10-21-2013, 03:53 PM
Hi Todd,
A bit of confused communication going on (from my end most likely).
I had thought I was still in the just write / crap stage and had taken this concept into my line shuffling exercise.
My initial reaction is that as a 1st shuffle (as opposed to a 1st draft that could be shown to someone) it is no where near ready to start any editing, I still feel that there are lines in the wrong place....let me do a few more shuffles before I commit to anything.
But having got the knee jerk out of the way, I am more than happy to go down the path you have directed...this is about changing my writing habits and learning some new skills so lets see where restricting the number of shuffles and playing with a first shuffle takes me. I'll go away and have a think through your points.
Just want to say how fantastic this experiance has been and how greatful I am for all of your time and input. It has all been a huge help in so many ways - not just for my writing.
Back again. This has been a definate random burst experiance and so i've not allowed myself to sit and overly think what I have got down. I just read each line with your comments and went with the first creative thought that came and the draft below is the result. so still not much fine tuning gone into this but I like where it has gone so far.
1st shuffle / 1st draft.
The mother tree lives in the wild woods,
on the ridges of the Tian Shan mountains,
where Eternity is firmly planted
in each unique apple seed.
In the beginning
the sound of falling apples
was echoed in the thunder clouds
gathered over the pommice pits .
De-fleshed a core of potential
is tossed aside by tourists,
rough strewn between the rocks and roots,
amongst the leafy shadows that rustle underfoot.
Others have fallen on foreign shores;
they die of de-hydration
in worm infested papaya sheets.
Golden streams trace the forest floor,
trampled by an army of willing arms
that wait on the descent to do the trade.
Once firm flesh is pierced and cut.
Crushed, the goodness oozes out;
piquant it drips from parted lips,
concentrated drops of guilt.
A wooden migration that illuminates
the trail from here to there.
“Here” is Alma-Atta.
where the mountains are snow covered,
and the final event is a mobius strip
of pale, blushing blooms tinged
with the scented ferment of declining wealth.
The air, crisp and clear, crunches with sound
pregnant with life as the harvest
beds itself in with frog popping fruit drops.
From the fecund heart,
thickets of out stretched limbs
radiate out in all directions.
Soon the mountains of Tian-Shan will shake
to the sound of green shoots
bursting though Eden’s gates.
A bit of confused communication going on (from my end most likely).
I had thought I was still in the just write / crap stage and had taken this concept into my line shuffling exercise.
My initial reaction is that as a 1st shuffle (as opposed to a 1st draft that could be shown to someone) it is no where near ready to start any editing, I still feel that there are lines in the wrong place....let me do a few more shuffles before I commit to anything.
But having got the knee jerk out of the way, I am more than happy to go down the path you have directed...this is about changing my writing habits and learning some new skills so lets see where restricting the number of shuffles and playing with a first shuffle takes me. I'll go away and have a think through your points.
Just want to say how fantastic this experiance has been and how greatful I am for all of your time and input. It has all been a huge help in so many ways - not just for my writing.
Back again. This has been a definate random burst experiance and so i've not allowed myself to sit and overly think what I have got down. I just read each line with your comments and went with the first creative thought that came and the draft below is the result. so still not much fine tuning gone into this but I like where it has gone so far.
1st shuffle / 1st draft.
The mother tree lives in the wild woods,
on the ridges of the Tian Shan mountains,
where Eternity is firmly planted
in each unique apple seed.
In the beginning
the sound of falling apples
was echoed in the thunder clouds
gathered over the pommice pits .
De-fleshed a core of potential
is tossed aside by tourists,
rough strewn between the rocks and roots,
amongst the leafy shadows that rustle underfoot.
Others have fallen on foreign shores;
they die of de-hydration
in worm infested papaya sheets.
Golden streams trace the forest floor,
trampled by an army of willing arms
that wait on the descent to do the trade.
Once firm flesh is pierced and cut.
Crushed, the goodness oozes out;
piquant it drips from parted lips,
concentrated drops of guilt.
A wooden migration that illuminates
the trail from here to there.
“Here” is Alma-Atta.
where the mountains are snow covered,
and the final event is a mobius strip
of pale, blushing blooms tinged
with the scented ferment of declining wealth.
The air, crisp and clear, crunches with sound
pregnant with life as the harvest
beds itself in with frog popping fruit drops.
From the fecund heart,
thickets of out stretched limbs
radiate out in all directions.
Soon the mountains of Tian-Shan will shake
to the sound of green shoots
bursting though Eden’s gates.