Mentor: My special place

[billy]

Broad expanse
of open air
heather spread on
rolling hills

purple hues
of natures garments
clothing Mooreland
with cushioned finery

waterfowl
alight and ripple
mirrored planes
of silvered calm

kitty hawks
in search of targets
float and dance
on spiral winds

so many days
I’ve spent in pleasure
roaming tranquil
Pennine paths

---

Mentor required

[milo]

alright billy, I think this is a great "dry run" piece. If you are comfortable with it, I will work with you one on one with this piece. Give me a bit to look it over and think about it. While I do that, what is the "central metaphor" or, pretty much primary goal or communication you want to achieve with this poem?

[billy]

i'd like to show a place i hold dear, to the reader. (and thanks for the mentoring) and in doing so show them the beauty of it without using the word beauty of those cliche thing everyone says they hate.

[milo]

i'd like to show a place i hold dear, to the reader. (and thanks for the mentoring) and in doing so show them the beauty of it without using the word beauty of those cliche thing everyone says they hate.

ok, this is a good start. Remember, that even a vignette isn't about a place, it is about a person, just like every good poem is. Vignettes are actually about the narrator that is viewing the place. Are there any particulars you would like to communicate about your narrator? Who is he? How does this place affect him? Who is his audience? What is his motivation is communicating with his audience?

[billy]

ok, this is a good start. Remember, that even a vignette isn't about a place, it is about a person, just like every good poem is. Vignettes are actually about the narrator that is viewing the place. Are there any particulars you would like to communicate about your narrator? Who is he? How does this place affect him? Who is his audience? What is his motivation is communicating with his audience?

to be honest milo, i'm not sure, it's like i have this thing in my hand and want to put it on show....i suppose the audience is me, (or even god if there is one )how it affects me. i wish i could be more explicit. the truth is, i just wrote it and now i see i didn't do such a good job of writing it. correction, i thought i did an excellent job but, after reading lots of other peoples poetry see that this is what i thought great poetry looked like.

[milo]

ok, this is a good start. Remember, that even a vignette isn't about a place, it is about a person, just like every good poem is. Vignettes are actually about the narrator that is viewing the place. Are there any particulars you would like to communicate about your narrator? Who is he? How does this place affect him? Who is his audience? What is his motivation is communicating with his audience?

to be honest milo, i'm not sure, it's like i have this thing in my hand and want to put it on show....i suppose the audience is me, (or even god if there is one )how it affects me. i wish i could be more explicit. the truth is, i just wrote it and now i see i didn't do such a good job of writing it. correction, i thought i did an excellent job but, after reading lots of other peoples poetry see that this is what i thought great poetry looked like.

well, there is no rush or "right" answer, but maybe think a little bit about /who/ your narrator is. That is a great place to start. He is describing a striking vignette. Why? What about this place is special to him and how does it make him feel?

[billy]

okay, it def me, i want to share the closeness i feel to nature when i'm here, and the imparted serenity.
when will the edits start?

[milo]

okay, it def me, i want to share the closeness i feel to nature when i'm here, and the imparted serenity.
when will the edits start?

edits are not like instant pudding. First, I want to understand your intent, then I am going to read through it, and then I am going to ask you more questions. Our goal, hopefully, will be to match your poem to the intent. Just discussing it at all is fun and educational for me and I intend to stick around for a while . . .

[billy]

i was hoping it would be fun and educational for me

but i think i understand..

[milo]

Broad expanse
of open air
heather spread on
rolling hills

purple hues
of natures garments
clothing Mooreland
with cushioned finery

waterfowl
alight and ripple
mirrored planes
of silvered calm

kitty hawks
in search of targets
float and dance
on spiral winds

so many days
I’ve spent in pleasure
roaming tranquil
Pennine paths

---

Mentor required

alright, billy, I have read through this several (several) times and I have a couple thoughts and observations.

The first, is that you are trying to communicate through images and that is good. Most of your images are simply described without overmodification and that is good as well. Mechanically, my biggest problem was with the the line size/breaks and some of your construction seems needlessly abbreviated.

The biggest problem is that you seem to describe a place but - what? Poetry needs more than a scene setting, we need this scene to refer back to a human and a poem that says "I like pretty places" just isn't going to cut it. I would say, let's start thinking of what this pretty place can be a metaphor for in the narrator's life. How can you refer this specific place back to reflect the narrator - possibly other challenges he/she has, other than he likes pretty places. Think about it for a couple days and see if this place can reflect on your narrator perhaps through iron, dichotomy, symbolism or other instruments.

[billy]

will try to do as you suggest.

[billy]

The broad expanse of heather
spreads out over rolling hills

Nature's purple garment clothes
the moorland with cushioned finery

waterfowl alight and ripple
mirrored planes of silvered calm

kitty hawks in search as targets
float and dance on spiral winds

many pleasurable days spent
roaming tranquil Pennine paths

---

i've lengthened the lines, and add words to make it read better, over the next day or two I'll think as to how to make it more personal and try and give it some better imagery and depth. i can see that as is, (per se ) it's not a good poem.
thanks so far for the help.

[billy]

A purple ocean over rolling hills.
This broad expanse of heather
held us captive; Sunday morning
hikers, crooks at the ready.

The moorland's cushioned finery
was our church, was my only God.
We'd gasp as waterfowl alighted
onto a mirrored plane of silvered calm
a thousand shreds of white lace,
ripples painting a Picasso in blue.


waterfowl alight and ripple
mirrored planes of silvered calm

Windhovers in search as targets
float and dance on spiral winds

many pleasurable days spent
roaming tranquil Pennine paths

here's where i'm at so far. i'll work some more on it tomorrow.

[billy]

A purple ocean over rolling hills;
that broad expanse of England's heathered spine
often held us captive; Sunday morning
hikers, crooks at the ready.

The granite altar spread throughout the moor
it was our solace, our place of worship.
We'd gasp as tired waterfowl alit,
on mirrored planes of silver coloured ponds.

A thousand threads of white; the ripples rush
across the canvass in Picasso blue.
The Kestrels hovered against the head wind and
waited on the wing before their dive.

many pleasurable days spent
roaming tranquil Pennine paths

---

where i'm at so far

[milo]

A purple ocean over rolling hills;
that broad expanse of England's heathered spine
often held us captive; Sunday morning
hikers, crooks at the ready.

The granite altar spread throughout the moor
it was our solace, our place of worship.
We'd gasp as tired waterfowl alit,
on mirrored planes of silver coloured ponds.

A thousand threads of white; the ripples rush
across the canvass in Picasso blue.
The Kestrels hovered against the head wind and
waited on the wing before their dive.

many pleasurable days spent
roaming tranquil Pennine paths

---

where i'm at so far

this is much better as there is a connection with the narrator now. I am going to read it a few times, then I will be back to make some comments.

[tectak]

A purple ocean over rolling hills;
that broad expanse of England's heathered spine
often held us captive; Sunday morning
hikers, crooks at the ready. colonic irrigation is an irritation

The granite alter spread throughout the moor altar
it was our solace, our place of worship.
We'd gasp as tired waterfowl alit, no comma
on mirrored planes of silver coloured ponds. coloured is superflous

A thousand threads of white; the ripples rush
across the canvass in Picasso blue.
The Kestrels hovered against the head wind and blatant chage of tense.rush/hovered. rushed or rushing to keep it past.
waited on the wing before the dive. good. shows understanding

many pleasurable days spent
roaming tranquil Pennine paths

---

where i'm at so far

billy, milo.
Not tresspassing so much as just passing.
Best,
tectak

[billy]

changed altar before you posted tom :J: and yeah it should be rushed.
i'm going for blank verse so there may be an odd filler word, that and i've still got one more stanza to do and a couple of fixes still

[billy]

A purple ocean over rolling hills;
that broad expanse of England's heathered spine
it held us captive, two Saturday ramblers;
hikers crooks, and boots ready to stride

The granite altar spread throughout the moor
it was our solace, our place of worship.
We'd gasp as tired waterfowl alit
on mirrored planes of silver painted ponds.

A thousand threads of white; the ripples rush
across the canvass in Picasso blue.
The Kestrels hovered hard against the wind and
waited on the wing before they dove.

---

the done poem, i was going to do a sad end stanza but it kept coming out as too cheesy.
i will change the title to ;
Your Special Place

now all i need is some help as to whether it stays here or moves over to one of the feedback forums.

[milo]

A purple ocean over rolling hills;
that broad expanse of England's heathered spine
it held us captive, two Saturday ramblers;
hikers crooks, and boots ready to stride

The granite altar spread throughout the moor
it was our solace, our place of worship.
We'd gasp as tired waterfowl alit
on mirrored planes of silver painted ponds.

A thousand threads of white; the ripples rush
across the canvass in Picasso blue.
The Kestrels hovered hard against the wind and
waited on the wing before they dove.

---

the done poem, i was going to do a sad end stanza but it kept coming out as too cheesy.
i will change the title to ;
Your Special Place

now all i need is some help as to whether it stays here or moves over to one of the feedback forums.

well, I obviously am mostly not doing my job here. I think structurally it is now an ok poem. It is mostly mechanics now and we can work through those in serious if you would prefer.

[billy]

A purple ocean over rolling hills;
that broad expanse of England's heathered spine
it held us captive, two Saturday ramblers;
hikers crooks, and boots ready to stride

The granite altar spread throughout the moor
it was our solace, our place of worship.
We'd gasp as tired waterfowl alit
on mirrored planes of silver painted ponds.

A thousand threads of white; the ripples rush
across the canvass in Picasso blue.
The Kestrels hovered hard against the wind and
waited on the wing before they dove.

---

the done poem, i was going to do a sad end stanza but it kept coming out as too cheesy.
i will change the title to ;
Your Special Place

now all i need is some help as to whether it stays here or moves over to one of the feedback forums.

well, I obviously am mostly not doing my job here. I think structurally it is now an ok poem. It is mostly mechanics now and we can work through those in serious if you would prefer.

i'll give it a quick once over and post it there then, thanks for the help so far :J: