Decent first?

[RaLaWrites]

Let me clarify: I am not a poet, nor do I focus solely on poetry. It's not my forte.

However I think exploring my options isn't such a bad thing, either. I head to school in the winter and I write stories (and now poems) not only for kicks but so I can stay sharp, so to speak.

EDIT: I have since cut parts that I thought weren't necessary and posted it on Literotica. Here http://www.literotica.com/stories/showstory.php?id=383572] is the link.

 

[sassynyc]

Let me clarify: I am not a poet, nor do I focus solely on poetry. It's not my forte.

However I think exploring my options isn't such a bad thing, either. I head to school in the winter and I write stories (and now poems) not only for kicks but so I can stay sharp, so to speak.

I wrote this because I'm participating in Literotica Kink Bingo. It's currently too short to post to the Literotica site. It's only a little under 300 words and I know the requirement is 750 or over unless that rule doesn't apply to poems.

Not to worry. That doesn't apply to poems.

 

[Safe_Bet]

[...] It's only a little under 300 words and I know the requirement is 750 or over unless that rule doesn't apply to poems.
[...]

Thank god that rule doesn't apply to poetry. Otherwise writing a Haiku would be a pure bitch!

 

[RaLaWrites]

Oh, thank goodness.

I was looking through the guidelines but the number of words required for poems wasn't specified.

Guess I can post it after all, after a few edits.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Nice piece. You have a skill with imagery. I'd love to see what you could do in free verse.

welcome!

bj

 

[RaLaWrites]

^ Thank you, bijou!


Here's another one. I guess this is free-verse? It's pretty much how I felt on every first day of school.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Suede boots crunch leaves
On a crisp fall morning
First day of school
Heightens her anxiety
Clutching her books
Searching for familiar faces
As she treks
wanderless aiming through halls
Finding her destination
Her class, her desk
Most relieved of sighs
She settles in
And feels at home.

 

[sassynyc]

^ Thank you, bijou!


Here's another one. I guess this is free-verse? It's pretty much how I felt on every first day of school.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Suede boots crunch leaves
On a crisp fall morning
First day of school
Heightens her anxiety
Clutching her books
Searching for familiar faces
As she treks
wanderless aiming through halls
Finding her destination
Her class, her desk
Most relieved of sighs
She settles in
And feels at home.

You have a nice opener, that sets up your surroundings and gives good images. You're pretty good at conveying emotion, and you were able to do it from an outside view (3rd person). Sometimes that makes me feel distant from a poem, but not in this case. It still felt personal (possibly because I knew you were talking about yourself). In any case, I thought it worked. Good start.

 

[bluerains]

sorry

toooo long for a wrap around for self...

 

[Senna Jawa]

I'm just curious as to what my fellow Literoticans think.

I am not a Literotican but a

Liteorerotician.​

 

[Tzara]

I am not a Literotican but a

Liteorerotician.​

I keep reading that as Lite.Oreo.Ican, but that probably just indicates some poor personal dietary choices on my part.

 

[RaLaWrites]

Which poem?

toooo long for a wrap around for self...

I did away with a huge chunk of it and posted it to Literotica. Hopefully it's a little better this time around.

 

[RaLaWrites]

You have a nice opener, that sets up your surroundings and gives good images. You're pretty good at conveying emotion, and you were able to do it from an outside view (3rd person). Sometimes that makes me feel distant from a poem, but not in this case. It still felt personal (possibly because I knew you were talking about yourself). In any case, I thought it worked. Good start.

Thank you.

I find poetry to be a lot more challenging than writing. Maybe that's just because I'm more apt to writing but it's been a struggle for me.

Here's another poem.


Acceptance


Lazy eyes cast on a priceless sight.
An undisclosed place perched on high
Shine a light on what should be reality.
Acceptance for all but one.

A longing it remains to be,
The happiest laughs that emanate,
The frantic explanation of a day,
The grating sound of utensil on porcelain.
Acceptance for all but one.

Instead, a hopeless gaze.
Heavy steps on creaking floorboards,
Hand against a wooden rail.
A defeated groan is heard.
The slamming of a door follows,
and tears that comfort, stream.
Acceptance for all but one.

 

[WickedEve]

Thank you.

I find poetry to be a lot more challenging than writing. Maybe that's just because I'm more apt to writing but it's been a struggle for me.

Here's another poem.


Acceptance


Lazy eyes cast on a priceless sight.
An undisclosed place perched on high
Shine a light on what should be reality.
Acceptance for all but one.

A longing it remains to be,
The happiest laughs that emanate,
The frantic explanation of a day,
The grating sound of utensil on porcelain.
Acceptance for all but one.

Instead, a hopeless gaze.
Heavy steps on creaking floorboards,
Hand against a wooden rail.
A defeated groan is heard.
The slamming of a door follows,
and tears that comfort, stream.
Acceptance for all but one.

Overall, good poem. These lines are the ones that really interest me:
The frantic explanation of a day,
The grating sound of utensil on porcelain.

 

[sassynyc]

Thank you.

I find poetry to be a lot more challenging than writing. Maybe that's just because I'm more apt to writing but it's been a struggle for me.

Here's another poem.


Acceptance


Lazy eyes cast on a priceless sight.
An undisclosed place perched on high
Shine a light on what should be reality.
Acceptance for all but one.

A longing it remains to be,
The happiest laughs that emanate,
The frantic explanation of a day,
The grating sound of utensil on porcelain.
Acceptance for all but one.

Instead, a hopeless gaze.
Heavy steps on creaking floorboards,
Hand against a wooden rail.
A defeated groan is heard.
The slamming of a door follows,
and tears that comfort, stream.
Acceptance for all but one.

The same two lines that Eve mentioned, are what jumped out at me. The 'frantic explanation of a day' and 'grating sound of utensil on porcelain' initially made me think of a wedding/reception. They felt like the closest clues to what the poem is about. By the end, I still couldn't figure it out. It seems too specific a poem, to be left open to interpretation. I do like that nothing is explained outright. I like when a poem leaves me thinking. It ljust left me wanting more clues.

 

[Senna Jawa]

Here's another poem.


Acceptance

Based on the sum of the certain pluses of your first two poems together, from this thread, I'd say that you have potential, (and I wish you to fulfill it); but I wouldn't guess it if I read just your "acceptance".

Best regards,

 

[RaLaWrites]

A thank-you and lengthy explanation.

Based on the sum of the certain pluses of your first two poems together, from this thread, I'd say that you have potential, (and I wish you to fulfill it); but I wouldn't guess it if read just your "acceptance".

Best regards,

Thank you very much for the feedback. I appreciate it.

sassy - I worried about that at first. I knew exactly what I was talking about but everyone would have their own interpretation of it, which is kind of what I was shooting for.

I guess I feel the need to dissect it as to explain it better. I can't hold anything in. My mouth's too big.

The last two poems were very personal. I find those are easier to write at the moment as I'm creatively challenged when it comes to the world of Poetry (right now, anyway.) Didn't name the second one because I'm not too good at that. Obviously it's what I felt on the first day of school.

Acceptance is a bit different.

When I was growing up, I felt very detached from my family. My parents weren't the type that encouraged me to come to them with any concerns -- especially about topics that embarrassed them. Sex, Birth Control, Puberty. I was frustrated because I couldn't come to them about my curiosity and fears about the above subjects and therefore, I didn't communicate with them at all for a while.

I felt so close yet so far away in my own home. A lot of the time, I'd just watch them from the top of the stairs:


Lazy eyes cast on a priceless sight.
An undisclosed place perched on high
Shine a light on what should be reality.


During dinner time. I was sad because I wanted to feel what they felt. Just accepted. They had the ability to share stories of what went on in the day with each other while sharing a home-cooked meal:


A longing it remains to be,
The happiest laughs that emanate,
The frantic explanation of a day,
The grating sound of utensil on porcelain.


Naturally, I wanted to join but I was extremely stubborn then. I felt like if they couldn't talk to me about issues that really mattered then they shouldn't talk to me at all. So I'd storm off and go back to my room, solemn.


Instead, a hopeless gaze.
Heavy steps on creaking floorboards,
Hand against a wooden rail.
A defeated groan is heard.
The slamming of a door follows,
and tears that comfort, stream.


However, the poem could be viewed in several ways. Anyone who's ever felt separated from a certain someone(s) they love but want to feel that understanding and acceptance again. They may feel like it's an unattainable goal -- to feel that love -- so they give up but continue to observe what they really want.

I do like poetry because it allows a whole point and way of being or feeling to be expressed in so little lines. It's pretty nifty.