Letting Go of Us (To Get over You0) rewrite

[poe]

Thank you for all your critiques. This rewrite is in direct response to them. I'd like to know your thoughts.
Best,
poe


Letting Go of Us (To Get Over You-Edit 2)




I have gone angling for a 
fishhook in my heart
Swimming within with 
a scrutinizing eyeglass,
I strained my left eye and
went blind,
where I was
in my mind:
at the shore's edge,
furthest point out,
by the black and white
striped lighthouse.

I buried my cold 
browned feet
in the soft white sand
that had baked all day
beneath the burning sun.

Warm tears leaked out. Then a ringing in my ears
was overcome by the crashing of the barreling
ocean waves.

A tangled fishing line was laboriously restored to a fisherman's
reel. Out beyond the jetties, below the choppy surface of the sea,
fish of all kinds are hunting out their prey
taunting seagulls and fishermen alike.

Dark mossy seaweed tightened briny fingers
around my feet and between the jetties
the ocean raised its colossal belly
to meet the languishing sky.

Shrill the lifeguard's blows, 
staccato voices of children at play, 
and a foghorns' insistent bulling calls dissipated
into a quiet rippling,
widening into the sound
of the shores laconic lapping. 
Another hot summer's day
distilled down into cool cobalt, then black.

Suggesting still nothing of the sweetness
that the salt will allow, 
a fishhook washed up
on the shore of my tongue.



Letting Go of Us (Edit 1)



I have gone angling for a
fishhook in my heart
Swimming within with
a scrutinizing eyeglass,
I strained my left eye and
went blind,
where I was
in my mind:
at the shore's edge,
furthest point out,
by the black and white
striped lighthouse.

I buried my cold
browned feet
in the soft white sand
that had baked all day
beneath the burning sun.

Warm tears leaked out. Then a ringing in my ears
was overcome by the crashing of the barreling
ocean waves.

A tangled fishing line was laboriously restored to a fisherman's
reel. Out beyond the jetties, below the choppy surface of the sea,
fish of all kinds are hunting out their prey
taunting seagulls and fishermen alike.

Dark mossy seaweed tightened briny fingers
around my feet and between the jetties the ocean raised its colassal belly to meet the languishing sky.

The shrilling of the lifeguards blows,
staccato voices of children at play,
and a foghorns' insistent bulling calls dissipated,
leaving nothing save the sound of the shores laconic lapping.
Another hot summer's day distilled down into cool cobalt, then black.

Suggesting nothing still of the sweetness that the salt will allow,
a fishhook washed up on the shore of my tongue.









Original

I have gone fishing for
a needle in my heart.
Swimming within with
a scrutinizing eyeglass
straining my left eye
I went blind
where I was
in my mind,
at the shore's edge
furthest point out
by the black and white striped
lighthouse.

I buried my cold browned feet in the soft white sand
that had baked all day in the burning sun.

Warm tears leaked out. Then a ringing in my ears
was overcome by the crashing of the ocean's
waves.

A tangled fishing line was laboriously restored to a fisherman's
reel. Out beyond the jetties, below the choppy surface of the sea,
fish of all kinds are hunting out their prey
taunting seagulls and fishermen alike.

A needle washed up on the shore of my tongue.

[QDeathstar]

Thank you for all your critiques. This rewrite is in direct response to them. I'd like to know your thoughts.
Best,
poe


Letting Go of Us (To Get Over You-Edit 2)




I have gone angling for a 
fishhook in my heart
Swimming within with 
a scrutinizing eyeglass,
I strained my left eye and
went blind,
where I was
in my mind:
at the shore's edge,
furthest point out,
by the black and white
striped lighthouse. the stanza is a lot clearer now, however, I do miss the "swimming within with" line, it sounded kinda cool.

I buried my cold 
browned feet
in the soft white sand
that had baked all day
beneath the burning sun. I still don't know why this stanza is here. Perhaps it is lacking emotion and that is the problem? Warm tears leaked out in the next stanza, im thinking perhaps there is a connection to be made between your cold feet in the warm sand, moving through your body, overcome by love's warmth... But then there are the fishhooks in the heart.... I just dont think this stanza has it, yet.

Warm tears leaked out. Then a ringing in my ears
was overcome by the crashing of the barreling by the crashing of the barreling, i find this to be very awkward and definitely not an improvement.
ocean waves.

A tangled fishing line was laboriously restored to a fisherman's
reel. Out beyond the jetties, below the choppy surface of the sea,
fish of all kinds are hunting out their prey
taunting seagulls and fishermen alike.

Dark mossy seaweed tightened briny fingers
around my feet and between the jetties
the ocean raised its colossal belly
to meet the languishing sky. Wow. I got chills reading this, very nice.

Shrill the lifeguard's blows, 
staccato voices of children at play, 
and a foghorns' insistent bulling calls dissipated
into a quiet rippling,
widening into the sound
of the shores laconic lapping. 
Another hot summer's day
distilled down into cool cobalt, then black. I think this stanza is kinda piling on. It takes a little of away from that much more powerful stanza... Plus is the longest one. I got tired about half way through it.

Suggesting still nothing of the sweetness
that the salt will allow, 
a fishhook washed up
on the shore of my tongue.

[Tiger the Lion]

Hi Poe. I don't think I responded on your original post, but I know I read it. I like where you've gone with the edit.

Thank you for all your critiques. This rewrite is in direct response to them. I'd like to know your thoughts.
Best,
poe


Letting Go of Us (To Get Over You-Edit 2)




I have gone angling for a 
fishhook in my heart
Swimming within with 
a scrutinizing eyeglass,
I strained my left eye and
went blind,
where I was
in my mind:
at the shore's edge,
furthest point out,
by the black and white
striped lighthouse.

I buried my cold I can't figure out "cold" here. If it is from all the swimming, I understand. But your feet are "browned" , and it suggests they have been baking in the sun with the sand all day. I don't see how cold/browned can work together here. Maybe I missed something?
browned feet
in the soft white sand
that had baked all day
beneath the burning sun.

Warm tears leaked out. Then a ringing in my ears
was overcome by the crashing of the barreling
ocean waves.

A tangled fishing line was laboriously restored to a fisherman's
reel. Out beyond the jetties, below the choppy surface of the sea,
fish of all kinds are hunting out their prey
taunting seagulls and fishermen alike.

Dark mossy seaweed tightened briny fingers
around my feet and between the jetties
the ocean raised its colossal belly
to meet the languishing sky.I agree with QDS. Excellent image.

Shrill the lifeguard's blows, 
staccato voices of children at play, 
and a foghorns' insistent bulling calls dissipated
into a quiet rippling,
widening into the sound
of the shores laconic lapping. 
Another hot summer's day
distilled down into cool cobalt, then black.

Suggesting still nothing of the sweetness
that the salt will allow, 
a fishhook washed up
on the shore of my tongue.



Letting Go of Us (Edit 1)



I have gone angling for a
fishhook in my heart
Swimming within with
a scrutinizing eyeglass,
I strained my left eye and
went blind,
where I was
in my mind:
at the shore's edge,
furthest point out,
by the black and white
striped lighthouse.

I buried my cold
browned feet
in the soft white sand
that had baked all day
beneath the burning sun.

Warm tears leaked out. Then a ringing in my ears
was overcome by the crashing of the barreling
ocean waves.

A tangled fishing line was laboriously restored to a fisherman's
reel. Out beyond the jetties, below the choppy surface of the sea,
fish of all kinds are hunting out their prey
taunting seagulls and fishermen alike.

Dark mossy seaweed tightened briny fingers
around my feet and between the jetties the ocean raised its colassal belly to meet the languishing sky.

The shrilling of the lifeguards blows,
staccato voices of children at play,
and a foghorns' insistent bulling calls dissipated,
leaving nothing save the sound of the shores laconic lapping.
Another hot summer's day distilled down into cool cobalt, then black.

Suggesting nothing still of the sweetness that the salt will allow,
a fishhook washed up on the shore of my tongue.









Original

I have gone fishing for
a needle in my heart.
Swimming within with
a scrutinizing eyeglass
straining my left eye
I went blind
where I was
in my mind,
at the shore's edge
furthest point out
by the black and white striped
lighthouse.

I buried my cold browned feet in the soft white sand
that had baked all day in the burning sun.

Warm tears leaked out. Then a ringing in my ears
was overcome by the crashing of the ocean's
waves.

A tangled fishing line was laboriously restored to a fisherman's
reel. Out beyond the jetties, below the choppy surface of the sea,
fish of all kinds are hunting out their prey
taunting seagulls and fishermen alike.

A needle washed up on the shore of my tongue.

[Pink_Bunny]

The needle is now a fishhook. Sometimes we do replace what we love for something else and add a little more spice to the pastry and serve it up like French toast to the Queen of England. Once again I was thrilled by the sense of a recurring daydream in which precious could finally be able to bring everybody to a Frank Ocean concert.

Kisses!