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Threads: 4
Joined: Oct 2014
When you wake up
for the first time
after a weeklong bender
besotted by barbarism,
brought by the bottle and the poke ;
the television screaming with
second rate ads
and cut throat capitalism -
You realize you might have a problem.
When your heart is broken
by someone you were never
really sure you were dating,
and love only comes as a way to stave off loneliness
and a mad drummer moves into your spare room
after 6 months exile, it becomes obvious to have
wine for breakfast.
The haze of a silver screen starlet beams across
50 years, still alive and dripping with sex.
Enchanted by her nebulous eyes
calling to recall a passionate evening
rolled in sand and sea foam,
distant city-lights bathing everything silver and timeless-
hair the colour of sunset,
hands the skeletons of birds,
lips the colour of wine
playing Rhapsody’s across my flesh.
Confusing love for lust again.
They say that “Love is the only cure”;
It’s also often the cause.
 "Fuck Lord Byron! Mad, bad and dangerous to know; that's you!" - Strange old woman to me after a reading.
I really enjoyed this. It has a certain 'hangover haze' charm to it. Dreamy metaphors, familiar and yet a little uncomfortable (like the use of 'nebulous' for eyes) imagery that causes a wince or two at the situation. Then moving into a pleasant waking dream. Then snap back to reality. You presented many intriguing ideas and images in the first part, to feel a little abandoned by the third stanzas shift, only to be brought back into focus again with the last line.
(10-06-2014, 02:55 PM)Lysander Gray Wrote: When you wake up
for the first time
after a weeklong bender
besotted by barbarism, Great line.
brought by the bottle and the poke ;
the television screaming with
second rate ads
and cut throat capitalism - cliche but dammit, it works brilliantly here
You realize you might have a problem.
When your heart is broken
by someone you were never
really sure you were dating,
and love only comes as a way to stave off loneliness
and a mad drummer moves into your spare room
after 6 months exile, it becomes obvious to have
wine for breakfast. I think yes, yes it would be time for that.
The haze of a silver screen starlet beams across
50 years, still alive and dripping with sex.
Enchanted by her nebulous eyes
calling to recall a passionate evening
rolled in sand and sea foam,
distant city-lights bathing everything silver and timeless-
hair the colour of sunset,
hands the skeletons of birds,
lips the colour of wine
playing Rhapsody’s across my flesh.
Confusing love for lust again. A beautiful stanza, but takes things in a different direction - real to unreal.
They say that “Love is the only cure”;
It’s also often the cause. Amen to that, brother
Posts: 2,602
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Joined: Feb 2017
(10-06-2014, 02:55 PM)Lysander Gray Wrote: When you wake up
for the first time comma here
after a weeklong bender and here
besotted by barbarism, but not here
brought by the bottle and the poke ;
the television screaming with
second rate ads
and cut throat capitalism -
You realize you might have a problem. no capital on "you". Great stanza but complicated by "thinking out loud " versus punctuation
When your heart is broken
by someone you were never
really sure you were dating, no comma
and love only comes as a way to stave off loneliness
and a mad drummer moves into your spare room normally this would be too andy...but in the context you have created it works. Not well but well enough.
after 6 months exile, it becomes obvious to have write six
wine for breakfast. Great axis point for the piece. Le bon temp
The haze of a silver screen starlet beams across
50 years, still alive and dripping with sex. write fifty
Enchanted by her nebulous eyes
calling to recall a passionate evening
rolled in sand and sea foam,
distant city-lights bathing everything silver and timeless-
hair the colour of sunset, You are getting too excited by yourself. What is timeless-hair?
hands the skeletons of birds,
lips the colour of wine
playing Rhapsody’s across my flesh.
Confusing love for lust again.
They say that “Love is the only cure”;
It’s also often the cause.A flurry of near cliches and if they ain't they will be...but a fire-curtain end to the show. I think it a mistake to put a cliche in quotes
This is a determinedly stylish piece which has attitude. It almost tempts crit by its confidence. I for one feel suitably intimidated and can only dare to suggest that some minor adjustments to the syntax/grammar/sense would not worsen things. Er, like why capitalise Rhapsody?...Sorry...sorry...forget I said that...no, really, it's fine...just fine.
Best and well done,
tectak
Posts: 5,057
Threads: 1,075
Joined: Dec 2009
there's a reall feel of of wine drinker in the poem and some great imagery. i think you could lose a couple of words without losing anything of narrative. while the love aspect obviously plays a part in the poem, it feels a little like i've read about it before in other poems. the couplet felt a bit forced to me, but it may work for others.
a really good read and one i'll read again
welcome to the site, and thanks for the great feedback you've given elsewhere.
(10-06-2014, 02:55 PM)Lysander Gray Wrote: When you wake up
for the first time
after a weeklong bender is week long one word?
besotted by barbarism,
brought by the bottle and the poke ; some great B sounds which create an strong after image of the night before.
the television screaming with i can't remember watching tv while getting pissed but to each their own 
second rate ads
and cut throat capitalism -
You realize you might have a problem. good conclusion to a headache for the morning drinker.
When your heart is broken cliche but works well enough to use
by someone you were never
really sure you were dating,normally really doesn't add anything but it adds that 50/50 of are we aren't we
and love only comes as a way to stave off loneliness is [only] needed?
and a mad drummer moves into your spare room i'd like to see more of the mad drummer
after 6 months exile, it becomes obvious to have
wine for breakfast. it's better than egg and bacon...(almost)
The haze of a silver screen starlet beams across
50 years, still alive and dripping with sex. fifty
Enchanted by her nebulous eyes
calling to recall a passionate evening
rolled in sand and sea foam,
distant city-lights bathing everything silver and timeless-
hair the colour of sunset,
hands the skeletons of birds,
lips the colour of wine wine coloured lips feels a bit obvious
playing Rhapsody’s across my flesh.
Confusing love for lust again.
They say that “Love is the only cure”;
It’s also often the cause.
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Threads: 1
Joined: Oct 2014
I found myself wishing that the rest of your poem did what the third stanza did for me.
"The haze of a silver screen starlet beams across
50 years, still alive and dripping with sex."
This is excellent. Easy to read and effortlessly conjuring disturbing imagery.
I like what you're trying to say at the end, but I don't know about "they say". Maybe a one-liner? "Love is the cure and the cause"
Posts: 438
Threads: 374
Joined: Sep 2014
When you wake up
for the first time
For the first time? We wake up a lot.
after a weeklong bender
besotted by barbarism,
That's a fair and balanced understatement.
brought by the bottle and the poke ;
the television screaming with
second rate ads
and cut throat capitalism -
You realize you might have a problem.
That's an even richer and potent understatement.
When your heart is broken
by someone you were never
really sure you were dating,
It takes three lines to say it, and I wouldn't doubt or complain if it took more.
and love only comes as a way to stave off loneliness
and a mad drummer moves into your spare room
after 6 months exile, it becomes obvious to have
wine for breakfast.
This is some of that everyman assumption that so many poets like that alludes to nothing and supposes, rightly, anything.
The haze of a silver screen starlet beams across
50 years, still alive and dripping with sex.
Enchanted by her nebulous eyes
calling to recall a passionate evening
rolled in sand and sea foam,
distant city-lights bathing everything silver and timeless-
hair the colour of sunset,
hands the skeletons of birds,
lips the colour of wine
playing Rhapsody’s across my flesh.
Confusing love for lust again.
That stanza would be almost perfect if it said the black and white colour of wine, but only to me. I don't know about other readers. I don't pay attention.
And I don't mean black and white colour of wine has to be worded that way.
But the last line about what's being confused is another nice, flippant, understatement for a poem like you write.
They say that “Love is the only cure”;
It’s also often the cause.
The end ruins it all, but in a good way. As if you were saying, To Be Continued, Obviously
Posts: 9
Threads: 2
Joined: Oct 2014
Quite good for what it is. Unfortunately I think that it's the the Bukowski-esque justification of alcoholism is just a bit overdone nowadays. We already know what it's like to have our heart broken, we know what it's like to want to have wine for breakfast. I want to know how it feels to wake up from a week-long bender.
I think you could rework this, asking yourself "what does it actually feel like to have wine for breakfast?"
Wow--I absolutely loved how raw this poem was. I could feel the hungover headache when you wrote about the blaring tv and the "cut-throat capitalism" (such sharp, ringing sounds!!). I love how the poem drifts into a dreamy, fuzzy sort of space-out when thinking about the starlet, and then it snaps back to sharp reality with the "confusing love for lust" line. Possibly avoid the use of silver twice. Also try to avoid the use of wine twice--possibly describe the lips in another way that alludes to the wine color. Brilliant poem. Beautiful honesty.
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