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See here for original post, in mild.
edit, thanks Chris
Papa cries for one-time promise,
pearly teeth and pig-tailed hair,
for purple pockets filled with pebbles;
a parted presence, faintly there.
All your simple child's prayers
replay in broken memory,
and papa’s pain goes undisguised;
he can hardly look at me.
Now screams ring as his great lungs
fill the air with tortured wrath.
Can't you return now from heaven?
Sister listen, all he asks,
is for our painted poles and ribbons,
your ponies prancing on the lawn.
Not engraved for stone cold ages,
not beckoning, "Move on."
________
Papa cries for one-time promise,
pearly teeth and pig-tailed hair,
for purple pockets filled with pebbles;
a parted presence, faintly there.
All your simple childs prayers
replay in broken memory,
and papa’s pain goes undisguised
he can hardly look at me.
Now screams ring from his great lungs
fill the air with tortured wrath.
Can't you return now from heaven?
Sister listen, all he asks,
is for our painted poles and ribbons
your ponies prancing on the lawn.
Not engraved for stone cold ages,
not beckoning, "Move on."
_______________________________________
The howling beast is back.
Papa cries for one-time promise,
pearly teeth and pig-tailed hair,
for purple pockets filled with pebbles;
a parted presence, faintly there.
The first stanza still seems sketchy.
All your simple childs prayers
childs is missing something; or you could just write child
replay in broken memory,
and papa’s pain goes undisguised
he can hardly look at me.
Now screams ring from his great lungs
fill the air with tortured wrath.
screams ring fill the air? I guess it could be said that way. Now, in the present.
Can't you return now from heaven?
Sister listen, all he asks,
is for our painted poles and ribbons
your ponies prancing on the lawn.
Not engraved for stone cold ages,
not beckoning, "Move on."
What was it you said you wanted in this poem? It still seems like fragmented sentences pieced together.
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(11-28-2013, 03:07 AM)justcloudy Wrote: See here for original post, in mild.
Papa cries for one-time promise,
pearly teeth and pig-tailed hair,
for purple pockets filled with pebbles;
a parted presence, faintly there.
All your simple childs prayers
replay in broken memory,
and papa’s pain goes undisguised
he can hardly look at me.
Now screams ring from his great lungs
fill the air with tortured wrath.
Can't you return now from heaven?
Sister listen, all he asks,
is for our painted poles and ribbons
your ponies prancing on the lawn.
Not engraved for stone cold ages,
not beckoning, "Move on."
Your edit is coming along fine. There looks like a typo and some punctuation omission in stanzas 2 through 4:
All your simple child's prayers
replay in broken memory,
and papa’s pain goes undisguised;
he can hardly look at me.
Now screams ring from his great lungs;
fill the air with tortured wrath.
Can't you return now from heaven?
Sister listen, all he asks,
is for our painted poles and ribbons,
your ponies prancing on the lawn.
Not engraved for stone cold ages,
not beckoning, "Move on."
Alternately, you could use a full stop in S1 and make a word substitution in S3:
All your simple child's prayers
replay in broken memory,
and papa’s pain goes undisguised.
He can hardly look at me.
Now screams ring as his great lungs
fill the air with tortured wrath.
Can't you return now from heaven?
Sister listen, all he asks,
is for our painted poles and ribbons,
your ponies prancing on the lawn.
Not engraved for stone cold ages,
not beckoning, "Move on."
My new watercolor: 'Nightmare After Christmas'/Chris
Posts: 426
Threads: 41
Joined: Feb 2013
Chris that's a lovely change for S3, thank you!
And yes about childs/child's, oops, sorry for that.
rowens fragmented isn't a bad thing here imo, pain often can feel like fragments. I guess I'm just trying to give readers a brief glimpse into someone else's sorrow.
That's too bad you still don't like the first stanza. =/ I thought it was an improvement.
-justcloudy
_______________________________________
The howling beast is back.
So the speaker is the sister of the girl? Is the girl grown now? Is she dead? What do you mean by heaven? You mean her new grownup life? Did she make a promise that she'd never leave, or never grow up?
I know what you're talking about, but that's because of things you've said about yourself. And I'll give you that regardless, because I can assume things about the one-time promise and returning now from heaven. But the rhymes are forced, and the phrasing is awkward. I can give you that too, if you need the speaker to sound that way. But the lines still feel forced and awkward to me.
Papa cries for one-time promise,
pearly teeth and pig-tailed hair,
for purple pockets filled with pebbles;
a parted presence, faintly there.
The revision is better than the one in the Mild thread. The last line in the first stanza, and the last line in the last stanza seem the most problematic.
Posts: 426
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Joined: Feb 2013
The speaker is a woman reliving the days after her little sister died, when they were both young. That's why it's a bit piecemeal, but awkward isn't good.
Thanks for your thoughts, maybe I should go for a drastic restructure. I'll think on it.
-justcloudy
_______________________________________
The howling beast is back.
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Hi, jc, I was really moved by your original version of this, and I am trying to figure out why for me the current version is not having the same effect.
I think he can hardly look at me. confuses the poem. This was implied by imagining having a father so deep in mourning, it lurked instead of being said. I think that was more effective for me.
And I'm missing this:
Wanting what'd be his in heaven
Hunger flaring, all he'd ask,
I thought it swung big.
This is an issue I have with my own poems during the editing process, weighing what was lost vs what was gained, so I may be overly attached to the original and be dead wrong here.
A side note, I've been enjoying your poems, they have a lovely voice, and your editing work has been interesting and educational for me.
Thanks for providing these fine threads.
billy wrote:welcome to the site. make it your own, wear it like a well loved slipper and wear it out. ella pleads:please click forum titles for posting guidelines, important threads. New poet? Try Poetic DevicesandWard's Tips
Posts: 426
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Ella, first, that's really sweet of you to say, thanks so much. I usually think my edits are worse than my originals too, at least in some way, so I'm glad that my editing is at least of use to someone? Haha.
I think I agree with you on all your points about the poem. Thank you so much for your thoughts and the time you put into them. I'll see what I can do, but not gonna lie, I am feeling kinda overwhelmed by this one.
Thanks again!
-justcloudy
_______________________________________
The howling beast is back.
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(11-28-2013, 03:07 AM)justcloudy Wrote: See here for original post, in mild.
edit, thanks Chris
Papa cries for one-time promise, Papa cries for your lost promise
pearly teeth and pig-tailed hair,
for purple pockets filled with pebbles;
a parted presence, faintly there. departed presence, faintly there
All your simple child's prayers All your simple childhood prayers
replay in broken memory, in broken memory replayed
and papa’s pain goes undisguised;
he can hardly look at me. he hasn't looked at me for days
Now screams ring as his great lungs. Now anger roars as his great lungs
fill the air with tortured wrath. fill the air with tortured screams
Can't you return now from heaven? Can't you return from heaven now?
Sister listen, all he asks Sister listen, what he dreams
is for our painted poles and ribbons,
your ponies prancing on the lawn.
Not engraved for stone cold ages, not lifelessly engraved in stone
not beckoning, "Move on." "beloved child, forever gone"
my thoughts, for what they are worth. I think this is a quite compelling poem and the pain is palpable. Anyone who has suffered great loss will identify with it. Thanks.
________
Papa cries for one-time promise,
pearly teeth and pig-tailed hair,
for purple pockets filled with pebbles;
a parted presence, faintly there.
All your simple childs prayers
replay in broken memory,
and papa’s pain goes undisguised
he can hardly look at me.
Now screams ring from his great lungs
fill the air with tortured wrath.
Can't you return now from heaven?
Sister listen, all he asks,
is for our painted poles and ribbons
your ponies prancing on the lawn.
Not engraved for stone cold ages,
not beckoning, "Move on."
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