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1
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The Writing / Submit your poetry / Re: Let me be the headlines
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on: Today at 06:30:46 PM
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Started by cherylleverette© | Last post by marc woodward
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Sorry, bit late to the party on this one.
Nice poem. I've often suffered from clouded thoughts of this nature...
I think you definitely keep and need the line 'under my jeans'. It's says much more and although unnecessary from a descriptive point it makes the reader (well male readers perhaps) pulse quicken.
Reminds me of Larkin's:
"leaves me flushed and stirred,
like 'Then she undid her dress' ".
If you see what I mean
Marc
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2
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The Writing / Submit your poetry / Re: The beautiful uncut hair of graves
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on: Today at 06:23:19 PM
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Started by Christina Paradis | Last post by marc woodward
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Enjoyed this Christina, an interesting and refeshing read. I'm not wild about the repeated 'and when I rose' but that's just a matter of personal preference. I think the first stanza is not quite as strong as the rest - the eyes locking in the mirror and the empty car seat almost unnecessary.
All in all though a fine piece of thought provoking writing.
Marc
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4
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The Writing / Submit your poetry / Re: hands busy shopping, mind somewhere else.
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on: Today at 06:03:51 PM
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Started by maggie flanagan-wilkie | Last post by Tom Riordan
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It came in through the window,
cooled my arm, my upper thigh.
This isn't simple rain, it's yesterday's science,
today's liquidity, tomorrow's richer air.
Such pleasure in S1, Maggie, which carries over to the optimistic, transformative statement of S2. For me, the challenge of S2 is sharpened if "simple" is cut. Tom
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6
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The Writing / Submit your poetry / Re: 50. “I am 200 pounds”
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on: Today at 05:37:44 PM
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Started by Tom Riordan | Last post by Tom Riordan
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Thanks, Maggie. That's a really good euphony explanation.
Here,
as I rolled on,
curdling the milk around
my heart
and blocking passion's blue torrent
as if there was no judgment:
I don't fear His hell,
think heaven possible again,
believe a thing.
I do see how striking the "and" as you suggest will intensify that image, enacting the obstruction. Yet, the way it seems to work in my head, the sound in that S enacts the flow, and the last S the obstruction, and the "and" is a little lynchpin of that flow.
Sometimes, even with great comments, it's hard to see clear of our own hearing of a poem, and even harder to abandon it for what others hear. So I appreciate and will continue trying on your thoughts, seeing what comes. Tom
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8
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The Writing / Submit your poetry / Re: 50. “I am 200 pounds”
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on: Today at 05:13:38 PM
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Started by Tom Riordan | Last post by maggie flanagan-wilkie
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What great words: pregnant indefinition and stanzation!!
This is in my notes to draw from for the essay, Tom;
read the lines of poetry at the end of the definitions/explanations
which I'm sure you already know.
"euphony
sound patterns used in verse to achieve opposite effects: euphony is pleasing and harmonious; cacophony is harsh and discordant. Euphony is achieved through the use of vowel sounds in words of generally serene imagery. Vowel sounds, which are more easily pronounced than consonants, are more euphonious; the longer vowels are the most melodious. Liquid and nasal consonants and the semivowel sounds (l, m, n, r, y, w) are also considered to be euphonious. An example may be seen in "The Lotos-Eaters" by Alfred, Lord Tennyson: "The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came." Cacophony, the opposite of euphony, is usually produced by combinations of words that require a staccato, explosive delivery. Inadvertent cacophony is a mark of a defective style. Used skillfully for a specific effect, however, it vitalizes the content of the imagery. A line in Samuel Taylor Coleridge's "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" illustrates cacophony: With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,Agape they heard me call."."
as I rolled on,
curdling the milk around
my heart
and blocking passion's blue torrent
as if there was no judgment:
I don't fear His hell,
think heaven possible again,
believe a thing.
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9
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The Writing / Submit your poetry / Re: Let me be the headlines
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on: Today at 04:52:06 PM
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Started by cherylleverette© | Last post by Tom Riordan
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re-reading, cheryl, enjoying how it opens with "cloud" and ends with "asleep", giving a great dreamy quality -- a creature of dreams coming to occupy the "headlines" of someone trying to read the morning paper -- truly the lingerie under the jeans.
one last question, the opening capitalization of "L", the poem's sole punctuation. when I look at it lowercased, it's different. better? worse? hey, I just get paid to ask the questions! tom
Let me cloud your front page
with thoughts of me
how my new haircut looks
what lingerie I'm wearing
under my jeans
how I thought about
you before I fell asleep
Let me cloud your front page
with thoughts of me
how my new haircut looks
what lingerie I'm wearing
under my jeans
how I thought about
you before I fell asleep
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10
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The Writing / Submit your poetry / Re: The beautiful uncut hair of graves
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on: Today at 04:29:08 PM
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Started by Christina Paradis | Last post by Tom Riordan
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Appealingly gothic, very well done, what you manage to do with body hair & death here, Christina! Gilette will pay big $ for this for their Poems to Make People Want to Shave More, vol. 17.
The last L conveys great strength, determination, bravery, leaving the earlier accusation of cowardice in the distance.
Tom
The beautiful uncut hair of graves
"A child said, what is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands"
-Whitman, Leaves of Grass
Our eyes locked in my rearview mirror
a panicked deer on I-84 West
I saw the truck swerve and lurch behind us
toward the barrier, then toward the other cars
In an act of cowardice, I hit the gas
and escaped over the rise
around the bend
glanced back in the mirror at the empty carseat
and gave thanks
By the next exit I heard sirens, across the barrier
heading east. From the relentless flow of traffic,
someone else had taken my place as witness
That night I dreamed
I was lying in the cool wet grass
next to that deer, next to death
my arms and back damp with blood
and when I rose
grass sprouted through the pores of my skin
in green patches
And when I rose from my bed
still dreaming
went to the shower
I shaved away the grass from my
legs and armpits
revealing clean bare skin
a temporary appearance of someone untouched by death
And when I rose finally into wakefulness
I scooped up the child at the foot of my bed
and strode out into the yard
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