03-28-2017, 01:10 AM
Hello Graca,
Welcome to the site! I can't tell from your opening comments if you want this to stay as spoken work or if you wanted to transition out of that style. I'll just give you some general comments below.
Best,
Todd
Welcome to the site! I can't tell from your opening comments if you want this to stay as spoken work or if you wanted to transition out of that style. I'll just give you some general comments below.
(03-26-2017, 02:35 AM)Graca Wrote: First postI'm going to stop there and let you think about the imagery. Whether this is spoken or written it needs to draw closer to the imagery I think to be effective. I didn't want to get too pedantic in the Mild forum. I hope the comments help some.![]()
It's more spoken word/much less beautiful and articulate than what I've read on here so far, but it's the only style I can write in!
As spoken word this opening doesn't bother me much. I expect a halting sort of delivery in that approach. As a written piece, its flabby and takes a bit too long to get ramped up. It's probably too invasive to address each line and show what a written version would look like but I'll provide some feedback to get you started.
To the men --I'd probably just leave this as the title for illustration below I'll show cuts
To the men who have done me harm
I see you.
I know you.
Your crimes have been documented,--This is the most interesting line. I'd get to this more quickly.
etched in my mind, --develop this image more. Your mind is too abstract. Pick a concrete means of etching and pursue it.
kept captive in silence.--Again this is something that needs to be developed with imagery as it stands its too abstract. If you want some more guidance let's deal with it in the comments.
No more.
You are known.
Your stories have been told.
Aloud.
I am not the bearer of your secrets --This is an interesting idea to develop. Think of how you can back this up with imagery instead of flat statements.
or your lies
anymore. --This is implied in the secrets and harm above.
I have shed that skin like the snake you are.--I like the you are addition it makes the image pop.
I have set down that burden.--You skate one layer one layer above where you need to be.
You have not won.
My heart and mind are mine.
We serve each other, body and soul -- we don't serve you.
I am not yours to sample or consume.
I am neither delicacy nor indelicacy.
I am not meek, hiding from your fists and dicks
anymore.
I am whole woman, full of power and creation
Shakti
full of Kali's destruction/transformation
Two sides of one coin.
I am holy.
I am sacred.
Consecrated, not desecrated, ground.
You,
the bringers of bad news and bruises and babies no one wanted,
you have not won.
I am not beaten up
or broken down.
I am alive with passion, pleasure, pain, perception -and- compassion.
Because when there is nothing left to lose, you give nothing or you give all.
I gave all to this journey you set me on, softening sharp edges,
opening eyes and heart and mind to the idea that there is
So.
Much.
More.
To.
Life.
Than you.
You told me it was all black and white and shade of grey -- and I found color anyway.
I win.
To the men who have loved me
You brave souls that stepped in when I was decimated.
Hated - by self and others.
Alone, enraged, and so damn scared I could barely stand straight.
You are the flickering flames that lit this path,
warmed my skin,
calmed my fears.
You.
Are.
Love.
Love divine, love incarnate, love physical and metaphysical.
Love without bounds or limits,
concessions or conditions.
It pours from your pores like balm.
It coats me.
Soothes my sores, washed clean by love.
You.
Are.
Love.
Love abiding, love patient, love kind.
You sat by my unlocked cage and waited ever so faithfully,
talking through the bars,
until I set myself free.
Me.
I did it.
You are not saviors or white knights.
You did not lend me your power for my protection.
You are sages, guides who guided me to my own light,
my own flame.
You did not roar for me
but with me
until I could carry the tune myself.
You are the soil in which I take root,
building the blooms I want to show the world.
Glimpsing your own divinity is not so hard, really,
when it is reflected in the eye of one who can already see it.
Best,
Todd
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
