Show off!

[Senna Jawa]

Give in to your yearning to show off that morsel, that pearl, that special moment in your poem.

In the past I started such a thread on several forums, perhaps on Literotica too, I am sure. It's ok, we can do it again, with abandoment! Show off as many times as you want!!!

In the past I would always let others to contribute to the thread first, while delaying my own entry, if any. Now that I am old and ready to kick the bucket, I better praise myself while I can or else I'll remain virginally unpraised, which would be horrible, of course, of course, just horrible.

But there are two rules:

1. you have to praise yourself in a very specific way, pointing to a very specific aspect or place in your poem, so that it will be possible to confirm your opinion or to contradict it;
2. you have to be ready for your self-praise to be partially or even totally destroyed and turned into a fault or something even more despicably awful.

OK, here I go:

I claim that the title of my poem:

through my light I hear the rain​

is truly poetic. It is seamlessly united with the poem, which is about rain in Texas. After such rains you read the next day that a couple of dozens people just North of you have drown, or you yourself help your friends to evacuate, and then they sleep for a few days in your bedroom while you sleep on the floor in the living room.

The title is echoed in the poem (well, you need to read the damn poem to get the effect of it).

The poem is about sleeping during the day, during such a rain. This makes the nonsensically sounding phrase to "hear through light" natural -- it is a sleepy impression: the sound gets to you through your closed yelids, which are filled with light (daylight). This is poetry way.

Regards,

Senna Jawa

PS. The line with angelic cars may make you smile (once again, you need to read the damn thing). You may also enjoy the visual effect it gives. I am bragging again, sorry, but somehow I don't want to make two posts about one poem. /but I did , sj, 2006-10-19/

 

[wildsweetone]

now that really is showing off. I love it!

i do like the title and i like the poem too.

i shall have to hunt out something of mine that i want to show off. what a cool idea. can't wait for everyone to pick it to pieces.



btw, hello

 

[Senna Jawa]

now that really is showing off.

Shameless me!

btw, hello

Wow, you still remember me?! Hello, Wild Swee' Tone.

Now I'll go for broke. I'll point to another element of the poem.

I have always admired the 3-scale Du Fu's vision: his zoom, the regular scale vision, and his wonderful bird overview of a large terrain. I even conjucture that Du Fu had a very good sight, a 20-20 vision or most likely even better than that (it's not a joke, it is possible to have vision better than 20-20).

Thus each time when I have a 3-scale vision (3 ranges) in my poem then sooner or later I think about the great great great Du Fu.

***

Like everything in a poem, the three ranges have to occur organically, and the poem should be seamlessly integrated or at least well composed.

***

In through my light I hear the rain, the zoom occurs when the wet socks are mentioned, and also, indirectly (but so much better!), in the repetition of the title in the middle of the poem. It zooms on the eyelids (eyelids are slightly transparent).

The midrange occurs quite a bit, when the bicycle and cars and garbage containers + fence + parking lot are mentioned.

Finally, there is the grand image of the whole Earth, of the Atlantic Ocean acting like a huge axis between the wheels of the Arctic and Antarctic Oceans (there is an echo of the cars mentioned earlier).

The overwhelming rain unites these three kinds of images, they flow naturally.

***

Now it's your turn, W-STone, and everybody's else. Go for it guys!

Best regards,

 

[champagne1982]

I'm inordinately pleased with myself on how this poem Noise from the cancer ward turned out. One image, one emotion, one hope.

 

[Senna Jawa]

I'm inordinately pleased with myself on how this poem Noise from the cancer ward turned out. One image, one emotion, one hope.

I liked:

... eyes
...
fuller than the snowy sky
​

Great!

Thak you, Carrie,

 

[Tzara]

I'm inordinately pleased with myself on how this poem Noise from the cancer ward turned out. One image, one emotion, one hope.

Very nice poem, Champie. From before my time, I think. Thanks for pointing that one out.

 

[MyNecroticSnail]

I claim that the title of my poem:

through my light I hear the rain​

is truly poetic.

and original too

 

[MyNecroticSnail]

I'm inordinately pleased with myself on how this poem Noise from the cancer ward turned out. One image, one emotion, one hope.

I gave it a five, without a comment. I wonder about the snowy sky line.
Through eyes,
Deeper than an ocean trench,
Fuller than the snowy sky.

 

[Senna Jawa]

and original too

I am glad.

Thank you, MNS,

Senna Jawa

 

[champagne1982]

Senna, I can hear a rhythm in your light that seems to thrum just like the rain. I really enjoy the refrain of the Atlantic and the rain. It's georgeous on the tongue.

And I like the echo of the title inside the poem, through my light I hear the rain.

 

[champagne1982]

I gave it a five, without a comment. I wonder about the snowy sky line.
Through eyes,
Deeper than an ocean trench,
Fuller than the snowy sky.

Hello MNS. Thanks for taking the time.

re: "Fuller than the snowy sky." If you ever have the opportunity to look up during a wet, heavy snow fall you'll likely see what I mean. The clouds are so thick and flakes come so steadily it's not surprising that the sky seems to overflow.

I was trying to explain those deep, dark eyes that resonate the fullness of pain and endurance, seen so often in stricken children.

 

[MyNecroticSnail]

Hello MNS. Thanks for taking the time.

re: "Fuller than the snowy sky." If you ever have the opportunity to look up during a wet, heavy snow fall you'll likely see what I mean. The clouds are so thick and flakes come so steadily it's not surprising that the sky seems to overflow.

I was trying to explain those deep, dark eyes that resonate the fullness of pain and endurance, seen so often in stricken children.

Thank you, I like this thread. I like to hear why people make the choices they make.
How about one of yours, Lauren? They can be rather difficult.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

I was pleased the way this turned out. I'm not being fond of writing form poetry but try it in an effort to stretch myself.

River

In summers’ torrid heat, sinuous and slow,
reaching for uncertain future far below
the mountain cascade feeding gnawing need
is just a distant memory of greed
tranquility conceals the winter race
that tore at banks and washed without a trace
last summers detritus in chaotic chase.

but now at ease and slow ‘neath shading trees
the weeping willow boughs that dip and tease
catching boaters passing by them unawares
and pristine swans with wings that whisper prayers
I have let her hold me in her cool embrace
and teach me life at a slower pace
I’ve found her secrets and her hidden face

the summer river dawdles to the sea
reaching at last her constant destiny
a brackish welcome is her final prize
as swirling seagulls greet with raucous cries
she feels once more the parting salmons’ fins
while miles away a mountain spring begins
the race to lowlands no one ever wins

 

[Maria2394]

I was pleased with this one. A very Dear friend didn't like the title, but I did.

Jack the Ripper goes Vegetarian

the only thing I intend to change when I rework it is the repitition of "imagined". i didnt mean to do that, but i did , lol.

 

[Senna Jawa]

Trist & Maria, be specific. Praise your poem for something concrete, something that one may agree or disagree as much objectively as possible. It may be a phrase, or an aspect of the composition, or an unexpected association, or a play of light, or... or... or...

Best regards,

Senna Jawa

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Trist & Maria, be specific. Praise your poem for something concrete, something that one may agree or disagree as much objectively as possible. It may be a phrase, or an aspect of the composition, or an unexpected association, or a play of light, or... or... or...

Best regards,

Senna Jawa

Concrete? I am proud of the fact that I managed to write a passable septet. I know, in this world of free verse, form poetry bores but I enjoyed the effort.

I like the way the constancy of the river is portrayed, even when it reaches the sea its journey doesn't end because it is forever flowing to the sea. It was inspired in part by Dvorak's musical portrait of the river Moldau, Vlatava.

 

[Cub4ucme]

I'm inordinately pleased with myself on how this poem Noise from the cancer ward turned out. One image, one emotion, one hope.

Noise from the cancer ward
by champagne1982 ©

A tiny hand between my two,
Cold from the
Drip
Drip
Drip of killing juice.

My warmth goes out,
Replaced with strength,
That overflows.

Through eyes,
Deeper than an ocean trench,
Fuller than the snowy sky.

My little teacher.

Sleep.

Nice poem!

I'd get rid of the period after "overflows" and put a colon there instead.

I'd also do away with the last two lines. I just feel like the poem has real good impact without adding the personal touch at the end.

Of course, that's subjective and solely based on my read.

I did enjoy it and don't feel like cutting up something that brought
something to me.

best,
andy

 

[Cub4ucme]

I was pleased the way this turned out. I'm not being fond of writing form poetry but try it in an effort to stretch myself.

River

In summers’ torrid heat, sinuous and slow,
reaching for uncertain future far below
the mountain cascade feeding gnawing need
is just a distant memory of greed
tranquility conceals the winter race
that tore at banks and washed without a trace
last summers detritus in chaotic chase.

but now at ease and slow ‘neath shading trees
the weeping willow boughs that dip and tease
catching boaters passing by them unawares
and pristine swans with wings that whisper prayers
I have let her hold me in her cool embrace
and teach me life at a slower pace
I’ve found her secrets and her hidden face

the summer river dawdles to the sea
reaching at last her constant destiny
a brackish welcome is her final prize
as swirling seagulls greet with raucous cries
she feels once more the parting salmons’ fins
while miles away a mountain spring begins
the race to lowlands no one ever wins

Another poem worthy of self-praise.

All I would look at is a few of your lines break the meter.

You have a lot of ten counts with some twelves in there that
could be adjusted. Not a big nit.

It was easy to feel the rythum and your rhyming choices
were not of the ussual, bed-dead-said-fred variety.

Nice!

best,
andy

 

[Maria2394]

I bought a pineapple
which looked too much like a lady

Her long neck diverging into a mess
of prickly hair and her dress I imagined
purchased in some tawdry secondhand store

and as I contemplated her, I imagined
the down stroke of the largest knife I own
carving that dress into a skirt as she bled
the sweetest yellow juice

I say it was merely her fate
to lie so beautifully cored and sliced
upon my breakfast plate

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OKay, Senna, this is why I like this particular poem of mine.

I love the image. I can actually SEE a golden lady when I read this, her hair mussed up, her crinkled dress.

And there is a bit of rhyme, I dont know what exactly you call it, off rhyme, whatever, it sounds good read aloud.

I posted a version on Spoiled INk where I changed the second line to--

which looked like a golden lady.

NOw that I see it again, I would use the word resembled, like this...



I bought a pineapple
which resembled a golden lady

Her long neck diverged into a mess
of prickly hair and I envisioned her dress
purchased from a secondhand store

As I contemplated her I imagined
the downstroke of the largest knife I own
carving that dress into a skirt as she bled
the sweetest yellow juice

I say it was merely her fate
to lie so beautifully cored and sliced
upon my breakfast plate.

~~~

The reason I changed the second line, I found an old reference to "golden lady" as being a slang term for a prostitute which fit perfectly into the Jack the Ripper theme of the poem.

and here I am slicing and dicing my sweet lil poem to death. jeez... lol



PS, Senna, thank you for giving me "new eyes" where my poems are concerned.

hugs,

maria

 

[Cub4ucme]

I bought a pineapple
which looked too much like a lady

Her long neck diverging into a mess
of prickly hair and her dress I imagined
purchased in some tawdry secondhand store

And as I contemplated her, I imagined
the down stroke of the largest knife I own
carving that dress into a skirt as she bled
the sweetest yellow juice

I say it was merely her fate
to lie so beautifully cored and sliced
upon my breakfast plate

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OKay, Senna, this is why I like this particular poem of mine.

I love the image. I can actually SEE a golden lady when I read this, her hair mussed up, her crinkled dress.

And there is a bit of rhyme, I dont know what exactly you call it, off rhyme, whatever, it sounds good read aloud.

I posted a version on Spoiled INk where I changed the second line to--

which looked like a golden lady.

NOw that I see it again, I would use the word resembled, like this...



I bought a pineapple
which resembled a golden lady

Her long neck diverged into a mess
of prickly hair and I envisioned her dress
purchased from a secondhand store

As I contemplated her I imagined
the downstroke of the largest knife I own
carving that dress into a skirt as she bled
the sweetest yellow juice

I say it was merely her fate
to lie so beautifully cored and sliced
upon my breakfast plate.

~~~

The reason I changed the second line, I found an old reference to "golden lady" as being a slang term for a prostitute which fit perfectly into the Jack the Ripper theme of the poem.

and here I am slicing and dicing my sweet lil poem to death. jeez... lol



PS, Senna, thank you for giving me "new eyes" where my poems are concerned.

hugs,

maria

Maria,

I wouldn't have gotten the Jack the Ripper connection but, that wouldn't have mattered much to me. I still think the poem was worth the read.

I was sitting here thinking about carving up a bodybuilder (oh shit wrong poem) I mean a piece of fruit, like a body, without knowing your intentions.

Only thing I might do, is to take a look at the close and think about saying the same thing with a little more impact.

Nice Write!

I'm finding the poets here do have some sense of their own poetry since
the authors are making the choices and so far, so good, from this seat
anyway.

best,
andy

 

[Maria2394]

Maria,

I wouldn't have gotten the Jack the Ripper connection but, that wouldn't have mattered much to me. I still think the poem was worth the read.

I was sitting here thinking about carving up a bodybuilder (oh shit wrong poem) I mean a piece of fruit, like a body, without knowing your intentions.

Only thing I might do, is to take a look at the close and think about saying the same thing with a little more impact.

Nice Write!

I'm finding the poets here do have some sense of their own poetry since
the authors are making the choices and so far, so good, from this seat
anyway.

best,
andy

Thank you, Andy!

I must have forgotten the title when I copied and pasted.

It is

Jack the Ripper goes Vegetarian

I will take a better, longer look at the end, but damn, that golden lady was gorgeous on my plate that morning. and

deeeee---liscious!!



maria

 

[Senna Jawa]

a poem edited (or messed up)

Below I kept what I liked in your poem, and have removed the rest.

Maria, it's your poem. Thus feel free to request, without any hesitation, that I remove my post, and I will immediately, or ask moderators to do it--you & they have my permission.

Jack the Ripper goes Vegetarian
​

a pineapple from a supermarket
like a lady dressed in a secondhand store
her long neck diverging
into a mess of prickly hair

the largest knife carving her under the skirt
as she bleeds yellow

now lying cored & sliced
upon the breakfast plate

​

*************

Enjoy or modify or forget it ,

Senna Jawa

 

[Maria2394]

Below I kept what I liked in your poem, and have removed the rest.

Maria, it's your poem. Thus feel free to request, without any hesitation, that I remove my post, and I will immediately, or ask moderators to do it--you & they have my permission.

Jack the Ripper goes Vegetarian
​

a pineapple from a supermarket
like a lady dressed in a secondhand store
her long neck diverging
into a mess of prickly hair

the largest knife carving her under the skirt
as she bleeds yellow

now lying cored & sliced
upon the breakfast plate

​

*************

Enjoy or modify or forget it ,

Senna Jawa

Dear Senna,

I always enjoy reading your take on my work, even when you alter it. Bu t concerning the pineapple poem, I am thinking it should remain in the state of semi-completion that I left it in the last post where I edited it. It needs a rest as well.

I will be spending more of my time working with hubby in the next week as we are having some abnormally warm weather, even for the South, this time of year. So if you dont see me around, it is not that I was offended or upset, okay?

also,

Thank you for spending so much time on me lately, you have gotten through, I am just taking the suggestions I was offered concerning stepping back and letting it all sink in. Until you mentioned kennings, I had never heard of them, so that part of the other thread was indeed a learning experience. I find myself subconsciously "looking" for them on a regular basis now.

I do appreciate your kindness and your efforts.



maria

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Another poem worthy of self-praise.

All I would look at is a few of your lines break the meter.

You have a lot of ten counts with some twelves in there that
could be adjusted. Not a big nit.

It was easy to feel the rthyum and your rhyming choices
were not of the ussual, bed-dead-said-fred variety.

Nice!

best,
andy

Now I can see the adjustments needed. Thank you for your advise, I do appreciate it.

tess