Uncle Beige

[theswelter]

Uncle Beige rests on the desert, stretched out,
Like a zillion suede hats.
Igneous relic;
Retired Malboro Man.
Two young date palms
Shake green feather headdresses
Lust on those basilic veins
Remnants of heat that came from below.
They shake their fronds,
Sway their hips,
Beckoning,
But neither pros nor cons can
Excite Uncle Beige any more.
"What a bore.
If only he would samba!"
An old dog with whiskey eyes overhears.
He lives in homesteader cabins
Blown dusty by sepia winds.
Watches the palms' emerald shimmy,
And runs to them,
Ups his hind, sprays adoring gold
On wrinkled brown skin.
The ladies shudder
At such terrible lack of manners
And boulders crack
As Uncle Beige stifles a giggle.

[John Galt]

I really liked your poem, and the thoughts it contains.

Loved the colour and texture of the first 2 lines, the dog with whisky eyes, the homesteader cabins and much more.

I like the way you left "leg" our after "hind."

Thanks for the read. JG

[theswelter]

Thank you so much John! I wrote this poem while sitting outside The Palms, a dusty nowhere bar in Wonder Valley, CA, straight out of a Lynch movie. I've been writing poems for several years but have not really shared them yet. I'm so excited to have a forum here where I can do that. I'm a little nervous about posting feedback to others' work only because I feel unqualified to do so, but I will give it a shot and hopefully offer support, if nothing else.

I really liked your poem, and the thoughts it contains.

Loved the colour and texture of the first 2 lines, the dog with whisky eyes, the homesteader cabins and much more.

I like the way you left "leg" our after "hind."

Thanks for the read. JG

[ChristopherSea]

Swelter, Welcome to the site. I like your poem. I would recommend uncapping the first word of each line. ‘Rests’ is a relatively weak opening verb, something like ‘lounges’ or ‘slouches’ may serve you better. You may want to consider a comma after hats and continue with ‘..igneous relic, retired….’ It looks like you are missing commas after ‘headdresses’ and ‘veins’ as well. ‘Beckoning’ may not be worthy of its own line. You may want to consider a comma after 'bore' and replace the exclamation mark with another comma to connect that old dog to the quotation. Without a pronoun, maybe a comma instead of a period after 'winds' would fare better, so would ‘pees’ or ‘urinates’ to simplify the line. Hopefully, you find some ideas for your next edit of this fun poem in this critique, see what you think./Chris

[theswelter]

Fantastic! Thank you Chris for your detailed feedback. I agree with much of what you said, and am going to apply it.

[Tiger the Lion]

Hello theswelter, and welcome. I really enjoyed this. Here are a few notes,

Uncle Beige rests on the desert, stretched out,
Like a zillion suede hats. I would prefer a real number to zillion. (personal preference)
Igneous relic;
Retired Malboro Man. Marlboro (sp)
Two young date palms
Shake green feather headdresses
Lust on those basilic veins
Remnants of heat that came from below.
They shake their fronds,
Sway their hips,
Beckoning, A full stop here and you could remove "but" from the next line.
But neither pros nor cons can
Excite Uncle Beige any more.
"What a bore.
If only he would samba!"
An old dog with whiskey eyes overhears.
He lives in homesteader cabins
Blown dusty by sepia winds.
Watches the palms' emerald shimmy,
And runs to them,
Ups his hind, sprays adoring gold
On wrinkled brown skin.
The ladies shudder
At such terrible lack of manners "such a terrible lack" might be better. (maybe not, your poem)
And boulders crack
As Uncle Beige stifles a giggle.

Thank you for the read. Great imagery. - Paul

[theswelter]

Thank you so much Paul, esp the Marlboro spell check. Whoops!
Your feedback is super helpful.

Hello theswelter, and welcome. I really enjoyed this. Here are a few notes,

Uncle Beige rests on the desert, stretched out,
Like a zillion suede hats. I would prefer a real number to zillion. (personal preference)
Igneous relic;
Retired Malboro Man. Marlboro (sp)
Two young date palms
Shake green feather headdresses
Lust on those basilic veins
Remnants of heat that came from below.
They shake their fronds,
Sway their hips,
Beckoning, A full stop here and you could remove "but" from the next line.
But neither pros nor cons can
Excite Uncle Beige any more.
"What a bore.
If only he would samba!"
An old dog with whiskey eyes overhears.
He lives in homesteader cabins
Blown dusty by sepia winds.
Watches the palms' emerald shimmy,
And runs to them,
Ups his hind, sprays adoring gold
On wrinkled brown skin.
The ladies shudder
At such terrible lack of manners "such a terrible lack" might be better. (maybe not, your poem)
And boulders crack
As Uncle Beige stifles a giggle.

Thank you for the read. Great imagery. - Paul