Blue Lady 2

[velvet_morph]

Thank you to those who offered feedback on the first poem. It has been very helpful. This is the second. It is the original but I will use the feedback from the first to tweak this as well.

The first stanza is about roll your own tobacco that uses local language. I smoked rum flavoured Port Royal brand and used slim, Crown filters.

The Blue Lady 2

A pinch of dry crumbs hide in the corners
Fingering slim crowns as I dig
A Port Royal breath
Blows breezily over the ridge

Crispy curled papers do me no favours
But the sweet smell of rum I savor
Bright blue lady comes into view. Rippling. Rising. Falling.
She knows my name. I’ve heard her calling

Pockets of hooks jingle their jangles
I sit and watch her exposed, as my rod limply dangles.
Descending between her breasts in the hope of false safety
The veering ebb disrobes her. But no need to be hasty

Nil rest for the lonely lady.
Morning noon nor night
Not a blink. Not a yielding yawn in sight
Every second is slumberless
With her children beneath her numberless

They see me
They flay about trying to flee me.
Open eyes without see
As I slit their smiling throats so happily
Into the sack, and home for tea
Blood curdling gurgles and dead eyes glazed
At the taste of their flesh I’m always amazed

But blue lady sees me.
My back is turned
And great love for me she has always yearned
I disrespect and forget her power
She is angry now and will not cower

A strong young boy is hard to resist
Really, I must leave, I must insist
Scheming brine, chary swells
Her anger rises at the sight of me leaving
But she’s had enough. There’ll be no more grieving.

I hear her coming.
I know she’s there
Then feel her breath streaming through my hair
Her words are salty.
Her lips are cold.
Respect the lady, I was always told

My grandfather’s words run through my head
“Never turn your back on her, lad”
“She has taken me, and men before
Into her bed forever more”

The cold light fades. My arms stretch wide
There’s no use struggling
Water inside.
She pulls me down into her lair
Holding me tight, it’s just not fair
Too weak to breathe, too weak to cry
A lonely blank stare
As her children swim by

[kefta4ever]

This is more enjoyable to read than Blue Lady 2. However, there are definitely ideas in this one you should consider altering or scrapping:

A pinch of dry crumbs hide in the corners
Fingering slim crowns as I dig
A Port Royal breath
Blows breezily over the ridge (this stanza is pretty solid but it could benefit with some commas and a period. Likewise with the rest of the poem)

Crispy curled papers do me no favours (how is it they do you no favors? as in you desire rum more? Even so, its not really relevant to your target of discussion, the blue lady)
But the sweet smell of rum I savor
Bright blue lady comes into view. Rippling. Rising. Falling.
She knows my name. I’ve heard her calling (I think this is an excellent use of rhyme right here. It sounds the most natural)

Pockets of hooks jingle their jangles
I sit and watch her exposed, as my rod limply dangles. (This is a poor rhyme and juxtaposes the good one before it. It is forced. Plus "jangles"?)
Descending between her breasts in the hope of false safety
The veering ebb disrobes her. But no need to be hasty (good imagery except its not clear to me why you or the blue lady would "hope for false safety," whatever that means. How can a veering ebb disrobe the ocean? Its a good metaphor- lady ocean and sexualizing her- but I think you should look into the methods that sailors abuse the "blue lady" in search for her lucrative goods such as fish. Or how do we investigate all aspects of the ocean like a voyeurist?)

Nil rest for the lonely lady.
Morning noon nor night
Not a blink. Not a yielding yawn in sight
Every second is slumberless
With her children beneath her numberless (this stanza doesn't really fit being so deep into the poem. It acts as an introduction to the blue lady. It would be better as the second stanza. It would also juxtapose the two characters, sailor and the blue lady)

They see me
They flay about trying to flee me.
Open eyes without see (these three lines need to be rewritten. They don't make sense)
As I slit their smiling throats so happily (Its hard for me to imagine a hardend sailor who likes rum and cigarettes to be smiling as he slices fish throats. I would imagine he would be pleased when he has made his catch and somber as he is alone having to cut these fish throats)
Into the sack, and home for tea
Blood curdling gurgles and dead eyes glazed
At the taste of their flesh I’m always amazed (this is a very vibrant sailor portrayal. He seems too upbeat for a thought provoking poem about the ocean sailor dialectic.)

But blue lady sees me.
My back is turned
And great love for me she has always yearned
I disrespect and forget her power
She is angry now and will not cower (I think it would help to have a focus for each stanza. Here, you want to describe how the sailor has somehow abused the blue lady and she has responded back. How has he abused her? What was his intentions? What was her response?)

A strong young boy is hard to resist
Really, I must leave, I must insist (these two lines are forced and don't make sense to me. Who is he irresistible to? Also, if you are describing a boy as being the main character here, you described him in third person where everywhere else you have been speaking in first person)
Scheming brine, chary swells
Her anger rises at the sight of me leaving
But she’s had enough. There’ll be no more grieving. (the focus for this stanza is confusing also and leaves me with more questions)

I hear her coming.
I know she’s there
Then feel her breath streaming through my hair
Her words are salty.
Her lips are cold.
Respect the lady, I was always told (this stanza doesn't fit at this point in the poem. Again, this is a description characterizing the lady and the boy/sailors interaction. This would be better in the around the beginning.

My grandfather’s words run through my head
“Never turn your back on her, lad”
“She has taken me, and men before
Into her bed forever more” (I can tell these lines need more drafting, but typically people describe words as crossing through the mind)

The cold light fades. My arms stretch wide
There’s no use struggling
Water inside.
She pulls me down into her lair
Holding me tight, it’s just not fair
Too weak to breathe, too weak to cry
A lonely blank stare
As her children swim by (I think this poem, as a whole would benefit from an edit not using a rhyme scheme. A lot of these lines, such as these last few, feel very forced but you do have a creative conflict to discuss. Flush it out with some philosophy or overarching metaphor and I think this could be an excellent poem.

[abbigailpaige]

A pinch of dry crumbs hide in the corners
Fingering slim crowns as I dig
A Port Royal breath
Blows breezily over the ridge

Crispy curled papers do me no favours What I took away from this was that the narrator has no desire to have money, his real happiness comes from somewhere else?
But the sweet smell of rum I savor Maybe he just likes living in the moment, hence why money has no appeal. Rum makes you happier immediately, money can be used to buy other things but is really only used as a trade mechanism.
Bright blue lady comes into view. Rippling. Rising. Falling.
She knows my name. I’ve heard her calling Great line

Pockets of hooks jingle their jangles
I sit and watch her exposed, as my rod limply dangles.
Descending between her breasts in the hope of false safety
The veering ebb disrobes her. But no need to be hasty

Nil rest for the lonely lady.
Morning noon nor night
Not a blink. Not a yielding yawn in sight
Every second is slumberless
With her children beneath her numberless creatures in the sea?

They see me
They flay about trying to flee me.
Open eyes without see
As I slit their smiling throats so happily The lines after this one in this stanza have this good and bad comparison, there are extremely violent things occurring and the narrator doesn't seem to care. Are you trying to show his carelessness, or emphasize that he's not really thinking about his actions toward others?
Into the sack, and home for tea
Blood curdling gurgles and dead eyes glazed
At the taste of their flesh I’m always amazed

But blue lady sees me.
My back is turned
And great love for me she has always yearned
I disrespect and forget her power
She is angry now and will not cower

A strong young boy is hard to resist
Really, I must leave, I must insist
Scheming brine, chary swells
Her anger rises at the sight of me leaving
But she’s had enough. There’ll be no more grieving. grieving from the deaths of her numbers at the hands of the narrator?

I hear her coming.
I know she’s there
Then feel her breath streaming through my hair
Her words are salty.
Her lips are cold.
Respect the lady, I was always told Really appreciate this stanza, the imagery is fantastic.

My grandfather’s words run through my head
“Never turn your back on her, lad”
“She has taken me, and men before
Into her bed forever more” How could his grandfather tell his grandson that she has taken him forever? Meaning he feels this desire to return to sea or she has pulled him into her depths?

The cold light fades. My arms stretch wide
There’s no use struggling
Water inside.
She pulls me down into her lair
Holding me tight, it’s just not fair
Too weak to breathe, too weak to cry
A lonely blank stare
As her children swim by

[Erthona]

Two comments:

You seems to be trying overly had to use obscure or difficult language, which only makes the poem more difficult to understand, it does not make it more profound, or even worth saying. Example of the language usage:

"Nil rest for the lonely lady"

There is simply no justification for using the word "nil" in this context, notwithstanding it is used incorrectly.

Secondly, if there needs to be an explanatory note, it should be at the end of the poem, pointed to by an asterisk, or by numbered footnotes.

On the positive side there are some nice image and fun word play, however if I were not reviewing this for the site, I doubt I would ever stick around past the first stanza and a half.

A certain universality is always necessary if a poem is to succeed, and this extends to the language used.

Best,

Dale