Untitled

[Guest]

First I've written in a while.

Comments please.

Exhausted, used heart - bruised
Sapped by heat-suck hectic urban
Escape – shedding its labels
of suffocating toxicity

The embrace of the trees
Cool, slumbering green
Breathing growth –
Wild, verdant,
Dreaming serene.

Aboriginal voices whisper,
The heart of the forest beats
Calling, leading me – yearning
for an intangible, unsaid.

Now – the cardinal spirit
Rises august before me
Fostered by an attendant cascade
Branches open, unconditional.

Surrender, rest, hush
Flutter-thoughts from the leaves
Hoary knuckle straddled
Legs dangling, toes licked
in the rushing, laughing stream
Velvet moss cossets temple and cheek,
tenderly pressed
To the swelling, living beam

In primal, ancient rhythm
Saps rises, fecund and potent
Surging through my veins
Bursting in sweet dewdrops
Father-tree sips from my skin

In the secret viridian I am served
Refreshed in beatific communion
To sleep – fulfilled and curled
In the cleft of a nurturing dream.

 

[WickedEve]

"Sapped by heat-suck hectic urban Escape" good, interesting phrase. Most of the poem is a doughnut with way too many sprinkles on it. Brush off some of those words. Don't make it read like you had an adjective hard-on and were whacking off on a thesaurus.

Hey, it's a good poem. Just mess around with it a little more.

 

[Guest]

Don't make it read like you had an adjective hard-on and were whacking off on a thesaurus.

*LMAO*
Good one. Thanks much! A little problem I have, to be sure. Appreciate the read.

 

[Angeline]

I agree with that wicked woman a few posts up. I like the way you put words together; you paint vivid images, and I can follow the sequence of your dream really well. The problem is in the lack of transitions (i.e., the donut holes). You need to connect the pieces so that it's a little more narrative. Not so much that you push it into prose, but there's nothing wrong (imo) with conjunctions, articles and prepostions, especially when they make a poem cohesive.

 

[Guest]

I agree with that wicked woman a few posts up. I like the way you put words together; you paint vivid images, and I can follow the sequence of your dream really well. The problem is in the lack of transitions (i.e., the donut holes). You need to connect the pieces so that it's a little more narrative. Not so much that you push it into prose, but there's nothing wrong (imo) with conjunctions, articles and prepostions, especially when they make a poem cohesive.

Thank you very much.
I tend to cut them out a lot of articles specifically for brevity. Acheiving that balance is an area I do need to work on - am editing ATM.

 

[WickedEve]

I agree with that wicked woman a few posts up. I like the way you put words together; you paint vivid images, and I can follow the sequence of your dream really well. The problem is in the lack of transitions (i.e., the donut holes). You need to connect the pieces so that it's a little more narrative. Not so much that you push it into prose, but there's nothing wrong (imo) with conjunctions, articles and prepostions, especially when they make a poem cohesive.

I used donut sprinkles and you're using the donut holes. We're like Homer Simpson giving advice on poetry. lol

 

[Tathagata]

Don't make it read like you had an adjective hard-on and were whacking off on a thesaurus.

.

I've got a good mind to send you a picture of that.



I agree with the " heat suck" phrase

 

[Angeline]

I used donut sprinkles and you're using the donut holes. We're like Homer Simpson giving advice on poetry. lol

D'oh! (slaps forehead)

 

[Angeline]

I've got a good mind to send you a picture of that.



I agree with the " heat suck" phrase

you have a photo of you wacking off on a thesaurus? poets are so strange.

 

[Guest]

D'oh, indeed. My resolve to eat better is being sorely tempted, folks.

Well - here's an edit.

Exhausted, used heart - bruised
sapped by heat-suck hectic urban.
I need to escape – shedding
its labels of suffocation.

The embrace of the trees
is cool, slumbering green.
Breathing growth –
wild, verdant, and
dreaming serene.

Aboriginal voices whisper;
the heart of the forest beats.
Calling, leading me – yearning
for an intangible, unsaid need.

Now – the cardinal spirit
rises august before me.
Fostered by an attendant cascade
branches open, unconditional.

Surrender, rest, hush -
flutter-thoughts from the leaves.
Hoary knuckle straddled
legs dangling, toes licked
by the laughing stream.
Moss cossets temple and cheek,
tenderly pressed
to the living beam.

In primal, ancient rhythm
saps rises, fecund
potent through my veins.
It bursts in sweet dewdrops
Father-tree sips from my skin.

In the secret viridian I am served,
refreshed in beatific communion.
To sleep – fulfilled and curled
in the cleft of a nurturing dream.

 

[Angeline]

D'oh, indeed. My resolve to eat better is being sorely tempted, folks.

Well - here's an edit.

Exhausted, used heart - bruised
sapped by heat-suck hectic urban.
I need to escape – shedding
its labels of suffocation.

The embrace of the trees
is cool, slumbering green.
Breathing growth –
wild, verdant, and
dreaming serene.

Aboriginal voices whisper;
the heart of the forest beats.
Calling, leading me – yearning
for an intangible, unsaid need.

Now – the cardinal spirit
rises august before me.
Fostered by an attendant cascade
branches open, unconditional.

Surrender, rest, hush -
flutter-thoughts from the leaves.
Hoary knuckle straddled
legs dangling, toes licked
by the laughing stream.
Moss cossets temple and cheek,
tenderly pressed
to the living beam.

In primal, ancient rhythm
saps rises, fecund
potent through my veins.
It bursts in sweet dewdrops
Father-tree sips from my skin.

In the secret viridian I am served,
refreshed in beatific communion.
To sleep – fulfilled and curled
in the cleft of a nurturing dream.

This is a lot more connected. I still have some specific comments (if you'd like them), but I have to go do about 500 pounds of laundry and then the new poems reviews. Sigh. I'll be back.

 

[Guest]

This is a lot more connected. I still have some specific comments (if you'd like them), but I have to go do about 500 pounds of laundry and then the new poems reviews. Sigh. I'll be back.

Thank you - I will look forward to them when you are able.
In the meantime...
*heave* Need a hand with that?

 

[Angeline]

I'm commenting line-by-line. These are just my ideas, and I realize that what works for me may not for you. If they help you, great. If not, no worries.

Exhausted, used heart - bruised
[I'd lose the dash and start a new sentence with "Bruised," and either way, you need a comma after it]
sapped by heat-suck hectic urban.
I need to escape – shedding
[I'd say "shed" to keep the verbs parallel. Also, "it's" doesn't have a clear referent--maybe "the city's" and "suffocating labels" is less awkward than "labels of suffocation"]
its labels of suffocation.

The embrace of the trees
[Now you've shifted place, right? You're not in the city anymore, so maybe you should say something to clarify that, even just "here" would work ("The embrace of trees here" and note that you could lose the second "the" in that line; it's taking up space but not really doing anything for the poem]
is cool, slumbering green.
Breathing growth –
wild, verdant, and
dreaming serene.
["Breathing" doesn't have a pronoun antecedent, so the "ing" doesn't work--you can't tell if you're breathing or the growth is. If you mean you're breathing it in, you could say "I breathe in growth/wild, verdant./a dream serene." Whatever you do, you don't need the dash. I use them all the time when I write prose here--like this, but I think they almost never work in poems.]

Aboriginal voices whisper;
the heart of the forest beats.
Calling, leading me – yearning
for an intangible, unsaid need.
[I'd say "It calls, leads me yearning" and also would say "with an intangible, unsaid need" because "for" suggests you want the need, which I know isn't what you mean]

Now – the cardinal spirit
rises august before me.
["cardinal" seems like a tough choice here to me; I wonder if your readers will get it--you could say "essential" and I'm not sure something can rise "augustly." I don't think you need an adjective, but maybe it's me. And in the next line I think you should continue the sentence, not start a new one, so "fostered by..."]
Fostered by an attendant cascade
[Add a comma after "cascade"]
branches open, unconditional.

Surrender, rest, hush -
[The preceding line is the spirit of the forest commanding you to do these things, yes? So I think if you put that in italics, it would clarify it]
flutter-thoughts from the leaves.
Hoary knuckle straddled
[This is a great line, great image, but I think it needs more to clarify that you're sitting there. Maybe "I'm perched on a hoary knuckle, bracnch-straddled,"]
legs dangling, toes licked
by the laughing stream.
Moss cossets temple and cheek,
[Need a pronoun? "Moss cossets my..."?]
tenderly pressed
to the living beam.

In primal, ancient rhythm
saps rises, fecund
[Need a comma after "fecund"]
potent through my veins.
It bursts in sweet dewdrops
Father-tree sips from my skin.
["father-tree" no capital needed]

In the secret viridian I am served,
refreshed in beatific communion.
[I'd keep the sentence going after this line: "and I sleep, fulfilled and curled"]
To sleep – fulfilled and curled
in the cleft of a nurturing dream.

Hope you find this helpful. It's a close edit, not a criticism. I think poems that have promise deserve line-by-line reviews.

 

[Guest]

I am flattered and appreciative of your attention.

Some great stuff - thank you - will consider and edit yet again.

 

[Picodiribibi]

Whatever you do, you don't need the dash. I use them all the time when I write prose here--like this, but I think they almost never work in poems.][/COLOR]

There's no doubt in my mind --
That Emily Dickinson would --
Object -- to the loss
Of her -- beloved -- Dash.

 

[Angeline]

Whatever you do, you don't need the dash. I use them all the time when I write prose here--like this, but I think they almost never work in poems.][/COLOR]

There's no doubt in my mind --
That Emily Dickinson would --
Object -- to the loss
Of her -- beloved -- Dash.

Did you know you can sing any Emily Dickinson poem to The Yellow Rose of Texas? Her poems fit the tune perfectly. Try it and you'll see. (Or not, lol.) Oh the strange trivia one remembers.

 

[Angeline]

I am flattered and appreciative of your attention.

Some great stuff - thank you - will consider and edit yet again.

You're very welcome. I'm glad to do it. I don't always have the time, but thinking about a poem that carefully helps my writing, too.

 

[Picodiribibi]

Did you know you can sing any Emily Dickinson poem to The Yellow Rose of Texas? Her poems fit the tune perfectly. Try it and you'll see. (Or not, lol.) Oh the strange trivia one remembers.

Look what I found.
It's true, you can sing any Emily Dickinson poem to The Yellow Rose of Texas!

I love English department humor. Much funnier than physics department humor.
Thanks Angeline.

 

[Tzara]

I love English department humor. Much funnier than physics department humor.

Oh, I don't know, depends on your sense of humor, I suppose.

 

[unpredictablebijou]

Oh, I don't know, depends on your sense of humor, I suppose.

* smiley face icon that indicates that I am falling off my chair in hysterics *


bijou

 

[Picodiribibi]

Oh, I don't know, depends on your sense of humor, I suppose.

okay, that's funny

 

[Angeline]

Look what I found.
It's true, you can sing any Emily Dickinson poem to The Yellow Rose of Texas!

I love English department humor. Much funnier than physics department humor.
Thanks Angeline.

See? To quote Dave Barry: "I am not making this up!"

And science humor can be pretty funny, too. I just love the Mighty MC Hawking. He's my kinda guy. My hero. He's saving the universe.

 

[Tzara]

And science humor can be pretty funny, too. I just love the Mighty MC Hawking. He's my kinda guy. My hero. He's saving the universe.

Fine. Now "Peace! I'm out of gear." is my new salutation.

I'm afraid this does not bode well for my career.

 

[Angeline]

Fine. Now "Peace! I'm out of gear." is my new salutation.

I'm afraid this does not bode well for my career.

Your colleagues wouldn't appreciate MC Hawking? (lol mine wouldn't, but I think it's brilliantly funny)

Another gem: Fuck the Creationists

 

[Picodiribibi]

See? To quote Dave Barry: "I am not making this up!"

And science humor can be pretty funny, too. I just love the Mighty MC Hawking. He's my kinda guy. My hero. He's saving the universe.

Wow, Professor Hawking truly is in full effect.

Thank you. That was so fly it brought a tear to my eye.