Criticism Forum

[Ded Poet]

Here's my idea: if you want and welcome criticism, this is the thread for you. You can post the link to you web page or paste the poem in here (is that okay to do, daughter?). This is not for the faint of heart--this is for people who want to improve their writing and won't take negative criticism personally. Maybe indicate if you prefer puplic or private feedback. Does this seem like a good idea?

Write on,

DP


-------------------------
I humbly submit my work for criticism. Most of it needs alot of work, some of it I'm pretty happy with. I welcome all honest responses, positive or negative, but please try to offer something constructive, like WHY it effected you in a certain way, and HOW you think I might change it.

Please check out my member page,
http://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=78334

Feel free to respond publicly on this thread, by anomysous feedback, email, or PM. I will respond to all.

Anyone interested in similar treatment should post their member page on this thread.

Thanks in advance, and I hope this works.

Keep writing,

DP

 

[Vailyn]

Kewl, kewl, thats a good idea!

And I'll even be the first sacrifice... er volunteer. <grins>

Feedback: Go ahead and post it here. Why not? Give the thread more life. =)

This is something I wrote a few weeks ago. Go at it! I like it as it is, but maybe it needs something more. Who knows?

Dual Passions

Rush of solid silence
Flash of darkness
Suddenly made real
By the heavy forward motion
Whipped back while breaking
Sounds, only an after effect
All sensed and barely forgotten
During the circling replays

Just yesterday… was it yesterday?

Twenty-four hours ago
Standing quietly, hugging
Unwanted tears lean to fall
As lonely anguish threatens
Mental cries for solace, unheard
Wondering what knight will appear
Knowing that none would
Even as desires for just one friend lingers

Just yesterday… was it yesterday?
Moronic idiot with no excuse
Recklessly tried gravity’s limits
Flew headlong towards “Wrong Way”
Made the wrong type of impact
And paid for the fatal slip

A cycle of night later
Elbows on the glass counter
Filled with that familiar wonder
Lightness of mental interest
Entangled with physical “ooh, mmmm”
Playful smile easily flirt
Sarcastic banter flows back and forth
A moment of breath held-
“….is he the one?”

Just yesterday… was it yesterday?

Bright red, white lights barricade
Three train-like vehicles on demand
Questions fired, “When? How? When?”
Internal struggles against vomiting
Answered pass the lump in between
Finally secured down, rocked along
Taken to be checked whether whole

Light of the second dawn past
Blankets the store, we hang out
Unwilling to end the night of fun
Joking, talking, staring awelike
Out of the corner of brown eyes
Reveling in the spark of Eros
Yet not willing to call it love
No question other than “…is he…”

One after the other
Two explosive memories bond
Dual passions in extreme opposites
Forever lie side by side
A night full of haunting anguish
Balanced by a night full of whole joy
These many days later
Days into a new year
Still begs answer, “…is he the one?”

 

[Ded Poet]

vailyn,
thanks for getting the ball rolling. whew! that's a long one! it may take me a couple of days to respond, but i will get back to you.
thanks,
DP

 

[daughter]

Ded Poet

Well, I think your idea is great. To get a thorough analysis is a treat. I would be most appreciative. What you're proposing will work as well as it is supported.

I look forward to reading your comments about any of my poems. Take your pick. I will do my best to return the courtesy.

Good luck.

Peace,

daughter

 

[Ded Poet]

Well, I found this one pretty tough going, but I think there's a kernal of a poem in there somewhere. I had to read through it several times before before I felt like I was understanding it.

Title: The title doesn't work for me, although it it does describe what the poem is trying to be about (more on this later).

Punctuation/grammar: In a longer poem such as this, one that is basically a narrative, punctuation and proper grammer would help the reader understand what is happening. I found myself, even after the fourth and fifth read, getting caught up in places.For example, the second half of S4, which is perhaps the strongest stanza:

Lightness of mental interest
Entangled with physical “ooh, mmmm”
Playful smile easily flirt
Sarcastic banter flows back and forth
A moment of breath held-
“….is he the one?”

this is hard for even the most sympathetic reader to wade through. Compare:

Lightness of mental interest.
Entangled in physical ooh,
Mmmm,(playful smile and easy
Flirt), sarcastic banter
flows back and forth:
a moment of breath held--
is he the one?

These are just suggestions, but what you had before reads like a series of grammatically and syntactically unconnected lines. The reader is left to decode the list of words.

One major revision I would recommend is cutting the first 2 stanzas and starting with:

Just yesterday (was it yesterday?)----just a suggestion here, I tend to try and avoid ellipses as much as possible
Moronic idiot with no excuse...

If there's something in the first 2 stanzas you feel really needs to be said, weave it into the body of the poem.

My main criticism is that there is a serious lack of imagery. It struck me that the narrator could well be blind--there are virtually no visual references, other than the 'bright red, white lights' in S5 (I don't think 'Flashes of darkness' is an image).
You do finally give us something, and it is quite nice, with:

A cycle of nights later
Elbows on the glass counter
Filled with [that] familiar wonder

I like these three lines very much. You say much with a few words here.

This brings us to overall comprehension. From the title and the conclusion, the contrasting tone and language of the alternating verses, I was able to put together that this is about some sort of accident and some sort of infatuation. Neither of these general ideas is very clear--we get no image of the man 'she's' involved with, and we can only guess that the accident was somehow traffic related ('headlong towards "Wrong Way").
This might be okay if we had something else to chew on, but these incidents are what the poem about.

I can see the infatuation being referred to as a passion, but it is unclear as to how the accident is a 'passion.' That is why I'm uncomfortable with the title. Perhaps if you could show the passion there--'she's' angry with the person who was in the accident--but we don't know if 'she's' in the accident. We don't know what the accedent was. Perhaps 'her' boyfriend killed himself by jumping into traffic and 'she's' angry. Show us!

Also, I would watch out for terms like 'mental anguish' and 'mental cries of solace.' they tell us, but they don't show us--and they don't move us.

I'm sorry if this was a little harsh, but this is the kind of criticism I'm looking for, and what I hope we can encourage on this thread.

Please take or disregard anything I've said as you see fit--they are just some thoughts.

Keep writing,

DP

 

[Vailyn]

Good! GOOD! Stuff to sink my teeth in! I'll wait for more input before I say anything tho.

Nah, say exactly what you have in mind. Honesty is always good, just sometimes not taken well.. <winks>

-Vailyn

 

[Ded Poet]

[No message]

 

[Ded Poet]

.

 

[karmadog]

re: 1983

Ded Poet: Your critique of your own poem was dead on. I didn't get that poem at all. But with a quick trip through google and an encyclopedia, your poem makes a little more sense. First, I think you are over-educated. The references seem to work 10 Grove being finely designed housing for the working class. The tub being an amusing reference to an orgone collector. Wilhelm Reich (the author of "...Fascism" and the coiner of the term "orgone") and a believer (apparently) in the destruction of repressive sexual mores, repressive economies, and repressive etc. Unfortunately, I am not educated enough to get everything you are trying to say. I suspect that you wrote an excellent poem, but offered it to the wrong audience.

 

[Ded Poet]

karmadog

Hey man,
Thanks for checkin' it out. Glad to hear from you!

All I'm really tryin' to do here is get this thread going--I think it could be a good thing. But, I alone am nothing. It would be soooo cool if people would take this and run. I think I've done just about all I can do.

DP

 

[Vailyn]

Sorry DP!!!

Sorry sorry!!! Forgive me?

I was being selfish by waiting for someone else to also critique my poem. I wanted more feedback! <shrugs> Also didn't post after you posted your poem cuz I'm a tad leary of making any comments. Even on a critique forum where you're suppose to make comments! But I still think this place is a good idea. So here's my bit to your poem.

First thing, Karmadog had it pretty much how I feel. I've read this poem of yours before from the submitted work on Lit, but I didn't really understand it. I got the plain easy to see parts like the boy in his room and two people talking but I knew I was missing the bigger picture. You're poem makes me feel very much inferior in the intellectual department! <grins> I knew I would have to look up the book or Reich to understand somewhat of what you were trying to talk about. I ADMIT IT! I was laazzzzzzzzzzzzy! So due to my laziness and er no real knowledge of the subject matter being upheld in the poem--I didn't really get it. This wasn't a poem with it's usual two three layers of meaning! It has unknown depths.

So, is that good or bad? Guess that depends on what you were trying to do when you wrote it.

Can I be forgiven now? Pretty please?

-V

 

[Ded Poet]

the resounding silence...

Thanks Vailyn,

There's nothin' to forgive--two (or three) posters does not make a forum make.

You can't say we didn't try, right?

DP

 

[karmadog]

sure it does

Two (or three) people having an intense interesting discussion at a party will always draw interested people. I think it's a great idea for a thread. I think the problem is that people are running scared from anything even perceived as "negativity" right now.

That said, I'd like to have a sincere (severe) critique of this poem. It didn't get many reads or comments when I first posted it, and most of them were strictly positive (nice first effort, interesting imagery, etc.), but I know that it's flawed and would like to know what I could do to improve it. I have been intending to tinker with it, but I have so many irons in the fire, it's more iron than fire. Hopefully, you can give me a kickstart.

New Sneaker Blues
by karmadog ©
She drives through the dark,
Coppery guilt lies complacent on her tongue.
The chrome bumper crushes the wind and
White noise edges through
The window slit.

A mile and more away,
The boy is wakeful in his bed.
Once he flew with new-sneaker grace,
Now his shoes
will never show wear.

On the breeze that
Shivers the sheer curtain
Comes one unending chord:
Truck tires trombone and car tires cornet
Along the highway.

 

[Vailyn]

Make it Work!

Hey, even if its like just the four of us. I say we can keep this forum going. Why the heck not? If we're interested in it, we are. Right? So I say keep posting. Besides we all the our tip toe bit and now we're comfortable with saying what is on our minds without censor for that something being an adverse opinion.

Kewl? Right? Good.

So, next under da knife.. er comments.. <grins>

Karmadog


She drives through the dark,
Coppery guilt lies complacent on her tongue.
The chrome bumper crushes the wind and
White noise edges through
The window slit.


Driving though the dark,
Coppery guilt lies complacent
upon her tongue.
Chrome bumper crushes the wind
And white noise edges in
through the window slit.


I can see what you want to show here. How about this? A bit of stragetic word surgery. I apoligize if I change the voice of the poem... Ya know, everyone's style is different! <grins>

Oh yeah, some woman did something bad and I am guessing that the coppery guilt means blood spilled in some form or other. Car bit meaning the guilt has to deal with something with a car or using the car to get away.

A mile and more away,
The boy is wakeful in his bed.
Once he flew with new-sneaker grace,
Now his shoes
will never show wear.


More than a mile away:
(Distance growing steadily) -- An extra line, maybe?
The boy is wakeful in his bed
Once he flew
with new-sneaker grace,
Now his shoes
will stay the same.


Ah! This is the victum. She hit him and drove off I guess? Can't use his legs anymore. Humph. Want to know more about the boy. An emotion? Or desire? How he got hurt? Was it a hit and run?

On the breeze that
Shivers the sheer curtain
Comes one unending chord:
Truck tires trombone and car tires cornet
Along the highway.


On a breeze that
Shivers the curtain sheer,
Comes the unending chord:
of truck tires trombone,
And car tires cornet
shrills along the highway.

<Grins> I learned a new meaning for cornet. I only knew it as a hair style or something do to with clothes... It is also a horn. Now that I know that, the stanza makes better sense.

This stanza is practically meaningless. It's fluff. Yeah, so the woman in the car is leaving. We know that already. It could be a good ending to the poem if the poem was more narrative, but it's not. As you can see, I have made my suggestions for changes with what you already have. My other suggestion is that you add a few more stanzas to describe/explain the situation or feelings or something to say answer the question, "Why?"

I like how you tried to stick with short lines in each stanza. Interesting twist with cornet! =) I also second the comment bout this being a good first attempt. Interesting subject matter. Oh yeah, you might want to pick a point of view. Are we trying to see the woman's or the boy's or both? And if so, make a pattern so it's clear what the point of view is.

Man! Who said you had to THINK so much when you write a poem? LOL!!! I think I will stick to writing whatever flies upon my paper or screen and leave editing for like much much later. Cuz sometimes it's not good to edit when you're too close to the topic. Distance is good for somethings. Heh.

Okay.. that was my er feedback. Only feedback! It could be utter trash! And only suggestions, so you don't HAFTA use it ya know?

-V

 

[WickedEve]

BDSM Poem

One of my newer poems (1-29-02) has received only one vote. It was given a 2.
Is the rythm off? The rhyme suck? Something wrong with the meter? (if so, I wouldn't know.) Or maybe the subject matter is offensive?

Day In The Cityhttp://www.literotica.com/stories/showstory.php?id=32327
by WickedEve ©

In my Master's nation
stands a city of domination
where there is only one way.

To this place Master brought me.
He has disciplined and taught me.
And here, I will forever stay.

Into the city He rides me.
Shows me slaves besides me.
New desires I will find this day.

Collared slave on the street.
Bare ass is publicly beat.
Her master, she dared disobey.

I become an aroused observer.
Want him to blissfully hurt her.
I crave the same to my dismay!

Leather around my neck is rough.
Pulling me forward so I'll see enough,
He allows me to spread my legs and play.

I lick my (parched), quivering lips,
kneeling with cheek to Master's hip,
begging to have it this way.

Arrogant laughter fills my ears.
Suddenly grasped by erotic fears,
as I comprehend what Master did say.

Stripped naked where I kneel.
Vows His whip is what I'll feel.
Across my skin, red stripes He'll lay.

He elicits screams with each lash!
Did desire drive me to be too rash?
Pain and pleasure is the price I pay.

Face with tears and ecstasy!
Master's marks for all to see.
My total submission (is) on display.

I obey Master without hesitation,
kiss His feet in appreciation.
Then crawl behind Him as He leads me away.


I wished I would have left out "parched" and "is."

 

[Vailyn]

WE

<rolls sleeves up> Okies. I will try my best to do you justice. <tongue peeks out as I study the poem, makes thinking noises>

Overall, I applaud you for being able to stick to the pattern you have developed for rhyme and everything. Kinda tuff cuz you only have so many words that will rhyme with way and etc.

Why is the story bad? I mean. Some people are into that kind of thing, right? Not me, but some people. Besides! Trying to make everyone happy is no fun! It's lots of work with little to no returns.

You know what your poem made me think of? It made me think of Anne Rice's Sleeping Beauty series. That was my first "real" exposure to tough erotica. Wacky stuff! =) So I think you did pretty well in the storytelling part of the poem.

Because of your overall plan for the poem, parts do seem forced. And I, personally (you might not feel the same as I do), do not like to use the same word twice when it comes to a rhyming scheme. Makes me feel like I cheated or something. Go figure! Dunno why. =) *Also take a look and make sure the transitions from one poem to another flow smoothly.

Might want to do away with some of the puncuation. Too much and it makes the flow of the poem staccato. Go, stop, go, stop. And I don't think you want it to be like that.

The following are only suggestions. So, take it or leave it. It's your work above all. You are the one who must like it! =)

*Oh! I looked and looked and I don't think you need parched or is in the poem. Read the following.

Day In The City

In my Master's nation
stands a city of domination
where there is only one way.


There in my Master's nation
stands a city of domination
where His is the only way.


To this place Master brought me.
He has disciplined and taught me.
And here, I will forever stay.


Here my Master has brought me,
To where He will make and redefine me.
And here, I shall forever stay.


Into the city He rides me.
Shows me slaves besides me.
New desires I will find this day.


Into the city He rides me,
Points out the slaves besides me.
New desires I will find this day.


Collared slave on the street.
Bare ass is publicly beat.
Her master, she dared disobey.


A colloared slave on the street
Bare ass red with paddled heat-
Her master, she dared disobey.


I become an aroused observer.
Want him to blissfully hurt her.
I crave the same to my dismay!


Becoming an aroused observer
Wanting him to blissfully hurt her.
I crave the same--to my dismay!


Leather around my neck is rough.
Pulling me forward so I'll see enough,
He allows me to spread my legs and play.


Binding leather upon my neck is rough
As it pulls me forward, I try to be tough.
He allows me to spread my legs and play.

Hey, the transition from this above stanza to the next one is pretty abrupt. Last line in it does not fit well with the first two. Original or suggested first two lines.


I lick my (parched), quivering lips,
kneeling with cheek to Master's hip,
begging to have it this way.


Nervously, I lick my dry, quivering lips,
kneeling, my cheek to my Master's hip,
begging silently for him to say okay.


Arrogant laughter fills my ears.
Suddenly grasped by erotic fears,
as I comprehend what Master did say.


Arrogant laughter fills my ears!
He pays no attention to my tears
Hopelessly wishing for some delay...


Stripped naked where I kneel.
Vows His whip is what I'll feel.
Across my skin, red stripes He'll lay.


Stripped naked where I kneel.
The sight of His whip makes me reel!
Biting my lip, I hold dispair at bay.


He elicits screams with each lash!
Did desire drive me to be too rash?
Pain and pleasure is the price I pay.


He elicits screams with each lash!
Impulsive desires made me too rash
And painfilled pleasure is the price I pay.


Face with tears and ecstasy!
Master's marks for all to see.
My total submission on display.


Tears and ecstasy adorn my face!
He leaves my bound to the base
My total submission on display.


I obey Master without hesitation,
kiss His feet in appreciation.
Then crawl behind Him as He leads me away.


Left alone in complete isolation,
I am filled to a terrifying desolation.
Broken in submission, Master leads me away.


In my Master's nation
stands a city of domination
where there is only one way.


There in my Master's nation
stands a city of domination
where His is the only way.

 

[WickedEve]

double post

 

[WickedEve]

Vailyn

Some of the suggestions I like, but some don't work with this poem.

In my Master's nation
stands a city of domination
where there is only one way.

There in my Master's nation
stands a city of domination
where His is the only way.

I really do like that change.

To this place Master brought me.
He has disciplined and taught me.
And here, I will forever stay.

Here my Master has brought me,
To where He will make and redefine me.
And here, I shall forever stay.

I personally like brought me and taught me.

Collared slave on the street.
Bare ass is publicly beat.
Her master, she dared disobey.

A colloared slave on the street
Bare ass red with paddled heat-
Her master, she dared disobey.

I like your second line. Though I didn't picture paddles.

Leather around my neck is rough.
Pulling me forward so I'll see enough,
He allows me to spread my legs and play.

Binding leather upon my neck is rough
As it pulls me forward, I try to be tough.
He allows me to spread my legs and play.

I don't like "I try to be tough." He wants me to see what's happening. But I like "binding."

I lick my (parched), quivering lips,
kneeling with cheek to Master's hip,
begging to have it this way.

Nervously, I lick my dry, quivering lips,
kneeling, my cheek to my Master's hip,
begging silently for him to say okay.

There is no nervousness. There is anticipation, at this point. And I like "begging to have it this way."

Arrogant laughter fills my ears.
Suddenly grasped by erotic fears,
as I comprehend what Master did say.

Arrogant laughter fills my ears!
He pays no attention to my tears
Hopelessly wishing for some delay...

Not sure about the second line, (I don't picture crying) but I do like your suggestion for the third line.

Stripped naked where I kneel.
Vows His whip is what I'll feel.
Across my skin, red stripes He'll lay.

Stripped naked where I kneel.
The sight of His whip makes me reel!
Biting my lip, I hold dispair at bay.

I like both of our second lines. The third line doesn't work for me. No despair to hold at bay.

He elicits screams with each lash!
Did desire drive me to be too rash?
Pain and pleasure is the price I pay.

He elicits screams with each lash!
Impulsive desires made me too rash
And painfilled pleasure is the price I pay.

I like the changes you made in this stanza.

Face with tears and ecstasy!
Master's marks for all to see.
My total submission on display.

Tears and ecstasy adorn my face!
He leaves my bound to the base
My total submission on display.

I don't quite get the second line.

I obey Master without hesitation,
kiss His feet in appreciation.
Then crawl behind Him as He leads me away.

Left alone in complete isolation,
I am filled to a terrifying desolation.
Broken in submission, Master leads me away.

Okay, are the first two lines suppose to be metaphors? This is taking place on the street.

Thanks Vailyn. You had some very good suggestions. Good enough that I may submit an edited version using some of them.

 

[Vailyn]

You Welcome!

Yeah! I'm glad I was somewhat helpful. The only thing I could picture in my head are some stories I have read on this subject matter. What I wrote in changes are only suggestions for different turns of phrase. Might not even be good ones! =P Hehe!

A colloared slave on the street
Bare ass red with paddled heat-
Her master, she dared disobey.

I like your second line. Though I didn't picture paddles.

Here I was trying to just give you another rhyming word and paddling came up! So, red butt, heat-etc etc. =)


Leather around my neck is rough.
Pulling me forward so I'll see enough,
He allows me to spread my legs and play.

Binding leather upon my neck is rough
As it pulls me forward, I try to be tough.
He allows me to spread my legs and play.

I don't like "I try to be tough." He wants me to see what's happening. But I like "binding."

Tough is another word rhyming choice. All lot of the changes I made had that in mind before I would even think of phrasing. And from your words, I see this woman who is new to this D/s world. Not quite used to it yet. It excites her, but frightens her because she's not used to it and so, acting tough.

Arrogant laughter fills my ears.
Suddenly grasped by erotic fears,
as I comprehend what Master did say.

Arrogant laughter fills my ears!
He pays no attention to my tears
Hopelessly wishing for some delay...

Not sure about the second line, (I don't picture crying) but I do like your suggestion for the third line.

I don't know about you but man, if I was being whipped, I'd cry! Even if I was liking it. So, cuz da Master knows that I am enjoying it, he doesn't pay attention to the tears. Right? Hehe

Face with tears and ecstasy!
Master's marks for all to see.
My total submission on display.

Tears and ecstasy adorn my face!
He leaves my bound to the base
My total submission on display.

I don't quite get the second line.

Er, that was me being kinda deseparate phrasin wise. <Grins> Don't pay attention. But what I was seeing, is her, on the street, but she's collared and bound by her willingness to submit. And he must of like had her kneel over something.. a base maybe?

I obey Master without hesitation,
kiss His feet in appreciation.
Then crawl behind Him as He leads me away.

Left alone in complete isolation,
I am filled to a terrifying desolation.
Broken in submission, Master leads me away.

Okay, are the first two lines suppose to be metaphors? This is taking place on the street.

Bah! Ignore it, it changes the story you're telling too much! So, it's fluffy. <takes pen in hand and crosses it out> Ut oh, is that the screen? =P

-V

 

[daughter]

Making Snow Angels

edited.

 

[WickedEve]

edit

 

[daughter]

Wicked Eve

WE--

What isn't making sense is a connection I think you can find. I'll give you a hint: this isn't playful at all. This is biting irony or it at least was my intent.

Thanks for the close read. Few lines have a way of demanding attention in order to understand the meaning.

Peace,

daughter

 

[WickedEve]

Vailyn

You were more than somewhat helpful. You have good ideas! I'm editing that poem now. I really like "where His is the only way." I had "where there is only one way" and it never sounded quite right to me. I changed that one line many times.

Not sure about the second line, (I don't picture crying) but I do like your suggestion for the third line.

I don't know about you but man, if I was being whipped, I'd cry! Even if I was liking it. So, cuz da Master knows that I am enjoying it, he doesn't pay attention to the tears. Right? Hehe

I just realized why the crying doesn't work. He hasn't spanked her yet! lol

WE

 

[Ded Poet]

karmadog

In general, I agree with Vailyn's critique.Here are a few more thoughts and suggestions


Coppery guilt lies complacent on her tongue.Is she smug or satisfied with the guilt? This is the impression that 'complacent'leaves.

A mile and more away,
The boy is wakeful in his bed.
Once he flew with new-sneaker grace,
Now his shoes
will never show wear.
The first stanza makes it seem like a hit and run, but in this one it feels like something that happened in the past.

On the breeze that
Shivers the sheer curtain
Comes one unending chord:
Truck tires trombone and car tires cornet
Along the highway. I don't agree that this S is unnecessary fluff. I like the imagery--the lonely highway chord and tragic irony of reminders of movement while he is immobile. But I think maybe it would be stronger if you blended the imagery of the sneakers in the corner that he can never wear.

The poem definitely needs more, but you've made a good start.

Write on!

DP

 

[WickedEve]

daughter

I was so way off on your poem. I was thinking playful. Pushing someone down in the snow. Of course, 28 makes perfect sense now. lol