Double Blind 4 - Poems and Critiques Only

Lyricalli said:

Timeless

...

what the brain was wired to be
before we were told
to be saintly.
Come to bed, eternity.

Click to expand...

I think that "before we were told
to be saintly" doesn't fit the metaphor which shapes the rest of the poem. The author is presenting an image of lovers being "in the moment", creatures of pure sensation and oblivious to physics and astronomy. I think it muddies the waters to bring up moral codes, which is the way I read "told to be saintly."

DB4-7: Rispetto - AlwaysHungry

Rispetto

Perhaps it would be wrong for me to dare
To hope to feel a second lightning strike --
So bright and pure, so free from gnawing care;
Was this the vacuum nature doesn't like?

I cherish every moment, heaven-swept,
Where nothing touched my consciousness, except
Our hungry bodies aching for release;
A perfect sphere of passion, and of peace.

The lightning strike and vacuum seem to be a mixed metaphor.

Lyricalli said:

Rispetto

Perhaps it would be wrong for me to dare
To hope to feel a second lightning strike --
So bright and pure, so free from gnawing care;
Was this the vacuum nature doesn't like?

I cherish every moment, heaven-swept,
Where nothing touched my consciousness, except
Our hungry bodies aching for release;
A perfect sphere of passion, and of peace.

Click to expand...

http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/rispetto.html

A Rispetto, an Italian form of poetry, is a complete poem of two rhyme quatrains with strict meter. The meter is usually iambic tetrameter with a rhyme scheme of abab ccdd. A Heroic Rispetto is written in Iambic pentameter, usually featuring the same rhyme scheme.

Click to expand...

The title isn't helping with anything.

Going out on a shaky limb here .....

The narrator had a near death experience after being struck by lightning and caught a glimpse of the greater Universe that we can't experience with our limited biological sensory capabilities; what physicists refer to as Dark Matter all around us.

We exist in another greater universe as we participate here in a lesser virtual simulation like the Matrix where lots of drama occurs - the opposite of the peace and quiet we experience prior to entering ( birth ) and after exiting ( death ).






















Or I could just be talking out of my ass.

Lyricalli said:

Rispetto

Perhaps it would be wrong for me to dare
To hope to feel a second lightning strike --
So bright and pure, so free from gnawing care;
Was this the vacuum nature doesn't like?

I cherish every moment, heven-swept,
Where nothing touched my consciousness, except
Our hungry bodies aching for release;
A perfect sphere of passion, and of peace.

Click to expand...

While short, I think this is a lovely poem. The message may be hidden by the opaque title perhaps because the author thinks he would be too obvious if the title were more informative? Just a guess - I know I've done that in the past.

The key to the poem, I think, is in the text I've bolded - if you then reread it with this key in mind, its meaning may open up.

I have a quibble or two, and a suggestion:

- In the first and second lines, the phrase "...to dare to hope to feel..." has too many to's. I understand the exigencies and tyrannies of syllable count, but it is an awkward construction, IMHO. Perhaps the author could work on an alternate?

- In S1L1, a typo - haven-swept -> heaven-swept - but what does heaven-swept mean?? Again, that tyrannical bitch, Rhyme, requires 'swept' rather than the more usual 'sent' in order to rhyme with 'except' in the next line. It does, however, bring to mind heaven as a broom, diligently sweeping away dust and debris into the circular file... (there's my own mixed metaphor). At least to me.

- In this phrase "I cherish every moment, heven-swept,
Where nothing touched my consciousness" the tenses should match - presumably, changing cherish -> cherished would be the best option.

- This one is debatable - I also suggest that the comma after consciousness interrupts the thought unnecessarily.

It is a wistful, melancholy poem, and very touching. I do see Magnetron's point that to make it more accessible it would require some elaboration - another stanza, perhaps? Or a different title that would give a hint to its intent.

legerdemer said:

- In S1L1, a typo - haven-swept -> heaven-swept - but what does heaven-swept mean?? Again, that tyrannical bitch, Rhyme, requires 'swept' rather than the more usual 'sent' in order to rhyme with 'except' in the next line. It does, however, bring to mind heaven as a broom, diligently sweeping away dust and debris into the circular file... (there's my own mixed metaphor). At least to me.

Click to expand...

How did you get a typo in your quote and I didn't ?

Heaven is a dirty place that needs to be swept, but Mother Nature doesn't like to vacuum.

It's all coming together now.

Magnetron said:

How did you get a typo in your quote and I didn't ?

Heaven is a dirty place that needs to be swept, but Mother Nature doesn't like to vacuum.

It's all coming together now.

Click to expand...

Hah!! I was reading Mags's (I understand from an AH thread that I've been placing my apostrophes incorrectly according to the latest editing manuals :roll eyes response when I remembered another thing I meant to add about the poem:

"Was this the vacuum nature doesn't like?" sounds a bit flat compared to the language of the rest of the poem.

I suggest:

"Was this the vacuum nature can't abide?" I think that maintains the syllable count, and to me at least sounds better in context.

And Mags: I have no idea why it looks one way in my reply and another in yours! How very strange!!

Lyricalli said:

Rispetto

Perhaps it would be wrong for me to dare
To hope to feel a second lightning strike --
So bright and pure, so free from gnawing care;
Was this the vacuum nature doesn't like?

I cherish every moment, heaven-swept,
Where nothing touched my consciousness, except
Our hungry bodies aching for release;
A perfect sphere of passion, and of peace.

Click to expand...

I like this poem because the reader can take it as a spiritual experience as I think Magnetron is suggesting in the broadest sense. On the other hand, it can also be read as a sensual poem, which was my first impression. When someone is smitten, it can feel like a bolt of lighting. The last two lines can also suggest climax and afterglow.

I found the poem delightful and wouldn't change a thing.

greenmountaineer said:

I like this poem because the reader can take it as a spiritual experience as I think Magnetron is suggesting in the broadest sense. On the other hand, it can also be read as a sensual poem, which was my first impression. When someone is smitten, it can feel like a bolt of lighting. The last two lines can also suggest climax and afterglow.

I found the poem delightful and wouldn't change a thing.

Click to expand...

I wouldn't change a thing either.



Mostly because I haven't a clue what it is about.

DB4-1: The Barfly Effect - Trixareforkids

The Barfly Effect

I'm outta smokes
and tired
as tropes
about love
going nowhere
but wrong
so let's play this straight
say what it is
what it ain't
without commercials
or their fucking catchy songs

What you see
is what I got
and all I want
is company
for the night
or the week
or the month

If you're looking for more
well honey
there's the door
I'm doing just fine
with my friends
quiet old boys
that go down
without fuss
keeping me mellow
and making me cuss
here on this stool
as I scare off fools
trying to buy me drinks
with umbrellas

But it's raining men
and I'm drinking them in
no matter the name on the label
so if you still want to sit
with me at this table
buy the next round
then sit your ass down
and tell me your name
while you're able

The Whiskey Effect

I'm outta smokes
and tired
as tropes
about love
going nowhere
but wrong
so let's play this straight
say what it is
and what it ain't
without commercials
or their fucking catchy songs

What you see
is what I got
and all I want
is company
for the night
or the week
or the month

If you're looking for more
well honey
there's the door
I'm doing just fine
with my friends
quiet ol' boys
that go down
without fuss
keeping me mellow
and making me cuss
here on this stool
as I scare off fools
trying to buy me drinks
with umbrellas

But it's raining men
and I'm drinking 'em in
no matter the name on the label
so if you still want to sit
with me at this table
buy the next round
then sit your ass down
and tell me your name
while you're able

Click to expand...

DB4-2: A Tale of Little Tall Untold - Magnetron

A Tale of Little Tall Untold

Snow falling


falling still


with disquieting ease


begins to accumulate

filling in our globe

blanketing the warehouses and fisheries
evacuated by the workaday Joeb

the rocking boats deftly tethered to
lobster pot and crate strewn docking

the busy grocery market emptied
in anticipation of bad weather to come
bare shelves in need of stocking

the not so busy jail with it's lone occupant
a drifter with nothing in his pockets
who beat old Martha to death with his cane
knocking her eyes right out of their sockets

[ Never seen anything like it in my entire life
It was shocking, I tell you ...
... shocking ]

and the mail routes converging on
the Town Hall

winds increasing in fury
as if the Powers That Be
can no longer wait
to bury the Island of Little Tall
beneath a white linen shroud

and forget it ever existed

A fate kinder, I suppose
than the other outcome
experienced in dreams

we are marched two by two
into the roiling ocean without protest

save a few screams

[ though highly unlikely
such would even be heard over the blizzard's howl
by Mainlanders across the reach
anyhow ]

horror giving way to mystery;
our drowned bodies were never recovered
by the State Police or Coast Guard

Gone

edited out of history

perhaps what befell those settlers of Roanoke
who vanished without a trace
four hundred years ago?

Nightmares not fading nearly fast enough
in the eye of the storm
there is no calm

for this wandering stranger having
bludgeoned his way into the community
is intent upon leaving with either a boy or girl
one of our youngest numbering eight

standing before us now
as a wizard
ancient, eldritch
wielding the power to bespell
our already dwindling population
into murdering itself

knowing our every sin
how we excel at keeping these hidden

passing up on judgment
and
without insistence of reformation

capitalizing on our unwillingness to inform
any investigative authorities as to
what happens next

In his left hand
a familiar walking stick
its silver wolf's head bloodied
snarled with intention to bite

a bag of weirding stones in the right
numbering one black to seven white

This is the game we shall play
the proposition and furthermore
Give me what I want
and I'll go away

Or?

If we don't?
tear a child away from its family??
give the babe to this monstrous thing???

though insistent he is incapable of taking
he assures we can be punished
Oh, yes
we can certainly be punished alright;
"extinguished" from the earth
in the manner we dreamt

Every man, woman and child
No one is exempt

Perhaps it is better to lose just one now
than to lose all on Little Tall tonight?

In darkness of cold candlelight
as the storm of the century subsides
we do not know any better

and before the breaking of dawn
it is discovered too late

when faced with hard decision making
we are likewise capable sorcerers
adept at pulling the wool over
our own eyes







inspired by Stephen King's Storm Of The Century mini-series

A Tale of Little Tall Untold

Snow falling

falling still

with quiet unease

begins to fill in our globe

and accumulate

blanketing the fisheries
soaked in sun bleach

the rocking boats deftly tethered to
lobster pot and crate strewn docking

the beach bereft of tourists

the busy grocery market

the not so busy jail with it's lone occupant
a drifter with nothing in his pockets
who beat old Martha to death so hard
knocking her eyes right out of their sockets

and the mail routes converging on
the Town Hall

winds increasing in fury
as if the Powers That Be
can no longer wait
to bury the Island of Little Tall
beneath a white linen shroud

and forget it ever
existed

A fate kinder
I suppose
than the other outcome

us townsfolk large and small
are bizarrely sharing as if it was
a mass subscribed to dream
in which the island's entire population
is marched two by two into the ocean
without protest

not even a single scream

Not that such would even be heard
anyhow over the blizzard's howl
by Mainlanders across the reach

Our drowned bodies never recovered
by the State Police or Coast Guard

Gone

Could this really be what befell
those unfortunate settlers of Roanoke Island
who simply vanished without a trace?

Nightmare not fading nearly fast enough
in the eye of the storm
there is no calm

for this wandering stranger having
bludgeoned his way into the community
wielding power to bespell the weak minded
into murdering others ... or themselves ...
is intent upon leaving with a child
one of our youngest numbering eight

Standing before us now as a wizard ancient
fully aware of our every sin

how we excel at keeping these hidden

without insistence we must reform
passing up on judgment
knowing we will never tell any authorities
what is about to happen next

Standing before us now
a greater devil with lesser devil offerings
for sale in each hexed palm

In his left hand
a familiar cane
its silver wolf's head bloodied
snarled with intention to bite

a bag of weirding stones in the right
numbering one black to seven white

This is the game the parents shall play
the proposition and furthermore
Give me what I want
and I'll go away

Or?

If we don't?
tear a child away from its mothers and fathers??
give the babe to this monster???

Though insistent he is incapable of taking
he assures that he can punish
Oh, yes
in the fate we dreamt
similar to that of those Colonists four hundred years ago
Every man, woman and child
No one is exempt
We can certainly be punished alright

Perhaps it is better to lose just one now
than to lose all on Little Tall tonight?

In darkness of cold candlelight
as the storm of the century subsides
snow eases and ceases in it's fall
we do not know any better

In darkness of cold candlelight
before the breaking of dawn
it is discovered too late

when faced with hard decision making
we are likewise capable sorcerers
adept at pulling the wool over
our own eyes

Click to expand...

DB4-3: Ballaban and Sons, Green Grocers - GuiltyPleasure

No revision received.


Ballaban and Sons, Green Grocers

Sudden rain and the big drops
sound like something more solid
as they hit the awning overhead.

Mister Balleban has garlic breath
and I bend over the yellow mass
of stacked bananas to avoid it
as he expounds on the new batch
of elephant garlic.

He’s a lovely man I’ve known since
my schooldays but he is In the twilight
of his life and often forgets my name,
sucking on his teeth as he wracks his aging
brain making a soft sound like a roosting flock
of drowsy starlings.

My name pops up and his smile
is beautiful, both pleasure and relief.
I pay for my kale and cherries and,
of course, my elephant garlic and
step out into the newly washed street.

DB4-4: A Little Like LSD - todski28

No Revision Received

A Little Like LSD

Two drops of metallic
gelcoe power
taste like licking batteries
the tingle of
exhilaration,
as conjecture and empathy
merge into one being
dipped in acid
the party in my mouth spreads...

the sky is starry night
black swirls into blue
white light beacons are burning
pyres of sanities flames

we grip each other
as if
we are the anchors to reality
and bridges to the cosmos
her jacket feels like sex on my finger tips
like my hand is having an orgy on
ripples of fabric

there is a dragon between her teeth
it's coal like glow brightens
plumes of smoke and decadence
spill from her soft lips like
clouds converging in a storm

her tongue flickers
serpent like
tasting vibrations in the air
she hisses in
and exhales twisting ropes of lust
I cough as it dives deep into my lungs
I breathe out and she dances in my mouth
devouring my awe
bekoning
the belt buckle at my waist
to fall away

we defy gravity
flying
in flash-blur-swirls
she wraps around me
as real as dreams that drift
on the wind and hide within

a tumultuous
writhing mass of shifting shadows
flashing blurry brilliance
behind my retinas
the air a cacophony
of our gasping breaths

we are lycanthropic
and vampiric
existing on the sustenance of aura
and passion
feeding off of sensation
striving to be lost in those little deaths

buried in this primodial
moment
of strobe light effect

I am affected
by her pliable warmth
her willingness to devour
all I offer
and to show me there are no limits to
pleasure

as slick as oils
fragranced in skin and salts
an alarm blares

we await the night
where we are the centre of the universe

DB4-5: Another Icarus? - legerdemer

Another Icarus?

Weaver of words, of sentences
with colors spare, vivid and sure
on a thorned loom, its warp weighted with
impossible dreams
……………………..roped in hemp,
….fraying yet sturdy.

Weave your weft of aspirations
from spiderweb silk
….reach higher
………..borne by air currents
..skywards
…………..with eagles and ospreys

until, nearing that flaming orb
feathers singed by wistfulness
….you plunge

Down

Another Icarus

Laden with lacunae and paucities,
……. with untouchable milestones
flagellant upon your own
…blindness

Perfection is too cold
…soulless—
…….tone deaf,
………..it leaves you mute

but your weavings are too beautiful,
…..too warm, throbbing
……..translucent with meaning
transcendent with insight
…the imperfections left
barely visible

but so you

full of hope
…….of yearning
of lust
….indelible
…….burbling with need
to share

Leave gravity behind,
grasp eagles’ wings and
…….…….…….…….……..……..soar!

Click to expand...

DB4-6: Time and Motion Study - greenmountaineer

Time and Motion Study

We have no need for clocks


your eyes upon my passion rising
toward your slow motion hips.
It's as though you flow downhill
like a waterfall does in a rivulet
to soften bedrock into pebbles,
pebbles into sand

and suddenly I'm reminded
time is the mind's invention
while motion's all that matters.
Welcome to eternity, the joining
of woman and man.

Timeless

Let's not talk of time, My Love,
the mind's phantasm.
When I am inside you,
there is no time.

The earth is flat.
Sun up, sun down,
it goes around the planet.

Though abecedarians
we may be,
this is our role,

what the brain was wired to be
before we were told
to be saintly.
Come to bed, eternity.

Click to expand...

DB4-7: Remembering Our Bubble -- a rispetto - AlwaysHungry

Remembering Our Bubble -- a rispetto

Perhaps it would be wrong for me to dare
To hope to feel that lightning strike again --
So bright and pure, so free from gnawing care;
Was this the vacuum nature must disdain?

I cherish the remembrance, heaven-swept,
How nothing touched my consciousness, except
Our hungry bodies aching for release;
A perfect sphere of passion, and of peace.

Rispetto

Perhaps it would be wrong for me to dare
To hope to feel a second lightning strike --
So bright and pure, so free from gnawing care;
Was this the vacuum nature doesn't like?

I cherish every moment, heaven-swept,
Where nothing touched my consciousness, except
Our hungry bodies aching for release;
A perfect sphere of passion, and of peace.

Click to expand...

I'll leave these for your perusal and any author guessing you'd like to do for the next 24-36 (hopefully) hours before adding authors' names to the posts.

Two revisions were not sent in, and both poets let me know that it was because of time. Both are invited to post revisions here when they get the chance, if they'd like to do that.

Thanks, everyone!

Lyricalli said:

Time and Motion Study
Welcome to eternity, the joining
of woman and man.

Click to expand...

I miss the insouciance of "Come to bed, eternity." You can't please everybody.

Wow, that's like two entirely different poems.

Lyricalli said:

Time and Motion Study

We have no need for clocks

while you, my lovely nude,​

descend the staircase fluidly,​

your eyes upon my passion rising
toward your slow motion hips.
It's as though you flow downhill
like a waterfall does in a rivulet
to soften bedrock into pebbles,
pebbles into sand

and suddenly I'm reminded
time is the mind's invention
while motion's all that matters.
Welcome to eternity, the joining
of woman and man.

Click to expand...

A vast improvement over the prior version, the reading of which became mired down with unanswered questions.

Here, the line indentations get the job done of reinforcing the scenario - in real time.

By the end of Line 3, we already have a vivid scene to visualize and it is not slowing us down.

Though I think Lines 6 thru 9 could benefit from more revision, it is a beautiful poem as it stands now..

Lyricalli said:

Another Icarus?​

Click to expand...

I feel that centering made a huge difference in the presentation, reinforcing the plunging effect.

Lyricalli said:

The Barfly Effect

I'm outta smokes
and tired
as tropes
about love
going nowhere
but wrong
so let's play this straight
say what it is
what it ain't
without commercials
or their fucking catchy songs

What you see
is what I got
and all I want
is company
for the night
or the week
or the month

If you're looking for more
well honey
there's the door
I'm doing just fine
with my friends
quiet old boys
that go down
without fuss
keeping me mellow
and making me cuss
here on this stool
as I scare off fools
trying to buy me drinks
with umbrellas

But it's raining men
and I'm drinking them in
no matter the name on the label
so if you still want to sit
with me at this table
buy the next round
then sit your ass down
and tell me your name
while you're able

Click to expand...

I still think you should work in "fellas" after "umbrellas"

as I scare off fools
trying to buy me drinks
with umbrellas

Keep them coming, Fellas

It's raining men

Lyricalli said:

Remembering Our Bubble -- a rispetto

Perhaps it would be wrong for me to dare
To hope to feel that lightning strike again --
So bright and pure, so free from gnawing care;
Was this the vacuum nature must disdain?

I cherish the remembrance, heaven-swept,
How nothing touched my consciousness, except
Our hungry bodies aching for release;
A perfect sphere of passion, and of peace.

Click to expand...

Consider changing Line 7 to

Our always hungry bodies aching for release.

Lyricalli said:

A Tale of Little Tall Untold

Click to expand...

It's longer now.



If it gets any longer I'm going to need a pee break.

Lyricalli said:

The Barfly Effect

I'm outta smokes
and tired
as tropes
about love
going nowhere
but wrong
so let's play this straight
say what it is
what it ain't
without commercials
or their fucking catchy songs

What you see
is what I got
and all I want
is company
for the night
or the week
or the month

If you're looking for more
well honey
there's the door
I'm doing just fine
with my friends
quiet old boys
that go down
without fuss
keeping me mellow
and making me cuss
here on this stool
as I scare off fools
trying to buy me drinks
with umbrellas

But it's raining men
and I'm drinking them in
no matter the name on the label
so if you still want to sit
with me at this table
buy the next round
then sit your ass down
and tell me your name
while you're able

Click to expand...

New whine in old bottles.

Lyricalli said:

Time and Motion Study

We have no need for clocks

while you, my lovely nude,​

descend the staircase fluidly,​

your eyes upon my passion rising
toward your slow motion hips.
It's as though you flow downhill
like a waterfall does in a rivulet
to soften bedrock into pebbles,
pebbles into sand

and suddenly I'm reminded
time is the mind's invention
while motion's all that matters.
Welcome to eternity, the joining
of woman and man.

Click to expand...

I also think this is a terrific rewrite. Lovely poem!

I simply love the reference to Marcel Duchamp's Nude Descending a Staircase!!
He is one of my very favorite artists (I used to have The Bachelor as my av for a while there). Perhaps in another iteration, you could link to the painting.

In addition, did the poet also slyly refer to this? For some reason, that first line in the flowing, indented first lines coupled with the last stanza took me there.

As to who it's by - I am going to guess our lovely hostess for DB4, Calli. Or possibly KatieJones?

No no no no no!!! Of course it isn't by Calli or Katie - it's written by a man. I'm going to guess again - Remec, perhaps? Or possibly Piscator.