Look! Outside!

[nibbed]

First Revision
title change


Lost Winter


Razzle-dazzle white falls
from shaved gray heavens
brightening dark Michigan;

Will sweetened smells
of marshmallow mustaches
share their mushy reward?

Can vegan nibblers find fuel
in Mr. Snowman's nose?

What of those sweeping arms and legs,
who tiptoe away from angelic impressions?

Will frosty gloved digits once again find warmth
tucked into sweaty palms?
 
Dismissal sounds: Books hurriedly slam shut,
teachers erase, and lines quickly fill 
thoughtfully warmed, noisy cheese wagons.

Arriving safely at stops, book bagged backs
exit folding doors as clunky boots race
down rubber lined steps;

Soul after tiny soul ignore
every opportunity of brightened winter.

Secured, yarn-strung mittens,
sleeve through sleeve moments,
are exchanged for telstar trances;

Eskimo huts remain frozen
in a ghost town's memory.

Sofas seduce our youth.
Despoiled, engrossed children
ambush, beat and blow the heads off
their electronic comrades,
while hysterically laughing
at their own assassins.

And those gloriously fallen
blankets, mounds of white,
unseen healing diamonds of iced mercy
wait & watch, lonely & ignored;

God's gift of lasting memory,
smiling photo-ops,
have been replaced by a hypnotist's trick,
as an offering of Earth's peaceful frozen stoles
remain as beautifully pure unspoiled drifts.

Even so, Springtime will reveal
her resurrection of gratitude:

Photogenic winks of wildly brightened
violets crowding vivid crocus,
will sing tender hymns of praise
donning dazzling shades.




ORIGINAL


Look! Outside!


Razzmatazz ice
shaved from gray heavens
disguise dark Michigan.

Today, marshmallow mustaches
and sweetened smells may hold
warmest rewards.

Tiny vegan cannibals
will perhaps nibble
rhinoplasty performances
fuel enough,
(not too much!)
To search out proper twigs:

Arming tightly packed, chilly rotund idols
standing guard to friendlier counterparts,
several easier
hierarchies of sweeping arms and legs,
finished with tiptoe's care.

Waltzing with the hollers,
discs of molded primaries
may soon reveal creation's purpose:
Youthful, excited, billows of breath,
joyful reddening cheeks, and frosty fingers
eagerly welcoming warmer palms;
 
Suddenly, a distant alarm sounds:
Books slam shut, teachers dismiss,
lines of warm & noisy cheese wagons quickly fill.

Arriving safely at stops,
book bagged backs
exit folding doors &
clunky boots race down rubber lined steps;

Soul after tiny soul
ignore brightened sirens of frolic,
gifted opportunities of jovial winter.

Instead, mittens, yarn-strung sleeve to sleeve,
enter a trading post of telstar moments,
as Eskimo huts remain legend's ghost town.

Davenports maraud youthful suitors.
Despoiled, the blindly pillaged
ambush, beat, and blow the heads off comrades,
hysterically laughing at their own assassins.

Gloriously fallen blankets,
unseen healing diamonds of iced mercy
wait & watch, lonely & ignored;

Gifts of lasting memory
have been replaced by a hypnotist's trick,
Earth's peaceful stoles of cold
remain purely unspoiled.

Soon Springtime will reveal
a resurrection of gratitude:

As thankful winks
of wildly brightened violet
& crowding crocus
sing hymns of gentlest purple.

[Lizzie]

Hi nibbed! I like how playful this one seems. Maybe because of the first words, it seems like you're cultivating an energetic and joyful vibe. I can see that you're playing with sound and visual imagery, which is good. Sometimes I get a little lost though, but perhaps I lack imagination.

The title is a little blah -- it's fairly bland compared to the rest of the poem. Although, exclamation marks always get people to read, especially when they're commanded to look! But 'outside' is not interesting.

Look! Outside!


Razzmatazz ice
shaved from gray heavens
disguise dark Michigan. -- good geographical placement, helps to set the scene

Today, marshmallow mustaches
and sweetened smells may hold
warmest rewards. -- love 'marshmallow mustaches' but the rest is too vague. What rewards? I'd suggest showing what the rewards would be and where the sweet smells are coming from.

Tiny vegan cannibals -- Ha, a bit of whimsy in introducing us to things that could not possibly exist?
will perhaps nibble
rhinoplasty performances
fuel enough,
(not too much!)
To search out proper twigs:

Arming tightly packed, chilly rotund idols
standing guard to friendlier counterparts,
several easier
hierarchies of sweeping arms and legs,
finished with tiptoe's care. -- this stanza doesn't make much sense and doesn't include any interesting imagery.

Waltzing with the hollers,
discs of molded primaries
may soon reveal creation's purpose:
Youthful, excited, billows of breath,
joyful reddening cheeks, and frosty fingers
eagerly welcoming warmer palms;
 
Suddenly, a distant alarm sounds: -- don't need 'suddenly'
Books slam shut, teachers dismiss, -- I like that we're moving into a narrative to let the reader in on what's happening
lines of warm & noisy cheese wagons quickly fill.  -- I'll always see school buses as 'noisy cheese wagons' from now on!  Love that phrase because it feels childlike and that fits with the topic.

Arriving safely at stops,
book bagged backs -- like this
exit folding doors &
clunky boots race down rubber lined steps;

Soul after tiny soul
ignore brightened sirens of frolic,
gifted opportunities of jovial winter. -- here I would also show what the opportunities are instead of telling about them

Instead, mittens, yarn-strung sleeve to sleeve,
enter a trading post of telstar moments,
as Eskimo huts remain legend's ghost town.

Davenports maraud youthful suitors.
Despoiled, the blindly pillaged
ambush, beat, and blow the heads off comrades,
hysterically laughing at their own assassins.

Gloriously fallen blankets,
unseen healing diamonds of iced mercy
wait & watch, lonely & ignored;

Gifts of lasting memory
have been replaced by a hypnotist's trick,
Earth's peaceful stoles of cold
remain purely unspoiled. -- these last 4 stanzas are a mystery to me. I'm not following what's going on.

Soon Springtime will reveal
a resurrection of gratitude:

As thankful winks
of wildly brightened violet
& crowding crocus
sing hymns of gentlest purple. -- I think you should end on something stronger than purple, maybe something that signifies spring for you. Maybe you could say, "sing purple hymns of --------"?

I think you have a gift for novel and fresh imagery/simile, I think you just need to remember to keep your work clear enough that you're taking the reader along for the ride.

I hope something here helps. I enjoyed the read.

Lizzie

[CRNDLSM]

Look! Outside!


Razzmatazz ice noisy ice on a dark gray day?
shaved from gray heavens
disguise dark Michigan.

Today, marshmallow mustaches
and sweetened smells may hold
warmest rewards. Makes a me want cocoa, Interesting

Tiny vegan cannibals how can a cannibal be vegan? It's a plant eat plant world
will perhaps nibble
rhinoplasty performances I thought rhinoplasty was nose surgery, 
fuel enough,
(not too much!)
To search out proper twigs:

Arming tightly packed, chilly rotund idols
standing guard to friendlier counterparts,
several easier
hierarchies of sweeping arms and legs,
finished with tiptoe's care. Idols and counterparts are too broad I think for me to actually picture this description

Waltzing with the hollers,
discs of molded primaries parts almost feel like a crossword puzzle where you give me a description and I figure out the word
may soon reveal creation's purpose:
Youthful, excited, billows of breath,
joyful reddening cheeks, and frosty fingers
eagerly welcoming warmer palms;
 
Suddenly, a distant alarm sounds:
Books slam shut, teachers dismiss,
lines of warm & noisy cheese wagons quickly fill. Warm in lots of places

Arriving safely at stops,
book bagged backs
exit folding doors &
clunky boots race down rubber lined steps; 

Soul after tiny soul
ignore brightened sirens of frolic,
gifted opportunities of jovial winter.

Instead, mittens, yarn-strung sleeve to sleeve,
enter a trading post of telstar moments,
as Eskimo huts remain legend's ghost town.legend's ghost town?

Davenports maraud youthful suitors.
Despoiled, the blindly pillaged
ambush, beat, and blow the heads off comrades,
hysterically laughing at their own assassins.

Gloriously fallen blankets,
unseen healing diamonds of iced mercy
wait & watch, lonely & ignored;is this lament at ice melting?

Gifts of lasting memory
have been replaced by a hypnotist's trick,
Earth's peaceful stoles of cold
remain purely unspoiled.

Soon Springtime will reveal
a resurrection of gratitude: maybe you don't need these two lines

As thankful winks
of wildly brightened violet
& crowding crocus
sing hymns of gentlest purple. Singing Gentle purple kinda reinforces a psychedelic vision i took from the beginning of the poem i might have looking out my window after weeks of being locked in a trunk, but tripping not really having been locked in a trunk.  Lots of adjectives I think

[nibbed]

Look! Outside!


Razzmatazz ice noisy ice on a dark gray day?
shaved from gray heavens
disguise dark Michigan.

Today, marshmallow mustaches
and sweetened smells may hold
warmest rewards. Makes a me want cocoa, Interesting

Tiny vegan cannibals how can a cannibal be vegan? It's a plant eat plant world
will perhaps nibble
rhinoplasty performances I thought rhinoplasty was nose surgery, 
fuel enough,
(not too much!)
To search out proper twigs:

Arming tightly packed, chilly rotund idols
standing guard to friendlier counterparts,
several easier
hierarchies of sweeping arms and legs,
finished with tiptoe's care. Idols and counterparts are too broad I think for me to actually picture this description

Waltzing with the hollers,
discs of molded primaries parts almost feel like a crossword puzzle where you give me a description and I figure out the word
may soon reveal creation's purpose:
Youthful, excited, billows of breath,
joyful reddening cheeks, and frosty fingers
eagerly welcoming warmer palms;
 
Suddenly, a distant alarm sounds:
Books slam shut, teachers dismiss,
lines of warm & noisy cheese wagons quickly fill. Warm in lots of places

Arriving safely at stops,
book bagged backs
exit folding doors &
clunky boots race down rubber lined steps; 

Soul after tiny soul
ignore brightened sirens of frolic,
gifted opportunities of jovial winter.

Instead, mittens, yarn-strung sleeve to sleeve,
enter a trading post of telstar moments,
as Eskimo huts remain legend's ghost town.legend's ghost town?

Davenports maraud youthful suitors.
Despoiled, the blindly pillaged
ambush, beat, and blow the heads off comrades,
hysterically laughing at their own assassins.

Gloriously fallen blankets,
unseen healing diamonds of iced mercy
wait & watch, lonely & ignored;is this lament at ice melting?

Gifts of lasting memory
have been replaced by a hypnotist's trick,
Earth's peaceful stoles of cold
remain purely unspoiled.

Soon Springtime will reveal
a resurrection of gratitude: maybe you don't need these two lines

As thankful winks
of wildly brightened violet
& crowding crocus
sing hymns of gentlest purple. Singing Gentle purple kinda reinforces a psychedelic vision i took from the beginning of the poem i might have looking out my window after weeks of being locked in a trunk, but tripping not really having been locked in a trunk.  Lots of adjectives I think

Hi, CRNDLSM

I thought I had sharpened the poem well enough, but I see it needs to be cleaned up. I was inspired by the beautiful snowfall we were hit with a few days ago. I thought about how quiet it has been through the last few snows and wondered if it would be quiet this time, too. Not like when I was a kid. When it snowed we'd fly outside and make snowmen, nibble on the carrots, scramble to make snow angels, and hope for hot cocoa. Now many children race home and head for their cellphones and video games, sadly, the snowy paradise is often replaced with a virtual world. But the snow is not wasted, it melts and soaks the ground for thankful Spring blossoms.

Thank you so much for reading my poem and for your thoughtful critique!

---

Hi nibbed! I like how playful this one seems. Maybe because of the first words, it seems like you're cultivating an energetic and joyful vibe. I can see that you're playing with sound and visual imagery, which is good. Sometimes I get a little lost though, but perhaps I lack imagination.

The title is a little blah -- it's fairly bland compared to the rest of the poem. Although, exclamation marks always get people to read, especially when they're commanded to look! But 'outside' is not interesting.

Look! Outside!


Razzmatazz ice
shaved from gray heavens
disguise dark Michigan. -- good geographical placement, helps to set the scene

Today, marshmallow mustaches
and sweetened smells may hold
warmest rewards. -- love 'marshmallow mustaches' but the rest is too vague. What rewards? I'd suggest showing what the rewards would be and where the sweet smells are coming from.

Tiny vegan cannibals -- Ha, a bit of whimsy in introducing us to things that could not possibly exist?
will perhaps nibble
rhinoplasty performances
fuel enough,
(not too much!)
To search out proper twigs:

Arming tightly packed, chilly rotund idols
standing guard to friendlier counterparts,
several easier
hierarchies of sweeping arms and legs,
finished with tiptoe's care. -- this stanza doesn't make much sense and doesn't include any interesting imagery.

Waltzing with the hollers,
discs of molded primaries
may soon reveal creation's purpose:
Youthful, excited, billows of breath,
joyful reddening cheeks, and frosty fingers
eagerly welcoming warmer palms;
 
Suddenly, a distant alarm sounds: -- don't need 'suddenly'
Books slam shut, teachers dismiss, -- I like that we're moving into a narrative to let the reader in on what's happening
lines of warm & noisy cheese wagons quickly fill.  -- I'll always see school buses as 'noisy cheese wagons' from now on!  Love that phrase because it feels childlike and that fits with the topic.

Arriving safely at stops,
book bagged backs -- like this
exit folding doors &
clunky boots race down rubber lined steps;

Soul after tiny soul
ignore brightened sirens of frolic,
gifted opportunities of jovial winter. -- here I would also show what the opportunities are instead of telling about them

Instead, mittens, yarn-strung sleeve to sleeve,
enter a trading post of telstar moments,
as Eskimo huts remain legend's ghost town.

Davenports maraud youthful suitors.
Despoiled, the blindly pillaged
ambush, beat, and blow the heads off comrades,
hysterically laughing at their own assassins.

Gloriously fallen blankets,
unseen healing diamonds of iced mercy
wait & watch, lonely & ignored;

Gifts of lasting memory
have been replaced by a hypnotist's trick,
Earth's peaceful stoles of cold
remain purely unspoiled. -- these last 4 stanzas are a mystery to me. I'm not following what's going on.

Soon Springtime will reveal
a resurrection of gratitude:

As thankful winks
of wildly brightened violet
& crowding crocus
sing hymns of gentlest purple. -- I think you should end on something stronger than purple, maybe something that signifies spring for you. Maybe you could say, "sing purple hymns of --------"?

I think you have a gift for novel and fresh imagery/simile, I think you just need to remember to keep your work clear enough that you're taking the reader along for the ride.

I hope something here helps. I enjoyed the read.

Lizzie

Hi, Lizzie. I have some work to do on it to make it clearer.
I was sort of lost in the moment and snow inspired.
I suppose I was feeling like writing a bit mysterious, too, as the others
on this site have a natural gift, but I cannot seem to achieve such good stuff.
Thank you so much for reading and critiquing my poem.

Best wishes

[ellajam]

Hi, nibbed. Okay, you've let your mind run on winter images, now the work begins. Much of this was too obscure for me to figure out until you explained it:

I thought I had sharpened the poem well enough, but I see it needs to be cleaned up. I was inspired by the beautiful snowfall we were hit with a few days ago. I thought about how quiet it has been through the last few snows and wondered if it would be quiet this time, too. Not like when I was a kid. When it snowed we'd fly outside and make snowmen, nibble on the carrots, scramble to make snow angels, and hope for hot cocoa. Now many children race home and head for their cellphones and video games, sadly, the snowy paradise is often replaced with a virtual world. But the snow is not wasted, it melts and soaks the ground for thankful Spring blossoms.

So let's see what you can do to keep the interesting language and images and still be understood.

Look! Outside!


Razzmatazz ice
shaved from gray heavens
disguise dark Michigan.
So here I have nighttime sleet, not the snow that you jump to below, if this is the night before the snow then "disguised". If it's the snow the first line needs work.

Today, marshmallow mustaches
and sweetened smells may hold
warmest rewards.
Marshmallow mustaches is a lovely phrase that made me think of snow drifts, the rest I had no idea. After reading your comment this is the cocoa, "smells" and "warmest rewards" are too vague.

Tiny vegan cannibals
will perhaps nibble
rhinoplasty performances
fuel enough,
(not too much!)
To search out proper twigs:
If tiny means young children it doesn't work, I had them so small they'd fit in my hand. Ditto the rhinoplasty performances, if you mean carrot noses why not say so? IMO you've got to have some solidity to balance the flights of fancy and make the poem understandable.

Arming tightly packed, chilly rotund idols
standing guard to friendlier counterparts,
several easier
hierarchies of sweeping arms and legs,
finished with tiptoe's care.
You might switch this strophe with the one above, it is more clearly snowmen though I don't get counterparts or heirarchies or sweeping. And why is the cocoa before the snow play?

Waltzing with the hollers,
discs of molded primaries
may soon reveal creation's purpose:
Youthful, excited, billows of breath,
joyful reddening cheeks, and frosty fingers
eagerly welcoming warmer palms;
Sleds? Waltzing in the hollers? Not a fan of primaries. I don't  get the warmer palms.
 
Suddenly, a distant alarm sounds:
Books slam shut, teachers dismiss,
lines of warm & noisy cheese wagons quickly fill.
How did we get into a classroom?

Arriving safely at stops,
book bagged backs
exit folding doors &
clunky boots race down rubber lined steps;

Soul after tiny soul
ignore brightened sirens of frolic,
gifted opportunities of jovial winter.
You just had them doing all these things. I understand only from your comment that these are your memories, not in the present as the poem presents. You need to fix this.

Instead, mittens, yarn-strung sleeve to sleeve,
enter a trading post of telstar moments,
as Eskimo huts remain legend's ghost town.

Davenports maraud youthful suitors.
Despoiled, the blindly pillaged
ambush, beat, and blow the heads off comrades,
hysterically laughing at their own assassins.

Gloriously fallen blankets,
unseen healing diamonds of iced mercy
wait & watch, lonely & ignored;

Gifts of lasting memory
have been replaced by a hypnotist's trick,
Earth's peaceful stoles of cold
remain purely unspoiled.

Soon Springtime will reveal
a resurrection of gratitude:

As thankful winks
of wildly brightened violet
& crowding crocus
sing hymns of gentlest purple.

I'll stop there, if you decide to edit I'm sure you'll get plenty of help. Fo me poetry is about a bit of a good idea and then a lot of work. You've got the ideas, now the work starts. Good luck with it.

[nibbed]

Hi, nibbed. Okay, you've let your mind run on winter images, now the work begins. Much of this was too obscure for me to figure out until you explained it:

I thought I had sharpened the poem well enough, but I see it needs to be cleaned up. I was inspired by the beautiful snowfall we were hit with a few days ago. I thought about how quiet it has been through the last few snows and wondered if it would be quiet this time, too. Not like when I was a kid. When it snowed we'd fly outside and make snowmen, nibble on the carrots, scramble to make snow angels, and hope for hot cocoa. Now many children race home and head for their cellphones and video games, sadly, the snowy paradise is often replaced with a virtual world. But the snow is not wasted, it melts and soaks the ground for thankful Spring blossoms.

So let's see what you can do to keep the interesting language and images and still be understood.

Look! Outside!


Razzmatazz ice
shaved from gray heavens
disguise dark Michigan.
So here I have nighttime sleet, not the snow that you jump to below, if this is the night before the snow then "disguised". If it's the snow the first line needs work.

Today, marshmallow mustaches
and sweetened smells may hold
warmest rewards.
Marshmallow mustaches is a lovely phrase that made me think of snow drifts, the rest I had no idea. After reading your comment this is the cocoa, "smells" and "warmest rewards" are too vague.

Tiny vegan cannibals
will perhaps nibble
rhinoplasty performances
fuel enough,
(not too much!)
To search out proper twigs:
If tiny means young children it doesn't work, I had them so small they'd fit in my hand. Ditto the rhinoplasty performances, if you mean carrot noses why not say so? IMO you've got to have some solidity to balance the flights of fancy and make the poem understandable.

Arming tightly packed, chilly rotund idols
standing guard to friendlier counterparts,
several easier
hierarchies of sweeping arms and legs,
finished with tiptoe's care.
You might switch this strophe with the one above, it is more clearly snowmen though I don't get counterparts or heirarchies or sweeping. And why is the cocoa before the snow play?

Waltzing with the hollers,
discs of molded primaries
may soon reveal creation's purpose:
Youthful, excited, billows of breath,
joyful reddening cheeks, and frosty fingers
eagerly welcoming warmer palms;
Sleds? Waltzing in the hollers? Not a fan of primaries. I don't  get the warmer palms.
 
Suddenly, a distant alarm sounds:
Books slam shut, teachers dismiss,
lines of warm & noisy cheese wagons quickly fill.
How did we get into a classroom?

Arriving safely at stops,
book bagged backs
exit folding doors &
clunky boots race down rubber lined steps;

Soul after tiny soul
ignore brightened sirens of frolic,
gifted opportunities of jovial winter.
You just had them doing all these things. I understand only from your comment that these are your memories, not in the present as the poem presents. You need to fix this.

Instead, mittens, yarn-strung sleeve to sleeve,
enter a trading post of telstar moments,
as Eskimo huts remain legend's ghost town.

Davenports maraud youthful suitors.
Despoiled, the blindly pillaged
ambush, beat, and blow the heads off comrades,
hysterically laughing at their own assassins.

Gloriously fallen blankets,
unseen healing diamonds of iced mercy
wait & watch, lonely & ignored;

Gifts of lasting memory
have been replaced by a hypnotist's trick,
Earth's peaceful stoles of cold
remain purely unspoiled.

Soon Springtime will reveal
a resurrection of gratitude:

As thankful winks
of wildly brightened violet
& crowding crocus
sing hymns of gentlest purple.

I'll stop there, if you decide to edit I'm sure you'll get plenty of help. Fo me poetry is about a bit of a good idea and then a lot of work. You've got the ideas, now the work starts. Good luck with it.

Hi Ellajam

Oh, my! I need to tear this apart. Thank you so much for reading
and thoughtfully critiquing. I appreciate it. I see major simplicity
and clarity are a must! Time to edit. Thank you.

best wishes