I am the plus one

[Jeremiahcp]

[Deleted by User]

[ellz483]

Not sure if this is purely a math-poem, but if it's not it was a tad difficult to tell. I like the tone of indignation that carried the message of being the "plus one" and not a negative. This to me could mean that the speaker sees itself as an inherent addition to whatever the "endless trek" is that is underway, or simply a funny numbers joke.

[Brujo]

This is my current project, and I am interested to hear feedback. It is another poem that makes use of mathematical concepts. 

I am the plus one    Why plus one and not one?
added to your ceaseless march whose ceaseless march?
every step, closer to zero I become  if a plus one is on a ceaseless march would it be further away?
under your heel forever reduced  lost me 
towards none  towards zero?
but in your endless trek again, who is being referenced?
never will you make me  
a minus one  
for I am, the plus one

what if you add a minus two? 

I'm not sure if this works out to be much.  It is quite short and I'm not sure to whom the "plus one's" dialog is directed at.  That, and I'm not sure if the wording makes sense.  Though I am not known for my math skills, when you add one to number, you get further from zero and the realm of negative integers.  Another observation is that there really isn't any thing that have an emotive appeal.  As a reader I don't feel connected to the speaker. 

Try using more poetic devices.

best,

-Nick

[Jeremiahcp]

Thanks for the input guys, I added a title that I hope will give it more direction.

[QDeathstar]

This poem hits me, generally negatively... But there's something about that doesn't let me write it completely off. I think "I am the plus one" strikes me as emotionally immature, and I don't really see plus on and minus one being a math poem cosine if you think about you might be a plus one but what if you get smacked up by an Mack truck minus five, or even worse, the absolute value of an imaginary number?

[Jeremiahcp]

Thanks, for the input everyone, I have made a healthy revision to this poem.

[Jeremiahcp]

I have made another significant revision.

[nikkisto]

This is my current project, and I am interested to hear feedback. It is another poem that makes use of mathematical concepts. 

Here is another revision to the poem, I converted it into more natural images and made it less abstract to help people connect with the poem; along with a new title. Plus I added two more additional conceptual elements. 

I have made another significant revision. 

3rd Revision.

The Zephyr 

I am the watchmaker, with spinning 
wheels and cogs that move us
from twelve to twelve again.
Nothing but the decaying sum,          I read in this stanza a push and pull between natural, cosmic forces and our attempts to control what is born from your everlasting cycle        beyond us. I enjoy your theme here, but I'm wondering if "decaying sum" still fits this revision or 
of sun, earth, wind, and rain.             if you're just holding on to it from the original.                 

And you are the stone that I lay 
to make my cobblestone lane.
The white water that carves 
through the mountain.
I am the pebble thrown into
your cyclone waters, quickly swept away;   There's a contradiction here with your subject. In the first 2 lines, the speaker is in control of the
never to be seen again.                              subject, but by the end the subject has full control of the speaker, intentional? 

You are the eternal ray of season shine, 
and I am the lost green of the Autumn tree. 
My crimson leaves dipped in your evening flare; 
soon to be stripped bare and frozen in Winter ice.

I am soil of all that does not last; 
you are the worm, 
that turns the dirt, the grass, and the elk. 

And one day, in the forgot field 
of white summer bear grass, 
surrounded by the reach 
of towering ponderosa trees,
next to the abandoned cottage,
that is in crumble and overgrown with green, 
here our paths together will end.

As you are the silent pond that rest there.
And I am the passing zephyr, 
who intrudes into this sacred shrine.
Where you lie so peaceful and clear,
that if it was not for the gentle dip of earth, rock and clay, 
your waters I would not see. 
And from my briefest kiss on your crystal surface, 
I will ripple to your endless edge.  


2nd Revision.

Endless

I once thought that was I the decaying sum 
born from the everlasting cycle
of sun, earth, wind, and rain.
Added to your ceaseless march,
and the more steps you took,
the close to zero I became.

But now I am not sure, maybe it is that 
I am the watchmaker, with spinning 
wheels and cogs that move from
twelve to twelve again, and you are 
the stone that I lay to make my cobblestone lane.

Or perhaps you are the white rapid river 
that carves through the mountain and rock,
and I am the pebble thrown in to your cyclone waters, 
quickly swept away; never to be seen again.

You could be the eternal ray of season shine, 
and I am the Autumn tree. My crimson leaves 
dipped in your evening flare; to be stripped bare, 
and frozen in Winter ice; only to be renewed
when Spring starts to sing.

Or perhaps I am soil of all that does not last,
and you are the worm, 
that turns the dirt, the grass, and the elk. 

Whatever you are, I am sure that once we met.
In a forgot field of white summer bear grass, 
surrounded by the reach of towering ponderosa trees,
next to an abandoned cottage,
that is in crumble and overgrown with green. 

You are the placid pond that rest there.
And I am the wind, who intrudes into this sacred shrine.
Where you lie so peaceful and clear,
that if it was not for the gentle dip of earth, rock and clay 
your waters I would not see. 
And from my briefest kiss on your crystal surface, 
I ripple to your endless edge.  

Revised

To the Everlasting Sum Total

I am the plus one
added to your ceaseless march
every step, closer to zero I become
under your heel forever reduced
towards none
but in your endless trek
never will you make me
a minus one
for I am, the plus one

Original

I am the plus one
added to your ceaseless march
every step, closer to zero I become
under your heel forever reduced
towards none
but in your endless trek
never will you make me
a minus one
for I am, the plus one

I really enjoyed getting to witness the different stages of this poem, had I read the original and this last revision on separate posts, I don't think I would have seen their connection! I respond to this last stanza, but as a whole, I feel that the poem is somewhat scattered. I think for me it was the different settings, cobblestone street, mountain stream, autumn forest, silent pond. If there was a common phrase or repetition in each that let them interact together it might increase the connectivity. That final line though, great.

[Jeremiahcp]

Thanks for the input, Nikkisto, and you are absolutely right; it is scattered. That is my main issue with the poem, it all revolves around the same theme, but I don't feel as if it is connected into a single piece. I gonna try a few things, and see where that takes it.

---

Ok, I have made another major revision, that I hope will add some more cohesion to the poem.

[milo]

Thanks for the input, Nikkisto, and you are absolutely right; it is scattered. That is my main issue with the poem, it all revolves around the same theme, but I don't feel as if it is connected into a single piece. I gonna try a few things, and see where that takes it.

---

Ok, I have made another major revision, that I hope will add some more cohesion to the poem.

please proofread before posting your many edits.

/mod

[Jeremiahcp]

Thanks for the input, Nikkisto, and you are absolutely right; it is scattered. That is my main issue with the poem, it all revolves around the same theme, but I don't feel as if it is connected into a single piece. I gonna try a few things, and see where that takes it.

---

Ok, I have made another major revision, that I hope will add some more cohesion to the poem.

please proofread before posting your many edits.

/mod

I am sorry, but what grammatical errors did you find?

[billy]

i see little to connect to. i don't get a sense of time or god, or breeze. i get a sense of the black and white minstrels from L,three's black hands though i do realize they wore white gloves. okay, to be fair i id get the passage of time but not one that worked well. it all feels to contrived, the zepher comes to where what stands? us, history? a place in time? after reading all the revisions there's a feeling that the workshopping are more re writes than edits. 5 edits in such a short time. while easy edits such as an odd word or a few punctuation marks can be done on the fly. major edits need to be thoughts about. if you keep editing this way you will sooner or later end up with a good poem do you really want to be like the monkeys in a room with their typewriters though? i hope not. step away from the poem for a week or two, even a month and then when you come back to it you might see it with better eyes and understanding. sorry for the largish feedback i could have done a lot more but it's in novice so i didn't. great to have you on the site

This is my current project, and I am interested to hear feedback. It is another poem that makes use of mathematical concepts. 

Here is another revision to the poem, I converted it into more natural images and made it less abstract to help people connect with the poem; along with a new title. Plus I added two more additional conceptual elements. 

I have made another significant revision. 

5th Revision.

The Zephyr

I am the passing zephyr, come to where you stand, so you're really a stopping zephyr?
as you measure all movement
with your two black hands, that move
from twelve to twelve again. As I drift away this reads as [as i drift away together]
together we flow down the cobblestone lane, [as i] [we flow]? needs transition, no comma needed
that the march of history made, stone by stone. in reality history sort of fades away, it's the past, behind us


As we pass you reclaim the rock they laid,
with your endless cycle of sun, earth, wind and rain.
We move down the reach of this ancient street,
until we meet your rapid whitewaters
that carves the mountain in your decay. sorry but there's too much; who where and whats need to shown give some imagery


Over the cyclone rage of your river we go,
into a vast breach of maple trees; so far this is the only good line
they lose their green to the touch of your season shine.
Their now crimson leaves, dip in your evening flare; no comma needed after leaves
then in your midnight stare they are coma possibly after stare
stripped to twisted gray, and frozen in your Winter ice.


But as you sing the song of Spring,
this slumbering land awakes,
and from the soil of all that cannot last,
the living green renews, and the worms
turn the dirt, the elk and the grass.


Until we come to my final destination:
A forgotten meadow of white summer bear grass;
hidden by the surrounding ponderosa pine.
And next to an abandoned cottage,
that is in crumble and overgrown with green, wht does [in crumble] mean
you lie, as a silent pond that rest there. the simile doesn't work, [ponds aren't in crumble] [that rest there]makes the pond seem transitory

So peaceful and clear you are, that if it was not very yoda-esk stanza
for the gentle dip of earth, rock and clay,
your waters I would have not seen.
And I am the passing zephyr,
an intruder into this sacred shrine;
and with my briefest kiss on your crystal surface,
I ripple to your endless edge.  

[Jeremiahcp]

Thanks for the feedback, Billy, and you are defiantly right about the third and fourth line. As far as the monkeys go, well I am more than happy to be the monkeys and the typewriter; in fact it sounds very pleasant to me.

---

I am sorry, I realize that is not the place for me, so I am moving on.