To Get Over You

[poe]

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.

[bena]

This is a very interesting piece. It is so hard to write effectively about a love lost, trust me. I thought at first you would slip into the angsty clichés once you mentioned needle and heart, but you surprised me. The only thing you might consider is that there are alot of metaphors and symbols and it may be a bit muddled with the needle and ocean shore imagery but I think overall it does work.

bena

[poe]

Thanks Bena,
For taking the time to read and comment. I was beginning to hear only the echo of my own thoughts..

[just mercedes]

Hi Poe - ditto what bena said about the imagery - at first mention of a needle I was expecting a haystack. I finished the poem unsure about what the needle was for - maybe the title could do some more work here. Repairing the damage, or something? Also, from past tense to present in the final stanza with 'are hunting' - while I'm there, is the 'out' needed?

[poe]

I'm not one to explain my poetry, but here I go breaking that rule. What would a needle in a heart feel like?
Thanks for commenting. I think you're right about the title.
Best.
poe

[Willahelm]

I can't really say much but the extended metaphor and imagery truly works well with conveying almost one's quest "to get over you". The penultimate stanza is phrased quite well in my mind. I could really visualise the seas and fish swimming within. But I have to also ditto what bena said. Perhaps a reader could get confused with the amount of metaphors and imagery.

[QDeathstar]

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.
with a scrutinizing eyeglass straining my left eye I went blind where I was in my mind, at the shores edge furthest point out -- I think this is a really awkard way to say you're dreaming?

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. these last two stanzas, I dont think they add anything to poem

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.

As others have said, a lot of the imagery pretty good. But for me it all feels disjointed. Fishing and needles, i just don't see the connection there.

[billy]

watch out for the cliches, they take away from the poem.
the poem is in there but it feels strangled, it sounds surreal and thats good, but i struggle in progressing through the poem without really understanding it. i know what it's about but i get that from the needle lines. i want to know why it's about what it's about.

I have gone fishing for i have gone feels a little drawn out would [i am fishing] and then move [for] down to the next line? considering the tens in other places i'd suggest [i went...]
a needle in my heart.
Swimming within with the enjambment feels awkward would a comma after within help
a scrutinizing eyeglass
straining my left eye
I went blind the tense seems off with the start of the poem
where I was weak for it's own line
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. no need for burning sun which is also a cliche. the rest of the line still works with it removed.

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.

[poe]

I kinda hate explaining, but then again, you're all writers so this is a closed forum. A needle in a heart is painful. Like a broken love. Washed up on the shore of my tongue would suggest that the pain (needle) (broken love)has been processed and lanced. Does that make any sense?

[QDeathstar]

Yeah, but not in context of the sea. I get to two metaphores of the poem seperate, but they dont seem to belong in the same story to me.

[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



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.

[jdvanwijk]

Hello Poe,

Thanks for the read. My main problems are that I find it overly wordy in places (not every noun needs an adjective to be effective - choose the most important ones) and that the central image, searching your heart for a needle/fishhook seems rather cloying. Idea (you propably won't like it): how about dropping this layer altogether? Describe the scene as it is, and end with "a fishhook washed up the shore". The first eight lines could be cut and S1 and S2 could be merged:

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.

Let the reader figure out that the images are meant as symbols for dealing with a broken love - no need to smack him over the head with it. As a reader I would find that more interesting.

All best,
Jan

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



I have gonengling 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.[b]This stanza I like a lot.

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]

I am so happy that you found your paradise at the end of this poem. It was like a splinter in my brain to think that you could have gone a spit with warm tears in your eyes to never see your Bonnie (the needle) again. And, I think precious would have to agree that taunting seagulls are more than just haunting memories.

Kisses!