Edit (in progress)
He perched upon the window seat.
His nose against the glass to peek
as children played across the street.
He wished he wasn't such a freak
so they would welcome him to play,
convinced he'd win at hide and seek.
He pictured every sun-filled day
if Mother wasn't such a prude.
He knew just what his dad would say,
"Just drop that sulking, wistful mood!"
Polite, young vamps can't play with food.
Original:
He perched upon the window seat.
His nose against the glass to peek
at children playing games across the street.
He wished he wasn't such a freak
so friends would offer him to play,
convinced that he would win at hide and seek.
He pictured every sun-filled day
if Mother wasn't such a prude
and knew just what his dad would say:
to drop the sulking, wishful mood-
polite young vamps can't play with food.
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10-19-2013, 02:00 AM
(This post was last modified: 10-19-2013, 02:00 AM by Todd.)
Jenn, nice surprise ending. No real issues with it.
(10-19-2013, 01:51 AM)tigrflye Wrote: He perched upon the window seat.
His nose against the glass to peek
at children playing games across the street.
He wished he wasn't such a freak
so friends would offer him to play,--syntax feels a bit off to me, it could be just me.
convinced that he would win at hide and seek.
He pictured every sun-filled day
If Mother wasn't such a prude
and knew just what his dad would say:
to drop the sulking, wishful mood--There might be a better word than wishful
polite young vamps can't play with food.
So minor nits. Fun read.
Best.
Todd
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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(10-19-2013, 01:51 AM)tigrflye Wrote: He perched upon the window seat.
His nose against the glass to peek
at children playing games across the street. I would try "as children play across the street" for meter Quote:He wished he wasn't such a freak
so friends would offer him to play,
convinced that he would win at hide and seek.
"so friends would offer him to play" is convoluted. Maybe "so they would welcome him to play" or something along those lines.
For the last line you could try "convinced he'd win at hide and seek". Quote:He pictured every sun-filled day
if Mother wasn't such a prude
and knew just what his dad would say:
to drop the sulking, wishful mood-
polite young vamps can't play with food.
Maybe quote dad "just drop that sulking, wishful mood" though wishful feels wrong, maybe wistful or something. Of course then the previous line would need to be "and he knew what his dad would say"
Overall I like it. Did you consider making it a terza rima?(then I would like it even more)
Todd,
Thank you.
Milo: Hm, is it better for me to play dumb and just ask your opinion of how I should morph my poem into a terza rima.. or openly admit that is what I was trying to do... all by myself with no one to help me (can u tell?) I thought the only rules were A-B-A, B-C-B, C-D-C, D-E-D etc. with no limit to the number of lines and end with e d-e-d-e or d-e-d e e. (i tried this one) Does the last line have to repeat? And i read iambic pentameter was prefered but no definate rhythm HAD to be used. I did purposely write it with 4 feet, 4 feet, 5 feet, 4, 4, 5.. cuz hey, i thought it sounded nice, but I can feel your disapproval. Haha. Dang it, if I'm gonna hang out here, I need to go back to college.
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(10-21-2013, 08:07 AM)tigrflye Wrote: Todd,
Thank you.
Milo: Hm, is it better for me to play dumb and just ask your opinion of how I should morph my poem into a terza rima.. or openly admit that is what I was trying to do... all by myself with no one to help me (can u tell?) I thought the only rules were A-B-A, B-C-B, C-D-C, D-E-D etc. with no limit to the number of lines and end with e d-e-d-e or d-e-d e e. (i tried this one) Does the last line have to repeat? And i read iambic pentameter was prefered but no definate rhythm HAD to be used. I did purposely write it with 4 feet, 4 feet, 5 feet, 4, 4, 5.. cuz hey, i thought it sounded nice, but I can feel your disapproval. Haha. Dang it, if I'm gonna hang out here, I need to go back to college. 
Alternating meter in a terza rima can be challenging because if the rhymes don't line up it tends to feel wrong. I once tried to get around that by alternating (anapaestically) 4-3-4, 3-4-3, etc but I am not sure it worked.
As for the definition, when I first learned about terza rima I was told you needed a minimum of 5 stanzas and then the envoi but you could cheat and write a terza rima sonnet which was only 4 stanzas and an envoi (14 lines) which looks something like this . . . Oh crap, looks like I deleted that one, well, if you want to see one I can produce it later. Anyway, if the definition changed than mea culpa.
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it's a good effort as far as i can see tigr
i'm not sure but i think you can play with the meter as long as it reads with an easy flow. 878 etc, so in the first verse you could have;
Perched upon the window seat.
His nose against the glass to peek,
children played across the street.
but it's not written in stone.
the last line doesn't repeat, ( i checked)
i liked this piece. the last line and the title join together in order to see what's happening. at first i thought of vamps as something non-vampyric.
that it took a few seconds to sink in added to the light hearted sadness of what came before. no feedback as such as it works for me as a terza, and i don't see anything i'd alter unless you were going to alternate the meter
thanks for the read.
(10-19-2013, 01:51 AM)tigrflye Wrote: Edit (in progress)
He perched upon the window seat.
His nose against the glass to peek
as children played across the street.
He wished he wasn't such a freak
so they would welcome him to play,
convinced he'd win at hide and seek.
He pictured every sun-filled day
if Mother wasn't such a prude.
He knew just what his dad would say,
"Just drop that sulking, wistful mood!"
Polite, young vamps can't play with food.
Original:
He perched upon the window seat.
His nose against the glass to peek
at children playing games across the street.
He wished he wasn't such a freak
so friends would offer him to play,
convinced that he would win at hide and seek.
He pictured every sun-filled day
if Mother wasn't such a prude
and knew just what his dad would say:
to drop the sulking, wishful mood-
polite young vamps can't play with food.
Milo,
Thank you for all the information. So basically I just need to make it longer for it to technically classify? I'll call it a short terza and a good enough first attempt. Of course, I would be happy to see your terza rima sonnet whenever you are able to produce it.
Billy,
Yay that you like it! I think the alternating meter would be a lot of fun. Maybe Ill try that with my next poem. Challenge accepted!
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me bad, missed the number of stanza thing, but it does make sense
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Another amazing one, I read the critiques after n its funny because like the as or at the kids across the street n i didn't even notice it because its like I'm hearing the poem read to me, it was an excellent poem excited to see what else u got. I really can't critique because u have to be an excellent writer to blend words into an image, I'm not concerned with legibility or grammer its just another system cap on art which in unsupportable. I think ur form of writing is perfect, n ur creativity exceeds barriers of legitimacy. : )
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(10-23-2013, 05:51 AM)ehabuncensored Wrote: Another amazing one, I read the critiques after n its funny because like the as or at the kids across the street n i didn't even notice it because its like I'm hearing the poem read to me, it was an excellent poem excited to see what else u got. I really can't critique because u have to be an excellent writer to blend words into an image, I'm not concerned with legibility or grammer its just another system cap on art which in unsupportable. I think ur form of writing is perfect, n ur creativity exceeds barriers of legitimacy. : )
Hello the purpose of this forum is to critique. It's nice that you appreciate a poem, but to say you "really can't critique because u have to be an excellent writer to blend words into an image." doesn't work. We need you to explain why things worked for you and in the critical forum actually make an attempt at critique./admin
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
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