An Edit a Day - getting back on track

[wildsweetone]

1. (from the last 30/30 8 Oct '07 post 2687 )

October now,
brings mist stealing in with dawn
another daybreak, another downpour
to seep with yesterday's
into the creek, behind the school
beyond the village to the sea.
I watch it
between the cherry petals,
weeping pink
tears on a green ground. Pooling,
soaking into the soil, draining away
to mingle with the mist of the morning.
October seeps away to the sea.


edit

1


October brings mist stealing in with dawn.
Another daybreak, another downpour
to seep with yesterday's
into the creek and beyond the village
to the sea. I watch it

between cherry petals
that weep pink tears
to the green ground. They pool

soak into the soil and drain away
to mingle with the mist of the morning.
October seeps to the sea.


edit

1


October brings mist stealing in with dawn.
Another daybreak, another downpour
to seep with yesterday
into the creek and beyond the village
to the sea. I watch it

between cherry petals
that weep pink tears
to the green ground. They pool,

soak into the soil and drain away
to mingle with the mist of the morning.
October seeps to the sea.

 

[Angeline]

I have two suggestions.

1. I'd delete the apostrophe from "yesterday's" so it's "yesterdays." Just my opinion but it doesn't have to be possessive (I don't think) and the plural kind of lets one read it either way.

2. I'd put a comma after "pool"

I'm thinking you put the thread up for feedback, yes? So I thought I'd try some. Friendly suggestions.

 

[wildsweetone]

I have two suggestions.

1. I'd delete the apostrophe from "yesterday's" so it's "yesterdays." Just my opinion but it doesn't have to be possessive (I don't think) and the plural kind of lets one read it either way.

2. I'd put a comma after "pool"

I'm thinking you put the thread up for feedback, yes? So I thought I'd try some. Friendly suggestions.

thanks for your suggestions Ange. much appreciated and completely obvious now i look at them.

i put the thread up, sure... but anyone can jump in and treat it however they like. i am just getting myself back into the swing of being a Poet and doing Poety things.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

I think this is a fine idea. I'm in tomorrow with a couple of edits I've been banging on, including the one that got all the lovely suggestions in the "under construction" thread. I haven't ignored them and hope to have something reasonable soon.

Thanks for the concept. It's an excellent one.

bijou

 

[wildsweetone]

(from post 2688 )

2

The morepork calls after dusk
sets the day. Night trails open
for snails to make their way, silver threads
their map, outlines
their journey from lawn
to moon-glazed window.
Beyond the wind
where lack of sleep twists
the sheet of night, binds
us beneath the roots of day, beyond
the spider webs cast across black trees,
beyond the crush of waves
that turns rock to sand,
the morepork gives life
to the coffin edges of night.


edit

The morepork calls
after dusk sets the day.
Night trails open for snails

to make their way, silver threads
their map, outlines their journey
from lawn to moon-glazed window.

Beyond the wind
where lack of sleep twists
the sheet of night, binds
us beneath the roots of day, beyond

the spider webs cast across black trees,
beyond the crush of waves
that turns rock to sand,

the morepork gives life
to the coffined edges of night.

blogged

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Here's my attempt.

The original piece(s) are in the "under construction" thread. Thanks to all who critiqued.

The original pieces:

1.
If form follows function then
what is the use of these
perfect shadows
except to lead the eye inside the stone
of every face.
Look, long enough to feel
your own active gaze, look for
the paint that is flesh
see the mouths that have opened to you
each one a holograph over the stone.
Your lovers, their gazes electric on yours
speak, open, kiss
we are stone
beneath a moment of flesh
beneath the mirage of the body.

#2
This single shadow,
slanting, makes mouth
and brow. Neither portrait
nor icon, but
incantation
surging from the stone. Look:
every face you loved
have kissed, is there
rising out of the planes.
Watch the mouth open to you
gaze into every eye
shape soft cheekbones
with your fingertips.
Believe, believe this is
your lover, your spouse.
It is a simple leap of faith.
You know it well:
you do this every night.

****

latest edit:

Head of an Idol

If form follows function then
what use are these
sharp shadows
except to draw the eye
to what lies underneath
the stone of every face.

Let your gaze
become active; realize
the paint that is flesh
see every mouth
that has ever opened to you
rise and set on this
empty landscape. Every face
you have loved
rises out of those smooth planes.
Gaze into every eye
speak, open, kiss.

We are stone
beneath a moment of flesh
beneath the mirage of the body.
This single shadow
slanting, makes mouth
and brow. Neither portrait
nor icon, but incantation
surging from the stone.

 

[wildsweetone]

3

from 30/30 2689

Storm clouds brewed
on the edge of the day.
A funeral procession
of some twenty cars
drove at speed
with full lights on, racing
along the highway
as if the dead were eager
to finish before a second flood
caught them.

edit 5/12/07

Funeral Procession

Storm clouds brewed
on the edge of day.
Twenty black cars raced
along the highway,
lights glaring
like the bulging eyes
of a drunk,
racing as if the dead were eager
to finish before a second flood
caught them.

edit - a 5/03/08

Funeral Procession

Storm clouds brewed
on the edge of day.
Twenty black cars raced,
lights glaring
like the bulging eyes
of a drunk, racing
as if the dead were eager
to finish before a second flood
caught them.

trying something:

edit - b 5/03/08

Funeral Procession

Storm clouds brewed
on the edge of day.
Twenty black cars raced,
lights glaring
like the bulging eyes
of a drunk, fast paced
as if the dead were eager
to finish before a second flood
caught them.

and again:

edit - c 5/03/08

Funeral Procession

Storm clouds brewed
on the edge of day.
Twenty black cars raced,
lights glaring
like the bulging eyes of a drunk,
fast paced as if the dead were eager
to finish before a second flood
caught them.

and even again:

edit - d 5/03/08

Funeral Procession

Storm clouds brewed
on the edge of day.
Twenty black cars raced,
lights glaring
like the bulging eyes of a drunk.
The dead were eager
to finish before a second flood
caught them.

~~~

from 30/30 2689

Storm clouds brewed
on the edge of the day.
A funeral procession
of some twenty cars
drove at speed
with full lights on, racing
along the highway
as if the dead were eager
to finish before a second flood
caught them.

edit 5/12/07

Funeral Procession

Storm clouds brewed
on the edge of day.
Twenty black cars raced
along the highway,
lights glaring
like the bulging eyes
of a drunk,
racing as if the dead were eager
to finish before a second flood
caught them.

edit - a 5/03/08

Funeral Procession

Storm clouds brewed
on the edge of day.
Twenty black cars raced,
lights glaring
like the bulging eyes
of a drunk, racing
as if the dead were eager
to finish before a second flood
caught them.

trying something:

edit - b 5/03/08

Funeral Procession

Storm clouds brewed
on the edge of day.
Twenty black cars raced,
lights glaring
like the bulging eyes
of a drunk, fast paced
as if the dead were eager
to finish before a second flood
caught them.

and again:

edit - c 5/03/08

Funeral Procession

Storm clouds brewed
on the edge of day.
Twenty black cars raced,
lights glaring
like the bulging eyes of a drunk,
fast paced as if the dead were eager
to finish before a second flood
caught them.

and even again:

edit - e 6/03/08

Funeral Procession

Storm clouds brewed
on the edge of day.
Twenty black cars raced,
lights glaring
like the bulging eyes of a drunk -
the dead were eager
to finish before a second flood
caught them.

 

[twelveoone]

Love it

 

[TheRainMan]

Love it

me too.

 

[wildsweetone]

Love it

the thread?
the poetry?

what happened to specifics?

 

[wildsweetone]

(from 30/30 2690 )

4

it is not that i often sit here
by the window, staring out into the sun
watching finches munch happily
on weed-burst seeds,
i don't get time to notice
how the skinks bathe in the gap
between fence-pale shadows,
or to cringe when the neighbour's cat
comes visiting in the mornings.
it's more that i see these things
in the white rivers that run
through the words on my screen,
that i feel them under the reflected glory
that glows from my weeping cherry blossoms,
that i know them as well as i understand
the change of seasons that marches past
my window.


edit

I do not often sit by the window,
staring into the sun
watching finches munch
on weed-burst seeds.

I do not have time to notice
how the skinks bathe in the gap
between fence-pale shadows,
nor to cringe when the neighbour's cat
comes visiting in the mornings.

It is more that I see these things
in the white rivers that run
through the words on my screen,

that I feel them under the glory of glow
from my weeping cherry blossoms,
that I know them as well as I understand
the change of seasons that marches past
my window.



edit 5/03/08

I do not often sit by the window,
staring into the sun
watching finches munch
on weed-burst seeds.

I do not have time to notice
how the skinks bathe in the gap
between fence-pale shadows,
nor to cringe when the neighbour's cat
comes visiting in the mornings.

It is more that I see these things
in the white rivers that run
through the words on my screen,

that I feel them under the glory of glow
from my weeping cherry blossoms,
that I know them as well as I understand
the change of seasons that march past
my window.

 

[twelveoone]

the thread?
the poetry?

what happened to specifics?

specifics
ROFL
I love you

the thread, you're back
I've been a little busy, once upon a time, probably when you were too young to get on here
The Doge of Doggerel (my humble self) was called patheque by the Great Doyen of Dogma, adding to that an Arse Drizzle comment, so I've been preoccupied trying to find out just what consitutes a hostile, yadda, + I've been failing miserably in my own poetic efforts, so I didn't read, sorry...

the thread, you're back

 

[Tzara]

3

from 30/30 2689

Storm clouds brewed
on the edge of the day.
A funeral procession
of some twenty cars
drove at speed
with full lights on, racing
along the highway
as if the dead were eager
to finish before a second flood
caught them.

edit

Funeral Procession

Storm clouds brewed
on the edge of day.
Twenty black cars raced
along the highway,
lights glaring
like the bulging eyes
of a drunk,
racing as if the dead were eager
to finish before a second flood
caught them.

I love this as an example of editing. I think it still needs more, which I will comment on it a minute (and, of course, WSO, these are merely comments. We write different kinds of things.).

I've bolded the changed section, because I think WSO did a really good job of changing how she said things without changing her basic meaning or intent. The phrase A funeral procession / of some twenty cars / drove at speed, which is (sorry, sweetie) pretty wordy and pretty dull, is changed to the quite lively phrasing Twenty black cars raced. Ten words reduced to four, the rather pedestrian verb "drove" changed to the much more lively "raced," the vague "of some twenty cars" changed to the concrete "[t]wenty black cars.[/i] Good stuff, in my opinion.

But wait, there's more.

Now we get to where with full lights on, racing / along the highway / as if the dead were eager morphs to along the highway, / lights glaring
like the bulging eyes / of a drunk, / racing as if the dead were eager....

Obviously more problematic. First, we go from fourteen to nineteen words (though we also introduce another, quite vivid, simile), which is questionable. To me, the line along the highway in the revised version is superfluous (where else would cars likely race?). I'm also unhappy that the word "race" is used twice (as "raced" and "racing") in the course of six lines.

It's not my poem, of course, and my opinion is simply that: opinion. But if it was my poem (which it obviously is not), I might do a rewrite something like this:

Funeral Procession

Storm clouds brewed
on the edge of day.
Twenty black cars raced,
lights glaring like
the bulging eyes of a drunk,
as if the dead were eager
to finish before a second flood
caught them.​

But what I want to emphasize is the excellent editing WSO has done. Cut generic images and replaced them with much more vivid ones. Put in an active, monosyllabic verb ("raced"). Maintained the essentials of what she wanted to say in the first place.

I am very bad at doing this with my own poems. It's quite cool to see someone do this to their own. Kinda inspirational, whether or not I kin emulate it.

Very cool stuff, m'dear. Thanks.

 

[wildsweetone]

specifics
ROFL
I love you

the thread, you're back
I've been a little busy, once upon a time, probably when you were too young to get on here
The Doge of Doggerel (my humble self) was called patheque by the Great Doyen of Dogma, adding to that an Arse Drizzle comment, so I've been preoccupied trying to find out just what consitutes a hostile, yadda, + I've been failing miserably in my own poetic efforts, so I didn't read, sorry...

the thread, you're back

'sok, cos i love you too.

if i can edit/write, so can you. quit waffling (that's my job) and write.

and, thank you.

 

[wildsweetone]

I love this as an example of editing. I think it still needs more, which I will comment on it a minute (and, of course, WSO, these are merely comments. We write different kinds of things.).

I've bolded the changed section, because I think WSO did a really good job of changing how she said things without changing her basic meaning or intent. The phrase A funeral procession / of some twenty cars / drove at speed, which is (sorry, sweetie) pretty wordy and pretty dull, is changed to the quite lively phrasing Twenty black cars raced. Ten words reduced to four, the rather pedestrian verb "drove" changed to the much more lively "raced," the vague "of some twenty cars" changed to the concrete "[t]wenty black cars.[/i] Good stuff, in my opinion.

But wait, there's more.

Now we get to where with full lights on, racing / along the highway / as if the dead were eager morphs to along the highway, / lights glaring
like the bulging eyes / of a drunk, / racing as if the dead were eager....

Obviously more problematic. First, we go from fourteen to nineteen words (though we also introduce another, quite vivid, simile), which is questionable. To me, the line along the highway in the revised version is superfluous (where else would cars likely race?). I'm also unhappy that the word "race" is used twice (as "raced" and "racing") in the course of six lines.

It's not my poem, of course, and my opinion is simply that: opinion. But if it was my poem (which it obviously is not), I might do a rewrite something like this:

Funeral Procession

Storm clouds brewed
on the edge of day.
Twenty black cars raced,
lights glaring like
the bulging eyes of a drunk,
as if the dead were eager
to finish before a second flood
caught them.​

But what I want to emphasize is the excellent editing WSO has done. Cut generic images and replaced them with much more vivid ones. Put in an active, monosyllabic verb ("raced"). Maintained the essentials of what she wanted to say in the first place.

I am very bad at doing this with my own poems. It's quite cool to see someone do this to their own. Kinda inspirational, whether or not I kin emulate it.

Very cool stuff, m'dear. Thanks.

lots of yummy and useful stuff in there Tzara. thank you for taking the time to write it all out for me. really i was just setting this thread up so that i could 'force' myself into getting back to spending daily time working on poetry. i didn't/don't expect comments but they are always welcome.

i know that after just doing an edit or two on each of these, that there will be more editing required. but this is (believe it or not) helping me get back on track. i don't spend enough time editing work (there is ALWAYS so much more to write about). i know editing is enjoyable. hopefully this thread will set up some more good habits too.

thank you for your thoughts. i appreciate them, and you, always.

 

[wildsweetone]

(30/30 2691)

5

she always skittered across
to the other side of the road
when blue badged jackets walked her way,
even in the city
when metal laden skin scuffed past,
she would find the nearest
pedestrian crossing
and use it.
i watched her lift her chin
the other day, grip her handbag
tight against her body,
avert her eyes to the opposite side
as if suddenly enthralled
by a fashion sale
as a big friendly Maori boy nodded,
smiled, and walked on by.
i wonder if she knows
how much she misses,
if she notices that empty corner
in her heart that dangles
from her now cold soul.
and i wonder how i can help
her warm it up.


edit

She skittered across the road
whenever black badged jackets
walked her way. In the city
when metal laden skin scuffed past,
she would find the nearest
pedestrian crossing
and use it.

Yesterday, she gripped her handbag tight
against her body, averted her eyes
suddenly enthralled by a fashion sale
as a big friendly Maori boy
nodded, smiled, and walked on by.

I wonder if she knows
how much she misses,
if she notices that empty corner
in her heart that dangles
from her now cold soul.

 

[wildsweetone]

oh, and...

...probably when you were too young to get on here[/I]
...

i have never been too young to get on here. (figure that one out if you can lol)

 

[wildsweetone]

(from 30/30 2692)

6

in Summer they wait for clouds,
Winter, they wait for the tell tale signs
of leaf burst, those fattened buds
that split open to reveal
well nourished veins, healthy green
membranes that toughen
to hold the first Spring rains,
the first beams of the full moon,
the shadows that shield
our pinked thoughts
from other hard facades.


edit


In Summer they wait for clouds.
Winter, they wait for the tell tale signs
of leaf burst, those fattened buds
that split open to reveal
well nourished veins, healthy green
membranes that toughen
to hold the first Spring rains,
the first beams of the full moon,
the shadows that shield
our pinked thoughts
from other hard facades. Heat
either strengthens or withers
them. They go unnoticed
in the frenzy of day, the flight
of bird chase, the walk
of naked feet. They go unnoticed
until Summer clouds open.

 

[wildsweetone]

( 30/30 2693)


7

sometimes it is the little things,
like baby spew on somebody else's shoulder,
or black rings around their eyes,
or even those big shoulder bags
that we know hold half the household
inventory, sometimes it is those things
that swing time back
as send us shuddering briefly
as we remember our parenting days
and nights that snuffed out stars
from our universe. sometimes
we can nod with empathy
as we listen to the all-encompassing
journey of early parenthood, those
do or die moments where we swear
our offspring needs urgent medical attention
or even the cutesy things, the first smile,
first tooth, first step.
some parents prefer to forget.


edit

Sometimes it is the little things
like baby spew on a mother's shoulder,
black rings around her eyes,
or that big bag she carries we know
holds half the household inventory,
sometimes it is those things
that swing time back
send us shuddering briefly
to remember early parenting days
and nights that snuffed out
those once touchable stars, the dreams
that kept us alive with the universe.
Sometimes we can nod with empathy
and listen to that all-encompassing
journey of new parenthood, those
do or die moments where we swear
our offspring needs a hand, a life jacket.
We have an understanding too
for the cutesy things, the first smile,
first tooth, first step.
Sometimes we picture them
as clear as last night's prayer.
Sometimes they float
with the sediment in the bottom
of the last glass.

 

[twelveoone]

i have never been too young to get on here. (figure that one out if you can lol)

I was, I just turned 18 yesterday.

 

[wildsweetone]

I was, I just turned 18 yesterday.

happy birthday

 

[wildsweetone]

(30/30 2694)

8

...

they cover their bodies
as if it is a shame to show
the stretched marks left
behind by unaware babies.
they hide from the blessings
of the sun. underneath
those cloaks of blue or black,
unhidden their skin
would blemish with bruising,
unbidden, their chaff would be skinned
with stone. they worship
sacrifice. i wonder if
half as many hours were love given
forward, if their grace would be more
successful.


edit

They cover their bodies
as if it is a shame to show
the stretched marks left
behind by babies.

They hide from the blessings
of the sun underneath cloaks
of blue or black. Unhidden, their skin

would blemish with bruising,
unbidden, their chaff would be skinned
with stone. They worship

sacrifice. I wonder if
half as many hours were love given
forward, if their grace would be more
successful.

 

[wildsweetone]

( 30/30 2695 )


9


faith

i look for you
in the wind, watch you pass
with the cherry petals,
rest in the cradle of them
when your day is done.
i taste you in the nectar
borne of grains given,
hear you as you fall
through a rainbow,
you are the scent
of fresh-washed land.
i feel you in a heart
that has learned to love again
the tangible mass
that is you.


edit


Faith

I see you in the wind,
watch you pass
with cherry petals,

rest in the cradle of them
when your day is done.
I taste you in the nectar
borne of grains given,

hear you as you fall
through a rainbow,

you are the scent
of fresh-washed land.
I feel you in a heart

that learnt to love again,
the tangible mass
that is you.

 

[wildsweetone]

( 30/30 2696 )

10

sometimes i cheated
so they could win,
gave in
so they could go,
growled to let them know
i loved them. sometimes
i lied to save them.
sometimes i loved
too much. i forgot
to believe, forgot
to trust, forgot
to smile.
for a while.

edit

10

On Children

Sometimes I cheated so they could win,
gave in so they could go,
growled to let them know
I loved them. Sometimes I lied

to save them. Sometimes I loved
too much. I forgot to believe, forgot
to trust, forgot to smile.
For a while. Sometimes

I remember I am not God.



good grief, nothing concrete in there at all. didn't notice that before.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

From "not sure how many words" thread

1.

The undulated edges
date this positive as older
than the page it clings to.

Dress and hair say sometime
between the wars.
Her skirt well below knee,
his pants wide and cuffed,
their shadows long on the grass.

There are just the two
youthful and shiny with hope,
he holds a pipe
as if hoping it makes him
look older,
her toes are slightly inward looking
making her look younger.

His arm circles her waist
casually
possessive and she allows it,
her altered hand on his
meeting him half way.

The ring catches the early light.


2.

Between The Wars

The scalloped edges
date this positive as older
than the page it clings to.

Dress and hair say sometime
between the wars,
her skirt well below knee,
his pants wide and cuffed,
their shadows long on the grass.

It is just the two,
youthful and shiny with hope.
He holds a pipe
as if hoping it makes him
look older,
her toes are slightly inward looking
making her look younger.

His arm circles her waist
casually
possessive and she allows it,
her altered hand on his
meeting him half way.

Her ring catches the early light.