At the Cabaret - revised

[lucentwavering]

Draft 2 -

“Darling, be an angel, pass me a cigarette”,
she said, thinking angels gracious creatures
smoothing pains like children’s well-worn blankets
(how fear is folded into aging eyes
and morbid yearnings burrow under skin).
The nonchalant pucker of lips; quick flame;
the suckling of ash: erotic exhalations
that fade in calm disquiet to a pleasant
haze. I also thought that angels
would appease. They don’t. They come
screaming rigid vengeance while I lie
stretched over my bed between
days which fray to inebriated evenings;
come roaring quaint flirtations for elusive
divinities. And though I wish to float into the night,
even the birds, drunk on rotted fruit, are devastated
by the window.

Draft 1 -

“Darling, be an angel, pass me a cigarette”,
she says, thinking angels gracious creatures
smoothing pains like children’s well-worn blankets
(how creases fold around our fearful eyes
and morbid yearnings burrow in our skin).
The nonchalant pucker of lips to flame
the suckling of ash, erotic exhalations
which fade in calm disquiet to a pleasant
haze. Weren’t we told that angels
should appease? They do not. They come
screaming rigid vengeance while you lie
stretched over your bed between rigorous
days which fray to inebriated evening
horrors; come roaring quaint flirtations for elusive
divinities, though we only wished
to float into the night: drunk
as the birds who have gorged on fruit, devastated
by a window.

[tectak]

“Darling, be an angel, pass me a cigarette”,
she says, thinking angels gracious creatures
smoothing pains like children’s well-worn blankets
(how creases fold around our fearful eyes
and morbid yearnings burrow in our skin).
The nonchalant pucker of lips to flame nonchalant pucker?
the suckling of ash, erotic exhalations Suckling?
which fade in calm disquiet to a pleasant Calm disquiet?
haze. Weren’t we told that angels
should appease? They do not. They come
screaming rigid vengeance while you lie rigid vengeance?
stretched over your bed between rigorousrigorous days
days which fray to inebriated evening
horrors; come roaring quaint flirtations quaint flirtations
divinities???????
divinities, though we only wished
to float into the night: drunk
as the birds who have gorged on fruit, devastated devastated?
by a window.

Hello lucent,
I am sorry to see this languishing as you have offered up crit to several others...sometimes excellent poetry frightens off the less confident and that is a shame...though why this piece has been avoided may be for a different reason...it is, frankly, close to indecipherible.
Obscurity is a fine ally but a hateful enemy...in this piece, obscurity has usurped your poetic prowess and is now master of misnomer and melodrama.
A line by line would not be helpful and so I have given it Perhaps if you read the piece out loud to a passing stranger and asked for an opinion, what you would get would be as valid as the piece is viable. There is no containing vessel and so the thing is shapeless and lumpy.
My only suggestion is to look at the structure of the thing and replace the jelly with a backbone...from that point on the draping of the flesh may be easier. "roaring quaint flirtations divinities," means absolutely nothing to me.
Best,
tectak

[beaufort]

Hi lucent,

I like many of these lines - "nonchalant pucker of lips", "suckling of ash", "screaming rigid vengeance", "fade in calm disquiet".
My problem is that I cannot understand what you are trying to say. My thought would be to get clearly in mind what you want to get across to the reader, and then keep that in mind as you reframe the poem. My (very limited) experience is that I know clearly what I am meaning to say, but I do not clearly communicate that to others - even though it seems apparent to me. Give it another try and let us look at the edit. Best, Linda

[crow]

Proofread:
“Darling, be an angel. Pass me a cigarette,"
she says, thinking angels gracious creatures,
smoothing pains like children’s well-worn blankets
(how creases fold around our fearful eyes,
and morbid yearnings burrow within our skin).
The nonchalant pucker of lips to flame,
the suckling of ash, erotic exhalations
that fade in calm disquiet into a pleasant
haze. Weren’t we told that angels
should appease? They do not. They come
screaming rigid vengeance while you lie
stretched over your bed between rigorous
days which fade into inebriated evening
horrors, come roaring quaint flirtations for elusive
divinities, though we only wished
to float into the night, drunk
as the birds who have gorged on fruit and devastated
by a window.

Take the changes or leave the original. Just wanted to suggest the corrections Several may be debatable in a any case.

---

---

Edit:
At the Cabaret

The title is merely atmospheric. Consider adding narrative content. For instance "At the park" vs. "At the park, dogs." or "At the park, running . . ."

“Darling, be an angel, pass me a cigarette”,

This is a step-wise elevation. The narrator is offered a promotion from "darling" to "potential angel." It's a hazardous promotion, and the rest of the work says why.

she says, thinking angels gracious creatures

"[S]he" is undefined, probably for the best, because she isn't the point. "[T]hinking angels gracious creatures" resembles "when the Gods wish to punish us, they grant our wish." I have several issues, here. Chiefly, what difference does her naivete make? Is the narrator going to be simply ingracious? Evil? Punishing? The poem goes on into a woozy exploration of her definitions and a hard-edged correction of it. Angels, it turns out, can be unwelcome, hurtful agents of condemnation.

But I'm left wondering how that perspective, held by the narrator, might at all impact the quoted woman.

smoothing pains like children’s well-worn blankets

I'm not familiar with smoothing a child's blanket, well-worn or otherwise, so I assume the blankets are "smoothing" the pains? I'd suggest a reordering, then: "like children's well-worn blankets smooth their pains."
If that's an accurate recast, then the notion is that angels, like children's blankets, shield from fear"?

Also, I'm unaware of the idiom "smoothing blankets." If I'm just new to it, keep it, but if not, consider an alternative.

(how creases fold around our fearful eyes
and morbid yearnings burrow in our skin).

Problematically, creases don't fold around fearful eyes. Fearful eyes are wide. And to say "morbid yearnings burrow in our skin"--the word "burrow" works for me, but . . . my biggest issue here is "our." Who comprises "our"?

The nonchalant pucker of lips to flame

That's her smoking? There's a suggestion that calling the narrator an angel is the puckering of lips to flame. This is, perhaps, the better read, because a cigarette is not "a flame," and lips don't pucker to flame.

the suckling of ash, erotic exhalations

The in-and-out of breath hits home. "Suckling" vs. "sucking" works for me.

which fade in calm disquiet to a pleasant

Either "ash, erotic exhalations, which fades" or "exhalations that fade".

haze. Weren’t we told that angels

Again, who's "we"? I can attribute that to the narrator and the quoted woman, or to "all of us," like there's a common knowledge that.

should appease? They do not. They come

I've never been told that angels are "appeasing." I've been told that they do God's will. They are agents of a divine will. And I've never been told that God appeases anything. So, now I'm wondering what or whom is being appeased . . .

screaming rigid vengeance while you lie

Should be "lay," right? "Screaming rigid" is an odd expression. I have no concept of "flexible vengeance" . . .

stretched over your bed between rigorous

This is a reference to the blankets, right? I like the flip. At one point, blankets had a protective quality. Now, they get scary.

days which fray to inebriated evening

This is hallucinogenic. The kids blankets are, for some reason, responding to a drunken night by loosing the integrity of their edges??? I love being denied entry into this metaphor.

horrors; come roaring quaint flirtations for elusive

What's a drunken horror? A drunken abusive dad? I have a hard time imagining a drunken monster being different from a regular monster, in terms of its horrific-ness.

Roaring quaint flirtations is an awesome idea. Develop it. I imagine an angel screaming, "YOU'RE DADDY MUST'VE BEEN A THIEF!!!"

divinities, though we only wished

"[D]ivinities" shows me that we're not monotheistic. There's a devil, now. But it'd be cleaner if these "angels" weren't either agents of god or the devil or something else, but only of god.

to float into the night: drunk

Should be "drunken"?

as the birds who have gorged on fruit, devastated
by a window.

The drunken birds have crashed into a window, yes? But the window is a metaphor? Of what?

[concordant]

You know, the thing I love about poetry is the fact that a poem rarely means much to me the first time I read it. It is only after repeated readings that it will become familiar and blossom into what it is. At this moment I've read your poem 3 times and with each reading I've perceived more of the depth that it contains. Some suggestions which you can ignore if you want to. I disagree with some of your line breaks, most notably starting a new line with the word horror. The line "suckling of ash" could use an extra descriptor: a verb or adjective. Its a very good image and it connects with the previous imagery of childhood with your use of "well worn blanket" but I think it could use just a little more spice. Are you a fan of Rilke? I have more ideas about your poem I'd like to express but I'm just not sure how to put them into words. Maybe the last line could be changed to something like "and mistaken the sky for a reflection in a window." I like what you've done. Thanks for sharing.

[crow]

Quick question: is this a poem about cancer? Is that anywhere in your contemplations? If you answered, I'd revise my critique

[lucentwavering]

Thankyou everyone for your thoughts! I've been away from home lately hence mostly without internet and thus apologize for the delayed response.
To be honest, I have the feeling we're trying too hard to interpret this poem. It is neither a narrative nor a riddle, but an associative thought process. There is, on the one hand, the idea of a 'guardian angel', and then there is the more ferocious biblical idea. The cigarette seemed to me a symbol of this disjunction in language because it offers immediately the promise of pleasure, but in the long run leads to various forms of decay. Here I was thinking more of wrinkled skin, though cancer would be another possible extremity.
That being said, I see that there is a problem with the pronouns and some of the imagery, and I am much obliged to crow for pointing this out.
Cheers! And I will try to get that posted soon.

[lucentwavering]

Does this smooth it out somewhat?

“Darling, be an angel, pass me a cigarette”,
she said, thinking angels gracious creatures
smoothing pains like children’s well-worn blankets
(how fear is folded into aging eyes
and morbid yearnings burrow under skin).
The nonchalant pucker of lips; quick flame;
the suckling of ash: erotic exhalations
that fade in calm disquiet to a pleasant
haze. I also thought that angels
would appease. They don’t. They come
screaming rigid vengeance while I lie
stretched over my bed between
days which fray to inebriated evenings;
come roaring quaint flirtations for elusive
divinities. And though I wish to float into the night,
even the birds, drunk on rotted fruit, are devastated
by the window.

[lucentwavering]

I'm I to take it that this edit has not been in the least redeeming?

[ellajam]

I'm I to take it that this edit has not been in the least redeeming?

Hi, lucent, no time to think right now, I'll read it again later, but the usual way to post an edit here is to edit the op putting the labeled edit above the original and add "edit" to the thread title. It catches a bit more attention, makes it easier to compare the two and assures that readers critique the current version.

---

There's a lot here I like. I can't really connect the beginning to the end, as if she's just here to introduce angels. Here are some notes for your consideration.

Does this smooth it out somewhat?

“Darling, be an angel, pass me a cigarette”,
she said, thinking angels gracious creatures
smoothing pains like children’s well-worn blankets The first three lines work, nice foray into her mind process, but I don't get the next two lines in this sentence, or how the "how" applies
(how fear is folded into aging eyes
and morbid yearnings burrow under skin).
The nonchalant pucker of lips; quick flame;
the suckling of ash: erotic exhalations
that fade in calm disquiet to a pleasant I think you can do better than "calm disquiet" and "pleasant haze", and I don't get the break on "pleasant"
haze. I also thought that angels
would appease. They don’t. They come I'd bring screaming up to this line
screaming rigid vengeance while I lie
stretched over my bed between "over" sticks
days which fray to inebriated evenings; fray works well
come roaring quaint flirtations for elusive while quaint may work technically, it's different but not good, a stopper
divinities. And though I wish to float into the night,
even the birds, drunk on rotted fruit, are devastated
by the window. strong end, but has the window devastated the birds or are they next to the window acting devastated?

Hope this helps

[lucentwavering]

Hi Ella! Thanks for your advice regarding edits, and also for your edit ^^
I actually agree with most of what you say and will definitely make those changes in the next draft.
As for the connectivity of the piece, yes, the speaker at the beginning is simply there to introduce the theme. The opening line is actually a quote from Sally Bowles in the movie 'Cabaret', and it launched me into a reflection on the oddity of referring to someone as an angel. So there is no real linear progression as such, just a series of lateral/thematic leaps. Does it make any more sense in that light, or is there still something missing?

[ellajam]

Hi Ella! Thanks for your advice regarding edits, and also for your edit ^^
I actually agree with most of what you say and will definitely make those changes in the next draft.
As for the connectivity of the piece, yes, the speaker at the beginning is simply there to introduce the theme. The opening line is actually a quote from Sally Bowles in the movie 'Cabaret', and it launched me into a reflection on the oddity of referring to someone as an angel. So there is no real linear progression as such, just a series of lateral/thematic leaps. Does it make any more sense in that light, or is there still something missing?

Hi, Lucent, and happy new year.

Although I have a tendency to whine through my own edits about why my connection to a specific thought or word is important to the poem, sometimes it is and sometimes it's not.

When I'm the reader, I don't want the poem explained in a side note, I want it all right there. I'm not suggesting the opening doesn't work (except for "(how fear is folded into aging eyes and morbid yearnings burrow under skin)" , I still can't put that together). It's just not important to me that Sally sparked your interesting angel poem. I actually applied the title to a place the opening might happen, although smoking in cabarets seems to be a thing of the past.