingertips

candles burning, bubble baths
overflowing
flaccid

times. no, not me. I

have it all

quiet times? No
not many but
but
but

I need this, my
moment to speak
pray

cry out

into a cold dense, dark
night. This is my heart
my moment
to shine, shine on

tell ,,,, speak
my
my platform to be
just me
in my own little corner. Four Wall
Freely spoken. to tell
of

all my dreams, all my
my
my

heats desires. Construction,
pine, pile
cones in the middle lane where
I run, speed

let it all go. Fight, love is here
now, yes ..
so much love

suffocating but, bearable. just

where is

my spot. Tell me. Where is my

one, lil space,
room
cubical?
here, now. I dare

to speak out. I do

love

but just need, need a lil space

to breathe, partake,
laugh smile, find a common

denominator
the addition

that takes us from now, to
to where I spread my smiles, laugh

and
take time

to enjoy
others writes. I am a bookworm
ya know. I just need

need
neeeed

a lil space

a lil time
for me, to kick back
and read, envelope, encourage

enhance
my, his, her

everyday life ....

yep, under construction ....