Sienna at Burnt Twilight

[Erthona]

.
In the blackness of the night,
I ghost out under monochromatic light,
and know the gentle breeze is you.
I feel you brush against my face:
causing an unseen silent tear,
knowing you are, and are not here,
thoughts like prayers muttered in haste
into voids of unmeasured space.
This is not melancholy gloom,
a fog on stagnant stilted pond:
it is the strand that binds quintessence
through all the present haze
as life beats ruby crystal time
through the ancient hallways of my mind,
where lighthearted laughter once did play,
but now stays far, far away.

Awake good child: Puck or Pan,
we need a boy now not a man.
One who’s always ready with a smile,
who never fears the darkest night;
anyone he can beguile.
Then round the maypole we’ll all come,
and into pies we’ll stick our thumbs,
eating jelly or the crumbs,
nor turn such verities intolerable.

Once before waste laid this land,
when all was one and thus thought bland,
my brothers ached for different times.
So they changed our quiescent course,
placid mare traded for unbroken horse.
Their change rendered fire from the skies,
not the valiant thumb for pies.
Only after did they rue their vow,
and in one voice cry,
“change our choice back now!”
but our powers were long bled,
thus we found we had no choice,
but to the violence of our souls give voice.

So is it any wonder that it brings a tear,
to the child, sickled urn lying near,
having tumbled off it’s lofty perch,
and war is now the same as church,
all broken into pieces?

I long for you upon this dawning day
in this wintered, withered month of May,
for I know that it is true,
—I cannot turn from this frigid breeze—
that is and is not you.

—Erthona

[Codry]

.
In the blackness of the night,
I ghost out under monochromatic light,
and know the gentle breeze is you,.
I feel you brush against my face:
causing an unseen silent tear,
knowing you are, and are not here,
thoughts like prayers muttered in haste
into voids of unmeasured space.
This is not melancholy gloom,
a fog on stagnant stilted pond:
it is the strand that binds quintessence
through all the present haze
as life beats ruby crystal time
through the ancient hallways of my mind,
where lighthearted laughter once did played,
but now stays far, far away.

Awake good child: Puck or Pan,
we need a boy now not a man.
One who’s always ready with a smile,
who never fears the darkest night;
anyone he can beguile.
Then round the maypole we’ll all come,
and into pies we’ll stick our thumbs,
eating jelly or the crumbs,
nor turn such verities intolerable.

Once before waste laid this land,
when all was one and thus thought bland,
my brothers ached for different times.
So they changed our quiescent course,
placid mare traded for unbroken horse.
Their change rendered fire from the skies,
not the valiant thumb for pies.
Only after did they rue their vow,
and in one voice cry,
“change our choice back now!”
but our powers were long bled,
thus we found we had no choice,
but to the violence of our souls give voice.

So is it any wonder that it brings a tear,
to the child, sickled urn lying near,
having tumbled off it’s lofty perch,
and war is now the same as church,
all broken into pieces?

I long for you upon this dawning day
in this wintered, withered month of May,
for I know that it is true,
—I cannot turn from this frigid breeze—
that is and is not you.

—Erthona

sickled I have a problem with this word


I love the style and the beat of it, the way you used adjectives, the theme of the close yet so far away lover(at least I think it's a lover). Use capitals at the beginning of every word from the verse.

[Erthona]

Thanks Codry,

What problem do you have with the word "sickled"?

What do you mean by "Use capitals at the beginning of every word from the verse."?

Thanks again for your comments.

Dale

[Blake]

I think he means capitalizing the first letter of each line

[Erthona]

Why in the world would I do that?

Dale

[ChristopherSea]

Why in the world would I do that?

Dale

Hello Dale, welcome back!

Some folks are either sticklers for that archaic convention or too lazy to change that auto-cap convention built in to microsoft word.

As to your poem, I love the rich and warm hue that burnt sienna displays as a watercolor hue. In fact, the background of my watercolor painting displayed in my avatar is burnt sienna in the guise of the moon illuminating a sepia forrest to cast shadows on the snow. To my point, that same warming glow is evoked by your poem! I will have to read this through again for a more helpful critique, but the mood herein ties well to the title.

I did notice that in your opening you use both darkness and light. For me, they may contradict more than contrast. We all know that there is darkness in the night, so why not let the night and the monochromatic ray alone set up your opposition if so desired and use another descriptor for the night? Alternately, you could 'slice', 'cleave' or 'interupt' the darkness of this night with that sliver of light. It's just a thought.

By the way, 'ghost' as a verb is superb! I'll be back for another look./Chris

[ellajam]

I'm really enjoying this. I like that I can't figure out the rhyme scheme, it keeps it interesting and natural. I also find a lot of the language here beautiful. Here are some notes.

.
In the blackness of the night,
I ghost out under monochromatic light, "ghost out" caught my attention, in a good way
and know the gentle breeze is you.
I feel you brush against my face:
causing an unseen silent tear,
knowing you are, and are not here,
thoughts like prayers muttered in haste
into voids of unmeasured space. I'm not sure about voids, maybe depths, or maybe something better
This is not melancholy gloom, Love that this is made clear, and the sounds of these lines
a fog on stagnant stilted pond:
it is the strand that binds quintessence
through all the present haze
as life beats ruby crystal time Ruby works so well for me, makes me think of bloodflow
through the ancient hallways of my mind,
where lighthearted laughter once did play,
but now stays far, far away.

Awake good child: Puck or Pan,
we need a boy now not a man.
One who’s always ready with a smile,
who never fears the darkest night;
anyone he can beguile.
Then round the maypole we’ll all come,
and into pies we’ll stick our thumbs,
eating jelly or the crumbs,
nor turn such verities intolerable.
This section had me grinning, it's thought, pace, images

Once before waste laid this land,
when all was one and thus thought bland,
my brothers ached for different times.
So they changed our quiescent course,
placid mare traded for unbroken horse.
Their change rendered fire from the skies,
not the valiant thumb for pies.
Only after did they rue their vow,
and in one voice cry,
“change our choice back now!”
but our powers were long bled,
thus we found we had no choice,
but to the violence of our souls give voice.
Regarding “change our choice back now!”, I don't think we're so quick to admit the bad choice was our own, maybe “change our world back now!” or something along those lines.


So is it any wonder that it brings a tear,
to the child, sickled urn lying near,
having tumbled off it’s lofty perch,
and war is now the same as church,
all broken into pieces?
I think of sickled as a clean cut and tumbled as shattered, I'm confused

I long for you upon this dawning day
in this wintered, withered month of May,
for I know that it is true,
—I cannot turn from this frigid breeze—
that is and is not you.
love this being in May, swoon

—Erthona

Thanks for posting it, an interesting and beautiful read.

[beaufort]

.
In the blackness of the night,
I ghost out under monochromatic light,
and know the gentle breeze is you. I like the image of you "ghosting" out and interacting with another breeze/spirit
I feel you brush against my face:
causing an unseen silent tear,
knowing you are, and are not here,
thoughts like prayers muttered in haste
into voids of unmeasured space.
This is not melancholy gloom, good that you differentiate your experience from depression
a fog on stagnant stilted pond:
it is the strand that binds quintessence
through all the present haze
as life beats ruby crystal time
through the ancient hallways of my mind,
where lighthearted laughter once did play,
but now stays far, far away.

Awake good child: Puck or Pan,
we need a boy now not a man.
One who’s always ready with a smile,
who never fears the darkest night;
anyone he can beguile.
Then round the maypole we’ll all come,
and into pies we’ll stick our thumbs,
eating jelly or the crumbs,
nor turn such verities intolerable. nice, quickened pace here very effective

Once before waste laid this land,
when all was one and thus thought bland,
my brothers ached for different times.
So they changed our quiescent course,
placid mare traded for unbroken horse. I stumbled on "traded" when reading it aloud. Would one-syllable "swapped" sound better?
Their change rendered fire from the skies,
not the valiant thumb for pies.
Only after did they rue their vow,
and in one voice cry,
“change our choice back now!”
but our powers were long bled,
thus we found we had no choice,
but to the violence of our souls give voice.

So is it any wonder that it brings a tear,
to the child, sickled urn lying near, I'm taking this to mean in the shape of a sickle, crescent-shaped
having tumbled off it’s lofty perch,
and war is now the same as church,
all broken into pieces?

I long for you upon this dawning day
in this wintered, withered month of May, May is a surprise!
for I know that it is true,
—I cannot turn from this frigid breeze—
that is and is not you. your use of frigid here is interesting - obviously the wintered May is cold, is the other that you long for cold as well? Or is the other the breeze ( as iterated before) and the temperature is inconsequential? Or that you and the breeze and the other are one? It may not matter if I understand that or not, as the language itself is beautiful (and warm)

—Erthona

This is wonderful to my ear. Sorry I can't think of useful criticism. Very nice.

[Blake]

Once before waste laid this land,
when all was one and thus thought bland,

I absolutely love these lines, very nice flow and they pair well

[bena]

I agree with the above fungus as far as corrections. I have missed your voice, dear dale. Everything else seems perfect to me, including the verbidizing of ghost and the word sickled (although, my spellcheck wants me to change my word to verbalizing, and yours to suckled.) Never pay attention to that thing anyway.


Missed you, and perhaps you have inspired me. We shall see.

love ya,
mel.

[Erthona]

ChristopherSea,

Thanks for your comments, very insightful.

“I did notice that in your opening you use both darkness and light.” Actual your avatar illustrates this idea pretty well. There are parts where the light gets through and parts, that because of night blindness seem completely dark, actually I used black. It is also meant to convey an alternating mood of the speaker, thus a black mood. I’m not saying I am right, this is just an explanation of my rational for why I did what I did. I will consider your comments as I come back to this later. If it is indeed redundant it needs slicing out.

Thanks again,

Dale
_______________________________________________________________________
ellajam,

“I'm not sure about voids, maybe depths, or maybe something better”

I guess the effect I was going for was the idea of “nothingness”, that is the absurdity of how we try to comfort ourselves, hoping that by doing the ritual what we want will happen, and maybe in the end it does by raising our spirits. Overall it was meant to illustrate the tenuousness of the connection. Is she really there, or am I just imagining it.

“Regarding “change our choice back now!”, I don't think we're so quick to admit the bad choice was our own, maybe “change our world back now!” or something along those lines.”

Yeah, I have had a number of different things in this spot. The last, before this was “change the bull back to the cow”.

also

“Then for more peaceful times, we cried. “Now change back this course.”

But yeah, I am unhappy with it myself, just haven’t found what needs to go there.

“I think of sickled as a clean cut and tumbled as shattered, I'm confused”

“sickle” as in the sickle of death. The sickle of death is painted on the urn. Death in this case is one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. The urn is broken and death has been set free, and if “Death” is out, so also must be Pestilence, War, Famine. Of course once out… The child represents innocence both as the innocent victims who suffer the horrors of the apocalypse, and as the loss of innocence, that once lost can never be gotten again.

Thanks for your critique,

Dale

PS Can I get a “peanut butter and ellajam” sandwich to go?
________________________________________________________________________

beaufort,

“I stumbled on "traded" when reading it aloud. Would one-syllable "swapped" sound better?”

I agree it is awkward and needs a one-syllable word, although I don’t think "swapped" is that word, it just carries too many connotations I don’t wish to bring on board. But yeah, good catch, I’ll have to think about alternatives.

“I'm taking this to mean in the shape of a sickle, crescent-shaped”

No, although that is a neat idea. It has a sickle painted on it, just as one might say,
“a flowered urn”.

“your use of frigid here is interesting - obviously the wintered May is cold, is the other that you long for cold as well? Or is the other the breeze ( as iterated before) and the temperature is inconsequential? Or that you and the breeze and the other are one? It may not matter if I understand that or not, as the language itself is beautiful (and warm)”

The war has upset the natural order, and now May is cold/frigid. Frigid in the sense of barren, no May flowers, green grass of spring, no new beginning. Because May is cold, the breeze is also cold, but if the speaker wants to feel her touch, he cannot turn away as one normally would. That, at least is the superficial meaning, without delving into the metaphorical aspects.

“This is wonderful to my ear. Sorry I can't think of useful criticism. Very nice.”

Not at all, your catch on “traded” is very beneficial.

Thanks for your critique,

Dale
_______________________________________________________________________
Blake,
Thanks,

Dale
___________________________________________________________________


BedsideFungus,

“(Should there be a comma after anyone? If not, then I find this a bit awkward and I'm not sure what you were going for?)”

Yes, it is awkwardly written. I have worked it over quite a lot. It is suppose to say he can beguile anyone. In the sense used here it means he can charm anyone.

“(its, with no apostrophe)”

Thank you, good catch.

“because monochromatic has so many syllables, the line doesn't flow as well as it could. Perhaps shorten the under before to 'neath or substitute invariant or homogenous for monochromatic?”

Agreed, it is awkward. Don’t know about “‘neath”, but one less syllable would help. Unfortunately, for better or ill, “monochromatic” must stay as it conveys a foundation image, that is to say the world is colorless.


“I also think that it might be a good idea to revisit some of your less impactful word choices throughout the piece.”

Agreed, I’ll consider which one’s might use an upgrade, I just have to be careful not to over-write it as this is already fairly dense, but I think you are right that there are a few that could stand some polishing.

You and Tom (tectak) must get along well, he is a Mycologist, as well as a real fun guy!

Thanks for your comments, very helpful,

Dale

[Erthona]

Mellifluous,

Evidently your spellchecker needs to get an unabridged OED so it can be of some use. My spell checker frequently tells me no such word exists, so I have to go look it up in a real dictionary (just because my spelling sucks, not because I do not have an extensive vocabulary--just wanted to make that clear ) and I am nearly always correct, and the stupid dimwitted spellchecker nearly always wrong (preen and purr).

"perhaps you have inspired me"

Oh goody, if I have can I be your "big fat hairy muse?" Or would that be moose? Well maybe in Canada (I don't know what a "can of duh" is but it doesn't seem very tasty!) You know I am related to Zeus 56 times removed on my mother's side. Of course it is off of the Dionysus branch, so I didn't get some of the better qualities of Zeus, but "some god is better than no god at all" to paraphrase BJ Thomas.

Missed you too. XOXOXO "Give us a squeeze!"

Dale

---

BedsideFungus,

I can't think of anything more nefarious than poetry, especially since MacArthur Park!

Dale

[billy]

i have no idea if you have a rhyme scheme or not. i'd say not but the rhymes you use work very well and aren't in my face.

i've read this a few times and i need more reads of it. it has a sense of loss but not a melancholy sense. there's a need to move on to remember but not to linger on what/who was. i think it needs some tweaks. maybe a few words could be cut without harming the poem, and if possible a smoothing of a couple of lines.

above all, the poem held me, i presumed something of an artist in the pice because of the title.

thanks for the read and great to see you post some poetry.

ps, could you please capitalise every 4th word :J:

.
In the blackness of the night, feels a bit cliche as a first line, (feels cliche as any line really)
I ghost out under monochromatic light,
and know the gentle breeze is you.
I feel you brush against my face:
causing an unseen silent tear,
knowing you are, and are not here,
thoughts like prayers muttered in haste
into voids of unmeasured space.
This is not melancholy gloom,
a fog on stagnant stilted pond:while i like the S's stilted doesn't work for me. i see stilted as raised or stiff,
it is the strand that binds quintessence not sure what the quintessence means in this usage.
through all the present haze is [all needed]
as life beats ruby crystal time i like this line, rubies being connected with timepieces and crystal representational of quartz movement (i know what i mean)
through the ancient hallways of my mind, is the needed?
where lighthearted laughter once did play, [once did play] sounds newbish/yodera speak, why not once played [though i do see it wouldn't rhyme with away
but now stays far, far away.

Awake good child: Puck or Pan,
we need a boy now not a man.
One who’s always ready with a smile,
who never fears the darkest night; blackest night, darkest night...pretty common word use
anyone he can beguile. i found this line awkward
Then round the maypole we’ll all come,
and into pies we’ll stick our thumbs,
eating jelly or the crumbs,
nor turn such verities intolerable. this line read awkwardly

Once before waste laid this land,
when all was one and thus thought bland,
my brothers ached for different times.
So they changed our quiescent course,
placid mare traded for unbroken horse. this line felt awkward without reading the above line two or three times
Their change rendered fire from the skies,
not the valiant thumb for pies. i like the repetition of thumbs and pies.
Only after did they rue their vow,
and in one voice cry,
“change our choice back now!”
but our powers were long bled,
thus we found we had no choice,
but to the violence of our souls give voice. two buts too close together

So is it any wonder that it brings a tear,
to the child, sickled urn lying near,
having tumbled off it’s lofty perch,
and war is now the same as church,
all broken into pieces?

I long for you upon this dawning day
in this wintered, withered month of May, unusual paring winter and may (i think it works)
for I know that it is true,
—I cannot turn from this frigid breeze—
that is and is not you.

—Erthona

[Erthona]

Billy,

Thanks for your comments I agree with most.

"a fog on stagnant stilted pond:while i like the S's stilted doesn't work for me. i see stilted as raised or stiff,"

stilted=constrained.

But yeah, the choice is probably mostly based on the alliteration rather than any need for its inclusion.
---------------------------------------------
"who never fears the darkest night; blackest night, darkest night...pretty common word use"

Yes, but I have already used "In the blackness of the night,"

Still, in general I agree with your assessment here.
---------------------------------------------------------
"two buts too close together "

Can that ever really be a problem?

No, actually I meant to change the second "but" to "so".

"so to the violence of our souls give voice.
---------------------------------------------------
I think this poem can stand on its own, but since you read the snippet of the poem I posted here from the "The Sons of Sirion: Canto II", I'll let you know this is from the same poem, just further along, in fact it is close to the beginning of Canto III.
-------------------------------------------
"could you please capitalize every 4th word" Sure, and how deep do you want my foot to go?
--------------------------------------------
Thanks for the critique,

Dale

[ellajam]

Hey, Dale, Good Morning.

I have no problem with what you meant with "void", I just thought the word itself landed with a bit of a thud.

I got the sickle of death, then stumbled over tumble. If it's dead does it matter what happens to its body? If its sliced open could we put it back together had it not shattered? I think not. In your note to beaufort you say it was just marked with a sickle. It was marked for death then accidentally fell? No. Maybe I shouldn't be taking tumble as accidentally but I do. Maybe it will fall into place for me.

(and you can have any kind of sandwich you want, just show up for lunch)

[Codry]

Thanks Codry,

What problem do you have with the word "sickled"?

What do you mean by "Use capitals at the beginning of every word from the verse."?

Thanks again for your comments.

Dale

"sick" is not a verb to end it with ed
sickled it's not a word per see after all it does not exist in the dictionary
Maybe sickened which is an adverb.

Frankly that's a rule in poetry, to start with a word that has a capital. Otherwise it will look like you ran out space to write it on the previous row.

A capital will always announce the beginning of a new verse.

I long for her eyes
to be surprised.

I believe this down here is much better

I long for her eyes
To be surprised.

Talking about "so close and so far away" cliche theme that you commented upon my poem .... your whole poem it's about just that ... isn't that ironic? don't you think, Alanis ?lol

[tectak]

I just KNOW I am going to regret this...I have a portentous feeling that I am going to get hooked and then hauled for the crit I most sincerely send as well meant....but.....but....there is something I am just a little wary of. Can't put my finger on it.
.
In the blackness of the night, Now even you would say patent leather shining cliche...I dare not.
I ghost out under monochromatic light,...and I have a good memory for the assumption that moonlight is monochromatic (from one of your vignettes) but it just ain't so...who cares.
and know the gentle breeze is you.Yes, but often said. See? I think i am on your hook already
I feel you brush against my face:
causing an unseen silent tear, Unseen and silent....surely it is not there at all....and stop calling me Shirley. Petards at dawn methinks
knowing you are, and are not here,Well, yes, I suppose so...you do not think and yet you are. Hmm. There MUST be profundity here. You don't normally mumble on for so long without making at least ONE unique point. This may be it. That comma before the "and" takes some of the edge from the observation making it seem a little naive...you know, oversimple.
thoughts like prayers muttered in haste
into voids of unmeasured space.I thought you had banned the use of the word "void"in poetry? Oh...no...my mistake. It was everyone else.
This is not melancholy gloom, Right! The good stuff starts HERE. Welcome back
a fog on stagnant stilted pond:
it is the strand that binds quintessence
through all the present haze
as life beats ruby crystal time
through the ancient hallways of my mind,
where lighthearted laughter once did play, it did, did it? Sorry. Unfair point. There are, though, ways round the mistrel song. I expect May in the next line....but worse. Oh no....not far far away. You are pricking me!
but now stays far, far away.

Awake good child: Puck or Pan,
we need a boy now not a man.
One who’s always ready with a smile,
who never fears the darkest night;
anyone he can beguile....or is this "he can beguile anyone"? Now you are toying with me
Then round the maypole we’ll all come, Oh, the image. Coming through the Rye has nothing on this...could you have managed to stick "together" on the end of the line?
and into pies we’ll stick our thumbs,
eating jelly or the crumbs,
nor turn such verities intolerable.Suspect use of "nor". It is not boolean...ask Boo Leanne.

Once before waste laid this land, Is it me?
when all was one and thus thought bland,
my brothers ached for different times.
So they changed our quiescent course,
placid mare traded for unbroken horse.
Their change rendered fire from the skies,
not the valiant thumb for pies. Forgivable repetition. I would be criticised for it but I think it is more than justified here...and I will fight any man who disagrees.
Only after did they rue their vow,
and in one voice cry,
“change our choice back now!”
but our powers were long bled,
thus we found we had no choice,
but to the violence of our souls give voice.The last six lines say something quite important but in a very awkward way. I cannot read it without hitting my shock absorbers. Is this intentional? Is it ALL intentional? Are you playing games here? Either way, it matters only if you take ANY notice of me...and why should you

So is it any wonder that it brings a tear,
to the child, sickled urn lying near,
having tumbled off it’s lofty perch,
and war is now the same as church,
all broken into pieces? No. Lost me. It, it, its.

I long for you upon this dawning day
in this wintered, withered month of May,Shit. I knew May would come...a little late this year.
for I know that it is true,
—I cannot turn from this frigid breeze— a dash to the finish line can cause a stumble. Your poem
that is and is not you. ...a recovery of sorts or thoughts. Not sure if it is enough.[b]

Well, I gave it my best shot but I've been away for a while myself and didn't expect to come back to a full kitchen sink and the bed not made. I will come back to this but only if you tidy up first. Great to see you, Dale..as always.
Very Best,
tectak


—Erthona

[ChristopherSea]

Dale, I am still on your title and first line. Is it night or twilight? If twilight, your light source is the sun and your title stands. However, twilight would then conflict with your darkness of night. If it is night, you should probably change the title to 'Sienna in Burnt Moonlight' or something more apropos. You could 'ghost out' under either light source. However, a single color of light (monochromatic) would be tough to pull off at night. Moon/starlight is white and polychromatic. Some sunsets are heavily hued orange, red, violet, etc, but again not a single monochromatic hue and definitely not a specific wavelength. Nonetheless, it is possible for your spector to ghost out beneath a few rays of a particular color. In this case, you could change the first line to something like: 'In the murk of twilight, I ghost out...' This probably hurts more than helps, but scientific accuracy is important. I will try to get past the title and opening line now!

[Erthona]

ellajam,

Are you just playing with me? It's like a geni in a bottle. Death is the fourth horseman of the apocalypse, if he has been released (by breaking his urn)then the other 3 are also free. I'll concede tumbled is a bit hap-hazarded, "oops, bumped the table, broke the urn, let death out. Now I have to male a new urn, do tons of conjuration spells...he is always so testy when he has to come in from playing. Oh Bother!

Dale

Hey, Dale, Good Morning.

I have no problem with what you meant with "void", I just thought the word itself landed with a bit of a thud.

I got the sickle of death, then stumbled over tumble. If it's dead does it matter what happens to its body? If its sliced open could we put it back together had it not shattered? I think not. In your note to beaufort you say it was just marked with a sickle. It was marked for death then accidentally fell? No. Maybe I shouldn't be taking tumble as accidentally but I do. Maybe it will fall into place for me.

(and you can have any kind of sandwich you want, just show up for lunch)

---

Codry,

"sick" is not a verb to end it with ed
sickled it's not a word per see after all it does not exist in the dictionary
Maybe sickened which is an adverb.

According to "Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary" 'sickled' is a word

Sic"kled\, a. Furnished with a sickle.
Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary, © 1996, 1998 MICRA, Inc.


It is an "adjective" (the root word is sickle, which is a noun) and modifies the noun, which in this case is urn. The urn was sickled, in other words the urn has the image painted, or emblazoned upon it in some way.
---------------------------------------------------------
Frankly that's a rule in poetry, to start with a word that has a capital. Otherwise it will look like you ran out space to write it on the previous row.

A capital will always announce the beginning of a new verse.

And what authoritative reference do you cite that this is true? I was unaware of any authoritative rulebook on versification. Having one would save us all a great amount of time as we tend to debate endlessly about points of style.


Talking about "so close and so far away" cliche theme that you commented upon my poem .... your whole poem it's about just that ... isn't that ironic? don't you think, Alanis ?lol

I try never to think

Actually I was not commenting upon the "theme", which is quite archetypal, no I was commenting on the phrase "so close, but yet so far away" as being cliche. If you can find the same or similar phrase in three separate pop songs, then I do think it is cliche, and probably needs fresher language, but that is the great difficulty with writing love poetry, it is nearly impossible to not fall into a cliche.

n'est-ce pas ma chérie?

Dale

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Thanks Tom,

Quite the yeoman's duty to muddle through the whole thing, I appreciate the effort.

Did I ban "void"? Damn. The problem is that section is going to come out cliche no matter how you hoist it.

I think I agree with most everything you said, nothing like a sardonic cynic to shoot a piece of love poetry all to hell. (a thousand holes in blackburn lancashire)

I think you are better at love poetry than I, as you have no soul, and thus are not tempted to wander into sentimentality. I on the other hand have not quite gotten rid of all my soul (although I have sold it off a number of times, there are these wispy pieces that keep coming back).

wispy pieces,
return like feces,
floating down love's canal,
wispy pieces,
soul of feces,
where does that leave me now?

Well I think it is time to shelve this one for about a year with a copy of all the critiques (and there have been some very good comments), until I have excised (definition 2) my soul into indifference.

Thanks again Tom, as always your insightful cruel wit keeps the bromance alive.

XOXOXO

Dale

[ellajam]

I'll concede tumbled is a bit hap-hazarded

I have no problem with the concept, it's the feeling of the word I'm quibbling about. I'm like that with my own poems, attached to or able to detach from certain words in a specific place. It's your poem, your tumble, I'm just voicing where I stand on it. I don't think it's bothering anyone else.

(cheese, crackers and cabernet)