Like a feather 2 versions- Graphic?

[TheOnlyRedSmurf]

Also a much rendered down version.
This version was deemed too graphic/triggering where it was originally posted


Like a feather’s gentle breath, kissing my soft flesh.
The tight thin lip grazes on a cream field of skin.
A lover’s touch, in a searching tryst, of veiled lust.
Each kiss, delicate, concealing a vicious natured tongue.

Like a sensuous finger guided by instinct it traces slowly.
A sharp edge so kind and cool, licking at my hot bare arm.
Aching, drawn across the trembling limb, it longs to taste.
A gleam coats the surface, reflecting my vulnerable wrist.

Adoring, bare, the verge of freedom begging to savor life.
Bittersweet and innocent, let loose my life as the edge bites.
Flushing red, with liquid passion the dull metal, glistens wet.
Happiness spills like rain, running on the face of a child.

Thick and crimson, dripping ecstasy, the steel lip grins.
Life joined to the lifeless, pleasure to pain, hope to eternity.
From me it flows, my hurt, my ache, my essence, and prison.
Were but this my only pain, I would be free as my blood flows.

This one has all the flourishes and arcane wording


Like a feather’s gentle breath, kissing at my soft flesh.
Biddable, the tight thin lip, graze’s on a cream field of skin.
A soft skirr, a lover’s touch, in searching tryst of veiled lust.
Each caress, delicate, concealing a vicious natured tongue.

Hollow laughter beckons, calling like an honest, well known friend.
False innocence swathes, tainting the purity flowing beneath.
Keening strings tug at my grip, crying, to bring force to desire.
Resistance breaks, as a wave upon the exposed ivory shore.
 
Like a sensuous finger guided by instinct it traces slowly.
A honed edge so kind and cool, licking at my hot bare arm.
Aching, drawn across the trembling limb, it so longs to taste.
A gleam coats the surface, reflecting my vulnerable wrist.
 
Suspended; held back by vacant thought, forced on by desire.
The tipping point inches forward, precipitous, to the unfeeling cliff.
Invisible tortured hands vie for control over my shaking own.
Eerie calm takes hold, but who is the master and who the slave?

Adoring, bare, the verge of freedom begging to savour life.
Bittersweet and innocent, let loose this life as the brink bites.
Mantling, with liquid passion the dull metal, glistens wet.
Happiness spills, like rain, running on the face of a child.
 
Dripping ecstasy, the steel lip grins, a silent apocryphal smile.
Life joined to the lifeless, pleasure to pain, hope to eternity.
From me it flows, my hurt, my ache, my essence, and prison.
Were but this my only burden, I could be free in effusion's flow.
 
My bars are rent, I am open, bare to the breath of the world.
Tears finally come forth, with pooling cruor, ink writing pain.
Cerise and clear, metal and salt, they burn at my torn canvas.
Evidence bares forth, no longer whole, broken for all to see.
 
Afore the dam held strong, but breached, the flood washes
History repeats, the tide goes out, and it will come yet again.
I am cold as the ground, and the blade, and soon colder still.
Do voices seek me or am I calling to myself, the whist stranger?


It's not really finished, but I have no idea where to take it from here. I do love archaic words, not using them to sound all high and mighty but because I think they should get more exposure. I love how they sound and make you stop and think. this certainly has some graphic imagery so I have tagged but if people think it needs more info then let me know or a mod can change. As usual my appalling spelling comes out with spell check being useless for some of it.
just some quick notes on the bits people had trouble with.
I should also point out that I use Australian spelling, and I'm bad at that.
not sure if this should go at the top.

Like a feather’s gentle breath, kissing at my soft flesh.
Biddable, the tight thin lip, graze’s on a cream field of skin. to be controllable by asking
A soft skirr, a lover’s touch, in searching tryst of veiled lust. short strokes. a secret/lovers Journey
Each caress, delicate, concealing a vicious natured tongue. as in that boxer has a savage nature

Hollow laughter beckons, calling like an honest, well known friend. a mad laugh
False innocence swathes, tainting the purity flowing beneath.  wrapped with (bandages, skin etc) that appears pure but are not, around that which is still pure
Keening strings tug at my grip, crying, to bring force to desire. wailing

Resistance breaks, as a wave upon the exposed ivory shore.
Like a sensuous finger guided by instinct it traces slowly.
A honed edge so kind and cool, licking at my hot bare arm.
Aching, drawn across the trembling limb, it so longs to taste.

A gleam coats the surface, reflecting my vulnerable wrist.
Suspended; held back by vacant thought, forced on by desire.
The tipping point inches forward, precipitous, to the unfeeling cliff.
Invisible tortured hands vie for control over my shaking own. may need a grammar fix

Eerie calm takes hold, but who is the master and who the slave?
Adoring, bare, the verge of freedom begging to savor life.
Bittersweet and innocent, let loose this life as the brink bites. edge multiple meanings
Mantling, with liquid passion the dull metal, glistens wet. to cover over from above, think mantle piece over a fire hearth

Happiness spills, like rain, running on the face of a child.
Dripping ecstasy, the steel lip grins, a silent apocryphal smile. false/fake/cryptic
Life joined to the lifeless, pleasure to pain, hope to eternity.
From me it flows, my hurt, my ache, my essence, and prison.

Were but this my only burden, I could be free in effusion's flow. an out pouring
My bars are rent, I am open, bare to the breath of the world.
Tears finally come forth, with pooling cruor, ink writing pain. pouring/drying blood
Cerise and clear, metal and salt, they burn at my torn canvas. the colour red, such as a red wine

Evidence bares forth, no longer whole, broken for all to see.
Afore the dam held strong, but breached, the flood washes anew. in times past. in a new way
History repeats, the tide goes out, and it will come yet again.
I am cold as the ground, and the blade, and soon colder still.
Do voices seek me or am I calling to myself, the whist stranger? Silent

[fluorescent.43]

Like a feather’s gentle breath, kissing at my soft flesh.
Biddable, the tight thin lip, graze’s on a cream field of skin. i've got google ready to go now. what's "graze's on a cream field of skin" mean? do you mean "grazes"?
A soft skirr, a lover’s touch, in searching tryst of veiled lust. "in searching tryst"?- what?
Each caress, delicate, concealing a vicious natured tongue. "natured" is unnecessary here.

Hollow laughter beckons, calling like an honest, well known friend. "well-known", right?-
False innocence swathes, tainting the purity flowing beneath. can't tell if you mean "swathes" or "swaths" here- but this is confusing. what's the purity flowing beneath? false innocence? huh?
Keening strings tug at my grip, crying, to bring force to desire.
Resistance breaks, as a wave upon the exposed ivory shore.

Like a sensuous finger guided by instinct it traces slowly.
A honed edge so kind and cool, licking at my hot bare arm.
Aching, drawn across the trembling limb, it so longs to taste.
A gleam coats the surface, reflecting my vulnerable wrist.

Suspended; held back by vacant thought, forced on by desire.
The tipping point inches forward, precipitous, to the unfeeling cliff.
Invisible tortured hands vie for control over my shaking own.
Eerie calm takes hold, but who is the master and who the slave?

Adoring, bare, the verge of freedom begging to savour life.
Bittersweet and innocent, let loose this life as the brink bites.
Mantling, with liquid passion the dull metal, glistens wet. second comma not needed.
Happiness spills, like rain, running on the face of a child. alright, to me this poem (so far) is describing an awakening of some sort. i would be inclined to say sexual.

Dripping ecstasy, the steel lip grins, a silent apocryphal smile.
Life joined to the lifeless, pleasure to pain, hope to eternity. this line doesn't make any sense. you're trying to make a connection between these things- don't jam it all into one line. far too confusing. requires too much thinking.
From me it flows, my hurt, my ache, my essence, and prison. all your lines have the same structure. mix it up! make it more interesting just by varying the structure, even if your words remain the same.
Were but this my only burden, I could be free in effusion's flow. grammatical error: were this but. effusion's flow? too many half-baked ideas rolling around here. pick a few and expand.

My bars are rent, I am open, bare to the breath of the world. too many commas. you've got to break this up a bit or it ends up turning into a run-on sentence. x the commas and replace it with a sturdier form of punctuation.
Tears finally come forth, with pooling cruor, ink writing pain. cruor doesn't even have a google definition...  either way, same thing as above- too many commas. same thing
Cerise and clear, metal and salt, they burn at my torn canvas.
Evidence bares forth, no longer whole, broken for all to see.

Afore the dam held strong, but breached, the flood washes anew. is "afore" really necessary? you just couldn't say "before", could you?
History repeats, the tide goes out, and it will come yet again. you know what? i'm calling this structure the double-comma structure. it's the same! the same all the way through!
I am cold as the ground, and the blade, and soon colder still.
Do voices seek me or am I calling to myself, the whist stranger? according to google, whist is an english trick-taking card game. is that what you meant? a stranger who plays whist? otherwise i don't quite get this line. but i do like that i can sort of understand this.

.~*~.
alright, alright. since you've written such a beastly poem (i mean it in a good way ), i gave it more critique that this "mild critique forum" requires. i dunno. i read your bit on your fondness of not-so-common words, and although i'm quite the opposite, i respect that.

i think i'm the wrong person to be writing this critique... anyhow, some thoughts on the whole: the words are quite beautiful. but this needs a massive paring down. the lines are a bit long and i can't get a sense of connection from line to line, which is exacerbated by the vocabulary and "thinking" that it initiates. each line is a sentence, since you end every single one in a period. it makes for a jarring read. as for taking this somewhere, i think you should strip this poem of its luxurious language for a tad bit in your head, and then think about what you're really trying to say. there'a difference between high-and-mighty-and-archaic-and-totally-unnecessary and eloquently-articulate language.

all i've really got to say is: pare it down. please. not necessarily the language, but the structure could be given a very firm shaking up. otherwise, i like the imagery and vocabulary here. i do think that with polish, this could turn out to be quite a something.

43.

[Mark A Becker]

Hello only red-

Let's see--- First read through finds the lines very heavy, metrical speaking, w/6+ accents in many lines

Like a feather’s gentle breath, kissing at my soft flesh.mixed metaphor: feathers either breathing or kissing, but not both
Biddable, the tight thin lip, graze’s on a cream field of skin. grazes?
A soft skirr, a lover’s touch, in searching tryst of veiled lust.what is "searching tryst?"
Each caress, delicate, concealing a vicious natured tongue.natured?

Hollow laughter beckons, calling like an honest, well known friend.hollow does not seem so friendly
False innocence swathes, tainting the purity flowing beneath.not sure what I'm supposed to see here
Keening strings tug at my grip, crying, to bring force to desire.
Resistance breaks, as a wave upon the exposed ivory shore.

Like a sensuous finger guided by instinct it traces slowly.
A honed edge so kind and cool, licking at my hot bare arm.
Aching, drawn across the trembling limb, it so longs to taste.
A gleam coats the surface, reflecting my vulnerable wrist. good images in this stanza

Suspended; held back by vacant thought, forced on by desire.
The tipping point inches forward, precipitous, to the unfeeling cliff.
Invisible tortured hands vie for control over my shaking own.my shaking own?
Eerie calm takes hold, but who is the master and who the slave?

Adoring, bare, the verge of freedom begging to savour life.
Bittersweet and innocent, let loose this life as the brink bites.brink bites?
Mantling, with liquid passion the dull metal, glistens wet.gotta look up mantling
Happiness spills, like rain, running on the face of a child.

Dripping ecstasy, the steel lip grins, a silent apocryphal smile.dripping ecstasy is hard to visualizer
Life joined to the lifeless, pleasure to pain, hope to eternity.
From me it flows, my hurt, my ache, my essence, and prison.
Were but this my only burden, I could be free in effusion's flow.what is effusion's flow?

My bars are rent, I am open, bare to the breath of the world.
Tears finally come forth, with pooling cruor, ink writing pain.gotta look up cruor, too. asking a lot of the reader
Cerise and clear, metal and salt, they burn at my torn canvas.whatever cerise means, it does sound pretty cool
Evidence bares forth, no longer whole, broken for all to see.

Afore the dam held strong, but breached, the flood washes anew.did it hold strong or was it breached?
History repeats, the tide goes out, and it will come yet again.
I am cold as the ground, and the blade, and soon colder still.
Do voices seek me or am I calling to myself, the whist stranger?good question, 'cause I haven't a clue

The problem with giving words more exposure is that the reader more than likely will have to look them up, and that stopped me cold several times in this piece. Thinking is fine, stopping cold, not so much.

There seems to be a lot of over writing in this one, and from your comment it seems intentional. The old axiom "less is more" is appropriate, I think.

By the end of the story I still don't know what happened. Maybe it's just me. A lot of emotion without much footing is hard for me to hold on to, or relate to. I'm sure it's much clearer in your mind. If you are uncertain where to take it, then go back and revise the story that you're trying to tell. Let us see someplace. Let us see another character. Let us in to the story.

Thanks!
... Mark

[zeichnicht]

Too much imagery and too many difficult words - it alienates your reader.

For example: "Like a feather’s gentle breath, kissing at my soft flesh." - would have more impact if you just wrote something in the line of "Like a feather breathing on my skin." The reader shouldn't have to ponder about what you would like to say. It should flow easily, there is a whole poem still to read and you do not want them to get stuck there.

Be selective with your adverb and pronouns - if you emphasize too many things in a sentence you lose your flow and impact, choose wisely.

Chuck out the dictionary, if you don't use it in every day speech, be very sparing in a poem. Great poems spring from great concepts that are elegantly communicated to readers. That's why we love them and remember them. If you can simplify and target your lines and phrases into one coherent thought, you will astound yourself.