invitation for public slicing, dicing, and other constructive skewering

How about "I poise to make that jump"? Also, although I am uncertain about your intention here -- the poem has an ambiguity which is provocative -- would not "leap" be a better word than "jump"? It seems more volitional and dramatic.

This one is still percolating slowly. Leap is a good word - thank you, AH.

Regarding poised - yes and no. No only because poise also has connotations of attitude that can be a bit pretentious (Melania Trump is poised) and the intention of the line is to convey ongoing uncertainty. The decision is still about to be made, but hasn't been yet. Teeter would convey it...lol.

The Runaway

Browsing the bookstore's neat piles
I see three muses dancing on covers
in the space of five minutes.
Mine left, snuck out the back
into magnolia-scented night rain
in this not-yet spring.
Perhaps it's here it took refuge,
looking for better company.

Every night I promise myself
tomorrow I will gather stories and
snippets, however small, to sing
to my loved ones far away.
Every day I'm still dry mouthed,
staring at wide-eyed love,
and can't remember a thing to say.

More and more of me leaks out,
splats on the pavement. Nothing
stems the flow. Yet another day
I wonder how much longer words
will avoid me, at loose ends between
ink-smudged pages and gray matter.

legerdemer said:

Browsing the bookstore's neat piles
I see three muses dancing on covers
in the space of five minutes.
Mine left, snuck out the back
into magnolia-scented night rain
in this not-yet spring.
Perhaps it's here it took refuge,
looking for better company.

Every night I promise myself
tomorrow I will gather stories and
snippets, however small, to sing
to my loved ones far away.
Every day I'm still dry mouthed,
staring at wide-eyed love,
and can't remember a thing to say.

More and more of me leaks out,
splats on the pavement. Nothing
stems the flow. Yet another day
I wonder how much longer words
will avoid me, at loose ends between
ink-smudged pages and gray matter.

Click to expand...

This is intriguingly ambiguous, perhaps too much so. It seems like three separate poems. If I could find the overarching principle that unites them, I would be good to go.

AlwaysHungry said:

This is intriguingly ambiguous, perhaps too much so. It seems like three separate poems. If I could find the overarching principle that unites them, I would be good to go.

Click to expand...

S1 - muse left

S2 - stories lacking

S3 - words (of which stories are made) missing

legerdemer said:

S1 - muse left

S2 - stories lacking

S3 - words (of which stories are made) missing

Click to expand...

OK, I see it. Now I think that your task should be to refine the poem in ways that make that ordering principle emerge more and help guide the reader to discover it.

legerdemer said:

Browsing the bookstore's neat piles
I see three muses dancing on covers
in the space of five minutes.
Mine left, snuck out the back
into magnolia-scented night rain
in this not-yet spring.
Perhaps it's here it took refuge,
looking for better company.

Every night I promise myself
tomorrow I will gather stories and
snippets, however small, to sing
to my loved ones far away.
Every day I'm still dry mouthed,
staring at wide-eyed love,
and can't remember a thing to say.

More and more of me leaks out,
splats on the pavement. Nothing
stems the flow. Yet another day
I wonder how much longer words
will avoid me, at loose ends between
ink-smudged pages and gray matter.

Click to expand...

I see the connections among the 3 stanzas. It's a situation every poet experiences. I think the muse in the first stanza needs more than just leaving to get me curious. Although it would most likely lengthen the poem, I'd speculate about the possible reasons for its leaving because most poets think about that.

I would replace "here" with "there." The former suggested to me inside the bookstore.

Is "wide-eyed love" referring a photo of children? I was'nt sure.

If "leaking" refers to tears which was the first thing that came to mind because of what precedes it, I think "splat" is too strong an image. "Drip" would be better. If it's not a matter of tears, I'm confused as to what is leaking out.

I like the ending line but would switch the 2 images. "Ink smeared.." for me suggests the struggle better, as if pressing hard your palm and pen on paper is somehow going to solve the problem. I can't see the frustration in your brain. I can on paper.

Looking forward to the next iteration, Mer.

Browsing neat bookstore piles,

legerdemer said:

Browsing the bookstore's neat piles
I see three muses dancing on covers
in the space of five minutes.
Mine left, snuck out the back
into magnolia-scented night rain
in this not-yet spring.
Perhaps it's here it took refuge,
looking for better company.

Every night I promise myself
tomorrow I will gather stories and
snippets, however small, to sing
to my loved ones far away.
Every day I'm still dry mouthed,
staring at wide-eyed love,
and can't remember a thing to say.

More and more of me leaks out,
splats on the pavement. Nothing
stems the flow. Yet another day
I wonder how much longer words
will avoid me, at loose ends between
ink-smudged pages and gray matter.

Click to expand...

Mer, I like it it has a lovely fey touch to the writer's block problems and who knows the answer may lie in books. I had no problem seeing the connection between verses and loved the lines

A few suggestions to improve make it even better.

Stanza 2 I like the repetitiion of every night-every day (thought for me it's the reverse) but I'd add a "yet" before the second "every" and consider "staring at an empty/blank page/screen" instead of "staring at wide-eyed love."

Stanza 3

on line 2 try "puddling" instead of "splats", it seems more consistent with leaking to me. And you might consider condensing

"Yet another day
I wonder how much longer words
will avoid me, at loose ends between
ink-smudged pages and gray matter."

to something along the lines of

"Yet another nothing day, I wonder
how much longer words will avoid me."

or

"Yet another nothing day.
How much longer words will avoid me?"

greenmountaineer said:

I see the connections among the 3 stanzas. It's a situation every poet experiences. I think the muse in the first stanza needs more than just leaving to get me curious. Although it would most likely lengthen the poem, I'd speculate about the possible reasons for its leaving because most poets think about that.

I would replace "here" with "there." The former suggested to me inside the bookstore.

Is "wide-eyed love" referring a photo of children? I was'nt sure.

If "leaking" refers to tears which was the first thing that came to mind because of what precedes it, I think "splat" is too strong an image. "Drip" would be better. If it's not a matter of tears, I'm confused as to what is leaking out.

I like the ending line but would switch the 2 images. "Ink smeared.." for me suggests the struggle better, as if pressing hard your palm and pen on paper is somehow going to solve the problem. I can't see the frustration in your brain. I can on paper.

Looking forward to the next iteration, Mer.

Click to expand...

Dear greenmountaineer,

Thanks for the feedback.

The poem, as much as it is about missing my muse lately, it's also about my frustration with losing words more and more - which I find more than frustrating. Alarming would be closer, and panicking is soon to come. I am worrying about my worsening memory and slowness, which is what I'm referring to when I wrote 'leaking'. Occasionally, I feel like my brain is literally leaking out of my head. LOL but really, not funny.
I even have a hard time writing about it here. I have relied on my brain so long and so hard... it's unthinkable and scary. I think I am hypersensitive, but the scariness is real. That's where the harsh 'splat' comes from. While your "drip" is a good suggestion, it isn't enough to express that panic. Piscator's suggestion of 'puddling' is closer.

The 'here' really does refer to the bookstore - the muse, having left me, has taken refuge in the bookstore with all the 'other' muses dancing and prancing around there. I love bookstores, they are comforting and familiar and I hang out in them as much as some go to their neighborhood pub. It just happens to be a more expensive addiction, though safer for my health.

You're right about "wide-eyed love" - it indeed refers to children, seeing them and feeling too far.

You have all made great suggestions, and I am eager to come back to this one after a few days, leaving it allow to stew on low heat, see what comes..

Thanks again, so much, for your thoughtful feedback.

HarryHill said:

Browsing neat bookstore piles,

Click to expand...

I like it. I'll steal it. Thanks!

Piscator said:

Mer, I like it it has a lovely fey touch to the writer's block problems and who knows the answer may lie in books. I had no problem seeing the connection between verses and loved the lines

"Mine left, snuck out the back
into magnolia-scented night rain"​

A few suggestions to improve make it even better.

Stanza 2 I like the repetitiion of every night-every day (thought for me it's the reverse) but I'd add a "yet" before the second "every" and consider "staring at an empty/blank page/screen" instead of "staring at wide-eyed love."

Stanza 3

on line 2 try "puddling" instead of "splats", it seems more consistent with leaking to me. And you might consider condensing

"Yet another day
I wonder how much longer words
will avoid me, at loose ends between
ink-smudged pages and gray matter."

to something along the lines of

"Yet another nothing day, I wonder
how much longer words will avoid me."

or

"Yet another nothing day.
How much longer words will avoid me?"

Click to expand...

As I mentioned in answer to greenmountaineer, this is about more than a randy muse looking elsewhere, though that is indeed a manifestation. There is more panic, the worry deeper. I hope without basis, but... scary to even contemplate.

I like your suggestion of 'puddling' a lot and will almost certainly use it.

I will play with some of the others as well - thanks much for giving it your attention and thoughts, I am grateful.

Runaways

Browsing neat bookstore piles,
I see three muses dancing on covers
in the space of five minutes.
Mine left, snuck out the back
into magnolia-scented night rain
in this not-yet spring.
Perhaps this is where s/he took refuge,
looking for better company.

Every night I promise, tomorrow
I will gather stories and snippets,
however small, to sing
to my loved ones far away.
Every new day I stare at wide-eyed love,
still dry mouthed.

My words leak out, puddle unseen
on the pavement. I wonder how much longer
they will sway, just out of reach,
between gray matter and blank pages.

The final stanza seems more vigorous now, but I am troubled by the mid-stanza shift in metaphor, where it goes from puddling on the pavement to swaying out of reach.

One other quibble: the formulation "s/he" seems appropriate for business or legal correspondence, but not for poetry. How would one read it aloud?

AlwaysHungry said:

The final stanza seems more vigorous now, but I am troubled by the mid-stanza shift in metaphor, where it goes from puddling on the pavement to swaying out of reach.

One other quibble: the formulation "s/he" seems appropriate for business or legal correspondence, but not for poetry. How would one read it aloud?

Click to expand...

Dang, I forgot that one metaphor/poem rule again!
The swaying is meant to harken back to the dancing muses, tantalizing just out of reach. Damn them all! How dare they? I'll think about it some more.

S/he - yea, I thought about that one a while - 'it' seems too impersonal, but I didn't want to limit myself to the traditional she. To my mind, s/he would only come out when read - I pronounce it 'she' out loud. Which perhaps makes it all academic, and simply indulges me.

Thanks much for reading and commenting.

AlwaysHungry said:

The final stanza seems more vigorous now, but I am troubled by the mid-stanza shift in metaphor, where it goes from puddling on the pavement to swaying out of reach......

Click to expand...

Good point, AH; makes me want to review my inventory for the same. Reading and critiquing each other's poems is a great way to re-think some of your own.

Maybe for the same reason, Mer, I'd think about this"

"/still dry mouthed.

My words leak out, puddle unseen
on the pavement..."

I like the latter because it loops back to the dampness of the first stanza. I imagine here you left the bookstore and are out in the night rain again. Given that, "dry mouthed" felt like a distraction unless you really wanted to contrast it with the other 2 stanzas by something like the musty smell of an unopened chapbook.

I have something more to say about the 1st stanza but don't have the time right now.

I liked the first draft, Mer, and am liking this one more.

legerdemer said:

Dang, I forgot that one metaphor/poem rule again!
The swaying is meant to harken back to the dancing muses, tantalizing just out of reach. Damn them all! How dare they? I'll think about it some more.

Click to expand...

You might try actually saying it:

My words leak out, puddle unseen
on the pavement. I wonder how much longer
will the muses sway and dance, just out of reach,
between gray matter and blank pages.

legerdemer said:

Browsing neat bookstore piles,
I see three muses dancing on covers
in the space of five minutes.
Mine left, snuck out the back
into magnolia-scented night rain
in this not-yet spring.
Perhaps this is where s/he took refuge,
looking for better company.

.....

Click to expand...

Writing this, if it refers to the bookstore, after "Mine left, snuck out the back..." confused me. Although you may have wanted to emphasize you went looking in the bookstore for your muse, I'd send the reader outside continuing the search. I think "that" is more dramatic: you went to the bookstore; your muse wasn't there; you'll leave, still searching, and your muse will probably not be there either. Two points of space amd time, I think, demonstrate better how elusive your muse is.

If you wanted to keep this as the bookstore, I'd add some texture to it such as

"inside some musty yellow page tome
inhaling one of Browning's poems."

The Runaways

Browsing neat bookstore piles,
I see three muses dancing on covers
in the space of five minutes.
Mine left, snuck out the back
into magnolia-scented night rain
in this not-yet spring,
looking for better company.

Every single night I promise, tomorrow
I will gather stories and snippets,
however small, offer them in a bouquet
to my loved ones far away.

My words leak out, puddle unseen
on the pavement. I wonder how much longer
the muses will sway, just out of reach,
between gray matter and blank pages.

It's definitely coming along.

Letter ...

The first two stanzas are great, I wouldn't change a thing.

The third stanza abandons the metaphor of Paris as a woman, but it is nice anyway. I guess it's a transitional stanza that bridges the "Paris as a woman" idea, and the next section addressed to a distant lover.

I think that the 4th stanza is brilliant, but marred by the final line, which is prosaic and includes a cliché in the form of "crossed paths." I think you could re-write that line in a more original and metaphorical way.

I find the 5th stanza troublesome. I have difficulty imagining this entwining and weaving going on over doubts, which seem rather intangible and not susceptible to being entwined or weaved over.

There's some beautiful language here, Mer. Recited, it sounds very sensuous.

I think the poem ends quite nicely after the 4th stanza unless I'm missing something.

However, I question the use of the word "aftermath." Merrriam-Webster:

af·ter·math\-ˌmath\
noun
: the period of time after a bad and usually destructive event
Full Definition
1 : a second-growth crop —called also rowen
2 : consequence, result <stricken with guilt as an aftermath of the accident>
3 : the period immediately following a usually ruinous event <in the aftermath of the war>

greenmountaineer said:

However, I question the use of the word "aftermath."

Click to expand...

That's a tough one. I did some thesaurus-surfing. The obvious synonym is "afterglow," but that's been done. "Postlude"? "Epilogue"?

AlwaysHungry said:

That's a tough one. I did some thesaurus-surfing. The obvious synonym is "afterglow," but that's been done. "Postlude"? "Epilogue"?

Click to expand...

"How our fingers would tingle with je ne regrette rien" is a possibility unless Mer wants to hold on to the last stanza with it in it.