San Francisco, 1992

[cjchaffin]

Curling tendrils of tobacco haze
engulf the tiny space, hang
like ringlets over shots of whiskey
and mugs of warm beer.

A solitary dancer moves,
bracelets janglin’ and eyes heavy
with kohl, she captures old men
in mid drink as her hips sway
to Nina Simone.

Her bronze skin burns
with the hot stares of the audience.
She soaks it all in, twirls on bare feet
as the high priestess of soul bewitches
us with heavy grooves.

I close my eyes, tap fingers against glass,
whisper Nina’s words into the smoke
and breathe them back in again.
This is jazz, I think out loud,
this is pure unadulterated heat.

[bwasroy]

The vernacular sounds conflicted. ("Curling tendrils" + "janglin'") so the poem ends up feeling artificial.

I'm very neutral about the first stanza. You've described smoke rising in a bar. That's how 90 percent of every jazz bar poem description starts.

I really don't like that janglin' is abbreviation. Why not just jangling?

Some nice writing again in the second stanza, but that too ultimately feels hollow. Based on the tired images, I'm still not sure you've ever been to this type of bar.

I become interested in this poem with the phrase "twirls on bare feet" --- finally something unusual!

Because I don't really buy the poem's build up or the descriptions (most of the time at least), ending on "this is pure unadulterated heat" doesn't come off nearly as strong as it could.

[cjchaffin]

bwasroy, thank you for taking the time to read and critique. i appreciate your feedback.

[billy]

has this been posted elsewhere o the site?

[cjchaffin]

has this been posted elsewhere o the site?

on this site? no. just on my blog and workshopped elsewhere. first time appearing here though.

[cjchaffin]

Chris..I don't care that it's been done before. I can't resist the aura of a smoky bar and a torch song. I like the scene you painted here, but as a reader I have a major concern: focus.

Is feels like you couldn't decide if this was about jazz, or Ms. Simone, or the dancer. Personally, I find the image of the dancer very compelling. She is exotic, sexy, mysterious..but perhaps she doesn't even realize it. To me, this poem is about her and the rest of the images exist to give her context.

Below, I humbly offer suggestions to tighten up the verse..

Curling tendrils of tobacco haze
engulf the tiny space, hang
like ringlets over shots of whiskey
and mugs of warm beer.

I like the idea of tendrils with regard to smoke..it implies ascension and pervasiveness. That's why I don't think you need "haze" or "ringlets". It's too much description. And tendrils don't "engulf"..flames do that. Tendrils climb, they attach. So maybe..

Curling tendrils of smoke
fill the tiny space
above shots of whiskey
and mugs of warm beer.

A solitary dancer moves,
bracelets janglin’ and eyes heavy
with kohl, she captures old men
in mid drink as her hips sway
to Nina Simone.

"janglin'" feels too colloquial. I know this is a smoky bar, but the rest of the vernacular is different. It feels forced and not authentic.

As a reader, I like to imagine that this dance is spontaneous and not pretentious, not meant to be seductive. Maybe she is sorrowful over some loss, maybe she herself is being seduced by the music..who knows? But I can't take my eyes off her.

I don't know if the bracelet image is needed. Or maybe it is..but I'm trying to figure out how to make it fit.

Suggestion..

A solitary dancer moves,
eyes heavy with kohl,
hips swaying to Nina Simone,
bracelets jangling;
the old men are captured
in mid drink.

Her bronze skin burns
with the hot stares of the audience.
She soaks it all in, twirls on bare feet
as the high priestess of soul bewitches
us with heavy grooves.

A few more details develop her character just enough. Bronze skin, bare feet..wow. I like that she becomes aware she is being watched, then plays it up just a little.

I don't know that Nina Simone needs a second mention. Suggestion..

Her bronze skin burns
with their hot stares.
She soaks it in,
twirls on bare feet.

I close my eyes, tap fingers against glass,
whisper Nina’s words into the smoke
and breathe them back in again.
This is jazz, I think out loud,
this is pure unadulterated heat.

I like the shift from third person to first. It ushers in the closing lines well.

I keep thinking it would be intriguing if the narrator didn't disclose what he whispered, rather than giving in to another Nina Simone reference.

Also, the last two lines feel too obvious, like you don't have enough faith in your reader to draw the same conclusion. Suggestion..

I close my eyes,
tap fingers against glass,
whisper into the smoke
then breathe it back in.

Just ideas, of course. I like this poem a lot. Thank you, my friend.

H, thank you. i know you've seen this before but i wanted to revisit it again, see if i couldn't make it stronger with a few fresh sets of eyes. and you've done just that. these are some very valid points you raise with some great suggestions.

i've often thought about how the dancer should really be the focal point and not so much Nina's voice, or even the narrator's presence, for that matter. i think i'll narrow my focus and concentrate on her. thanks again.

[crow]

San Francisco, 1992
--this title is a miscue. it sets an expectation that time and place will matter, and then they don't. It's a wonderful opportunity to start your revision. Title it, at least temporarily, with the poem's central focus.

Curling tendrils of tobacco haze
--curling and tendrils is redundant. Consider revising into an active structure: "tendrils curl."
--note that tendrils does three things here:
----tells us the air is still. That means the crowd is sitting and there's not much movement in the place
----foreshadows the dancing
----introduces a vegetal meme/motif and a grasping, constrictor meme/motif

engulf the tiny space, hang
--to have tendrils engulfing something voids them; tendrils should capture or climb
--consider developing an octopod theme, playing with the tension between the image of an ocean predator and a benign plant

like ringlets over shots of whiskey
--cut "like". To be "like ringlets" is nonsensical. specifically, anything that is "like ringlets" is also ringlets

and mugs of warm beer.
--the construction here strikes me as non-idiomatic. not sure, but I think "warm mugs of beer" would be the standard phrasing.

A solitary dancer moves,
--"solitary" is understood. to illustrate, in order to make the dancer "not solitary," you'd have to say, "a dancer moves amid the crowd"
--here's where a poet's economy factors. we have, now, a still room with one moving thing: smoke. now here's a dancer moving, and nothing else is. you *must* tie her movement to the smoke. If you don't see why, ask me.
--"moves" requires me to do your work. Is the dancer female, for instance? I assume so, but I'm unassured. Is she sparkly, like an illusion, or possessed of gravitas? If I paint the picture, I will unfailingly be unsurprised by what the picture shows, and there is no drama in my lack of surprise.

bracelets janglin’ and eyes heavy
--jangling sounds are discordant, and I think that's not what you're after
--the sudden introduction of dialect is heavy handed. consider "jangle."

with kohl, she captures old men
--"heavy with kohl" is off. you want some version of "lined with kohl"
--captures and captivates aren't the same

in mid drink as her hips sway
--I think the sense here is that old men freeze in place, staring at her hips--that is not the picture actually painted. As is, her swaying hips are merely incidental, and cause nothing.

to Nina Simone.
--ditch the reference. "Nina Simone" breaks the seductive line by forcing me to search my head for the right Nina Simone song to have play. Instead, describe Nina Simone's singing.

Her bronze skin burns
with the hot stares of the audience.
--before, the hot states were from old men--why the change?
She soaks it all in, twirls on bare feet
--"soaks it all in" is what tourists do at the Louvre. She's not soaking it all in, she's receiving and converting it into emotion. What emotion?

as the high priestess of soul bewitches
us with heavy grooves.
--don't share power. The high priestess of soul doesn't exist. This dancer demotes all women.

I close my eyes, tap fingers against glass,
--you do? I thought this was beauty personified--why are you closing your eyes? that action frustrates the tension you've built, diffuses it

whisper Nina’s words into the smoke
and breathe them back in again.
This is jazz, I think out loud,
this is pure unadulterated heat.
--this final stanza is an absolute nonsequitur. It fails to conclude the narrative of the dancer. It'd be like saying, "there was this amazing thing happening, and so I close my eyes and think about when there wasn't any internet."

---good bones here. keep working it.

crow

---

I should say, too, this is a run-on:

A solitary dancer moves,
bracelets janglin’ and eyes heavy
with kohl, she captures old men
in mid drink as her hips sway
to Nina Simone.

---

If you're open to suggestion, I'd like to see this. The smoke moves, the dancer moves, the crowd is frozen, then you move and she responds to your movement. With everything so still, I imagine the narrator's inciting motion would be quite subtle, and then the question is, is her response proportional or not?

[cjchaffin]

wow, crow. just...wow.

that was one of the most in-depth critiques i've ever received. you really made me rethink my intent with this piece.

i workshop because i want to learn and grow. i'm grateful you took the time to go through this as thoroughly as you did, because i definitely learned something today.

so thank you. i'm pleased as punch with your ideas and i have my work cut out for me here.

[crow]

wow, crow. just...wow.

that was one of the most in-depth critiques i've ever received. you really made me rethink my intent with this piece.

i workshop because i want to learn and grow. i'm grateful you took the time to go through this as thoroughly as you did, because i definitely learned something today.

so thank you. i'm pleased as punch with your ideas and i have my work cut out for me here.

You're very welcome! Sorry that my tone was a bit sour. Hopefully, I didn't come off as too much of a scowl

Just to rehearse my overall take, this is a poem with some truly excellent features. If you'll harness them toward a daring conclusion, I think it'll really be a jewel in your crown. (It's good as is, but I hope you take my meaning.)

[cjchaffin]

wow, crow. just...wow.

that was one of the most in-depth critiques i've ever received. you really made me rethink my intent with this piece.

i workshop because i want to learn and grow. i'm grateful you took the time to go through this as thoroughly as you did, because i definitely learned something today.

so thank you. i'm pleased as punch with your ideas and i have my work cut out for me here.

You're very welcome! Sorry that my tone was a bit sour. Hopefully, I didn't come off as too much of a scowl

Just to rehearse my overall take, this is a poem with some truly excellent features. If you'll harness them toward a daring conclusion, I think it'll really be a jewel in your crown. (It's good as is, but I hope you take my meaning.)

no, not at all, not sour. i think too many people mistake honesty for negativity. i like honesty. and i meant what i said, i really got a lot out of your critique and dare i say it was the highlight of my day yesterday (which was actually a pretty fuckin great day overall, so yeah...)

so again, i thank you, quite sincerely. no need to apologize for being honest

[crow]

Quite welcome.

[Forever*young]

Curling tendrils of tobacco haze
engulf the tiny space, hang
like ringlets over shots of whiskey
and mugs of warm beer.

A solitary dancer moves,
bracelets janglin’ and eyes heavy
with kohl, she captures old men
in mid drink as her hips sway
to Nina Simone.

Her bronze skin burns
with the hot stares of the audience.
She soaks it all in, twirls on bare feet
as the high priestess of soul bewitches
us with heavy grooves.

I close my eyes, tap fingers against glass,
whisper Nina’s words into the smoke
and breathe them back in again.
This is jazz, I think out loud,
this is pure unadulterated heat.

Hello! I'll start off by saying that I love your vivid descriptions and the way you depicted the bar scene. Your choice of words made it impossible to not imagine what you were describing and that's definitely a plus. On the other hand, this poem doesn't seem to possess any sort of clear-cut rhythm, which is something I love in poetry. However, it may be that not all poems demand this characteristic so, aside from being a personal preference, I cannot say that it's definitely a negative thing. Moving on, your poem as a whole feels like a poem, and that's important. Regarding the title, to my taste I found that it doesn't quite fit the poem. When I saw the title "San Francisco, 1992" in the threads, I envisioned something quite different from the actual content of the poem. Perhaps a title that was narrowed down to a specific place IN San Francisco would be more fitting since "San Francisco, 1992" gives the impression that you are going to speak of the city in a broader sense (maybe even refer to the Golden Gate Bridge) rather than just focus on a certain bar. That's just my personal opinion. Anyway, thanks for the read! I enjoyed it

[cjchaffin]

thank you for the feedback. i'm reconsidering the title as i edit. hopefully that will help clear up some of the confusion. gracias.