Madge - revised

[Erthona]

I decided to repost this as the original had so many comments attached to it, it just seemed unwieldy. If that is incorrect I assume a mod and unrepost it.
--------------------------------------------------
Madge - version dos
version 2
------------------------------------------------

Hot! Oil seeps out of the asphalt road
and cars make a sticky noise as they pass by
sounding like fat people sex on a hot night.
At the bus stop is a woman with
tumbleweed blown straw-blond hair,
lips painted like a freshly cut pink neon fig,
and deep crevices carved in pasty skin
from years of negligent living.

She reminds me of the Palmolive
dish-wash soap manicurist,
so I'm thinking her name might be
Madge...Not a name you hear much now.
That was from a time when if you were cool
you rolled your Lucky's up in the sleeve
of your tight white cotton shirt,
wielded a Zippo like a samurai sword,
and lit two, one for you and one for her.

She has that look like she's done a year
or two in what they call jail these days.
Nothing like the jail on the
Andy Griffith Show where
Otis, the town drunk, slept it off
then let himself out the next morning.
No one was letting Madge out
through those double vault doors
after her last bender, when she
smashed her fender into that street light.

She's obviously on the way to work;
wearing the ubiquitous medium-dark
brown knit knee length dress that serves
as the standard uniform
for servitors in such places
as the occupational cleaning industry
and chain cafeterias like Luby's where they
monotonously repeat their zombie phrases
a thousand times a day,

“hep ya”, “moe tea”, and “cum’gin” *

while serving their purgatory on earth,
but it's hard for a felon to get a job these days.

I can see through the heat distortion
swirling up from the earth
acting as a convection oven,
that she's firing up a cigarette,
and I wonder how someone like her
can afford to smoke, when a pack cost
the equivalent of two hours of work.
Well, I guess you just find a way
when it is a matter of life and death!


©2013 -Erthona


* “hep ya”, “moe tea”, and “cum’gin”
help you, more tea, and come again.

------------------------------------------------------
original version

Hot! Oil seeps out of the asphalt road;
cars make a sticky noise as they pass by,
sounding like fat people sex on a hot night.
At the bus stop is a woman with
overly-processed straw blond hair,
lipsticked lips like a freshly cut neon fig,
and deep crevices in pasty skin.
It makes me think her name must be
something like “Madge”.

She has probably done a year
or two in the prison they call jail.
A jail without any of the
Mayberry RFD homey qualities
where the town drunk sleeps it off,
then lets himself out in the morning.

She's obviously on the way to work,
wearing the ubiquitous medium-dark
brown knit knee length dress that serves
as the standard uniform
for servitors in such places
as the occupational cleaning industry
and chain cafeterias where they
monotonously repeat their zombie phrases
“hep ya”, “moe tea”, and “cum’gin”.

Through the visual heat distortion
swirling up from earth as convection oven
I can see her smoking a cigarette,
and I wonder how someone like her
can afford to smoke, when a pack cost
the equivalent two hours of work.
Well, I guess you find a way
when it is a matter of life and death!

©2013 -Erthona

[milo]

This may be one of those instances where it is better to let it sit for a bit.

'gin is pronounced "jin" no matter how you may want it pronounced. I think that is symptomatic with what is going wrong here - the whole poem is trapped in the writer's head with no room for the reader.

While there are some parts of the revision i liked, for the most part I found it had the same issues, many of them more pronounced, as the original.

[billy]

i stopped the read, it feels like a completely different poem. still a decent poem but not a patch on the original.

I decided to repost this as the original had so many comments attached to it, it just seemed unwieldy. If that is incorrect I assume a mod and unrepost it.
--------------------------------------------------
Madge - version dos
version 2
------------------------------------------------

Hot! Oil seeps out of the asphalt road
and cars make a sticky noise as they pass by
sounding like fat people sex on a hot night.
At the bus stop is a woman with
tumbleweed blown straw-blond hair, it's a better image
lips painted like a freshly cut pink neon fig, preferred the original
and deep crevices carved in pasty skin like this
from years of negligent living. but much preferred [It makes me think her name must be
something like “Madge”.] this as an ending to the stanza. for me i see something of the persons thought process with this ending. this new ending feels flat

She reminds me of the Palmolive
dish-wash soap manicurist,
so I'm thinking her name might be
Madge...Not a name you hear much now.
That was from a time when if you were cool
you rolled your Lucky's up in the sleeve
of your tight white cotton shirt,
wielded a Zippo like a samurai sword,
and lit two, one for you and one for her. i think you're no longer posting as you, instead you're doing what i do too much of, trying to please the critic and in doing so make it worse. this has a whole new and less worthy feel to it. how does one use a zippo like a sword:HUH:

She has that look like she's done a year
or two in what they call jail these days.
Nothing like the jail on the
Andy Griffith Show where
Otis, the town drunk, slept it off
then let himself out the next morning.
No one was letting Madge out
through those double vault doors
after her last bender, when she
smashed her fender into that street light.

She's obviously on the way to work;
wearing the ubiquitous medium-dark
brown knit knee length dress that serves
as the standard uniform
for servitors in such places
as the occupational cleaning industry
and chain cafeterias like Luby's where they
monotonously repeat their zombie phrases
a thousand times a day,

“hep ya”, “moe tea”, and “cum’gin” *

while serving their purgatory on earth,
but it's hard for a felon to get a job these days.

I can see through the heat distortion
swirling up from the earth
acting as a convection oven,
that she's firing up a cigarette,
and I wonder how someone like her
can afford to smoke, when a pack cost
the equivalent of two hours of work.
Well, I guess you just find a way
when it is a matter of life and death!


©2013 -Erthona


* “hep ya”, “moe tea”, and “cum’gin”
help you, more tea, and come again.

------------------------------------------------------
original version

Hot! Oil seeps out of the asphalt road;
cars make a sticky noise as they pass by,
sounding like fat people sex on a hot night.
At the bus stop is a woman with
overly-processed straw blond hair,
lipsticked lips like a freshly cut neon fig,
and deep crevices in pasty skin.
It makes me think her name must be
something like “Madge”.

She has probably done a year
or two in the prison they call jail.
A jail without any of the
Mayberry RFD homey qualities
where the town drunk sleeps it off,
then lets himself out in the morning.

She's obviously on the way to work,
wearing the ubiquitous medium-dark
brown knit knee length dress that serves
as the standard uniform
for servitors in such places
as the occupational cleaning industry
and chain cafeterias where they
monotonously repeat their zombie phrases
“hep ya”, “moe tea”, and “cum’gin”.

Through the visual heat distortion
swirling up from earth as convection oven
I can see her smoking a cigarette,
and I wonder how someone like her
can afford to smoke, when a pack cost
the equivalent two hours of work.
Well, I guess you find a way
when it is a matter of life and death!

©2013 -Erthona

[tectak]

I decided to repost this as the original had so many comments attached to it, it just seemed unwieldy. If that is incorrect I assume a mod and unrepost it.
--------------------------------------------------
Madge - version dos
version 2
------------------------------------------------
Hi Dale, I thought I'd leave this one until you were no longer able to get on-line. I often record programs I don't like on TV and play them back while I'm out. Here goes but I know I like it more already,
Best,
tectak

Hot! Oil seeps out of the asphalt road
and cars make a sticky noise as they pass by
sounding like fat people sex on a hot night...but not this line...though I just know that sound.
At the bus stop is a woman with
tumbleweed blown straw-blond hair,The blown is incongruous. Tumbleweed blown looks just like tumbleweed not blown...except it's in a different place. Don't go there.
lips painted like a freshly cut pink neon fig,I conceed. I have just cut open one of my own figs. Funny how some things you would not kiss but you would still eat.
and deep crevices carved in pasty skinThe problem is brit. We also have "A pa-stee". Cornish often, spelt pasty...which is why I suggested pastry. Pastry can have crevices, cracks and contours. Sorry....but remember Dick van Dyke?
from years of negligent living.

She reminds me of the Palmolive
dish-wash soap manicurist,This is jerky.That's all there is to say.
so I'm thinking her name might be
Madge...Not a name you hear much now.
That was from a time when if you were coolThat is what? Palmolive, soap, manicurist or Madge. Connect the dots.
you rolled your Lucky's up in the sleeve
of your tight white cotton shirt,
wielded a Zippo like a samurai sword,
and lit two, one for you and one for her.Like it

She has that look like she's done a year
or two in what they call jail these days.
Nothing like the jail on the
Andy Griffith Show where
Otis, the town drunk, slept it off
then let himself out the next morning.Peculiarly local, this line. Not like you at all. Limited audience appeal and all that. OK with me. I can imagine...that's what poetry should do, I guess
No one was letting Madge out
through those double vault doors
after her last bender, when she
smashed her fender into that street light.There's a whopping disconnect here. You are on a runaway bus powered by Premium Grade Assumption. She only looked LIKE she might have spent pen-time. You could firm up the prior line.
"She has the look that says she's done a year..."or something. Your poem


She's obviously on the way to work;"..her way", unless everyone goes the same way.
wearing the ubiquitous medium-dark
brown knit knee length dress that serves
as the standard uniform"ubiquitous" and "standard" seem a little additive. This whole line is oddly over-modified compared to "At the bus stop is a woman" ..."At the green and white local routes only aluminum scratched bus stop sign where the number twenty-seven, thirteen and fourty-one buses stop, except on Saturdays, stands a medium height woman in her early sixties...."
for servitors in such places
as the occupational cleaning industry
and chain cafeterias like Luby's where they
monotonously repeat their zombie phrases
a thousand times a day,

“hep ya”, “moe tea”, and “cum’gin” *[b] Breathless. There must be a better way of saying ALL this...but still say it all

while serving their purgatory on earth,
but it's hard for a felon to get a job these days.I would (how I hate writing that) put a period after "earth" then drop the "and".

I can see through the heat distortion
swirling up from the earth
acting as a convection oven,Information overload. I got it all in the first line.
that she's firing up a cigarette,
and I wonder how someone like her
can afford to smoke, when a pack cost
the equivalent of two hours of work.
Well, I guess you just find a way
when it is a matter of life and death! Yes. No butts.


©2013 -Erthona


* “hep ya”, “moe tea”, and “cum’gin”
help you, more tea, and come again.

------------------------------------------------------
original version

Hot! Oil seeps out of the asphalt road;
cars make a sticky noise as they pass by,
sounding like fat people sex on a hot night.
At the bus stop is a woman with
overly-processed straw blond hair,
lipsticked lips like a freshly cut neon fig,
and deep crevices in pasty skin.
It makes me think her name must be
something like “Madge”.

She has probably done a year
or two in the prison they call jail.
A jail without any of the
Mayberry RFD homey qualities
where the town drunk sleeps it off,
then lets himself out in the morning.

She's obviously on the way to work,
wearing the ubiquitous medium-dark
brown knit knee length dress that serves
as the standard uniform
for servitors in such places
as the occupational cleaning industry
and chain cafeterias where they
monotonously repeat their zombie phrases
“hep ya”, “moe tea”, and “cum’gin”.

Through the visual heat distortion
swirling up from earth as convection oven
I can see her smoking a cigarette,
and I wonder how someone like her
can afford to smoke, when a pack cost
the equivalent two hours of work.
Well, I guess you find a way
when it is a matter of life and death!

©2013 -Erthona

[Erthona]

'gin is pronounced "jin" no matter how you may want it pronounced. I think that is symptomatic with what is going wrong here - the whole poem is trapped in the writer's head with no room for the reader.

Yeah, I meant to make the "gen" I just forgot.



[quote='milo' pid='139485' dateline='1379199656']
This may be one of those instances where it is better to let it sit for a bit.

'gin is pronounced "jin" no matter how you may want it pronounced. I think that is symptomatic with what is going wrong here - the whole poem is trapped in the writer's head with no room for the reader.

Well, that's interesting.

While there are some parts of the revision i liked, for the most part I found it had the same issues, many of them more pronounced, as the original.
[/quote]

As you do not specify, that is difficult t respond to.

Thanks for your comments,

Dale

---

[quote='trueenigma' pid='139488' dateline='1379200199']
I agree with Milo, Tex.

I started to write it down for crit, but I'm finding that a lot of it want really improved at all. I like that you added the flash-back to luckys and a little more depth, but lines like thus make it difficult for me to get through:

[quote]
ubiquitous medium-dark
brown knit knee length dress
[/quote]

As that is merely a factual description I'm not sure what your objection is. In terms of the actual writing, I did not break it up because I wanted that particular rhythm, especially with the alliteration of the " knit knee", like "nittany lions".

Thanks for the comments,

dale

---

Billy,

"i stopped the read, it feels like a completely different poem. still a decent poem but not a patch on the original."

It is a completely differently, it is what you get when you try and accommodate everyone. I just wanted to see what kind of reaction I would get. Although there are some passages that read smoother, I completely removed the ambiguity around the speaker's motives as to what he was saying. So I explained why he thought what he thought, such as why the name "Madge", and that he was not being condescending about her job, but rather he had sympathy, and so on.

"i think you're no longer posting as you, instead you're doing what i do too much of, trying to please the critic and in doing so make it worse. this has a whole new and less worthy feel to it. how does one use a zippo like a sword"

No, don't worry, I haven't lost my integrity, I just thought I would try and give everyone what they wanted so they could see the results. I just found it interesting all the negative assumptions that were put on this with virtually no support from the poem. Very instructive really.

Thanks for your support Billy, and I agree, I think you could benefit from standing your ground a bit more on occasion. Just because we ask for criticism doesn't mean we have to give them out souls.

Hugs and kisses,

Dale

[Erthona]

tumbleweed blown straw-blond hair,
The blown is incongruous. Tumbleweed blown looks just like tumbleweed not blown...except it's in a different place. Don't go there.

It's another way to say gusty wind, and the effect that has on a persons hair, although I do concede it is fairly regional.


and deep crevices carved in pasty skin The problem is brit. We also have "A pa-stee". Cornish often, spelt pasty...which is why I suggested pastry. Pastry can have crevices, cracks and contours. Sorry....but remember Dick van Dyke?

Sorry, but Cornish is a pretty small part of the world to be held up as the exemplar in this respect.

Definition #1 of pasty:
1. of or like paste in consistency, texture, color, etc.



She reminds me of the Palmolive
dish-wash soap manicurist,This is jerky.That's all there is to say.

Very consistent with a person dragging something out of memory and having difficulty expressing it, it just kind of tumbles out, however, it is actually very succinct. This was a well known TV commercial in the US during the 60's. In this commercial, this woman "Madge" who was a manicurist, would have her customers soak their hands in this dish soap, before and while she was doing their nails to demonstrate how gentle it was on their hands, implying that washing their dishes with this soap would not make their hands look bad.


so I'm thinking her name might be
Madge...Not a name you hear much now.
That was from a time when if you were cool

That is what? Palmolive, soap, manicurist or Madge. Connect the dots.

As it starts with "Madge...Not a name you hear much now." I think it is fairly obvious what it is referring to.



and lit two, one for you and one for her.

Like it

Thank you, I did too.




She's obviously on the way to work;

"..her way", unless everyone goes the same way.

Concede, poor wording on my part.





while serving their purgatory on earth,
but it's hard for a felon to get a job these days. I would (how I hate writing that) put a period after "earth" then drop the "and".

I could break it up that way.

I can see through the heat distortion
swirling up from the earth
acting as a convection oven, Information overload. I got it all in the first line.


Yeah, I'm probably too attached to the convection oven idea

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks Tom,

Dale

[bena]

Oh this is so rich I'd have to read it a thousand times. Love fat people sex on a hot night....wish I'd come up with that. And neon fig lipstick, where can I buy some, I must have it now! I love your translation for those ijits that ain't from these parts. No crit, really just wanted to say that I really dig it.

bena

[Erthona]

Thanks bena!


Dale

[Wildcard]

Hi Dale,

It is good to read you again! As you know, I will have no revelations for you but I wanted to give a little of my reactions.

I did not read the original or the comments so sorry if I make a fool of myself

Hot! Oil seeps out of the asphalt road
and cars make a sticky noise as they pass by
sounding like fat people sex on a hot night. --I happen to giggle every time I read that line. I, too thought that this was clever and a good choice
At the bus stop is a woman with
tumbleweed blown straw-blond hair, --I stumble here, but not from misunderstanding, but just the double 'bl'-- it seems very ungainly to me-- 'tumbleweed' needs to go, I think . . . doesn't straw do enough on its own to sell the wind-blown look?
lips painted like a freshly cut pink neon fig,
and deep crevices carved in pasty skin --deep crevices make me think of leather skin, not pale, pasty skin
from years of negligent living.

She reminds me of the Palmolive
dish-wash soap manicurist, --Who? I disconnect here
so I'm thinking her name might be
Madge...Not a name you hear much now.
That was from a time when if you were cool
you rolled your Lucky's up in the sleeve --hehe James Dean comes to mind, nice picture you make me imagine here
of your tight white cotton shirt,
wielded a Zippo like a samurai sword, --my uncle was like a ninja with his lighter so I know what you mean. When women want a cigarette lit they don't have to wait long in tough guy country
and lit two, one for you and one for her.

She has that look like she's done a year --getting gritty now. When I started reading I was lead to think flatteringly of this woman but now . . . reminds me of the song Meet Virginia where he says all these weird things about the girl but still wants her
or two in what they call jail these days.
Nothing like the jail on the
Andy Griffith Show where
Otis, the town drunk, slept it off
then let himself out the next morning. --I watched the show a lot but I still feel this part is largely throw-away
No one was letting Madge out
through those double vault doors
after her last bender, when she
smashed her fender into that street light. --and again, I don't feel anything added by this

She's obviously on the way to work;
wearing the ubiquitous medium-dark
brown knit knee length dress that serves
as the standard uniform
for servitors in such places
as the occupational cleaning industry
and chain cafeterias like Luby's where they
monotonously repeat their zombie phrases
a thousand times a day,

“hep ya”, “moe tea”, and “cum’gin” * --are you doing Texan? In DEEP south it would be 'wot kin I git ya?', "y'on't s'mo'e tea?" and no matter where you go, cum'gin just looks perverted :p

while serving their purgatory on earth,
but it's hard for a felon to get a job these days.

I can see through the heat distortion
swirling up from the earth
acting as a convection oven,
that she's firing up a cigarette,
and I wonder how someone like her
can afford to smoke, when a pack cost
the equivalent of two hours of work.
Well, I guess you just find a way
when it is a matter of life and death!

Winding down I am a little befuddled by it all. You certainly have a way of making me want to get into this world and see more but I feel closed out-- whether by my own limitations or yours, I don't know.

Thanks for sharing

[Erthona]

Wildcard????really?

Thanks for comments and all.

"whether by my own limitations or yours" probably mine. This is far from a finished piece.

Yeah, "fat people sex" seems to be about 50/50 pro/con, funny that. Doesn't matter, it's a keeper.

Yeah, this is Texan. "gin" was wrong, and should be "genn" or maybe "geen", still haven't figured out how to write it correctly. It's the "e" sound like in "git", although it's more like a diphthong. Dialect can be so damn difficult at times.

Thanks again,

Dale

[billy]

i don't think there's a definitive git you can use as we all see it differently
i see it as cum'g'in though i got cum'gin instantly. and isn't that the point, does the reader easily understand what the poet is saying. most who dislike it know what the aim of it is. on this one i think writer's discretion is as good as the reader's discretion

[svanhoeven]

I really like the ideas and images here, but it still has a lot of room for compression. My suggestions are below, but as tectak likes to say, your poem.

Hot! Oil seeps out of the asphalt road
and cars make a sticky noise as they pass by
sounding like fat people sex on a hot night.
Clunk. "Sounding" is superfluous due to "noise" on the previous line; maybe "like fat lovers on a hot night"
At the bus stop is a woman with
tumbleweed blown straw-blond hair,
suggestion: "At the bus stop- a woman coiffed
with a straw-blond tumbleweed,"
I'm not sure, though, if by "tumbleweed-blown" you mean it looks like a tumbleweed.
lips painted like a freshly cut pink neon fig,
You make it sound like the fig is painted too, plus the modifier for pink should precede it. Maybe "her painted lips a freshly-cut neon-pink fig,"
and deep crevices carved in pasty skin
from years of negligent living.
There's something about deep crevices and pasty skin that seems incongruous, maybe because the women I see that look like they were "rode hard and put up wet" tend to be leathery from the sun, not pasty. Then there are those women who trowel on their foundation.


There's a lot of potential here for combining this with the above section, i.e the gist of it would be, "negligent living...you're soaking in it!"
She reminds me of the Palmolive
dish-wash soap manicurist,
Palmolive IS dish-wash soap, so:
"She reminds me of the Palmolive manicurist,"
so I'm thinking her name might be
Madge...Not a name you hear much now.
That was from a time when if you were cool
you rolled your Lucky's up in the sleeve
suggestion: "you rolled up your Lucky's in the sleeve"
of your tight white cotton shirt,
wielded a Zippo like a samurai sword,
and lit two, one for you and one for her.

She has that look like she's done a year
or two in what they call jail these days.
Nothing like the jail on the
Andy Griffith Show where
Above 2 lines maybe compressed to:
Nothing like the Mayberry jail where
Otis, the town drunk, slept it off
then let himself out the next morning.
No one was letting Madge out
through those double vault doors
after her last bender, when she
smashed her fender into that street light.


She's obviously on the way to work;
I think "obviously" is superfluous, but if you really like the idea, "clearly" has a better rhythm.
wearing the ubiquitous medium-dark
If you say "standard uniform" below, "ubiquitous" is unneeded here, plus you could stand to trim the modifier list anyway.
brown knit knee length dress that serves
as the standard uniform
for servitors in such places
I think you can trim this whole line, i.e.:
as the standard uniform
in the occupational cleaning industry
as the occupational cleaning industry
and chain cafeterias like Luby's where they
monotonously repeat their zombie phrases
a thousand times a day,

“hep ya”, “moe tea”, and “cum’gin” *
I know this has been beaten to death, but "moe tea" doesn't sound right to me unless this in the deep south, such as Georgia, where you would expect a non-rhotic accent. I think you mentioned elsewhere this was Texas, where I would expect an exaggerated rhotic accent that sounds like "mower tea".

while serving their purgatory on earth,
but it's hard for a felon to get a job these days.

I can see through the heat distortion
swirling up from the earth
I picture a heat distortion more as a shimmer than a swirl.
acting as a convection oven,
that she's firing up a cigarette,
and I wonder how someone like her
can afford to smoke, when a pack cost
the equivalent of two hours of work.
suggestion: "when a pack costs two hours work"
Well, I guess you just find a way
when it is a matter of life and death!

[Erthona]

svanhoeven,

Thanks for your comments.
-----------------------------------------------
Have to disagree with the first one.

Without "sounding" it would read as:

they pass by like fat people sex on a hot night.
-----------------------------------------------
Then there are those women who trowel on their foundation.

Yes, more like that. Foundation so thick it begins to crack in the heat of the day, looking like cracked dough with a dusting of flour.
------------------------------------------------
"If you say "standard uniform" below, "ubiquitous" is unneeded here, plus you could stand to trim the modifier list anyway."

It is an ubiquitous (seen everywhere) dress, but standard for these specific agencies.
----------------------------------------------------
I know this has been beaten to death, but "moe tea" doesn't sound right to me unless this in the deep south, such as Georgia, where you would expect a non-rhotic accent. I think you mentioned elsewhere this was Texas, where I would expect an exaggerated rhotic accent that sounds like "mower tea".

I think that is more Midwestern, in north-central Texas the "r" tends to be added on the end of a diphthong, however as this is the service industry, these people are often times transplants from the south, plus there is the tendency to shorten the word/phrase as much as possible because it is used so repetitively. Regardless, this is what I have often heard in cafeterias of that part of the country. It was also less about regional accuracy, and more about the robot like quality these people take on as they go through the repetitive drudgery of their work. I suspect they basically suspend their brain and go on auto-pilot.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
"when a pack costs two hours work"

I was figuring a net income of about 4.00$ per hour after tax, et.al., is taken out of ones check, but it should read nearly two hours of work, as I was thinking about 6 dollars a pack. You are probably correct though, it would be closer to 1 hour of work because they would also probably buy the cheapest brands. What does a pack cost these days?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks, you've raised some valid points.

Dale

[svanhoeven]

Without "sounding" it would read as:

and cars make a sticky noise as they pass by
like fat people sex on a hot night.

Yes, that is awkward. How about:

and passing cars make a sticky noise
like fat lovers on a hot night.

I was figuring a net income of about 4.00$ per hour after tax, et.al., is taken out of ones check, but it should read nearly two hours of work, as I was thinking about 6 dollars a pack. You are probably correct though, it would be closer to 1 hour of work because they would also probably buy the cheapest brands. What does a pack cost these days?

I know nothing about the price of cigarettes; I was just offering a shortened phrase.

[Erthona]

"I know nothing about the price of cigarettes; I was just offering a shortened phrase."

Sorry, misread your comment.

Dale

[NewJerseyMan99]

Much of this is very good - I like the last half much better than the first half. The first half comes across to me as somewhat smug, somewhat schlocky. The "fat people sex on a hot night" line made me very sick to my stomach, and I don't think I'm the only one that would react this way. Is that really how you want to affect the audience?

Nevertheless, the metaphors for hell - the heat, the poverty, the neglected body of the woman - are excellent and profound. Overall, a very effective poem with a strong message.

[Erthona]

NewJerseyMan99,

Thanks for your comments.

"The "fat people sex on a hot night" line made me very sick to my stomach, and I don't think I'm the only one that would react this way. Is that really how you want to affect the audience?"

Yeah, I'm OK with that reaction. The image foreshadows the earthy/grotesque carnality that characterizes the purgatory, or hell that will be described. That it creates such a visceral reaction seems a positive to me.

Thanks again for your thoughtful comments, whether or not I agree with them, they still prod me into examining my rationale for the individual parts of the poem.

Dale