Oblivious

[jtrom1010]

This is my first post in these forums, and honestly the first bit of poetry I've put effort into for a long time. Please tear it apart as much as possible. Piece is directed towards someone who has inspired me endlessly for years.

You are so oblivious, so painfully unaware.
Your insight and your intellect...they mean nothing here.
But I promise, my dear,
that before the sun retreats behind the mountains
on our final day together,
I will teach you to read poetry.

Poetry is born from a delicate dance,
when sensory experience and raw emotion
step perfectly in time with a beat that
resonates from the tip of a pen;
It lives forever in the echoes of voices
reading aloud its words,
intertwining with the ardor they created;

It is a conflagration;
its kindling is the gentle kisses of tides on the shore,
the peaks that puncture the ceiling of clouds above,
the lingering scent of romance on empty sheets,
or the thrill of lips reuniting after a night apart,
waiting only for a spark of inspiration to ignite them.

But you haven't the slightest clue
that you are that spark,
fervent enough to set ablaze this city,
and engulf the world in smoke.
When you finally realize that the words I've written
exist only because your lungs breathed life into my landscapes,
and your heart whispered light from the east
that bled ink onto the shadows of pages in the west,

Only then will you fully understand poetry;
Only then will you know what it means to be loved by a writer.

[none]

Raw and simple, straightforward and honest.

I can sense that you put in all your emotion into this poem or at least that is what I feel by reading it. Perhaps because they are not complicated to understand and perhaps because they are written in language that is - how should I describe it - pure and yet amusingly - over the top, this kind of over the top:

But you haven't the slightest clue
that you are that spark,
fervent enough to set ablaze this city,
and engulf the world in smoke.
When you finally realize that the words I've written
exist only because your lungs breathed life into my landscapes,
and your heart whispered light from the east
that bled ink onto the shadows of pages in the west,

I suppose context matter the most, had you not inserted the introduction:

Piece is directed towards someone who has inspired me endlessly for years.

It would be difficult for me to experience your authentic feeling embedded in this poem and would be less appreciative of the piece. If you intend to rework this piece, I can say that it will lost its innocent. Sure, it will sound better, but it will feel less genuine to me.

Just my opinion though.

[tectak]

This is my first post in these forums, and honestly the first bit of poetry I've put effort into for a long time. Please tear it apart as much as possible. Piece is directed towards someone who has inspired me endlessly for years.

You are so oblivious, so painfully unaware. so so is not so-so. They should go as they are purposeless modifiers. Nonetheless, I like statemental openers because they stand alone...that may seem paradoxical but there is nothing wrong with a clear starting point to run from. We shall see.
Your insight and your intellect...they mean nothing here. Again, too good to be true, another clear line which pulls the enquiring mind forward. Where are we? Who is "you"?
But I promise, my dear, Boing! Does "dear" rhyme with "here"? Ooooo! Yes......goody. A forced and unnecessary rhyme, to boot. Lose it. It is a weak point and will cause failure, if not now, then later.
that before the sun retreats behind the mountains ....as Hiawatha might have observed...a cliche....but the hell with it...they are few thus far.
on our final day together,
I will teach you to read poetry. Something "nice" about this and I mean that. Is this where the poem begins?

Poetry is born from a delicate dance, Reality check. "born from" or "born of" or "born out of". Your poem. "out of" for me.
when sensory experience and raw emotion
step perfectly in time with a beat that
resonates from the tip of a pen; No dissent here. Nicely observed and described.  Credit always where due. Credit
It lives forever in the echoes of voices
reading aloud its words,
intertwining with the ardor they created; Period. You have written a sentence

It is a conflagration;
its kindling is the gentle kisses of tides on the shore,Though  struggling to be technically correct "is the gentle kisses" would better be "..is the gentle kiss of tides..."
the peaks that puncture the ceiling of clouds above, "above", particularly after peaks, ceiling and clouds,is superflous
the lingering scent of romance on empty sheets,
or the thrill of lips reuniting after a night apart,
waiting only for a spark of inspiration to ignite them. Bloody marvellous. Envy

But you haven't the slightest clue
that you are that spark,
fervent enough to set ablaze this city,
and engulf the world in smoke.
When you finally realize that the words I've written
exist only because your lungs breathed life into my landscapes,
and your heart whispered light from the east
that bled ink onto the shadows of pages in the west,

Only then will you fully understand poetry;
Only then will you know what it means to be loved by a writer. Overcome. Cannot crit on

Nothing else to say. All said.
Well done,
tectak[/b][/b]

[Erthona]

This isn't bad for a love poem, altho0ugh I could do without the explanation at the beginning. I agree with everything Tom (tectak) says. So some supplementary comments.

"Poetry is born from a delicate dance,"

This seems unnecessarily awkward why not "Born from a delicate dance..." We already know it is poetry that is being talked about from the previous line.  

"intertwining with the ardor they created"

This may simply be me, but the word "ardor" has been so overused, not to mentioned satirized in movies. I'm sure I remember in at least one movie, it may have been "Robin Hood, Men in Tights," where there is a silhouette of robin with his sword looking like his penis and someone comments that "Robin's ardor is showing." Personally I would go with "fervor" myself. It basically means the same in this context and it is less a cliche.  

"when sensory experience and raw emotion"

I'm wondering if there is a point to be made that compensates for the awkwardness of adding sensory to experience. As most experience is a combination of sensory input processed in the brain, one could make the case that all experience is sensory experience, or based on sensory experience. Otherwise it is a perfectly good image, especially the "resonates from the tip of a pen" image. Very good. I would end with a period.

"It is a conflagration;"

Not only is this awkward in the mouth, it is also cliche. I could much more easily stomach bonfire, inferno, or wildfire. Although what follows seems to confuse the point. This is where you seem to fumble a bit.

"It is a conflagration;
its kindling is the gentle kisses of tides on the shore"

It is a fire whose kindling (this is inexact, as kindling used this way can mean either the small pieces of wood, or wood shaving use to start a fire, or the ignition that starts a fire) are kisses of waves (tides are the lowering and rising of the waves) onto the beach.  For me this seems a bit of a mixed metaphor describing fire by water.

"the peaks that puncture the ceiling of clouds above,  
the lingering scent of romance on empty sheets,"

What is/are "the peaks"? "the lingering scent?" Is this somehow meant as an extension of the "conflagration". These lines sound very well, but on closer examination they seem to have little substantive. I think you get by with them simply because of the two lines that follow them are so good, even though they also are not really connected in any way to the rest of the stanza. I am nowhere near sold on the whole stanza, yet I do understand what you are trying to say:

Love = fire = kisses = peaks = scents = lips = sparks.

I think the problem occurs when you begin with a fire image and then try to define it with a water image. It breaks down at that point and does not really carry on to the rest, although I think the peaks through clouds would need a volcano image to make that one work. That is the only the only thing related to fire that would make sense in this context.

"But you haven't the slightest clue "

Do you really need the "but". I'm sure she has a nice one, but, I'm very certain you could do away with the one at the start of the line.

"You haven't the slightest clue
that you are that spark"

Doesn't seem to lose much.

If you change out "ardor" then probably "fervent" needs changing also, although I would see some version of "fervor" used in both places than see "ardor" used, but that is purely personal, even if I do think it would improve the poem. A difficult choice as any word that is similar is pretty much a love poetry cliche. Passionate, impassioned. It is possible to appropriate a religious word in the name of love, Rumi did it all the time. It's possible that "devout" could work here, as in a devoted worshiper of love. I would just suggest taking the time to examine possible substitutes if you haven't.

"fervent enough to set ablaze this city"  "devout enough to set ablaze this city"

It does lend an interesting twist to it... Your poem, not mine.

I'm not sure I understand the thinking, or rather I do understand, but why be so overly practical in this line

"and engulf the world in smoke."

Yes, I get that only one town is burning, and so only the smoke could cover the earth. However if one thinks about it logically, even that idea is senseless as smoke from a single town could not cover the whole earth. So why not:

"and engulf the world."  Since you are equating fire with love, not smoke.

"exist only because your lungs breathed life into my landscapes,"

do you really need "lungs"? Maybe there is a good rational for using it, but I don't see it. For me the lungs thing sounds a tad creepy. I'm all for earthiness, but really not thrilled about singling out particular organs. Of course that's my problem not yours.

"exist only because you breathed life into my landscapes"

All in all a fundamentally sound poem, generally avoiding the usual cliches of love poetry, with a fresh approach toward the subject, extra points for that. With a fair amount of editing work, this could be a publishable piece.

As Tom says, Well done,

Dale





 

[jtrom1010]

This isn't bad for a love poem, altho0ugh I could do without the explanation at the beginning. I agree with everything Tom (tectak) says. So some supplementary comments.

"Poetry is born from a delicate dance,"

This seems unnecessarily awkward why not "Born from a delicate dance..." We already know it is poetry that is being talked about from the previous line.  

"intertwining with the ardor they created"

This may simply be me, but the word "ardor" has been so overused, not to mentioned satirized in movies. I'm sure I remember in at least one movie, it may have been "Robin Hood, Men in Tights," where there is a silhouette of robin with his sword looking like his penis and someone comments that "Robin's ardor is showing." Personally I would go with "fervor" myself. It basically means the same in this context and it is less a cliche.  

"when sensory experience and raw emotion"

I'm wondering if there is a point to be made that compensates for the awkwardness of adding sensory to experience. As most experience is a combination of sensory input processed in the brain, one could make the case that all experience is sensory experience, or based on sensory experience. Otherwise it is a perfectly good image, especially the "resonates from the tip of a pen" image. Very good. I would end with a period.

"It is a conflagration;"

Not only is this awkward in the mouth, it is also cliche. I could much more easily stomach bonfire, inferno, or wildfire. Although what follows seems to confuse the point. This is where you seem to fumble a bit.

"It is a conflagration;
its kindling is the gentle kisses of tides on the shore"

It is a fire whose kindling (this is inexact, as kindling used this way can mean either the small pieces of wood, or wood shaving use to start a fire, or the ignition that starts a fire) are kisses of waves (tides are the lowering and rising of the waves) onto the beach.  For me this seems a bit of a mixed metaphor describing fire by water.

"the peaks that puncture the ceiling of clouds above,  
the lingering scent of romance on empty sheets,"

What is/are "the peaks"? "the lingering scent?" Is this somehow meant as an extension of the "conflagration". These lines sound very well, but on closer examination they seem to have little substantive. I think you get by with them simply because of the two lines that follow them are so good, even though they also are not really connected in any way to the rest of the stanza. I am nowhere near sold on the whole stanza, yet I do understand what you are trying to say:

Love = fire = kisses = peaks = scents = lips = sparks.

I think the problem occurs when you begin with a fire image and then try to define it with a water image. It breaks down at that point and does not really carry on to the rest, although I think the peaks through clouds would need a volcano image to make that one work. That is the only the only thing related to fire that would make sense in this context.

"But you haven't the slightest clue "

Do you really need the "but". I'm sure she has a nice one, but, I'm very certain you could do away with the one at the start of the line.

"You haven't the slightest clue
that you are that spark"

Doesn't seem to lose much.

If you change out "ardor" then probably "fervent" needs changing also, although I would see some version of "fervor" used in both places than see "ardor" used, but that is purely personal, even if I do think it would improve the poem. A difficult choice as any word that is similar is pretty much a love poetry cliche. Passionate, impassioned. It is possible to appropriate a religious word in the name of love, Rumi did it all the time. It's possible that "devout" could work here, as in a devoted worshiper of love. I would just suggest taking the time to examine possible substitutes if you haven't.

"fervent enough to set ablaze this city"  "devout enough to set ablaze this city"

It does lend an interesting twist to it... Your poem, not mine.

I'm not sure I understand the thinking, or rather I do understand, but why be so overly practical in this line

"and engulf the world in smoke."

Yes, I get that only one town is burning, and so only the smoke could cover the earth. However if one thinks about it logically, even that idea is senseless as smoke from a single town could not cover the whole earth. So why not:

"and engulf the world."  Since you are equating fire with love, not smoke.

"exist only because your lungs breathed life into my landscapes,"

do you really need "lungs"? Maybe there is a good rational for using it, but I don't see it. For me the lungs thing sounds a tad creepy. I'm all for earthiness, but really not thrilled about singling out particular organs. Of course that's my problem not yours.

"exist only because you breathed life into my landscapes"

All in all a fundamentally sound poem, generally avoiding the usual cliches of love poetry, with a fresh approach toward the subject, extra points for that. With a fair amount of editing work, this could be a publishable piece.

As Tom says, Well done,

Dale





 

thank you so much for the feedback! I am going to be using a lot of yours and the others as well, but specifically, question for you on the stanza you were having issues with.
The metaphors in there were actually not SUPPOSED to be metaphors for love. My idea was that the "kindling" of the fire of poetry was all of the things listed, majestic peaks, the ocean, love, etc. But that they're nothing without the spark of inspiration to light them.
Any suggestions on how I may be able to more clearly get that across? It's something I struggled with and it seems as though you picked up on that haha

[Erthona]

I think about half of it could probably cut as the descriptions in the first part are pretty weak, and really all you need is enough to segue into the next stanza. So maybe something like:

Poetry is "the lingering scent of romance on empty sheets;
the thrill of lips reuniting after a night apart",
or waiting for the spark of inspiration to birth it.

Still a little awkward, I'm not really sure what you're attempting with that last line, it doesn't really seem to make much sense. I just threw something in so it would fit with the next line, but it is really just a place holder.  

An idea here if you want to use it. You could image your lover as the mother of your poetry and you as the midwife, it sort of seems like you were close to that at times, or maybe not. I don't think that has been used before, and I am not planning on using it, so you're welcome to it. You of course have to configure it in an artful way to claim it as your own.

Good luck with this. I think it really is good enough to keep working putting the energy into. It has the potential to be a very good love poem.

Dale

[jtrom1010]

Thank you very much!

---

This is my first post in these forums, and honestly the first bit of poetry I've put effort into for a long time. Please tear it apart as much as possible. Piece is directed towards someone who has inspired me endlessly for years.

You are so oblivious, so painfully unaware. so so is not so-so. They should go as they are purposeless modifiers. Nonetheless, I like statemental openers because they stand alone...that may seem paradoxical but there is nothing wrong with a clear starting point to run from. We shall see.
Your insight and your intellect...they mean nothing here. Again, too good to be true, another clear line which pulls the enquiring mind forward. Where are we? Who is "you"?
But I promise, my dear, Boing! Does "dear" rhyme with "here"? Ooooo! Yes......goody. A forced and unnecessary rhyme, to boot. Lose it. It is a weak point and will cause failure, if not now, then later.
that before the sun retreats behind the mountains ....as Hiawatha might have observed...a cliche....but the hell with it...they are few thus far.
on our final day together,
I will teach you to read poetry. Something "nice" about this and I mean that. Is this where the poem begins?

Poetry is born from a delicate dance, Reality check. "born from" or "born of" or "born out of". Your poem. "out of" for me.
when sensory experience and raw emotion
step perfectly in time with a beat that
resonates from the tip of a pen; No dissent here. Nicely observed and described.  Credit always where due. Credit
It lives forever in the echoes of voices
reading aloud its words,
intertwining with the ardor they created; Period. You have written a sentence

It is a conflagration;
its kindling is the gentle kisses of tides on the shore,Though  struggling to be technically correct "is the gentle kisses" would better be "..is the gentle kiss of tides..."
the peaks that puncture the ceiling of clouds above, "above", particularly after peaks, ceiling and clouds,is superflous
the lingering scent of romance on empty sheets,
or the thrill of lips reuniting after a night apart,
waiting only for a spark of inspiration to ignite them. Bloody marvellous. Envy

But you haven't the slightest clue
that you are that spark,
fervent enough to set ablaze this city,
and engulf the world in smoke.
When you finally realize that the words I've written
exist only because your lungs breathed life into my landscapes,
and your heart whispered light from the east
that bled ink onto the shadows of pages in the west,

Only then will you fully understand poetry;
Only then will you know what it means to be loved by a writer. Overcome. Cannot crit on

Nothing else to say. All said.
Well done,
tectak[/b][/b]

Very very helpful feedback thank you!

[Leah S.]

I've never been able to enjoy intellectual imagery, but I know that I am an extremely sensory person. Some poets are really good at it. My only suggestions would be to avoid overcomplicating them. Also, if you use an image, remember, the literal sensory folks are going to interpret it that way. So I get this image of a tiny pen tip resonating with a dance beat and making inkblots all over the place. Also "words intertwining with ardor" ......I couldn't help it, I kept reading it as "arbor." Sorry.
Also why are kisses always gentle and scents always lingering and lips always thrilling and inspiration always sparky? Methinks you have overburdened yourself with clichés.

On to nice things to say. It hangs together, it makes sense, it's poignant and heartfelt and it deserves for you to edit the heck out of it, because it has the potential to make the reader weep.