On the Black

[tectak]

On the Black rev0.0000000001

Blasted fortunes flung to perish, static cracks the skies
where Suns and sons quick wagers strike;
gauntleted by whirling wheels, un-slapped cheeks thanks billy and indie
so red, through spoke-blurred numbers;
Black comes the passion of wild excess.

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Lofted by a streak called luck and dashed a million times
Like sailors berthed in china town, stuffed by need
To burn the bridge; no returns means no return.
Call it whilst the risk is high, call win loud and whisper loss,
Black feeds the passion of wild excess.

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Crushed companions waft in silk, their perfume in the smoke;
Loved up by Cuban dollared dudes, Havanna, that can’t be her name, thanks indie
slides slippery and oozing need; some call it want, some call it greed.
With gloss-red claws on green worn beige, she helps him count and smiles.
How black the passion of wild excess…

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Unfettered by the baying block, the jury to his trial,
Havannah slips into his space, alive with moments dripped in sweat;
cool trepidation, strange they met, not speaking yet so close,
so soon; a spin between two sheets, and a proposition made.
So black the passion of wild excess….

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Fortune smiles and leaves the room, no one sees her go.
The wheel, disturbed by butterfly's wings, randomly proceeds. Thanks phil,I think. Chaos theory
The system lurches back and forth in evens, odds and highs.
Gauntlets gone, the suns will set; the wagers, whisky drowned.
Black turns the passion of wild excess.

Please turn once more, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Havannah rises, walks away, back into smoking night.
She turns again, the wheel is still, her lingered lust declines.
He looks her way; she stops, but sees the empty beggar’s hands
Her smile has changed to match the loss, to crush him into dust
Black is the passion of wild excess.

Tectak
2012

[Philatone]

hello tec!
in my first reading of this, I like the topic. At times, however, the description overwhelms the action for me; entire stanzas succeed only in describing, and the relaying of what happens comes off as direct. That being said

On the Black

Blasted fortunes flung to perish, static cracks the skies...I appreciate the dramatic effect, but it almost feels too heavy
where suns and sons quick wagers struck;... in some ways, I think just "sons" works and still allows for the word play with sounds. I think it would work because the last line just ended on "skies"
gauntled by whirling wheels, un-slapped cheeks
so red, through spoke-blurred numbers; ...may want to recheck the punctuation to be sure it is what you intended
Black comes the passion of wild excess....in some ways, eliminating "the passion" makes the sentiment more immediate and stronger: Black comes wild excess (or something of that nature. probably is just me)

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again. ...imagined "fortune" itself

Lofted by a streak called luck and dashed a million times
Like sailors berthed in china town, stuffed by need
To burn the bridge; no returns means no return. ...like the idea. "means" felt a little strong, would have liked something more subtle
Call it whilst the risk is high, call win loud and whisper loss, ...like this line as well
Black feeds the passion of wild excess.

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Crushed companions waft in silk, their perfume in the smoke;
Loved up by Cuban dollared dudes, Havanna, (that can’t be her name)
Slides slippery and oozing need; some call it want, some call it greed.
With gloss red claws on beige she helps him count and smiles.
How black the passion of wild excess…...the next few stanzas are an example of what struck me as stanzas with little action to guide them

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Unfettered by the baying block, the jury to his trial,
Havannah slips into his space, alive with moments dripped in sweat; ..."alive" describes "his space" or "Havannah"?
cool trepidation, strange they met, not speaking yet so close,
so soon; a spin between two sheets, and a proposition made.
So black the passion of wild excess….

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Fortune smiles and leaves the room, no one sees her go. ...the line felt prolonged and direct, especially with the "no on sees her go". a word like "unnoticed" conveys the same sentiment while saving space
The wheel, disturbed by butterflies wings, randomly proceeds....the "butterflies" should be possessive?
The system lurches back and forth in evens, odds and highs. ..."highs" was used earlier (s3)
Gauntlets gone, the suns will set, the wagers whisky drowned. ..."wagers" should be possessive as well
Black turns the passion of wild excess.

Please turn once more, the wheel, the cheek; ...in some ways, keeping the "again" instead of "once more" felt stronger to me. Additionally, if the "Please" is moved to the stanza above, the entire refrain could be maintained while maintaining that sense of pleading
Turn again.

...with the change in the refrain, I thought the poem had ended. In some ways, I liked ending on the stanza above more than this dramatic finish

Havannah rises, walks away, back into smoking night.
She turns again, the wheel is still, her lingered lust declines.
He looks her way; she stops, but sees the empty beggar’s hands
Her smile has changed to match the loss, to crush him into dust
Black is the passion of wild excess.

Tectak
2012

hopefully some of these prove helpful. I liked the idea of this, but the execution left me wanting a little more.

[billy]

On the Black

Blasted fortunes flung to perish, static cracks the skies love the esses in this line, flung feels out of place on a roulette table, would placed be more appropriate?
where suns and sons quick wagers struck; should it be suns, and son's
gauntled by whirling wheels, un-slapped cheeks is gauntled a new word? i like it
so red, through spoke-blurred numbers;
Black comes the passion of wild excess.

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Lofted by a streak called luck and dashed a million times
Like sailors berthed in china town, stuffed by need stuffed by need feel forced
To burn the bridge; no returns means no return.
Call it whilst the risk is high, call win loud and whisper loss,
Black feeds the passion of wild excess.

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Crushed companions waft in silk, their perfume in the smoke; (double spacing)
Loved up by Cuban dollared dudes, Havanna, (that can’t be her name) the statement in parenths would read better on it's own line though it feels unnecessary,
Slides slippery and oozing need; some call it want, some call it greed.
With gloss red claws on beige she helps him count and smiles.
How black the passion of wild excess…

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Unfettered by the baying block, the jury to his trial,
Havannah slips into his space, alive with moments dripped in sweat;
cool trepidation, strange they met, not speaking yet so close,
so soon; a spin between two sheets, and a proposition made.
So black the passion of wild excess….

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Fortune smiles and leaves the room, no one sees her go.
The wheel, disturbed by butterflies wings, randomly proceeds.
The system lurches back and forth in evens, odds and highs.
Gauntlets gone, the suns will set, the wagers whisky drowned.
Black turns the passion of wild excess.

Please turn once more, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Havannah rises, walks away, back into smoking night.
She turns again, the wheel is still, her lingered lust declines.
He looks her way; she stops, but sees the empty beggar’s hands
Her smile has changed to match the loss, to crush him into dust
Black is the passion of wild excess.

Tectak
2012

i like the sing song quality of it and the content. lady luck can be a bitch at times. there are a few grammar problems that wouldn't take much to sort out. the repetition of gauntlet and sun does work that well for me.
i like havanna and how you made her the personification of luck.
the two refrains work well though i think
black, the passion of wild excess flows better.
the cuban touch worked well. they epitimise wealthy and gamblers. i thought (that can't be her name) too cheesy

what i do enjoy about your poetry is the way a lot of it carries a certain melody.

this is no exception.

thanks for the read.

[Erthona]

Nice alliteration. This reminds me of the earthquake one in terms of form, although this one seems not quite as tight, and a bit forced here and there. Overall it rode along nicely and even the repetition didn't really bother me.

I like this phrase "stuffed by need"

This sounds like something that is often said, yet I have never heard it.

" call win loud and whisper loss"
---------------------------------------------------------------
You start losing me here a little

"Crushed companions waft in silk, their perfume in the smoke;
Loved up by Cuban dollared dudes, Havanna, (that can’t be her name)"

This seems to refer to something you have not set up. Where did these crushed companions come from? Whose companions are they? I suppose they must be Havana's but you have not even mentioned her at this point.
---------------------------------------------------------------

The imagery carried me for a fair ways, but at the end I felt let down as there was nothing more ...profound!

Dale

[tectak]

On the Black

Blasted fortunes flung to perish, static cracks the skies
where suns and sons quick wagers struck;
gauntled by whirling wheels, un-slapped cheeks
so red, through spoke-blurred numbers;
Black comes the passion of wild excess.

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Lofted by a streak called luck and dashed a million times
Like sailors berthed in china town, stuffed by need
To burn the bridge; no returns means no return.
Call it whilst the risk is high, call win loud and whisper loss,
Black feeds the passion of wild excess.

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Crushed companions waft in silk, their perfume in the smoke;
Loved up by Cuban dollared dudes, Havanna, (that can’t be her name)
Slides slippery and oozing need; some call it want, some call it greed.
With gloss red claws on beige she helps him count and smiles.
How black the passion of wild excess…

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Unfettered by the baying block, the jury to his trial,
Havannah slips into his space, alive with moments dripped in sweat;
cool trepidation, strange they met, not speaking yet so close,
so soon; a spin between two sheets, and a proposition made.
So black the passion of wild excess….

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Fortune smiles and leaves the room, no one sees her go.
The wheel, disturbed by butterflies wings, randomly proceeds.
The system lurches back and forth in evens, odds and highs.
Gauntlets gone, the suns will set, the wagers whisky drowned.
Black turns the passion of wild excess.

Please turn once more, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Havannah rises, walks away, back into smoking night.
She turns again, the wheel is still, her lingered lust declines.
He looks her way; she stops, but sees the empty beggar’s hands
Her smile has changed to match the loss, to crush him into dust
Black is the passion of wild excess.

Tectak
2012

Nice alliteration. This reminds me of the earthquake one in terms of form, although this one seems not quite as tight, and a bit forced here and there. Overall it rode along nicely and even the repetition didn't really bother me.

I like this phrase "stuffed by need"

This sounds like something that is often said, yet I have never heard it.

" call win loud and whisper loss"
---------------------------------------------------------------
You start losing me here a little

"Crushed companions waft in silk, their perfume in the smoke;
Loved up by Cuban dollared dudes, Havanna, (that can’t be her name)"

This seems to refer to something you have not set up. Where did these crushed companions come from? Whose companions are they? I suppose they must be Havana's but you have not even mentioned her at this point.
---------------------------------------------------------------

The imagery carried me for a fair ways, but at the end I felt let down as there was nothing more ...profound!

Dale

Well hello Dale. Good to hear from you. This piece began as a spoof antidote to one who wrote on this site " I like to be unclear so that the reader can make whatever they (if more than one reads it!) want if it" Hmmmm!
Anyway, the bloody muse got in on the scam and this is the result of the battle. It is a casino. The "companions" are the girls paid to accompany the wealthy gamblers, especially at the roulette wheel. The are "crushed" because they insert themselves between the players. The chinese are inveterate gamblers. Most casinos have a high proportion of early doors chinese businessmen and in port towns, sailors--set to increase--and a code if honour prevents them returning to ship unles they have made good returns.
"Call win loud and whisper loss" is the psycho-tech method employed on fruit machines when the win is accompanied by chugging and sirens,whistles and flutes.......but losses make no noise at all.
Havanna is just one of the companions who inserts herself beside our man and shares in his joy of accumulation. He suggests a little exercise in his room after the play. He is on a roll. She agrees. But then his luck changes as lady luck leaves the room. She departs and leaves him. He has lost everything bla blah blah.
The first stanza was just nonsense and this is what can happen to poetry when you are not looking. Of course, if you want to interprate the piece entirely differently, then that's fine to.
Best.

[Indie]

On the Black

Blasted fortunes flung to perish, static cracks the skies (flung feels really out of place in this line. Doesn't flow with the other imagery)
where suns and sons quick wagers struck; (I like the play on words in this line)
gauntled by whirling wheels, un-slapped cheeks (guantled jars the flow here, the brain kind of stumbled of the words to get to the rest of the sentence)
so red, through spoke-blurred numbers;
Black comes the passion of wild excess.

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Lofted by a streak called luck and dashed a million times
Like sailors berthed in china town, stuffed by need
To burn the bridge; no returns means no return.
Call it whilst the risk is high, call win loud and whisper loss,
Black feeds the passion of wild excess.

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Crushed companions waft in silk, their perfume in the smoke;
Loved up by Cuban dollared dudes, Havanna, (that can’t be her name) (the bracketed part completely halts the flow, IMO, possible a rephrase)
Slides slippery and oozing need; some call it want, some call it greed.
With gloss red claws on beige she helps him count and smiles.
How black the passion of wild excess…

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again. (Really like the repetition of this)

Unfettered by the baying block, the jury to his trial,
Havannah slips into his space, alive with moments dripped in sweat; (this line doesn't flow as well as the rest of this stanza)
cool trepidation, strange they met, not speaking yet so close,
so soon; a spin between two sheets, and a proposition made.
So black the passion of wild excess….

Turn again, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Fortune smiles and leaves the room, no one sees her go.
The wheel, disturbed by butterflies wings, randomly proceeds.
The system lurches back and forth in evens, odds and highs.
Gauntlets gone, the suns will set, the wagers whisky drowned.
Black turns the passion of wild excess. (Love the first line, but found this stanza weak in comparison to the preceding stanza's)

Please turn once more, the wheel, the cheek;
Turn again.

Havannah rises, walks away, back into smoking night.
She turns again, the wheel is still, her lingered lust declines.
He looks her way; she stops, but sees the empty beggar’s hands
Her smile has changed to match the loss, to crush him into dust
Black is the passion of wild excess. (IMO this last verse is a little vague in it's execution, not as strong as the beginning verses)

Tectak
2012

I quite enjoyed the story of this poem. Could use some tightening up and clarification.

Indie