07-25-2013, 10:56 PM
(07-25-2013, 09:07 PM)trueenigma Wrote:[/quote](07-25-2013, 05:41 PM)tectak Wrote:Thanks for ALL of this.In a nutshell, I was seeing this one languishing and figured ut could take some more bashing. I admit I am playing with it. The overall metaphor is very good for stretching(07-25-2013, 09:45 AM)trueenigma Wrote: [Iste='tectak' pid='133901' dateline='1374671529']Overall it is a great improvement, nice editing so far.
Colonic dark wynds, city-black alleyways,
ensconce and absorb those consumed by their lives;
sack-wrapped and trapped like societal garbage,
sliding like stools through their sweet syringed days.
Chill shivers them all, vile blood-bound botulus;
yet comatose they lie.
This stanza is greatly improved. But it's just way too figurative, repulsive, and judgmental for my taste. But since this is not about my "taste"... "city adds nothing to "black", I think you can find a way to say the city black by paring a noun and a verb.
I get sack-wrapped like societal garbage, but not really trapped, unless you men jailed (again too figurative), in which case it opens up to the argument that not all societal garbage are jailed, and not all whom are jailed are garbage.
"Sliding like stools": C'mon Tom, you know as well as anyone that you can't just come out and call people shit in a poem, especially without really backing it up -- you need back it up without saying it, and let the readers the make the conclusion on their own, you know, make us feel clever. Following it with sweet syringed implies that you are calling all addicts shit, and I'm sure that this is not your intention. In fact, in the U.S. This could be taken as a judgment on the ghettos and their inhabitants, and therefore as a racist poem, full of slurs. I know that that is not quite how things are 'round your way, but still, anyway, I digress..
Or perhaps everything after the semi-colon pertains to the "wynds", and not those being "ensconced". Uh-oh.
Who is this guy they call "Chill"?
I think you mean "chills shiver", not "chill shivers", otherwise, I see no reason for the missing article. Also don't you mean "makes them all shiver", I know that's a bit much, and un-poetic, but does it have to sound so unnatural?
Look long into shadows where eyes peer unseeing.
This line doesn't work for me, why would I obey this command? It is completely illogical. "read long into words that are unreadable". "plug your ears and listen". "Look at that which cannot be seen." "Listen where ears cannot hear." No thank you, you may stare blindly at nothing, but I'd rather not.
Listen, and hear their doleful dolors.
"doleful dolor "is an over modified, redundant redundancy.
The rasping song of cellophane cockling:
Tee hee, you said cock. (couldn't resist) What the hell is your aversion to colloquial verbiage anyway?
I could give you a list of hypernyms that sound more like cellophane "cockling" (btw I've never seen it with the gerund before) , but I'll just leave that one to you.
Nightmares rise up into throats scarred by screaming;
Caramba, if you have a nightmare in your throat, then I've got a dream in my ass. Melodrama alert.
Do not lie close, let distance protect you
from traffic that crawls Peristaltic Highway.
Enuresis breaches in each writhing bundle,
What the hell does a leaky pee pee have to do with anything? Am I missing some slang application for "bundle"? I am not privy to the patois. The rest of the final stanza, aside from L3, is excellent IMO.
tectak
Middlesborough 2002
Original
The stench of dark colonic wynds, city-black alleys of waste,
ensconce and shelter the vile and the fallen.
They are sack-wrapped and bagged, societal garbage, asleep in a trance
of blank syringed days. Wet and decayed, with their blood-threatened bodies,
they are chilled into comas of hidden despair.
Look quickly and side-wise into shadows, where but for the darkness
could be seen in their eyes, tears of gratitude; assaulting vistas,
threaten by closeness to you and your kind, so that distance becomes
the shield, the protection. Do not linger or look on the lost or their lives
but walk in your sleep, and sleep like the blind.
Listen! Hear lungs, through crackling congestion, broken by silence
of Death on the prowl. They live on their highway, glass-broken, tin-rattled,
cat-littered, flesh-rotted, waste-strewn and piss-sodden.
Enuresis dreams in each tossing bundle; deaf or dead, the unheeded prod.
So sleep-walk my beauties, 'til the wakening call.
Tectak
2012
Best regards,
true
P.s. My incontinence is not so profound or bewildering.
Surreal? Maybe..
..phhbt fft, plop! Yep, that one was quite surreal.
Tom, S3 L3 is really not that bad.
Actuary this poem reminds me of a quote that I'm having trouble remembering, I think it was Eliot, or Frost, something about poetry, constipation, and diarrhea.
I guess I haven't got the ethos over. The last line is meant as a BIG clue.Fail.
The piece is based on "judge not others" and the end line "there but for fortune, go you or I" . Really. I'm not making it up
I will now incorporate YOUR comments into the piece and anyone else who comments...this will with luck become a workshopped to perfection joint effort. I am not precious.
Best,
tectak
(07-25-2013, 05:41 PM)tectak Wrote:Thanks for ALL of this.In a nutshell, I was seeing this one languishing and figured ut could take some more bashing. I admit I am playing with it. The overall metaphor is very good for stretching(07-25-2013, 09:45 AM)trueenigma Wrote: [Iste='tectak' pid='133901' dateline='1374671529']Overall it is a great improvement, nice editing so far.
Colonic dark wynds, city-black alleyways,
ensconce and absorb those consumed by their lives;
sack-wrapped and trapped like societal garbage,
sliding like stools through their sweet syringed days.
Chill shivers them all, vile blood-bound botulus;
yet comatose they lie.
This stanza is greatly improved. But it's just way too figurative, repulsive, and judgmental for my taste. But since this is not about my "taste"... "city adds nothing to "black", I think you can find a way to say the city black by paring a noun and a verb.
I get sack-wrapped like societal garbage, but not really trapped, unless you men jailed (again too figurative), in which case it opens up to the argument that not all societal garbage are jailed, and not all whom are jailed are garbage. trapped by circumstance
"Sliding like stools": C'mon Tom, you know as well as anyone that you can't just come out and call people shit in a poem, especially without really backing it up -- you need back it up without saying it, and let the readers the make the conclusion on their own, you know, make us feel clever. Following it with sweet syringed implies that you are calling all addicts shit, and I'm sure that this is not your intention. In fact, in the U.S. This could be taken as a judgment on the ghettos and their inhabitants, and therefore as a racist poem, full of slurs. I know that that is not quite how things are 'round your way, but still, anyway, I digress.. It is purposely judgementa. See end.
Or perhaps everything after the semi-colon pertains to the "wynds", and not those being "ensconced". Uh-oh.
Who is this guy they call "Chill"?
I think you mean "chills shiver", not "chill shivers", otherwise, I see no reason for the missing article. Also don't you mean "makes them all shiver", I know that's a bit much, and un-poetic, but does it have to sound so unnatural? chill as a noun. We went out in to the chill. Chill fell over the land. The big chill....but noted
Look long into shadows where eyes peer unseeing.
This line doesn't work for me, why would I obey this command? It is completely illogical. "read long into words that are unreadable". "plug your ears and listen". "Look at that which cannot be seen." "Listen where ears cannot hear." No thank you, you may stare blindly at nothing, but I'd rather not. No. maybe where eyes peer BACK unseeing. I nearly got it right.
Listen, and hear their doleful dolors.
"doleful dolor "is an over modified, redundant redundancy.[b] Absolutely correct. Boy, did I struggle with this one. Also, I believe dolor may have an emphasis problem trochee/spondee in your world?
The rasping song of cellophane cockling:
Tee hee, you said cock. (couldn't resist) What the hell is your aversion to colloquial verbiage anyway? Bugger off...I love this
I could give you a list of hypernyms that sound more like cellophane "cockling" (btw I've never seen it with the gerund before) , but I'll just leave that one to you.
Nightmares rise up into throats scarred by screaming;
Caramba, if you have a nightmare in your throat, then I've got a dream in my ass. Melodrama alert.
Do not lie close, let distance protect you
from traffic that crawls Peristaltic Highway.
Enuresis breaches in each writhing bundle,
What the hell does a leaky pee pee have to do with anything? Am I missing some slang application for "bundle"? I am not privy to the patois. The rest of the final stanza, aside from L3, is excellent IMO.
tectak
Middlesborough 2002
Original
The stench of dark colonic wynds, city-black alleys of waste,
ensconce and shelter the vile and the fallen.
They are sack-wrapped and bagged, societal garbage, asleep in a trance
of blank syringed days. Wet and decayed, with their blood-threatened bodies,
they are chilled into comas of hidden despair.
Look quickly and side-wise into shadows, where but for the darkness
could be seen in their eyes, tears of gratitude; assaulting vistas,
threaten by closeness to you and your kind, so that distance becomes
the shield, the protection. Do not linger or look on the lost or their lives
but walk in your sleep, and sleep like the blind.
Listen! Hear lungs, through crackling congestion, broken by silence
of Death on the prowl. They live on their highway, glass-broken, tin-rattled,
cat-littered, flesh-rotted, waste-strewn and piss-sodden.
Enuresis dreams in each tossing bundle; deaf or dead, the unheeded prod.
So sleep-walk my beauties, 'til the wakening call.
Tectak
2012
Best regards,
true
P.s. My incontinence is not so profound or bewildering.
Surreal? Maybe..
..phhbt fft, plop! Yep, that one was quite surreal.
Tom, S3 L3 is really not that bad.
Actuary this poem reminds me of a quote that I'm having trouble remembering, I think it was Eliot, or Frost, something about poetry, constipation, and diarrhea.
I guess I haven't got the ethos over. The last line is meant as a BIG clue.Fail.
The piece is based on "judge not others" and the end line "there but for fortune, go you or I" . Really. I'm not making it up
I will now incorporate YOUR comments into the piece and anyone else who comments...this will with luck become a workshopped to perfection joint effort. I am not precious.
Best,
tectak
"dolor" is a trochee in all English speaking worlds. I think "doleful" should be the one to go.
[/quote]
ok....you`ve earned a discount. dismal dolor?