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invitation for public slicing, dicing, and other constructive skewering

legerdemer said:
A vengeance loosed upon me when it came,
childhood shoved out of its way,
innocence stained with promises
of pleasures so sensual and torrid,
held sway over all else.

Pain radiates,
my contribution to the human race
a reminder, month after month, year after year,
of promise unfulfilled,
a waste of possibility.

Each drop wells, swells, escapes down my thighs.
Luna's reminiscences of life, of power,
of motherhood and love, lust returned, of gifts received
though sometimes turned away.

When men cringe and slink away from the
sticky, fluid, life-giving force, I laugh--
wanting to spit in their face, to SCREAM!

Month after month, the blood still comes.
When it stops, panic strikes! Is now the time?
Should I give in? Should I wait?
Time's never right: more demands
she places on me, that bitch Career.

Until, one day, my womb demands
to share its love:
a second heartbeat incubates,
a quiet rhythm, too tentative.
Too weak.

The beat gives up, the soul not whole nor
wholly ready for the world outside, denies
existence and retreats, a mass of congealed
blood and pain, it spills, the rug drenched,
a clot of nothing, yet.

Another year.
Another plea.

Another seed blooms.
This one is hardy with desire to live,
to beat the odds of eternity against it,
battles demons, battles sleep, the world.
Absorbs everything.

And so it goes, the rhythm of life I share.
A badge, a gift.

When finally the spigot curbs its flow
and nearly dries, should I now laugh or cry?
Freedom to be a princess or a whore,
being wrenched away before I realize
it is a choice, and mine to make.
I'm not yet ready to let go.
Click to expand...

I like this poem, Mer, with a very big yes, but about S4. I wondered if you meant certain men, but with the way it reads, it's easy to conclude all men in which case the stanza seems more about men than it does about menstruation which I don't read in the rest of the poem.

What I like about your style is the way you self-disclose a variety of questions you think deeply about and can do it in a coherent manner even in a longer poem as in the case here. I suggest S4 in that case needs more than the 3 lines you gave it.

The other comment I have is when I see bitch used as adjective as in L5S5, combined with a noun, it often turns it into a cliché. That's what " bitch career" felt like to me. While I usually think it's better to pare back words in a poem, this I thought needed a line, maybe two, to more fully develop.

Everything else about the poem is rich with imagery and invites thought, interest, and empathy, however limited the latter may be for me as a male.
 
greenmountaineer said:
I like this poem, Mer, with a very big yes, but about S4. I wondered if you meant certain men, but with the way it reads, it's easy to conclude all men in which case the stanza seems more about men than it does about menstruation which I don't read in the rest of the poem.

What I like about your style is the way you self-disclose a variety of questions you think deeply about and can do it in a coherent manner even in a longer poem as in the case here. I suggest S4 in that case needs more than the 3 lines you gave it.

The other comment I have is when I see bitch used as adjective as in L5S5, combined with a noun, it often turns it into a cliché. That's what " bitch career" felt like to me. While I usually think it's better to pare back words in a poem, this I thought needed a line, maybe two, to more fully develop.

Everything else about the poem is rich with imagery and invites thought, interest, and empathy, however limited the latter may be for me as a male.
Click to expand...

Thank you, gm - your comments are, as usual, thoughtful and very constructive. I always welcome your input, but here especially, as this poem has a great chance of being unwieldy and getting away from me. I will work on your suggestions - they are great pointers.

PS Regarding S4 - not all men; specific ones.
 
legerdemer said:
Thank you, gm - your comments are, as usual, thoughtful and very constructive. I always welcome your input, but here especially, as this poem has a great chance of being unwieldy and getting away from me. I will work on your suggestions - they are great pointers.

PS Regarding S4 - not all men; specific ones.
Click to expand...



I thought so, but more because I know your other work.

This is a good poem under construction as the title of your thread suggests.
 
Maelstrom

I've let the undertow take me,
loving that surge* of feeling
outside the realm of reality
volition just out of reach.
Entranced and helpless, each
yielding leading to another,
one will-bending after the other,
surfeit of lust turning to love,
trembling, igniting sparks,
illuminated bas-relief, scorching
limerence, inflamed senses,
lovers' trills with no pretenses.

*I replaced avalanche in the original (30/30 thread) with surge. AH suggested that the images of undertow and avalanche clashed. I hope this is better in that respect, though I kinda liked avalanche.
 
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Undertow tends to have a pull, not so much a surge, and the sonics of pull coincide with all the other "L"soundsin the rest of the sentence
 
legerdemer said:
I've let the undertow take me,
loving that surge* of feeling
outside the realm of reality
volition just out of reach.
Entranced and helpless, each
yielding leading to another,
one will-bending after the other,
surfeit of lust turning to love,
trembling, igniting sparks,
illuminated bas-relief, scorching
limerence, inflamed senses,
lovers' trills with no pretenses.

*I replaced avalanche in the original (30/30 thread) with surge. AH suggested that the images of undertow and avalanche clashed. I hope this is better in that respect, though I kinda liked avalanche.
Click to expand...

My mind's voice gets tongued usually when I read "ing" words consecutively as in L6, Mer; however it works for me in L9, perhaps because of the comma and the illiterative affect of trembling, igniting

I also don't like alot of "ing's" in a poem, but that just be my own preference(I almost typed "thing" but caught myself in time:D) I think it's because I don't much care for the sound of "ng."
 
The Last Straw

That time you left me behind--
fieldwork, you called it...

I had to give it to her,
all sweet innocence exuding,
the large blues wide,
pupils turned into fathomless pools
shaded by fluttering lashes.

She claimed she had no intentions--
no intentions at all--

while you, you claimed she
was just another student
needing your expert help
to self-actualize, find herself.

And I, sprawled in your bed
in the alcove under the eves,
your scent permeating
the sheets, your wry smile
burned into every one of my cells.

I and my fifth of rye half empty,
tears barely dried before spilling
again.

And all stupid I could think of was
groveling at your feet, remind you
of my woman's touch, when all
that swayed you was the adulation
of youth.
 
legerdemer said:
The Last Straw

That time you left me behind--
fieldwork, you called it...

I had to give it to her,
all sweet innocence exuding,
the large blues wide,
pupils turned into fathomless pools
shaded by fluttering lashes.

She claimed she had no intentions--
no intentions at all--

while you, you claimed she
was just another student
needing your expert help
to self-actualize, find herself.

And I, sprawled in your bed
in the alcove under the eves,
your scent permeating
the sheets, your wry smile
burned into every one of my cells.

I and my fifth of rye half empty,
tears barely dried before spilling
again.

And all stupid I could think of was
groveling at your feet, remind you
of my woman's touch, when all
that swayed you was the adulation
of youth.
Click to expand...

Although the language is elegant, this one seems prosaic to me. Rather than simply reporting on an event, however poignantly, I think you need to incorporate some kind of "eureka!" moment (for the reader, that is).
 
On an emotional level, the poem works for me. I feel the woman's mixed pain, confusion, jealously and longing.

On a technical level, I agree that you've taken the easy way out in places and used cliches rather than stating what you mean. I've taken huge liberties in hacking your poem. I'd cut the parts in red and consider the parts in blue. And yes I undoubtedly have imposed my viewpoint and cliches - use what you find of value and discard the rest.

legerdemer said:
The Last Straw

That time you left me behind--
fieldwork, you called it...

I had to give it to her,
all sweet innocence exuding,
the large blues wide,
pupils turned into fathomless pools
shaded by fluttering lashes
youth, freshness and perhaps
availability.

She claimed she had no intentions--
no intentions at all--] Get rid of she claimed - he claimed

while you, you claimed she
To you, perhaps, she was more
than was just another student
but a chance to renew
that bright passion
which had dimmed with
tiime and familiarity.
needing your expert help
to self-actualize, find herself.

And I sprawled in your bed
in the alcove under the eves, (I think you mean eaves but even then, I found it hard to visualize an alcove under eaves and was completely distracted.)
your scent permeating
the sheets, your wry smile
burned into every one of my cells
I andwith my fifth of rye half empty,
tears barely dried before
spilling again.

And Yet all stupid I could think of
was groveling at your feet,
to remind you of my woman's touch,
when all that which swayed you
was the adulation of youth.
was the urge to drink
perhaps for the last time
from the fountain of youth.
Click to expand...
 
Piscator said:
On an emotional level, the poem works for me. I feel the woman's mixed pain, confusion, jealously and longing.

On a technical level, I agree that you've taken the easy way out in places and used cliches rather than stating what you mean. I've taken huge liberties in hacking your poem. I'd cut the parts in red and consider the parts in blue. And yes I undoubtedly have imposed my viewpoint and cliches - use what you find of value and discard the rest.
Click to expand...

First, I really appreciate your in- depth comments, and in places I will almost certainly take your suggestions or hunt for alternates.

And I normally don't rebut suggestions - seems sort of nonsense to me to do so ( if I were to rebut I would simply not take a suggestion).

But I have a serious question about the following - in some cases, this one for instance, I specifically used cliches to suggest condescension. That is the cliches were meaningful as cliches - but how do I signal that to the reader? That I know I'm using cliches and do it on purpose? Because in this case the contempt is part of what the narrator feels.

I struggle with this a bit, and it's not - promise - a post hoc attempt to justify laziness on my part ( though in parts I agree with you and AH). Look forward to your answer(s).
 
That time you left me behind--
fieldwork, you called it...

I had to give it to her,
all sweet innocence exuding,
a peach ripe for the picking,
her large blues wide,
shaded by fluttering lashes.

She said she had no intentions--
no intentions at all--

while to you she was just
another student needing your
expert help to find herself.

And I was sprawled in your bed
under the eaves, your scent
permeating the sheets, your wry smile
burned into every one of my cells.
I with my fifth of rye half empty,
tears barely dried before spilling
again.

All stupid I could think of was
groveling at your feet, when all
that swayed you was the adulation
of youth.
 
I'm glad you jettisoned "self-actualize" -- there are a few jargon terms that annoy me, including that one, along with "empower" and "sustainable." Let me make a few specific comments:


That time you left me behind--
fieldwork, you called it...

I had to give it to her,
all sweet innocence exuding,
a peach ripe for the picking,
her large blues wide, "blues" in place of "blue eyes" seems weird, perhaps because I automatically think of music. "Orbs", maybe?
shaded by fluttering lashes.

She said she had no intentions--
no intentions at all--

while to you she was just
another student needing your
expert help to find herself. Is there some way that this could be said indirectly, metaphorically? It seems rather dry, explanatory.

And I was sprawled in your bed
under the eaves, your scent
permeating the sheets, your wry smile
burned into every one of my cells. I like this.
I with my fifth of rye half empty,
tears barely dried before spilling
again. This seems dry as well. Could it be made indirect? "I swam in my rye, diluting it with tears"?

All stupid I could think of was "Stupid I" bothers me. I don't think either the "stupid" nor the italics is necessary, the anger is clear enough
groveling at your feet, when all
that swayed you was the adulation
of youth. This is your punch line. You need something more provocative and less explanatory.
 
AlwaysHungry said:
I'm glad you jettisoned "self-actualize" -- there are a few jargon terms that annoy me, including that one, along with "empower" and "sustainable." Let me make a few specific comments:
Click to expand...

Thanks for the comments - but check out my answer to Piscator's suggestions. There's a question in there I'd like some of you to answer. Especially those who talked about cliches.
 
If I understand you correctly, you wish to say that the teacher falling for his pupil is itself a cliche, and you want to use familiar cliches to express that. I think you should avoid having the narrator utter the cliches; I suggest that you put them in the mouth of the boyfriend, in quotes.
 
Regarding clichés, I think a whole thread about their use would be interesting. One of Lit's pundits before your time here on PF&D, 1201, did not like them at all, seeing them as lazy shortcuts in a poem. I don't necessarily agree with that in all cases, but his point is a valid one to consider.

Mer, this article may interest you: http://www.literarydevices.com/cliche/

Parody, in the sense of ridicule, is one effective application, and I think you intended that, but it didn't come off that way to me after reading the poem several times.

Here are some random suggestions: what kind of field work? My imagination suggests an archeological dig. Then "blue eyes" can be green eyes as green as the grass stains on her knees. If you'd rather not allude to fellatio, there's always "stains on her jeans as green as her sleeves," a reference to the ballad, "Greensleeves," which many believe is about two lovers frolicking in the pasture.

"Frolicking" BTW can be an effective sarcastic substitute for fucking with the proper wrap around words in the line.

I think you can use a hypersexual nickname for "blue(or green) eyes" such as "Babs" or "Kitty." A rather well endowed colleague and friend used to joke the boys called her "Bubbles" in high school. If you do this, be sure to put the nickname in quotes to suggest you assigned her that name.

I think you should be in bed with Jack Daniels or Jim Beam rather than with a bottle of rye.

Like AH, "stupid I" didn't work for me. Neither did the last stanza, which suggested resignation, which I don't think you intended but am not sure. It felt as though you were still conflicted, perhaps even wanted him back.

If you want to stay with the "stupid I," maybe a menage a trois with Jack Daniels and Jim together in bed would be better.:D
 
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The Last Straw

That time you left me behind--
fieldwork, you called it...

She was all sweet innocence,
a peach ripe for the picking,
blue eyes wide, pools shaded
by quivering lashes like willow branches.

She said she had no intentions--
no intentions at all--
while you said she was just
another student needing your
expert help to "find herself".

I sprawled in your bed
under the eaves, your scent
permeating the sheets, your smile
flambéed into every one of my cells
with that half empty fifth of Wild Turkey.

And still all I could think of was
giving you gifts sweeter than
the adulation of youth, as I trampled
on all my self-respect.
 
Last edited:
I like the changes you have made. Except that for some reason, "flambéed" struck my funny bone, which is probably not the effect you were going for.
 
AlwaysHungry said:
I like the changes you have made. Except that for some reason, "flambéed" struck my funny bone, which is probably not the effect you were going for.
Click to expand...

Actually, it sort of is. Poking fun. But I agree it sticks out.

I'll need to let this one marinade awhile - no more good ideas are popping up in my head to fix what y'all said needed fixin'.
 
Longing for You (tweaked)

Naked under the sheet
cotton brushes my skin
caresses me as if it were
your hands stroking my
breasts, cupping my hip.
Mapping me for future
dreams.

That time we first met
our appetites fully whetted
our tissues engorged
sweat drenching sheets
pillows under ass cheeks
as we fell upon each other
you wrapped around me
pressed hard to my back
I felt your quiver, your rise
with our need, dipping into
wet anticipation, sl i i i i i ding
into folds oiled by
fingers exploring
tunnels and towers.

We feasted and slavered.
I swallowed you whole
while your tongue traveled
into and over and under.

Deep inside, my wetness tight
around you,
my lips - no matter which -
tasted your every inch.

I get wet just thinking
how quickly we threw
shyness overboard.

That very first time, we learned
we were better speaking Braille
and more fluent in bodily fluids.

I miss your passion, your smile
the hungry eyes: impatient,
guileless, seething with the
promise of feathery touches
as lust gave way to ardent, tainted love.
 
legerdemer said:
Naked under the sheet
cotton brushes my skin
caresses me as if it were
your hands stroking my
breasts, cupping my hip.
Mapping me for future
dreams.

That time we first met
our appetites fully whetted
our tissues engorged
sweat drenching sheets
pillows under ass cheeks
as we fell upon each other
you wrapped around me
pressed hard to my back
I felt your quiver, your rise
with our need, dipping into
wet anticipation, sl i i i i i ding
into folds oiled by
fingers exploring
tunnels and towers.

We feasted and slavered.
I swallowed you whole
while your tongue traveled
into and over and under.

Deep inside, my wetness tight
around you,
my lips - no matter which -
tasted your every inch.

I get wet just thinking
how quickly we threw
shyness overboard.

That very first time, we learned
we were better speaking Braille
and more fluent in bodily fluids.

I miss your passion, your smile
the hungry eyes: impatient,
guileless, seething with the
promise of feathery touches
as lust gave way to ardent, tainted love.
Click to expand...

Very nice! Just a thought:

as lust gave way to the ardent.

Lust is a thought. "The ardent" is too but suggests enthusiasm that acts upon lust, leaving the reader to imagine the "tainted love" that comes next. "Tainted love" (I think) has already been inferred, but maybe not enough for your satisfaction.
 
Wetness and wet so close together created a poetry sonic echo, the I kinda didnt like.

Do you need naked as an opening word? Where's the tease :p (besides me :D)

Our appetites fully whetted, I dont know about fully, it seems either redundant or needing replacing?
Would drop the

Our

From

our tissues engorged, you have our in the line before so its repeat I don't think is neccessary

Possibly re-word here,

From

As we fell upon each other

To

We fell on each other ( to me reads stronger and more primal)

I eould change this up a bit,

Deep inside, my wetness tight
around you,
my lips - no matter which -
tasted your every inch



Deep inside,
I wrap (or wrapped) tight around you,
my lips - no matter which -
tasted your every inch

Personal pronoun "I" here to make it more immediate than my
It also drops wetness and to me the wet in the next stanza is stronger.
 
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