Fire Dancer
#1
My mother
gently warned me
not to play with fire.

Too hot, 
too dangerous- 
my nieve skin would shrivel with exposure to the elements. 

So I circled lazy pirouettes
away from the flames 
flickering towards me, 
begging to step into 
the lulling rhythm of my hips.  

But as my dance grew more elaborate, 
the flames began to whisper, 
spilling freshly brewed secrets 
from a place of wisdom I had yet to explore.

You silenced the flames 
with an air of mystery unspoken; 
tamed their childish actions 
and revealed yourself 
as the subject of their forum. 

I reached for your hand 
to invite you 
into the privacy 
of my dimly lit studio. 

A single candle 
set in the middle of the room 
to guide our footsteps,
but held at a safe distance from my delicate figure.

The flame acknowledged the power our steps held
and grew to accommodate their presence. 

My mother
warned me
not to play with fire.
But here I danced,
hopelessly entranced by the flame 
I was cautioned against.
~FM
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#2
.
Hi FM,

I think there's a really solid idea here, but it gets a bit lost in the mixing of metaphors (flames 'burn', 'whisper' and 'brew'?) and the 'poor' word choices ('privacy' and 'forum' leap to mind but there's also 'circled' and 'pirouettes' which I'm not sure can be 'lazy'). That said, there's the excellent 'naive skin' and 'lulling rhythm of my hips' (though I think 'lulling' could be improved, it sounds terrible Smile when spoken aloud. Very lumpen.)

You might consider, since you repeat the opening verse at the end, scrapping the first two verses entirely and jumping straight in at S3 (though it would need reworking).

Anyway, this is basic, so I'll stop there.

Enjoyed the read.


Best, Knot.


.
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#3
I heartily agree with Knot.

One technique which, in my opinion, is generally problematic is addressing the reader as ‘you’.  If you are writing a poem to give directly to a single person to tell them how you feel,  that is a different case. In general, the reader knows you are not writing about them in particular, so I think it places a block between them and the poem, rather than draw them in as is the probable intent. More interesting to read about a mysterious ‘he’ (or she as the case may be) who incites such reaction. Just my thoughts on the technique in general.

I think this has potential, and mostly just needs some paring to make it tighter; more concise. Those suggestions would come if you move this to a more intense forum than ‘basic’

Good luck
There is no escape from metre; there is only mastery. TS Eliot
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#4
From what I can tell about your poems you've posted so far, I can see you really love to write about elements. I love this line here: " But as my dance grew more elaborate, the flames began to whisper, spilling freshly brewed secrets" As if you're embodying the flames, letting it manipulate you. I agree with Knot, and Seraphim. This has much potential and I cannot wait to see the finished version! I'll be waiting for another poem by you, I'm drawn in.
- MindlMatter
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#5
no line by line as it's in basic. a few things, first off while it seems to have a few cliche's they don't interfere with the poem in a away as to weaken it too much. the opening three lines are cliche but because of the poem that follows works. i think it's [naive] though the usa has some funny spellings Big Grin. flickering feels a little weak a suggestion would be flicking or licking.
watch out for words like but, only use them if they add something. watch out for redundant words mystery unspoken. unspoken is a given if it's a mystery.

i do think you could do something with the enjambment and thereby raise the poem a couple of levels. not change the words, just rearrange some of the sentences.

(08-02-2019, 10:40 AM)forevermelodic Wrote:  My mother
gently warned me
not to play with fire.

Too hot,
too dangerous-
my nieve skin would shrivel with exposure to the elements.

So I circled lazy pirouettes
away from the flames
flickering towards me,
begging to step into
the lulling rhythm of my hips.

But as my dance grew more elaborate,
the flames began to whisper,
spilling freshly brewed secrets
from a place of wisdom I had yet to explore.

You silenced the flames
with an air of mystery unspoken;
tamed their childish actions
and revealed yourself
as the subject of their forum.

I reached for your hand
to invite you
into the privacy
of my dimly lit studio.

A single candle
set in the middle of the room
to guide our footsteps,
but held at a safe distance from my delicate figure.

The flame acknowledged the power our steps held
and grew to accommodate their presence.

My mother
warned me
not to play with fire.
But here I danced,
hopelessly entranced by the flame
I was cautioned against.
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