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edit 1 (Mercedes, June) Thank you!
Loathing Lichen
Not overflowing
like the eternal Tao,
our youth prolapses
into faint purple deltas,
decorating temples
like leaf veins in autumn.
Budding zeal is dead-headed
as arbors grow congested.
Roots are tapped of vigor,
while the foliage is neglected.
Broken shoots commence weeping,
as they fail to stem the leaking
of nitrogenous waste.
There's no comfort
in plump rose hips,
smooth silver beech limbs,
the apple blossom’s bosom
or aromatic herbal patches.
We endure the declining helix
from the crown of weeping willows
to the damp mossy hollows
where invertebrata wallow.
-----------------------------------------------------
Loathing Lichen
Not ever-flowing
like the eternal Tao,
our vigor prolapses
into faint purple deltas,
decorating temples
like leaf veins in autumn.
Budding zeal is dead-headed
as arbors grow congested.
Roots are tapped of vigor,
while the vegetation's neglected.
Broken stems commence weeping,
as they dribble after leaking
nitrogenous waste.
There's no comfort
in plump rose hips,
smooth silver beech limbs,
the apple blossom’s bosom
or aromatic herbal patches.
We endure the declining helix
from the crown of weeping willows
to the damp mossy hollows
where invertebrata wallow.
My new watercolor: 'Nightmare After Christmas'/Chris
just mercedes
Unregistered
(06-09-2015, 02:52 AM)ChristopherSea Wrote: I like very much the sonic explorations in your poem. They really come through when read aloud.
Loathing Lichen
Not ever-flowing
like the eternal Tao, something about 'ever-flowing' and 'eternal' together like that feels overdone
our vigor prolapses I've only ever seen this word used to describe medical conditions
into faint purple deltas,
decorating temples
like leaf veins in autumn. Great sounds here - maybe the delta/leaf comparison is a bit thin
Budding zeal is dead-headed I like the way this, together with temple, gave me Buddha
as arbors grow congested.
Roots are tapped of vigor, 'vigor' again- maybe another word here?
while the vegetation's neglected.
Broken stems commence weeping,
as they dribble after leaking weeping, dribble and leaking are all somewhat the same
nitrogenous waste. not sure why the 'nitrogenous' here
There's no comfort
in plump rose hips,
smooth silver beech limbs,
the apple blossom’s bosom
or aromatic herbal patches. This made me smile
We endure the declining helix
from the crown of weeping willows
to the damp mossy hollows
where invertebrata wallow. Great sounds again. Weeping willow is a symbol of death. Wallow feels very harsh, after the first five lines of this strophe.
I still can't fit the title to the poem though. Are we loathing the lichen, or is the lichen the one who loathes?
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Much obliged for your experienced eye and useful suggestions as always Mercedes!
I am pleased that you appreciated the sonics herein. I spent a good amount of time on them,
as well as trying to create a tumbling flow from the tree canopy to the ground beneath.
I am the one who is supposed to be the lowly symbiotic-dependent lichen
that is loathing ‘liking’ the aging process in this poem. So it is a play on
‘loathing liking aging’! Nonetheless, I will keep thinking about the title.
The combination of 'ever-flowing' and 'eternal' comes from the translation
of Lao-tsu’s Tao Te Ching that I own. However, I see what you mean
and could address the redundancy.
You are probably right, I am ‘bastardizing’ the word ‘prolapse’
although one of the definitions is: to fall or slide forward. I considered using ‘collapse,’
but I felt that prolapse brought in the human aspect better, as I have mitral valve prolapse.
Thanks for catching that double ‘Vigor’. I swear that I had changed one to ‘verve’
in another version.
For me, the intersecting water courses forming a delta are reminiscent of varicose veins.
Leaf veins are analogous and homologous to animal veins. I will see if they need untangling
though.
Agreed there’s too much dripping going on there and I will quell some of that leaking!
Nitrogenous was reflecting the botanical involvement in the Nitrogen Cycle.
I agree with your assessment of the close. I hope the last line reflects the harshness of aging.
Thank you for your time and critique. I shall definitely incorporate these suggestions into my next edit.
Cheers/Chris
My new watercolor: 'Nightmare After Christmas'/Chris
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Not ever-flowing Over-flowing, perhaps?
like the eternal Tao,
our vigor prolapses I dig prolapse here, especially with the lines that follow. It’s vigor that doesn’t work for me.
into faint purple deltas,
decorating temples
like leaf veins in autumn. I pictured veins on the back of a hand that become more pronounced with age.
Budding zeal is dead-headed
as arbors grow congested.
Roots are tapped of vigor,
while the vegetation's neglected. I question vegetation here. The sounds and feel thus far are wonderful, vegetation broke the trance for me.
Broken stems commence weeping,
as they dribble after leaking
nitrogenous waste. I second that it gets a bit soggy here.
There's no comfort
in plump rose hips,
smooth silver beech limbs,
the apple blossom’s bosom
or aromatic herbal patches.
We endure the declining helix
from the crown of weeping willows
to the damp mossy hollows
where invertebrata wallow. LOVE! I’ve read this stanza aloud several times. “in plump rose hips, smooth silver beech limbs” Just delicious.
"Bees do have a smell, you know, and if they don't they should, for their feet are dusted with spices from a million flowers." -Bradbury
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Joined: Aug 2013
Hey, thanks for the read and recommendations June. You have some fine ideas. I like 'overflowing' as the Tao is often compared to a river. I am doing the same herein.
I agree on that first 'vigor,' as I am really referring to 'youth' and should just come out and say it.
I think that 'foliage' would sound better than 'vegetation.'
Yes, I am cutting off one of those 'leaks.'
Great critique and I will credit you in my next edit. Cheers/Chris
Edit 1 is posted, thanks again June and Mercedes!
My new watercolor: 'Nightmare After Christmas'/Chris
Posts: 10
Threads: 2
Joined: Jun 2015
"Bees do have a smell, you know, and if they don't they should, for their feet are dusted with spices from a million flowers." -Bradbury
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