Poetry?

[champagne1982]

Metaphorically Mine

There's a color in that place my man takes me to, reminiscent of pink grapefruit sunsets and clouds with silver linings. I promised I could explain that indescribable feeling that I experience when I'm with him. I don't know if I can. Instead, I'll paint you a love that tints my days in rosy light. Just imagine, every thought ever thought, being the hue of an idea conceived on the pallette of your soul's companion. He gives me that.

Have you ever felt the brilliant orange of magma infuse your nose, scorching you and making you glad that there's a finite number of sensations? There's a heat to our love, only rivaled in the caldera of an erupting volcano. Ah, that's a tired out metaphor, isn't it? But I'll use it, after all, this is my explanation.

When we join, forging that bond that lovers do, shaping it with the hammer of emotion, I know it needs tempering. Can I find the font of faith that the blade of truth sinks into, quenching the searing doubts we all share and hardening them to trust? Will the baptism cleanse it or shatter the unproven blade? A keen edge of perception, which can only be sharpened on the stone of clarity, awaits the touch of his judgement. Am I worthy of honing?

I hum from the touch of his passion. It sings, truly it sings, through my heart. It's pumped to every cell with every throbbing pulse. The rush of my blood carries his affection to those far-flung bits of me, sustaining me. My finger tips feel the slaking of their thirst in brushing over his cheek. My toes, starving as they wait for the banquet of his desire, curl when he feeds them. My lips, open and gasping for air, blush red with his kisses, the heat of our love flushing my skin. He is all I need.

I drown in the relentless tide of our lust. The waves pound my control against the rocky shore of his masculinity and tug me into the frothy foam of restless surf. Like flotsam I cling to his shoulders only to be ripped away in another wave of joy. He is the gravity of the sun and the moon that drives the tides. I am the languid liquid that moves to his will.

In his arms I am blessed with powers greater than any ever spoken of in any throne room. I am the light shining from his eyes, the warmth felt in his touch and the song heard in his voice. It is enough that I love him, I do, to depths that rival the oceans' and heights that rival the clouds'. I travel distances farther than the sun's heat, when I move through the universe we create. Where else can feeling take me? I love him, he loves me. This he gives me and it is enough.

 

[jthserra]

Ah, a question I haven't really worked out for myself:

Is it prose or is it poetry? I have wondered about this, asked about this, and even tried to write about it. What seperates flash fiction from prose poetry?

I try to look for some poetic device within the text, and in this example certainly have metaphor. I also look for a density, by that I mean a preponderence of images, where the language shows me something, it doesn't just tell me.

That said, I think that excellent prose can also have that density, and, I think if well written, it can also have metaphor. While at a reading, I asked a University English Professor and respected regional poet. His answer was simply, if the author calls it poetry, then it's pretty much poetry, otherwise, it's flash fiction.

I am still pondering the question, wondering if he was merely being polite to the poet who had just read a prose poem, or whether that was the answer.

What I saw in Metaphorically Mine, was an abundance of images and metaphors, but I wanted to see a focus here. Each stanza/paragraph seemed to follow an independent path... you spoke in terms of color, of forging blades, blood flow, water, music, light and heat. While the title basically sets the premise of multiple metaphors, I wanted to see them weave together.

What we have is a sack full of excellent metaphors, kind of randomly offered. I wanted to see a pattern... a logic to the arrangement. Perhaps like a: Earth, Wind, and Fire. Or a head, neck, torso, legs, feet. Or perhaps a timeline... morning, noon and night.

I wanted to see some thread to tie it all together, perhaps I missed it, but it seemed a sack of metaphors, some very beautiful, simply not focused.

One other question that came to me... If a poet recognized cliche' and mentions that fact, saying I know it's cliche' but I'll use it anyway, does that work for the poem? I have done that a lot, yet have always wondered, am I cheating? Should I search for something not cliche' or does it fit the poem?

I wonder what others think about it...

Poetry? I guess we need for the poet to tell us... Champagne? Is it a prose poem or is it prose? Either way, I think it is excellent writing and an excellent example.

jim : )

 

[thenry]

I lean more toward the well crafted vignette as well. I find that abandoning the form of modern poetry makes me feel the need to adopt the trappings of traditional poetry like a solid meter. The piece is well written, but not something I would read as poetry on my own.

 

[Pinkhead]

First of all....

your guy is one lucky dude. I don't know that much
about form, types, etc. , but I think J's professor
was correct. You wrote it tell, me what it is.
I found it heart felt and lovely. The paragraph
form makes me call it prose, but I feel it would be
poetry to your loved one.
Isn't that the point? Express your love as deeply
as you can. You have done that well and that should
be poetry to your lover. sandspike

 

[champagne1982]

Originally posted by jthserra
[...]What I saw in Metaphorically Mine, was an abundance of images and metaphors, but I wanted to see a focus here. Each stanza/paragraph seemed to follow an independent path... you spoke in terms of color, of forging blades, blood flow, water, music, light and heat. While the title basically sets the premise of multiple metaphors, I wanted to see them weave together[...]

Jim:
Thank you for nailing that down for me. It's the reason I didn't post that up actually. I felt something was missing and now I see that it lacks cohesiveness. It lives as a poem. Just as a bad one. Maybe I'll post more complete metaphors individually as prose poems. We'll see.

Originally posted by thenry
I lean more toward the well crafted vignette as well. I find that abandoning the form of modern poetry makes me feel the need to adopt the trappings of traditional poetry like a solid meter. The piece is well written, but not something I would read as poetry on my own.

thenry:
Thanks for the compliment on the writing. As I said, something was missing in it and Jim pointed it out. We'll see what I can do about meter in a later attempt.

Originally posted by pinkhead
[...]The paragraph form makes me call it prose, but I feel it would be poetry to your loved one.
Isn't that the point? Express your love as deeply as you can. You have done that well and that should be poetry to your lover[...]

sandspike:
It is poetry from the heart. I have been struggling with the prose poetry form just as jthserra has. Thank you for the praise.