Something Old As New (Revision 2c)

[danny_]

Revision 2c (Thank you Richard, Knott, vagabond, alexorande) Still open to critique.

Something Old As New

We'd shoot old houses
in bright winter sun,
tips of frail branches almost
touching the remaining panes.

Frosted dry grass crunched;
we found angles from the border of trees,
kneeled and damped our jeans,
framed the crooked porch,
weathered sashes and quiet road.

Cheeks flush, short hair
curled around your ears.
Our breath vanished quickly.

Your careful hands on the back door -
I focused there, rotating the lens:
chipping white paint
and your fingertips in the light.

We never got inside,
only peered into dark rooms,

then climbed a sycamore
to the lower roof
to be sun-warmed together
beside the chimney
under a single telephone wire
that hasn't carried a voice in years,

but if it was speaking now
it would talk of pleasant company,
how we sat hunched together
as I took your hands in mine,
cupped them,
and gently blew inside.

Revision 2b:

Something Old As New

We'd shoot old houses
in bright winter sun,
tips of frail branches almost
touching the remaining panes.

Frosted yellow grass crunched.
We found angles from the border of trees,
kneeled and wet our knees,
framed the crooked porch,
weathered door and quiet road.

Cheeks flush, short hair
curled around your ears.
Our breath vanished quickly.

Your careful hands touched the door -
I focused there, rotating the lens:
chipping white paint
and your fingertips in the light.

We never got inside,
only peered into dark rooms,

then climbed a sycamore to the lower roof
to be sun-warmed beside the chimney
under a single telephone wire
that hasn't carried a voice in years.

But if it was speaking now
it would talk of pleasant company,
our careful steps and whispering,

our sitting hunched together
as I took your hands,
cupped them in mine,
and gently blew inside.



Revision 1:

Something Old As New

In bright winter sun we
would shoot old houses,
tips of frail branches almost
touching the window glass.

Yellow, frozen grass
crunched under our feet.
Our cold fingers
found the buttons of our cameras.

We found angles from the border of trees,
kneeled and wet our knees,
framed the crooked porch,
weathered door and quiet street.

Cheeks flush, short hair curled
around your ears.
Our breath vanished quickly.

We never got inside,
only looked through
into dark rooms,

then took a sycamore to the roof
to be sun-warmed by the chimney
under a single phone wire
that hasn't carried a voice in years.

But if it was speaking now,
it would talk of pleasant company
and our careful steps,
and our whispering,

and our sitting hunched together
as I took your hands,
cupped them in mine,
and gently blew inside.


Original:

Something Old as New
In the sun in wintertime we
would shoot old houses,
red shutters,
tips of frail branches almost
touching the window glass.

Yellow, frozen grass
crunched under our footsteps.
Our fingers were cold,
found the buttons of our cameras.

We found angles from the shadows of trees,
kneeled and wet our knees,
framed the quiet streets
that ran through the town.

Cheeks flush, short hair curled
around your ears.
Our breath vanished quickly.

Your careful hands touched the old door.
I focused in closely,
magnifying the chipping white paint
and your fingertips in the light.

We never got inside,
only looked through windows
into dark rooms.

We took a sycamore to the roof
to be sun-warmed by the chimney
under a single phone wire
that hasn't carried a voice in years.

Hunched together in that small angled place
I took your hands,
cupped them in mine,
and blew inside.

[Richard]

Hey Danny,
I like what you're going for here. I do have some thoughts though:

Something Old as New  -Why not just title this "Something Old"? I say this because it would refer to the houses, but also to the feeling of love.

In the sun in winter time we -The wording here is a bit awkward. Why not rephrase this to something like: "Beneath the winter's sun we"? I think this would still have the meaning you want and flow a bit better.
would shoot old houses,
red shutters, -I can't explain why, but I want this to be "red shuttered".
tips of frail branches almost
touching the window glass. -Would old abandon houses still have glass in their windows?

Yellow, frozen grass
crunched under our footsteps. -The word "footsteps" implies sound, but you already have "crunched". May be change "footsteps" to "feet" or "boots"?
Our fingers were cold, -I feel like this should be "Our cold fingers". I say this because it is more economical and plus it better sets up the ending.
found the buttons of our cameras.

We found angles from the shadows of trees, -I know nothing about photography, so this line might make a ton of sense when it comes to that. However, this line sounds menacing to me. The use of shadow can't help but make me think something negative is happening. I might be stuck on the symbolism of shadows here.
kneeled and wet our knees, -The words "Kneeled" and "knee" seem a bit repetitive to me. I would suggest rewording one. 
framed the quiet streets
that ran through the town. -I would suggest dropping this line. It doesn't add much.

Cheeks flush, short hair curled
around your ears. -I like that the poem moves in this direction. I wonder if you could come up with a metaphor or use some other literary device to describe the cheeks or hair. It would just give this stanza some more punch. 
Our breath vanished quickly. -I like this line. It works with the winter and love imagery.

Your careful hands touched the old door. -Not to be technical, but shouldn't she be touching the door knob?
I focused in closely,-The words "closely" and "magnifying" seem a bit repetitive to me. I would suggest rewording or dropping one.
magnifying the chipping green paint
and your fingertips in the light.

We never got inside,
only looked through windows -I don't think you need this or the next line. These two lines don't really add much, and the repetition of the windows as an image isn't needed.
into dark rooms.

We took a sycamore to the roof -Maybe "climbed" instead of "took"?
to be sun-warmed by the chimney
under a single phone wire
that hasn't carried a voice in years. -I like this image of the phone wire. I wonder if you could then describe what was said between the speaker and the other person? It would be great juxtaposition.

Hunched together in that small angled place -I would suggest cutting this line to just: "Hunched together". The rest of the line doesn't really add much.
I took your hands,
cupped them in mine,
and blew inside. -I like this image of the hands, and I think this is a great payoff as an ending. It's romantic without being mushy, which is always a good thing.

Overall, I think you have a good start here, and I look forward to seeing where you take this piece from here.

Cheers,
Richard

[danny_]

Thank you Richard

First, defenses!
- The title - something old as new: it is new because it is seen in a new way, by those careful, compassionate photographers, creating art.
- Old houses don't always mean entirely taken over by nature. They are between abandoned and decrepit. I could possibly convey that, though.

And thank-yous:
- The first line has been shaped up.
- The red shutters may not have been important anyway, removed the line for now.
- "feet" is better than "footsteps"
- and the wire!! not sure if it's what you had in mind, but it gave me a brilliant idea. (okay, it actually gave me a wonderful opportunity.)
- a few other things.

I'll post a revision. Thanks again

[Knot]

Hi danny

Something Old As New

In bright winter sun we
would shoot old houses,
tips of frail branches almost
touching the window glass.
It is not the most interesting of starting lines.
Could you rework it so that the piece begins;
We would shoot old houses... ?
If window then no glass, if glass then no window.

Yellow, frozen grass
crunched under our feet.
Our cold fingers
found the buttons of our cameras.
I don't think you need this verse at all.
S3 is pretty clear as to the photography element.

We found angles from the border of trees,
kneeled and wet our knees,
framed the crooked porch,
weathered door and quiet street.
Three /i:/s (trees/knees/street) is a bit much.
Perhaps switch 'knees' for whatever the fabric
of the clothes you're wearing is?

Cheeks flush, short hair curled
around your ears.
Again, not really needed.
Our breath vanished quickly.
Nice line, perhaps end the next stanza with it?

We never got inside,
only looked through
into dark rooms,

then took a sycamore to the roof
to be sun-warmed by the chimney
under a single phone wire
that hasn't carried a voice in years.
You both climbed a tree?
This could be a little clearer, I think.
(Probably should be 'telephone', it would
flow better.)

But if it was speaking now,
it would talk of pleasant company
and our careful steps,
and our whispering,


and our sitting hunched together
as I took your hands,
cupped them in mine,
and gently blew inside.
I think you need to tighten the last two verses,
and in particular the last line, which is rather weak
(though works well in terms of sentiment).


S5 in the original looks promising,
though I think you'd need to add some technical
photographic detail (rather than 'magnifying') to
really make it work.


I don't think the title works well;
can't see how, based on what's written,
it would (also) apply to the couple's relationship.


Best, Knot.

[vagabond]

In bright winter sun we                     i´d pull "shoot" up in this line and contract to "we´d shoot"
would shoot old houses,          then continue with "old houses, their glass windows almost touched"/  by the tips of frail branches.
tips of frail branches almost
touching the window glass.

Yellow, frozen grass
crunched under our feet.
Our cold fingers
found the buttons of our cameras.          not sure if you need those two lines - leave the reader puzzling about what was shooting a bit longer, or maybe pull "found the buttons" up in the previous line.

We found angles from the border of trees,               i´d start this stanza with "we kneeled and wet our knees"
kneeled and wet our knees,
framed the crooked porch,
weathered door and quiet street.

Cheeks flush, short hair curled                                 though it´s cute i find it distracting at this point.. maybe move closer to the last stanza.
around your ears.
Our breath vanished quickly.                

We never got inside,
only looked through             
into dark rooms,

then took a sycamore to the roof                   
to be sun-warmed by the chimney
under a single phone wire
that hasn't carried a voice in years.

But if it was speaking now,
it would talk of pleasant company
and our careful steps,
and our whispering,

and our sitting hunched together
as I took your hands,
cupped them in mine,
and gently blew inside

you got some captivating images here.

[danny_]

Some good points, Knot! I'll revise. Thanks for taking the time!

---

Also thank you vagabond, good points as well! Going into revision. Thanks for reading.

[alonso ramoran]

Hey danny, 

Lots to like here. I haven't read the other critiques, so forgive me if I'm repeating comments already made.

Revision 2 (Thank you Richard, Knott, vagabond) Title may change. Still open to thoughts on the poem.

Something Old As New

We'd shoot old houses Simple yet strong start. I get the sense of having all the time in the world, made of use in the face of things (old houses) whose time ran out. 
in bright winter sun,
tips of frail branches almost
touching the remaining panes.

Glistening yellow grass crunched. Not sure dead grass "glistens"
We found angles from the border of trees,
kneeled and wet our jeans,
framed the crooked porch, I'd put an "and" at the beginning of this line
weathered door and quiet road.

Cheeks flush, short hair curled
around your ears. Whose cheeks are flushing here? This sentence reads choppy imo and could use some reordering.
Our breath vanished quickly. I like this line.

Your careful hands touched the old door. Maybe reorder as "Your hands touched the old door carefully." This could allow some room for another adjective on "hands"
I focused there, rotating the lens: I like these following three lines.
chipping white paint
and your fingertips in the light.

We never got inside,
only looked through I'd omit "through" and use another word in place of "looked"
into dark rooms, I feel like you could do better than just "dark rooms"

then climbed a sycamore to the lower roof
to be sun-warmed by the chimney I would replace "by" with "beside" to avoid confusion.
under a single telephone wire
that hasn't carried a voice in years. Great line.

But if it was speaking now, 
it would talk of pleasant company comma
and our careful steps, omit "and"
and our whispering, omit "and"

and our sitting hunched together
as I took your hands,
cupped them in mine,
gently blew inside. add an "and" lol. Otherwise a lovely finish

Revision 1:

Something Old As New

In bright winter sun we
would shoot old houses,
tips of frail branches almost
touching the window glass.

Yellow, frozen grass
crunched under our feet.
Our cold fingers
found the buttons of our cameras.

We found angles from the border of trees,
kneeled and wet our knees,
framed the crooked porch,
weathered door and quiet street.

Cheeks flush, short hair curled
around your ears.
Our breath vanished quickly.

We never got inside,
only looked through
into dark rooms,

then took a sycamore to the roof
to be sun-warmed by the chimney
under a single phone wire
that hasn't carried a voice in years.

But if it was speaking now,
it would talk of pleasant company
and our careful steps,
and our whispering,

and our sitting hunched together
as I took your hands,
cupped them in mine,
and gently blew inside.


Original:

Something Old as New

In the sun in wintertime we
would shoot old houses,
red shutters,
tips of frail branches almost
touching the window glass.

Yellow, frozen grass
crunched under our footsteps.
Our fingers were cold,
found the buttons of our cameras.

We found angles from the shadows of trees,
kneeled and wet our knees,
framed the quiet streets
that ran through the town.

Cheeks flush, short hair curled
around your ears.
Our breath vanished quickly.

Your careful hands touched the old door.
I focused in closely,
magnifying the chipping white paint
and your fingertips in the light.

We never got inside,
only looked through windows
into dark rooms.

We took a sycamore to the roof
to be sun-warmed by the chimney
under a single phone wire
that hasn't carried a voice in years.

Hunched together in that small angled place
I took your hands,
cupped them in mine,
and blew inside.

As for the title, I have no problems with it. I would actually be happy if you kept it. 
I very much look forward to seeing the final product.

Good luck with it, Alex

[danny_]

Thanks for your time, Alex! It's good you didn't read replies first. Generally I like to hear the same comments more than once - it's that much more likely there is an issue with that part of the poem.

You're the first to like the title. Something old can become new in a way. The only thing it lacks is tying into the relationship of the couple. I may have a solution though.

Many good points you made, some of which I'd already been debating, and I appreciate your positive comments too! Glad to know it was a pleasant read.

[Knot]

Hi danny.


We'd shoot old houses
Much stronger opening.
Could you switch 'old' for
'abandoned' (or something
more evocative)
It's just you have two 'olds'
in two lines - and a third in S4.
in bright winter sun,
tips of frail branches almost
touching the remaining panes.
maybe reorder
tips of frail branches touching
the remaining panes, almost ?

Glistening yellow grass crunched.
We found angles from the border of trees,
kneeled and wet our jeans,
The double meaning here is unfortunate.
Perhaps move the 'yellow grass' line here?
framed the crooked porch,
weathered door and quiet road.

Your careful hands touched the old door.
'careful' isn't that interesting. And you're
repeating 'door'.
I focused there, rotating the lens:
Where...precisely.
chipping white paint
and your fingertips in the light.

We never got inside,
only looked through
into dark rooms,
Our breath vanished quickly.

then climbed a sycamore to the lower roof
to be sun-warmed by the chimney
under a single telephone wire
that hasn't carried a voice in years.
This is such a strong line, it makes
the final two verses seem very weak
(and comparatively dull)


Best, Knot.

[danny_]

Thank you Knot, I'll give those comments some thought. (Now why did you have to go and rhyme with thought?) .. I do want to avoid 'old' and 'door' repeating, and 'wet our jeans' I never considered being like ... that... lol. Shame, thank you. Might need to go back to knees. I kind of want to keep a rhyme, we'll see. Your final thoughts I'll have to definitely consider. I'm somewhat inclined to keep as is, but maybe could fortify it a bit.

[danny_]

I've reviewed alexorande's a knot's replies and made adjustments.
Still on my mind:
- ending verses lack the strength of preceding ones
- title does not tie in relationship, only the activity of the couple. it would be nice if both what they did and who they are were reflected in title. (i have a potential solution.)
- deciding on "wet our knees" or "wet our jeans", trying to avoid any possible confusion with p*ing one's own pantalones

Thanks for your attention.

[Knot]

Hi danny,
there are certainly some improvements in this revision,
but still a ways to go as 'still on my mind' suggests.

What does occur to me is I think you're missing out
on details that would make this more convincing.
If the couple are photography nerds, then where is
the technical detail that would convince the reader.
Similarly, if architcture students, then describing a
house simply as 'old' is rather implausible.

S3, S7, S8 - these seem to serve no positive purpose.
(try leaving them out of a revision and see what happens.
You can always reinstate them later.)

A suggestion for S2:
Finding angles from the border of trees,
kneeling, knees wet, to frame
a crooked porch, the weathered door
and the quiet road.

(Yellow grass + wet our knees...really?
How does yellow grass not equal yellow snow? )

A suggestion for S6:
then climbed a sycamore
to the lower roof
to be sun-warmed [together]
beside the chimney,
under a single telephone wire
that hasn't carried a voice in years.

Best, Knot.

[danny_]

Thanks Knot.

The grass is yellow and frosted, and kneeling in it does wet your knees, but I see what you're saying. Need a better word for yellow.

The suggestion of changing to "kneeling, knees wet, to frame" sounds like the knees were already wet. Need to show becoming wet due to kneeling on the ground.

It's not about being nerds or students, it's about their loving relationship. I could put in a couple technical terms about the cameras since they do enjoy photography (and I do too), but knowledge about cameras doesn't equal nerdy-ness. It's just a little adventure together and picture taking. Their relationship is the reason for the stanzas you mentioned, even if those could be improved. S3 would serve the purpose of how one notices the other.

Adding "together" in S6 is not a bad idea.

Thanks for your feedback.

[danny_]

Revision 2c

- fixed issues with yellow snow
- fixed using "door" twice
- tightened up ending into one stanza
- a few vocab adjustments
- applied great suggestion from Knot on S6

Still room for improvement but getting closer to satisfied

[Knot]

Hey danny_
moving rapidly in the right direction, I think.

Suggestion S1.
We'd shoot old houses
in bright winter sun,
[frosted grass crunching,
the] tips of frail branches touching
the [few] remaining panes, almost.
We never got inside,
only [spied on] dark[ened] rooms,
Our breath vanished quickly.


S2
'damp jeans' is still a problem
'Quiet road' pairing with the 'telephone
wire' is a nice touch.

S4
This might be improved by switching
the order, ending with;
you careful hands on the back door-
and your fingertips in the light.
(It also does the job of S3 - one notices the other
- but better. The flushed cheeks and short hair
have no relevance to the rest of the poem)

S6. Just a suggestion:
then climbed a sycamore
[clambered on]to the lower roof
...

S7 - still doesn't seem to add much that
isn't implicit in 'sun-warmed together'
and weakens the terrific last line of S6


Best, Knot.

[danny_]

Thanks... again! - we are the only life on this
forum section lately, eh? :]

Suggestion on S1 - Not bad idea but,
don't want to shift focus from image of house
to frosted grass, then back to house again.

I like where you put 'our breath...'
And I like 'clambered on', good stuff.

I agree about the first bit of S7 but I sure
wish I could put the hands part somewhere.
Will think on it.

- danny

[Knot]

Hey danny,
it's NaPM and that tends to be a big distraction.
Happens everywhere, apparently.

Suggestion on S1 - fair enough.
Though I saw it more as following
on from the 'sun' and the 'branches'
than the 'house'.

As to the 'hands',
by way of food for thought:
We never got inside,
only peered into dark rooms,
Your careful hands on the back door -
I focused there, rotating the lens:
chipping white paint
(you could add a bit more detail here,
given 'focused')
and your fingertips in the light.


Best, Knot.

[danny_]

Okay NaPM, makes sense. I just saw that recently,
looks pretty fun actually. Might try and participate.

As for the hands, I meant the cupping, blowing inside
part in S7. Don't think that would fit anywhere else
but that moment on the roof. Just seems like the
right time for that action. Since this aspect of the
poem is not a true experience, though, I can move it
if I find a way. :]

I'll take another look regarding S1.

[Knot]

As for the hands, I meant the cupping, blowing inside
part in S7. Don't think that would fit anywhere else
but that moment on the roof. Just seems like the
right time for that action. Since this aspect of the
poem is not a true experience, though, I can move it
if I find a way. :]

Or (with some slight modifications) it might be a way
of ending S4, a response to noticing 'fingertips'.


Best, Knot.

[danny_]

Thunderembargo, this is intensive crit workshop.

Also, I don't agree with your points, I'm sorry. Two out of three don't even make sense. My quote in my signature has nothing to do with my poem.

"Branches almost blowing the few panes, aware of detachment?" Is English a second language for you?

If you wouldn't mind - unless you can contribute something meaningful, and in harmony with the nature of the poem, please don't crit on any of my work in the future. Thanks!

Edit: Thank you mods for removing post.