Call for critique: (a sestina) What it is to love a wolf.

[cherries_on_snow]

I've never tried to publish this but I would like to. I did perform it once at a little performance space called Surf Reality in NYC (LES) but wasn't comfortable with how it looked still to submit it. Then I got it out last night and worked it over with a buffer. I think I got all the dents out, but I'd love to hear what you think. This is a Spanish form called a sestina. You'll quickly pick up the pattern if you pay attention to the line ends. They repeat like a perpetual skinning of the last stanza to reflesh another. Let me know what you think of this. Indepth criticism welcome.

What it is to love a wolf

There is a stain on your book I borrowed
on the page that details a summer house
owned by the family of Virginia Woolf:
a dripped red wound of my carelessness
on dry paper that smells of bones and wax.
I have kept the borrowed book for shame.

When you saw me first in the deep night "shameless"
you said. You thought me an apple borrowed
from some serpent story carved in wax
or stone. You didn't care. You drove me home.
I breathed you ripe with sex and careless
dreams hushed in the wild milk of wolf.

A mad footrace, those first days, the wolf
racing through night, feeding your fantasies. Shame
on the wolf who knows only hunger, carelessly
spending the flesh and moonlight she borrowed.
You rode my joy, let me warm by your hearth
and thought me tamed, your imprinted wax.

I was impatient for the wane and wax
(sweet milk can sour in the tit of a wolf),
an ill-mannered guest in your house:
ate your porridge, broke your bed. Shame
was the lesson you taught me, borrowed
from German ancestors, impressed with care.

But within your routine you were careless.
You half-latched the door, dripped wax
on the table, gave me to borrow
things one should never enturst to a wolf.
When I messed in your parlor, I cringed with shame.
You pleaded reform, but I left your house.

I chose a cave to call my home
and you followed, for love is careless,
Asking me to remember you for love, not shame.
You packed me apples and wine, candle wax
and a biography of Virginia Woolf.
Shame made me claim not to take, but borrow.

But I have hid the borrowed book on Woolf
She shames me this wild one who needs no meat:
a careless flame within a house of wax.

 

[cherries_on_snow]

howsa bout this?

Indepth criticism, medium depth criticism, or just plain reaction really encouraged? Anyone?

I'll buy ya a beer if you're ever in the city...*hopes free beer will prevail again*

 

[WickedEve]

I read it earlier and really enjoyed it, but don't have time to say much else. Sorry.
And don't worry about comments. More will arrive. It just takes awhile.

 

[cherries_on_snow]

Yay! Free Beer for Eve! (Keeping a bar tab diary) Thanks Eve. Free beer applies regardless of critique.

 

[BooMerengue]

Cherries!!

I'm not a 'professional critiquer' but I say it's damned fine. I love Sestinas but I cannot write one. So theres points for you. And it's interesting. It's a good story. So theres another pile of points. And it's all spelled right. Another pile.

I'd say you've written a very fine Sestina, and when Angeline gets here she'll say the same. (She's the resident Sestina person)

Publish. It's ready.

Boo

 

[My Erotic Trail]

I've never tried to publish this but I would like to. I did perform it once at a little performance space called Surf Reality in NYC (LES) but wasn't comfortable with how it looked still to submit it. Then I got it out last night and worked it over with a buffer. I think I got all the dents out, but I'd love to hear what you think. This is a Spanish form called a sestina. You'll quickly pick up the pattern if you pay attention to the line ends. They repeat like a perpetual skinning of the last stanza to reflesh another. Let me know what you think of this. Indepth criticism welcome.

What it is to love a wolf

There is a stain on your book I borrowed
on the page that details a summer house
owned by the family of Virginia Woolf:
a dripped red wound of my carelessness
on dry paper that smells of bones and wax.
I have kept the borrowed book for shame.

When you saw me first in the deep night "shameless"
you said. You thought me an apple borrowed
from some serpent story carved in wax
or stone. You didn't care. You drove me home.
I breathed you ripe with sex and careless
dreams hushed in the wild milk of wolf.

A mad footrace, those first days, the wolf
racing through night, feeding your fantasies. Shame
on the wolf who knows only hunger, carelessly
spending the flesh and moonlight she borrowed.
You rode my joy, let me warm by your hearth
and thought me tamed, your imprinted wax.

I was impatient for the wane and wax
(sweet milk can sour in the tit of a wolf),
an ill-mannered guest in your house:
ate your porridge, broke your bed. Shame
was the lesson you taught me, borrowed
from German ancestors, impressed with care.

But within your routine you were careless.
You half-latched the door, dripped wax
on the table, gave me to borrow
things one should never enturst to a wolf.
When I messed in your parlor, I cringed with shame.
You pleaded reform, but I left your house.

I chose a cave to call my home
and you followed, for love is careless,
Asking me to remember you for love, not shame.
You packed me apples and wine, candle wax
and a biography of Virginia Woolf.
Shame made me claim not to take, but borrow.

But I have hid the borrowed book on Woolf
She shames me this wild one who needs no meat:
a careless flame within a house of wax.

I left my five cents on the posted poem (New Poems List)
(~_~) two thumbs up

 

[cherries_on_snow]

Thanks!

Cheers for the feedback, Boo and thanks for the vote of confidence MET. Yeah, I didn't think it was going to be up so soon over there. I posted it and then second guessed myself thinking I'd rather post it here and have more detailed feedback or criticism before trying to send it out.

Anyway the Free Beer register goes up. =D

 

[champagne1982]

Hi cherries_on_snow, I've read through this piece and have a few ideas. My thoughts are in italics. Please feel free to use or discard my suggestions, they are a gift and as such, are yours to do with as you see fit. I'd like to thank you for your gift to us, it's wonderful that you shared your poem.

What it is to love a wolf

There is a stain on your book I borrowed Using a possessive article in front of "book" feels alien to me. I tend to feel more comfortable if I say "the".
on the page that details a summer house
owned by the family of Virginia Woolf:
a dripped red wound of my carelessness
on dry paper that smells of bones and wax.
I have kept the borrowed book for shame. Your audience already understands the book is on loan, could you tell us something new about it that would make us feel the value of it as either an object or in the story it contains?

When you saw me first in the deep night "shameless" Instead of direct quotes in a poem some writers format the spoken with italics but in this case, you are confronted with dual problems. First, your phrasing is a little on the passive side or maybe, because there is a redundant subject in "you saw me first" and the ending on the next line... "you said", that repetition makes the line seem out of whack. The second problem is that there is nothing visual in the description. This is telling us that the night is deep, so, maybe you could find a way to show us what that means. How about phrasing it so that you keep the variant on the word shame, but leave it out of a quote? ie:

From out of the depths you called me shameless
I know you thought ...​

This may not be a better way to say it, but I feel more comfortable with how I see what you mean.
you said. You thought me an apple, borrowed
from some serpent story, carved in wax
or stone. You didn't care. You drove me home.
I breathed you ripe with sex and careless
dreams, hushed in the wild milk of wolf.

A mad footrace, those first days, the wolf
racing through night, feeding your fantasies. Shame
on the wolf who knows only hunger, carelessly
spending the flesh and moonlight she borrowed.
You rode my joy, let me warm by your hearth
and thought me tamed; your imprinted wax.

I was impatient for the wane and wax
(sweet milk can sour in the tit of a wolf), I love how you've made me feel the presence of the full were-moon, ominous and eery. You create excellent atmosphere in these stanzas.
an ill-mannered guest in your house:
ate your porridge, broke your bed. Shame
was the lesson you taught me, borrowed
from German ancestors, impressed with care.

But within your routine, you were careless.
You half-latched the door, dripped wax
on the table, gave me to borrow
things one should never enturst to a wolf. entrust
When I messed in your parlor, I cringed with shame.
You pleaded reform, but I left your house.

I chose a cave to call my home
and you followed, for love is careless,
Asking me to remember you for love, not shame. Asking shouldn't be capitolized. When you consider the inclusion of the word "asking" here do you see that you've confounded the subject? I can choose to read the subject as either Love or the lyrical subject You. If you drop the comma in the preceeding line and make it a period the next line could repeat the word "you" and the gerund verb would conjugate with the subject to "You asked".
You packed me apples and wine, candle waxOf course, all of the advice above is tangled in a whole new ball of wax with this line beginning a new sentence. Edit the grammar above, then rephrase this to become a part of the line above.
and a biography of Virginia Woolf.
Shame made me claim not to take, but borrow.

But I have hid the borrowed book on Woolf Why do you use the conditional word "but" to begin this line? But what? If you need a syllable, would "Now" work as well?
She shames me, this wild one who needs no meat:
a careless flame within a house of wax. I think you could re-introduce us to the color red here as an adjective for wax. It also would add another metrical foot between "house" and "wax"-- Purely for form's sake.

_________________

Sestinas are difficult to write and make seem effortless inside the form constraints. You've achieved this quite nicely. This is a good poem. Thank you.

 

[cherries_on_snow]

Thank you so much for your critique Champagne. Most welcome before I work on it more. I'll take each comment and work with it a bit and see what comes out of it. I really really appreciate your time reading and the effort of your commentary. I knew, having performed this, that I wasn't quite ready with it, and lacked the distance from it to really give it all it needed in a final edit without feedback. I thank you for yours. Cheers!

(free beer too, if you're interested. ;-))

 

[BooMerengue]

I'm always interested in a free beer. In the city I assume you mean NYC? I want to go there this fall. I have to do illegal picture taking. I'll need a lot of beer.

 

[cherries_on_snow]

I'm always interested in a free beer. In the city I assume you mean NYC? I want to go there this fall. I have to do illegal picture taking. I'll need a lot of beer.

Yep. Moving there this summer or early Fall (staying in New Jersey for the short term).

I tried to restrain myself but am curious about the illegal picture taking. What law are you talking about?

 

[sandspike]

good

I enjoyed what was a long read for me. Meatloaf, "Wolf w/ red roses",
kinda but in reverse sort of. The only thing I would do is get rid of
one of the "on"s in the first two lines. I stumbled at the start, but then
again it is 5 pm somewhere. I like it, you decide the dance.

 

[cherries_on_snow]

Yeah it was penned during my gothy student years the first time around. (I've been housetrained since. ;-D) So it might bear a resemblance to meatloaf. hehe.

Thanks Sandspike. this bud's for you.

 

[cherries_on_snow]

2nd Lit draft (What It Is to Love a Wolf)

What it is to love a wolf

There is a stain on your book I borrowed
on the page that details a summer house
owned by the family of Virginia Woolf:
a dripped red wound of my carelessness
on dry paper that smells of bones and wax.
I have kept the borrowed book for shame.

You saw me first in lamplight. Shameless
you said. You thought me an apple borrowed
from some serpent story, carved in wax
or stone. You didn't care. You drove me home.
I breathed you ripe with sex and careless
dreams hushed in the wild milk of wolf.

A mad footrace, those first days, the wolf
loping through night, feeding your fantasies. Shame
on the wolf who knows only hunger, carelessly
spending the flesh and moonlight she borrowed.
You rode my joy, let me warm by your hearth
and thought me tamed, your imprinted wax.

I was impatient for the wane and wax
(sweet milk can sour in the tit of a wolf),
an ill-mannered guest in your house:
ate your porridge, broke your bed. Shame
was the lesson you taught me, borrowed
from German ancestors, impressed with care.

But within your routine you were careless.
You half-latched the door, dripped wax
on the table, gave me to borrow
things one should never entrust to a wolf.
When I messed in your parlor, I cringed with shame.
You pleaded reform, but I left your house.

I chose a cave to call my home
and you followed, for love is careless,
asking me to remember you for love, not shame.
You packed me red apples and wine, candle wax
and a biography of Virginia Woolf.
Shame made me claim not to take, but borrow.

Now, I have hid the biography of Woolf.
She shames me, this wild one who needs no meat:
a careless flame within a house of wax.

2nd Lit draft

(I'm leaving the last line because I like the iambs, but took much of the advice Champagne gave on this draft)

 

[LeBroz]

What it is to love a wolf

There is a stain on your book I borrowed
on the page that details a summer house
owned by the family of Virginia Woolf:
a dripped red wound of my carelessness
on dry paper that smells of bones and wax.
I have kept the borrowed book for shame.

You saw me first in lamplight. Shameless
you said. You thought me an apple borrowed
from some serpent story, carved in wax
or stone. You didn't care. You drove me home.
I breathed you ripe with sex and careless
dreams hushed in the wild milk of wolf.

A mad footrace, those first days, the wolf
loping through night, feeding your fantasies. Shame
on the wolf who knows only hunger, carelessly
spending the flesh and moonlight she borrowed.
You rode my joy, let me warm by your hearth
and thought me tamed, your imprinted wax.

I was impatient for the wane and wax
(sweet milk can sour in the tit of a wolf),
an ill-mannered guest in your house:
ate your porridge, broke your bed. Shame
was the lesson you taught me, borrowed
from German ancestors, impressed with care.

But within your routine you were careless.
You half-latched the door, dripped wax
on the table, gave me to borrow
things one should never entrust to a wolf.
When I messed in your parlor, I cringed with shame.
You pleaded reform, but I left your house.

I chose a cave to call my home
and you followed, for love is careless,
asking me to remember you for love, not shame.
You packed me red apples and wine, candle wax
and a biography of Virginia Woolf.
Shame made me claim not to take, but borrow.

Now, I have hid the biography of Woolf.
She shames me, this wild one who needs no meat:
a careless flame within a house of wax.

2nd Lit draft

(I'm leaving the last line because I like the iambs, but took much of the advice Champagne gave on this draft)

An interesting bending of the artistic rules for a sestina. I wonder what our sestina expert has to say about that. {Woolf/wolf, care/careless, shame/shameless} Though personally I think it's close enough to warrant a closer look...I'll take a peek at your posting later today after I've run my chores and have read the other goodies from yesterday. By the way, it's a small detail, but the sestina is a form created in France, named in Italy, and initially popular in the south of France, Italy, and Spain and after a few centuries caught on in the rest of France and England. Found this little tidbit on the web:

"The Sestina (Latin sextus=sixth): unrhymed pattern invented near the end of the 12th century by the famous Provençal troubadour Arnaud Daniel. Used by Petrarch and Dante (who gave it its Italian name) in Italy, but little used in France & England until the 19th century. Notable sestinas have been written by Swinburne, Kipling, Pound and Auden, among others."

Now I'll once again have to read up on the sestina. In any case, congrats on tackling the form.
.

 

[MyNecroticSnail]

OMG!!!!I hope Mein Bruder sees this, shames his feral interweaving. Where is the basket? Thanks for the ride.

What a seemless blend of ghost creation.

I would be interested in what the sestina queens would have to say about the technical aspects of this.

 

[TheRainMan]

I would be interested in what the sestina queens would have to say about the technical aspects of this.

speaking for myself, i couldn't care about the technical aspects.

sestina, farina, it's all the same.

but that is one damn fine read -- would be even better, IMO, if the form requirements were ignored and the poem was allowed to run free.

 

[cherries_on_snow]

"The Sestina (Latin sextus=sixth): unrhymed pattern invented near the end of the 12th century by the famous Provençal troubadour Arnaud Daniel. Used by Petrarch and Dante (who gave it its Italian name) in Italy, but little used in France & England until the 19th century. Notable sestinas have been written by Swinburne, Kipling, Pound and Auden, among others."

Now I'll once again have to read up on the sestina. In any case, congrats on tackling the form.
.

Thanks for the background and the correction. Cheers.

 

[cherries_on_snow]

speaking for myself, i couldn't care about the technical aspects.

sestina, farina, it's all the same.

but that is one damn fine read -- would be even better, IMO, if the form requirements were ignored and the poem was allowed to run free.

Thank you very much. Free beer counter goes still higher. Good thing I got a job! ;-D

 

[MyNecroticSnail]

speaking for myself, i couldn't care about the technical aspects.

sestina, farina, it's all the same.

but that is one damn fine read -- would be even better, IMO, if the form requirements were ignored and the poem was allowed to run free.

Semolina
I have to agree with Rainman, I don't know of any authour whose greatest work was the sestina. All forms have inherent limitations. From an edited extract from James Fenton's book An Introduction to English Poetry ":Because it is not a rhyming form (although Swinburne and others have tried adding rhyme to the mix), it is not technically difficult to pull off. The awkwardness is in making it interesting"
He then gives an example from Kipling stating " uses somewhat inconspicuous words, on which it is easy to improvise variations. The effect of the repetitions is subliminal."
The root of the problem with sestinas is it's cleverness, the cleverness detracts somewhat from the emotive impact. As in this "The Shrinking Lonesome Sestina ", very well done, worth reading the comments, one of which mirrors Rainman's feelings, continuing with "the choice of these six words dictates not just the form, but also the content of the poem; they are like the scaffolding around which the poet (more architect than artisan)" But the scaffold becomes what is visible by the very title, drawing attension from the building.
They have a tendecy to become amusing...

 

[MyNecroticSnail]

The root of Amusing is still muse
We come to a fork in our ride... Most of the sestinas I have read seem to be amusing, the serious ones are detracted by the cleverness of calling attention to the scaffold. Do we
Bear right?
Bear left?
Goldilocks...poetry is full of unbearable choices. These puns are an illustration of a creation of a parallel text. Referents are another way to create a parallel text.
Back to the sestina; six words occupy the end of the line and are repeated, two very powerful things in poetry.

 

[MyNecroticSnail]

What it is to love a wolf

There is a stain on your book I borrowed
on the page that details a summer house
owned by the family of Virginia Woolf:
a dripped red wound of my carelessness
on dry paper that smells of bones and wax.
I have kept the borrowed book for shame.

You saw me first in lamplight. Shameless
you said. You thought me an apple borrowed
from some serpent story, carved in wax
or stone. You didn't care. You drove me home.
I breathed you ripe with sex and careless
dreams hushed in the wild milk of wolf.

A mad footrace, those first days, the wolf
loping through night, feeding your fantasies. Shame
on the wolf who knows only hunger, carelessly
spending the flesh and moonlight she borrowed.
You rode my joy, let me warm by your hearth
and thought me tamed, your imprinted wax.

I was impatient for the wane and wax
(sweet milk can sour in the tit of a wolf),
an ill-mannered guest in your house:
ate your porridge, broke your bed. Shame
was the lesson you taught me, borrowed
from German ancestors, impressed with care.

But within your routine you were careless.
You half-latched the door, dripped wax
on the table, gave me to borrow
things one should never entrust to a wolf.
When I messed in your parlor, I cringed with shame.
You pleaded reform, but I left your house.

I chose a cave to call my home
and you followed, for love is careless,
asking me to remember you for love, not shame.
You packed me red apples and wine, candle wax
and a biography of Virginia Woolf.
Shame made me claim not to take, but borrow.

Now, I have hid the biography of Woolf.
She shames me, this wild one who needs no meat:
a careless flame within a house of wax.

2nd Lit draft

(I'm leaving the last line because I like the iambs, but took much of the advice Champagne gave on this draft)

Back to, C on S end words:
borrowed
house
Woolf
carelessness
wax.
shame

I'm afraid the only referent I have for Virginia Woolf is the title of a movie I never watched. I plead ignorance. Wolf/Woolf good, but what wolf? The tit of the wolf of Romulus and Remus, a tale of murder and founding, what is this allusion, suppose one of the six words becomes roam?
There are also allusions to a serpent story, suppose again one of the six words where either eve or garden
We are beginning to create a parallel text. A summoning of ghosts off the page to hang on a scaffold.
I plead ignorance of Virgina Woolf, clearly in the kaleidoscope of your sestina there are allusions coming into focus.
Even the name "Virginia" has play coupled with the predominace of red, suppose again an end word of red/read
Your thoughts, Cherries? I really do no want to go read Virginia Woolf.
Maybe I will, just to prove Ted Kooser wrong.

 

[cherries_on_snow]

On wolf / Woolf

ahhhh ok I am seeing what you mean about ghost creation, mns. This brings no quick response, though. I will need to sit with those comments awhile and think a bit more about them.

You bring up some interesting points about the sestina (though I would argue that Elizabeth Bishop's Sestina is one of her best poems). Choosing the words is the most important part because they are the mantra of the poem. The poem takes on a quality then of a nightly prayer or a stretch of flooring one paces. I was thinking of pacing when I wrote the poem, initially. That made me think of a restless creature trapped indoors, and then the rest followed.

You really should read Virginia Woolf, by the way. She was revolutionary in her treatment of character and narration. When I wrote the poem originally, I had only read To The Lighthouse and was reading her biography by her nephew, I believe. While interesting, that biography seemed to leave big pieces of the puzzle of Virginia Woolf's life off the table (perhaps because he was trying to protect family, perhaps because he was not able to think of how her gender limited her in all she did). For me she represented ultimate civility and uncivility at once: even in the Bell biography (I say Bell from memory, I may be wrong there) one could see that within Virginia Woolf was a dangerous rebel, one who focused on characters' interior lives with such interrogative skill; one who wrote love letters to women, changed character gender midstream on purpose; one who hinted at forbidden things and ultimately killed herself.

I suppose I contrast my own wolfy madness (lust, unhappiness at being the pet of a corporate lawyer as I was then) and the Woolfy madness I feared (seeming to be in the same vein, but more dangerous considering her end).

I shall have to think about how to make that more accessible or whether to.

Thanks for your thoughtful feedback, MNS. I appreciate the time you took with it.