Big Girls Don't Cry (Playground-edit 2)

[arbil_poieo]

2nd Edit

Playing is in the playground
chocolates in the box,
maturity is the taste of
saccharin coated candy bar,
feeling your mouth sweat
melting inside.
Hands clutch
metal on the swings
swaying back and forth.
A penny in the fountain
For my thoughts,
a child's fairytale.

The door closes,
in that final feeling of
warmth against
a wall turning cold.
Being your ghost,
the texture must
feel distant sinking
to your veins.
The last touch, your pulse.

Consider my knees
on the floor,
the indention in the sounds
of escaping to the bottom
for you.
I am the echo
repeating alone.
There isn't anyone
left to fight.

Eyes swell, form
then adjust to the mood
of independence
too easily when
standing changes
the memory of
crawling beside you.

Time circles
when the day is blank
until it becomes used;
then it is patient,
disappearing slowly.

It's the motion of
pushing yourself
from behind on a slide
to gain momentum
and to finally land from a height.

It's the hands breaking the seal
off a heart-shaped box,
wiping the chocolate on your clothes.
Hoping it hides well
in your mouth when it tastes
like childhood.

It's the penny among pennies
not recognizing mine.
It's the door, worn and beaten
by flashes of leaving,
by staying too long.




1st Edit

Playing is in the playground
chocolates in the box,
maturity is the taste of
vanillin coated candy bar,
feeling your mouth sweat
melting inside.
Hands clutch
the metal on the swings
swaying back and forth.

The door closes,
in that final feeling of
warmth against
a wall turning cold.
It's a penny in the fountain
for my thoughts,
a child's fairytale.

Feeling your ghost,
the texture must have
felt distant sinking
to your veins.
The last touch, your pulse.

I am the echo
repeating alone.
There isn't anyone
left to fight but there
is an accident
left to prepare for.
Time circles
when the day is blank
until it becomes used
then it is patient
disappearing slowly.

Consider my knees
on the floor once,
the indention in the sounds
of escaping to the bottom
for you.
The eyes forming- swelling
adjusting to the mood
of loneliness.

It's the motion of
pushing yourself
from behind on a slide
to gain momentum
and to finally land from a height.

It's the hands breaking the seal
off a heart-shaped box,
wiping the chocolate on your clothes.
Hoping it hides well
in your mouth when it tastes
like childhood.

It's the penny among pennies
not recognizing mine.
It's the door, worn and beaten
by flashes of leaving,
by staying too long.


Original

Playing is in the playground
chocolates in the box,
maturity is the taste of
artificial flavor.
feeling your mouth sweat
melting inside.
It's hands clutching
the metal on the swings
swaying back and forth.

It's the door swinging
open and close.
that final feeling of
a door's warmth against
the wall turning cold.
it's wishing on a penny
in the fountain
finally throwing it.

Feeling your ghost,
the texture must have
felt distant when it's
sinking to your veins.
the last touch, is your pulse

I'm the echo
repeating alone.
there isn't anyone
left to fight but there
is an accident
left to prepare for.
time circles around
when the day is blank
until it becomes used
then it is patient,
disappearing slowly.

Consider my knees
on the floor once,
the indention in the sounds
of escaping to the bottom
for you.
The eyes forming-swelling
adjusting-existing the mood
to lonliness.

It's the motion of
pushing yourself from
behind on a slide
to gain momentum
and to finally land from a height.

It's the hands breaking the seal
off a heart-shaped box,
wiping the chocolate on your
clothes. hoping it hides well
in your mouth when it tastes
like childhood.

It's the penny in the fountain
still holding the wish-wishing.
It's the door, worn and beaten
by flashes of leaving,
by staying too long.

Why couldn't we have been adults?

[billy]

a little bit of wow from me. it's too original to be in novice.
the only problem was a disconnect between then and now.
the shows it's nostalgia but i think it goes to far without letting us know it's a memory based poem.
that said, it's just a small nit. overall i thought it hit the mark. loads of regret in the last line and some of the images are excellent.

just a suggestion but i'd say post in one of the other forums as well or besides this one. bugger me, there's so much to like in this that i can't see anything that i dislike. sorry if i wasn't much help with the feedback.

thanks for read and breaking your cherry

[Leanne]

Honest feedback is the only kind we deal in here This is a very promising poem. For the time being I've confined my feedback to small technical problems as this is the Novice section, but as billy said, when you feel more comfortable with criticism it would be a good idea to post this in one of the other forums for maximum benefit (we try to restrict criticism here to just a few things, don't want to scare anyone away!) I really enjoyed reading this.

Playing is in the playground
chocolates in the box,
maturity is the taste of
artificial flavor.
feeling your mouth sweat
melting inside.
It's hands clutching
the metal on the swings
swaying back and forth.

It's the door swinging -- you have "swings" in the preceding stanza, are you sure you want to use it again so soon?
open and close. -- closed
that final feeling of
a door's warmth against
the wall turning cold.
it's wishing on a penny
in the fountain
finally throwing it.

Feeling your ghost,
the texture must have
felt distant when it's
sinking to your veins.
the last touch, is your pulse

I'm the echo -- perhaps "I am" would be stronger
repeating alone.
there isn't anyone
left to fight but there
is an accident
left to prepare for.
time circles around -- "circles around" is redundant, just "circles" would serve
when the day is blank
until it becomes used
then it is patient,
disappearing slowly.

Consider my knees
on the floor once,
the indention in the sounds
of escaping to the bottom
for you.
The eyes forming-swelling
adjusting-existing the mood
to lonliness. -- loneliness

It's the motion of
pushing yourself from
behind on a slide
to gain momentum
and to finally land from a height.

It's the hands breaking the seal
off a heart-shaped box,
wiping the chocolate on your
clothes. hoping it hides well
in your mouth when it tastes
like childhood.

It's the penny in the fountain
still holding the wish-wishing.
It's the door, worn and beaten
by flashes of leaving,
by staying too long. -- these stanzas "circle" nicely back to the first couple, very well done

Why couldn't we have been adults?

[arbil_poieo]

Thank you both for taking the time to read this and for your feedback. I will definitely put this in another section. As far as what you both pointed out I will edit it and hope to keep improving.

[Philatone]

i think what draws me most to this is the repetition and reappearance of images; it really is well crafted.

the last question did turn me off a bit, but maybe i just need another few reads

[billy]

thread moved at poets request (they want a more in-depth feedback )
i'll take a look see later

[billy]

bumped

[Todd]

Hi Ash,

I had a very strong reaction to this kind of a melancholy reflection. I come to these posts hoping for something great. I think we all do. I genuinely love poetry. I'm so happy when something moves me. I'm going to give you more than a gee I like this. But before I start, I want to make sure you know that gee I really, really like this.

Comments below:

My first poem so I'm hoping for honest feedback. Thank you.

Playing is in the playground--My initial thought is that the "is" saves this line and makes it cool. The is keeps it from being a flat throw away line. It gives it some motion. There is a strong likelihood that your title is not working. Playground is in your first line. Is there any way you can have your title do more expositional work? Be more evocative? Draw the reader in? I feel like you're wasting an opportunity.
chocolates in the box,--you leave out the implied verb "are" breaking structure. I think that's good it makes it more of a metaphor for the children the implied playees. The chocolate is where chocolate is meant to be but that is not necessariily the best place to enjoy chocolate, so too with children. Maybe they are in a way contained in their prescribed place, or more likely the act of playing is the chocolate that we restrict to a place as we mature. Yes that's it. (Thinking as I go hope you don't mind)
maturity is the taste of--I think this proves my suspicions. I love that maturity is a taste. Normally maybe 97 times out of 100 I'd be screaming at breaking a line on of. In this case though just maturity is a taste is flat and uninteresting the of is essential
artificial flavor.--yes unlike the chocolate its artificial of course it is. It's a contrivance. This is wrong though go more specific. It's a piece of licorice soaked in Red No. 5...or saccharine...something more vivid...great setup/bad payoff. Oh lose the period, you don't want a full stop there
feeling your mouth sweat--wonderfully tactile
melting inside.--maturity feels like it should be right but it invades--nice
It's hands clutching--now we try to grip onto what we once had, but it's listless now. Something fundamental has changed. I love this image. I think staying in present tense here would still be the right choice. Stay in the moment when what was precious slips away. I would also consider drawing in closer to the person be cutting the its..."hands clutch"
the metal on the swings
swaying back and forth.--again lovely. So, glad you trust the image and don't weigh it down with modifiers

It's the door swinging--again present tense "The door swings"
open and close.lose the period
that final feeling of--maybe lead the line with an "in" The break would have more tension on feeling in my opinion
a door's warmth against
the wall turning cold.--I like this image. Warmth and cold speaking to an emotional warmth and coldness. The door (possibilities) closing. The walk ,aturity coming up. I think maybe "a" wall to stick with your structural choices
it's wishing on a penny
in the fountain
finally throwing it.--this plays on the earlier open and close. This is hope and regret in one image. Love it a lot

Feeling your ghost,
the texture must have--great lines. You the adult are an afterimage, a regret or series of them, a might-have-been
felt distant when it's--feeling and felt are pretty close together. It works but just barely. You don't need when it's. You could pull sinking up a line optionally
sinking to your veins.
the last touch, is your pulse--you can cut is

I'm the echo
repeating alone.
there isn't anyone--capitalize there
left to fight but there
is an accident
left to prepare for.--wonderful line.
time circles around--around isn't necessary. A little reincarnation or at the least second chances. Can regret drive us to recapture what was lost? Is the accident avoidable or preordained?
when the day is blank--great line
until it becomes used--good
then it is patient,--you could cut this the next line does the work
disappearing slowly.--love this

Consider my knees
on the floor once,
the indention in the sounds
of escaping to the bottom
for you.
The eyes forming-swelling
adjusting-existing the mood
to lonliness.

--I haven't run out of steam. I just had no suggestions. I'm tracking. I like the personal for you addition. No nits in this part

It's the motion of--the of break works here
pushing yourself from
behind on a slide--love this it's cool phrasing and a sort of touch echo playing of the earlier echo line, a memory, a side-by-side reliving. The adult ghost playing in regret. The adult remembering
to gain momentum
and to finally land from a height.--like this

It's the hands breaking the seal--the break makes it apocalyptic like the scroll in Revellation
off a heart-shaped box,
wiping the chocolate on your--don't like the break maybe pull up clothes
clothes. hoping it hides well
in your mouth when it tastes
like childhood.--nice

It's the penny in the fountain
still holding the wish-wishing.
It's the door, worn and beaten
by flashes of leaving,
by staying too long.--this is all good and in my opinion this line is your ending. The next line is much, much less evocative

Why couldn't we have been adults?

I know: stop writing so much in your critique. I hope it will be helpful and not overwhelming. My interpretation is probably all over the place. I loved the poem though. One of my favorites on the site.

I'm sorry I missed it four months ago. Thank you for posting it.

Best,

Todd

[arbil_poieo]

No, no it wasn't too overwhelming or too much. I agree with the title, I hadn't noticed it until you mentioned it. Like I told you this is one of my favorites that I've written so this was helpful because I would like to revise it and hopefully make it better. I really appreciate your feedback and comments and everyone else's. I will look over all of it and make some changes that were pointed out. Thank you so much again for going over it.

[billy]

My first poem so I'm hoping for honest feedback. Thank you.

Playing is in the playground why not play?
chocolates in the box,
maturity is the taste of
artificial flavor.
feeling your mouth sweat
melting inside.
It's hands clutching
the metal on the swings would 'metal on swings' do the same job?
swaying back and forth.

It's the door swinging two swing/swinging? would being help as a suggestion?
open and close. which would make this line 'opened and closed'
that final feeling of
a door's warmth against two door/door's?
the wall turning cold.
it's wishing on a penny
in the fountain 'at the fountain' you haven't thrown it in yet
finally throwing it.

Feeling your ghost,
the texture must have
felt distant when it's
sinking to your veins.
the last touch, is your pulse

I'm the echo
repeating alone. i like the solitary image of the 1st two lines calling out.
there isn't anyone
left to fight but there
is an accident
left to prepare for.
time circles around
when the day is blank
until it becomes used
then it is patient, i like the use of patient to define memory. as though it waits to be re-known.
disappearing slowly. i like the enjambment of this very much.

Consider my knees
on the floor once,
the indention in the sounds
of escaping to the bottom
for you.
The eyes forming-swelling
adjusting-existing the mood
to lonliness. loneliness

It's the motion of
pushing yourself from
behind on a slide
to gain momentum
and to finally land from a height.

It's the hands breaking the seal
off a heart-shaped box,
wiping the chocolate on your is 'the' needed? and either move 'your' down or 'clothes' up
clothes. hoping it hides well
in your mouth when it tastes
like childhood. i like guilt the stanza shows. the not wanting to be caught in the act, the wanting it to be more

It's the penny in the fountain
still holding the wish-wishing.
It's the door, worn and beaten
by flashes of leaving,
by staying too long. nice hook to take you back to the beginning. here the repetitions work well

Why couldn't we have been adults?

a really good write. i was taken to forest gump in parts but it got past that. the feel of the poem i got was that of longing. the originality was good and it flowed well. i had no hold up with it on the read.

thanks for posting it.

[arbil_poieo]

Lol Forest Gump? Yea I can see that in the chocolate parts. Thank you so much for your feedback.

[arbil_poieo]

First revision up and thank you all again for your feedback.

[serge gurkski]

wonderful flow in this one. While reading your poem I listened to Diana Krall's take on Cry me a river (live performance in Paris) and your lines and her music were a perfect match.

Thank you

Serge

[arbil_poieo]

Thank you Serge for reading and for your comment. I haven't heard that song, I have to find it and give it a listen.

[serge gurkski]

i can link you:

http://youtu.be/S4hPii_RVHE

[arbil_poieo]

Thank you for the link, I listened and wow! A beautiful sound and a sultry voice, kinda seductive and sad at the same time.

[serge gurkski]

;-) Just writing a poem listening to two of her songs (this one and Look of Love, a Blues and a Bossa, it can hardly get better than that))

[tectak]

1st Edit

Playing is in the playground
chocolates in the box,
maturity is the taste of
vanillin coated candy bar,Not vanillin. That's pretty toxic! Vanilla
feeling your mouth sweat
melting inside.
Hands clutch
the metal on the swings
swaying back and forth.The pleasurable transfer of one thought into another. Children do this well. Excellent

The door closes,
in that final feeling of
warmth against
a wall turning cold.
It's a penny in the fountain
for my thoughts,
a child's fairytale.This whole verse reeks of well worded nostalgia. It is extremely well done. Already your use of precise grammar is having an effect....the commas are strategic.

Feeling your ghost,
the texture must have
felt distant sinking
to your veins.
The last touch, your pulse.Only a slight nit but tenses are getting a bit slippery. It still works... but just a tweek?

I am the echo ...and so we get a bit of a time warp. Not a complaint. I guess we are heading for the "now" and every journey needs to start somewhere (or sometime). The line itself is predictive and just right for what seems to be a short soliloquy. This whole piece is a journey which I will take again. Once again the grammar and the clarity of thinking compliment each other. Clear thought....clear write. Commendable.
repeating alone.
There isn't anyone
left to fight but there
is an accident
left to prepare for.
Time circles
when the day is blank
until it becomes usedSemi-colon here might introduce a pensive pause and let the reader savour the sentiment in the line. This is to your advantage because the next line is fabulously predictable....surely we all know this feeling?
then it is patientBecause your grammar is so good the lack of a comma at this line end over-aggravates
disappearing slowly.

Consider my knees
on the floor once,
the indention in the sounds
of escaping to the bottom
for you.
The eyes forming- swelling
adjusting to the mood
of loneliness. Still I am loathe to crit but the imagery here is being clipped by the desire to say what you must say, and quickly. I think a little tweeking would smooth out the process. I think that "once" is redundant. Just "on the floor;". Similarly, and this may be too much, you need to fix the last line. Encapsulated thoughts need to carry more clues to meaning than this line gives. I think the hyphen is untranslatable...but that is me. Oh, I'm the critic. Forgot for a moment

It's the motion of
pushing yourself
from behind on a slide
to gain momentum
and to finally land from a height. A winner.

It's the hands breaking the seal
off a heart-shaped box,
wiping the chocolate on your clothes.
Hoping it hides well
in your mouth when it tastes
like childhood.

It's the penny among pennies
not recognizing mine.
It's the door, worn and beaten
by flashes of leaving,
by staying too long.
It verges on sacrilege to crit this into change. This is one of those pieces that is just timeless. You use some complex imagery which though, no doubt, from memory, seems contemporaneous...as if the thought was reborn but unchanged. I particularly liked the door, worn and beaten, by flashes of leaving. How I wish I had written that...or even thought it! There are still some small nits which others will pick up on but it is a pleasure to read poetry that aspires to be nothing but perfect unto itself. I am overwhelmed
Best,
tectak[/b]

Original

Playing is in the playground
chocolates in the box,
maturity is the taste of
artificial flavor.
feeling your mouth sweat
melting inside.
It's hands clutching
the metal on the swings
swaying back and forth.

It's the door swinging
open and close.
that final feeling of
a door's warmth against
the wall turning cold.
it's wishing on a penny
in the fountain
finally throwing it.

Feeling your ghost,
the texture must have
felt distant when it's
sinking to your veins.
the last touch, is your pulse

I'm the echo
repeating alone.
there isn't anyone
left to fight but there
is an accident
left to prepare for.
time circles around
when the day is blank
until it becomes used
then it is patient,
disappearing slowly.

Consider my knees
on the floor once,
the indention in the sounds
of escaping to the bottom
for you.
The eyes forming-swelling
adjusting-existing the mood
to lonliness.

It's the motion of
pushing yourself from
behind on a slide
to gain momentum
and to finally land from a height.

It's the hands breaking the seal
off a heart-shaped box,
wiping the chocolate on your
clothes. hoping it hides well
in your mouth when it tastes
like childhood.

It's the penny in the fountain
still holding the wish-wishing.
It's the door, worn and beaten
by flashes of leaving,
by staying too long.

Why couldn't we have been adults?

[arbil_poieo]

Thank you Tectak for reading and for your comments. As far as "vanillin" I was going for something artificial that can be found in chocolate but I guess that wasn't the best example. I do need to give more clues on whats going on in the poem's present day in stanza 5 and be clear with it's meaning. I will look over it more and make the changes, thank you again for all your comments.

[arbil_poieo]

2nd edit--suggestions from tectak.