Brugmansia sanguinea

Weeping bell
Laden with moribund tears
Poison weeping bells a melancholy hell
A spectral seer

Stilled sorrow of the weeping bell
Tears caught in time
Moanings of a Belle
Solemn clangor, a tolling chime

To chant the rhythm in the wind
Howling and sighing as the rustling leaves hiss
A weeping ovary to birth green fruit spined
Held by brambles weeping bells await an insect kiss

From these bells I have heard hell
Adders hissing in the windswept leaves
Vain satanic hope in tears of this bell
I would eat your spiny fruit with delirium in seeds


What spines did rend the flowers open?
Revealing lipstick smeared across your lips
Crimson lust of nightwinged gropes
Lolling tears will never drip

I must pick this bloody flower
Smeared in globs of lipstick
All the other boys will glower
Such power in this flower unpicked

I have rolled you in a ball
Pills of tears to tear my strife from life
Risked my death to be enthralled
In Delirium to spice the night

Such fecund tears of this Weeping Bell
Pregnant with such dreams and promise
Like a pitcher plant ending in my death knell
Portentous in your weeping I tear at your bodice

---

[Image: http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=Brug...RM=HDRSC2#]

This feels emotional, but I am left unsure of what I read. I am confused as what exactly you are trying to convey.

(05-04-2013, 06:36 AM)Brownlie Wrote:  Brugmansia sanguinea

Weeping bell
Laden with moribund tears
Poison weeping bells a melancholy hell
A spectral seer This verse may be stronger and more flowing if you remove one or two adjectives. "Moribund" and "melancholy" aren't needed, for instance, as their nouns already imply them.

Stilled sorrow of the weeping bell
Tears caught in time
Moanings of a Belle
Solemn clangor, a tolling chime A problem with the poem so far is that it doesn't evoke much of a narrative. It feels like a list of adjectives and nouns without much connective tissue. Some of the individual phrases in this verse are good, though. I like "stilled sorrow". I also like the contrast between "bell" and "Belle".

To chant the rhythm in the wind
Howling and sighing as the rustling leaves hiss Good line.
A weeping ovary to birth green fruit spined Is "spined" needed?
Held by brambles weeping bells await an insect kiss

From these bells I have heard hell
Adders hissing in the windswept leaves Great line.
Vain satanic hope in tears of this bell Also good.
I would eat your spiny fruit with delirium in seeds Is "in seeds" needed? How can the delirium be in the seeds? Or is "in seeds" being used as a verb, unit of measurement etc.?


What spines did rend the flowers open? Nicely violent line.
Revealing lipstick smeared across your lips
Crimson lust of nightwinged gropes
Lolling tears will never drip

I must pick this bloody flower
Smeared in globs of lipstick
All the other boys will glower
Such power in this flower unpicked Rhyming "power" with "flower" is kind of corny. This and the previous verse remind me of how D. H. Lawrence compared women to figs in "Fig".

I have rolled you in a ball
Pills of tears to tear my strife from life Rhyming "strife" with "life" always makes me wince. Also, whose life? I may be nitpicking here, but it sounds like the narrator intends to remove his strife from all life on Earth, as though he's God.
Risked my death to be enthralled
In Delirium to spice the night Why is "Delirium" capitalised?

Such fecund tears of this Weeping Bell Why is "Weeping Bell" now capitalised?
Pregnant with such dreams and promise
Like a pitcher plant ending in my death knell How can a plant end in a death knell? That's probably nitpicking again.
Portentous in your weeping I tear at your bodice

---

[Image: http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=Brug...RM=HDRSC2#]

What this poem needs, I think, is focus and drive. It's all very messy at the moment, attempting to evoke a classical atmosphere with little sense of structure or rhythm but more just an old-seeming vocabulary. Decide what this poem's about, how many verses it should have, how the narrative thread will roll from A - Z etc. You do have a lot of good individual lines and images here. They just need to be a married to a solid story/idea. My critique is all JMHO, of course. Thank you for the read

What this poem needs, I think, is focus and drive. It's all very messy at the moment, attempting to evoke a classical atmosphere with little sense of structure or rhythm but more just an old-seeming vocabulary. Decide what this poem's about, how many verses it should have, how the narrative thread will roll from A - Z etc. You do have a lot of good individual lines and images here. They just need to be a married to a solid story/idea. My critique is all JMHO, of course. Thank you for the read
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Thank you for your critique I found you had some valuable insight. This plant can be used as a poison or a deleriant so the seeds can make you hallucinate. There was a reference to Marvell's "To His Coy Mistress" (not sure if it really applied though) but you are right the poem is not working as one body. Thanks again.

Hi Brownlie,
I find this poem fascinating and have read it through several times now. There are some excellent images and some excellent comparisons. I must agree with Heslopian though, in that it needs more structure and a narrative. It seems unclear as to whether the narrator actually took the drug and for what purpose.
Your descriptions of the hell like induced trip in stanza four are very thought provoking and realistic.
The subject is fascinating and reminds me of 'fly agaric' but not as intense, although the trips from that are 'hell like' and very similar to what you have described.
I would love to see you work on this poem and tidy it up so to speak, the potential is plain to see from yourself and the poem.
Thanks for the read.

Hi Brownlie,

By sheer chance I stumbled across a quote last night by the poet Arthur Rimbaud and it reminded me so much of your poem, and because I believe in synchronicity I thought I would share it with you.

"The poet becomes a seer through a long, immense, and reasoned derangement of all the senses. All shapes of love suffering, madness. He searches himself, he exhausts all poisons in himself, to keep only the quintessences."

I don't know if you heard this before, but it seemed to turn up out of the blue.

All the best AR

(05-05-2013, 11:25 PM)ambrosial revelation Wrote:  Hi Brownlie,

By sheer chance I stumbled across a quote last night by the poet Arthur Rimbaud and it reminded me so much of your poem, and because I believe in synchronicity I thought I would share it with you.

"The poet becomes a seer through a long, immense, and reasoned derangement of all the senses. All shapes of love suffering, madness. He searches himself, he exhausts all poisons in himself, to keep only the quintessences."

I don't know if you heard this before, but it seemed to turn up out of the blue.

All the best AR

I must confess that I have never heard the terms "Synchronicity" or "Quintessences" before. Upon looking up the synchronicity I got that it was two events that were not causally created. So if you could expand on your understanding of the quote I would be much obliged.