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A DECEMBER MIDNIGHT IN PARIS.
From giggly passages of ground breaking erections,
Past transparent blue yet impermeable nightgowns,
Come double decker routes heading two directions;
To either nearby junctions or far away towns.
Gathered across in varied shapes and sizes
Are fuel powered rodents in perfect alignment,
Waiting and watching up until the sun rises,
Ready to pursue their master's next assignment.
Two blocks ahead, in her fading peach splendour,
The friendless monster bids you a hopeless goodnight.
She puts to bed her perceived slender
And falls to rest, though standing upright.
Below the fleeting rareness of the purple night
Stands the skeletal remnants of a once blooming trade
Whose absence left a party pleading for light.
Below is not age, but deprivation in its darkest shade.
By this hour, frost engulfs benches and rails,
And the faint glimmer of lamp posts guides no one,
For most lie in bed dreaming up tails,
Except for one man, whose bird nest hair was far from done.
Glued on him were fragmented sheets of faded flannel
And the occasional patch of harsh, malnourished skin.
As he approached, he arrested our flowing channel,
And kindly asked us, with a mined out sort of grin:
Could you spare us any change lads?
At change the colour of his song had fiercely decayed.
Perhaps capital for him was a painfully distant trade.
It then became clear to me, I'm afraid,
That I again saw deprivation, it its darkest shade.
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A DECEMBER MIDNIGHT IN PARIS.
From giggly passages of ground breaking erections, <<< Groundbreaking erection - Eiffel Tower (Groundbreaking ... good)
Past transparent blue yet impermeable nightgowns, <<< not entirely sure about the nightgowns ... oh, unless you are talking 'bout the background sky
Come double decker routes heading two directions; <<< double decker, two directions ... doubly good ;-)
To either nearby junctions or far away towns.
Gathered across in varied shapes and sizes <<< next 4 lines sort of lost me / good imagery tho'
Are fuel powered rodents in perfect alignment,
Waiting and watching up until the sun rises,
Ready to pursue their master's next assignment.
Two blocks ahead, in her fading peach splendour, <<< on the other hand, these 4 lines work very well
The friendless monster bids you a hopeless goodnight.
She puts to bed her perceived slender
And falls to rest, though standing upright.
Below the fleeting rareness of the purple night
Stands the skeletal remnants of a once blooming trade
Whose absence left a party pleading for light.
Below is not age, but deprivation in its darkest shade.
By this hour, frost engulfs benches and rails, <<< maybe "this hour" not "by this hour"? Just a thought
And the faint glimmer of lamp posts guides no one,
For most lie in bed dreaming up tails, <<< I went from tails to tales, back to tails & to birds in next line and somehow this worked for me
Except for one man, whose bird nest hair was far from done. <<
Glued on him were fragmented sheets of faded flannel
And the occasional patch of harsh, malnourished skin.
As he approached, he arrested our flowing channel,
And kindly asked us, with a mined out sort of grin:
Could you spare us any change lads? <<< aha. before I read this, I was imagining a homeless fellow. So, bravo on the build up imho. Hmmm. was he once successful as alluded to in "once blooming trade"? I could buy that.
At change the colour of his song had fiercely decayed.
Perhaps capital for him was a painfully distant trade. <<
capital = money
It then became clear to me, I'm afraid,
That I again saw deprivation, it its darkest shade.
- - - -
Well, those are my interpretations and comments.
Generally. I like this piece and I *believe* comes close (but maybe not quite) to being a "list poem", a concept (which as a "newbie"), I've only just learned about and seems interesting.
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Threads: 82
Joined: Sep 2013
Hi, 67, welcome to the pigpen and thanks for the critiques you've offered others.
This is a tough poem for me, it seems shrouded in images I just can't picture. I don't know if the problem is using words that don't make sense to conform to the rhyme or a lack of imagination on my part but there are some lines I just can't reconcile. Some notes below.
(05-08-2017, 10:37 PM)67eager Wrote: A DECEMBER MIDNIGHT IN PARIS.
From giggly passages of ground breaking erections,
Past transparent blue yet impermeable nightgowns, With some work I can accept transparent and impermeable together but nightgown is just a stumper.
Come double decker routes heading two directions;
To either nearby junctions or far away towns.
Gathered across in varied shapes and sizes Across seems odd.
Are fuel powered rodents in perfect alignment,
Waiting and watching up until the sun rises,
Ready to pursue their master's next assignment.
Cars, I think, but do rodents fulfill their masters's assignments, maybe something other than rodents. But the visual is clear and an interesting way to look at it.
Two blocks ahead, in her fading peach splendour,
The friendless monster bids you a hopeless goodnight. All I can get is sun, but that doesn't fit friendless monster, I'm lost.
She puts to bed her perceived slender
And falls to rest, though standing upright. I have no idea what these two lines mean, perceived slender in particular is a puzzle I can't solve.
Below the fleeting rareness of the purple night
Stands the skeletal remnants of a once blooming trade
Whose absence left a party pleading for light.
Below is not age, but deprivation in its darkest shade.
By this hour, frost engulfs benches and rails,
And the faint glimmer of lamp posts guides no one,
For most lie in bed dreaming up tails,
Except for one man, whose bird nest hair was far from done.
Glued on him were fragmented sheets of faded flannel
And the occasional patch of harsh, malnourished skin.
As he approached, he arrested our flowing channel,
And kindly asked us, with a mined out sort of grin:
Could you spare us any change lads?
At change the colour of his song had fiercely decayed.
Perhaps capital for him was a painfully distant trade.
It then became clear to me, I'm afraid,
That I again saw deprivation, it its darkest shade.
I'll stop there as this is in Basic Critique (each workshop has its own guidelines). Oh, I have to mention one more:
"Except for one man, whose bird nest hair was far from done." Bird nest hair is lovely but for me implies "far from done", which seems added for the rhyme.
Your effort is clear, I think it would improve the poem to simplify and clarify a bit so that its meaning is not buried by novelty.
Good luck with it, I hope you enjoy the site.
billy wrote:welcome to the site. make it your own, wear it like a well loved slipper and wear it out. ella pleads:please click forum titles for posting guidelines, important threads. New poet? Try Poetic DevicesandWard's Tips
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Hey 67eager,
I think you use some interesting images throughout your poem. However, I think your rhyme and meter might hurt your overall meaning. I'll explain more below:
(05-08-2017, 10:37 PM)67eager Wrote: A DECEMBER MIDNIGHT IN PARIS.
From giggly passages of ground breaking erections, -I know this is the Eiffel Tower, and it is a well know phallic symbol, but this line made me think more of a phallic than the tower.
Past transparent blue yet impermeable nightgowns,
Come double decker routes heading two directions;
To either nearby junctions or far away towns.
Gathered across in varied shapes and sizes
Are fuel powered rodents in perfect alignment, -Is "rodent" a type of car in France?
Waiting and watching up until the sun rises,
Ready to pursue their master's next assignment.
Two blocks ahead, in her fading peach splendour,
The friendless monster bids you a hopeless goodnight.
She puts to bed her perceived slender
And falls to rest, though standing upright. -I'm not sure what this stanza is describing. However, the "friendless monster" and her description makes me think she is some form of prostitute.
Below the fleeting rareness of the purple night
Stands the skeletal remnants of a once blooming trade
Whose absence left a party pleading for light.
Below is not age, but deprivation in its darkest shade. -"darkest shade" is a bit repetitive
By this hour, frost engulfs benches and rails,
And the faint glimmer of lamp posts guides no one, -I like these two lines. They create a nice image in my mind.
For most lie in bed dreaming up tails,
Except for one man, whose bird nest hair was far from done.
Glued on him were fragmented sheets of faded flannel
And the occasional patch of harsh, malnourished skin.
As he approached, he arrested our flowing channel,
And kindly asked us, with a mined out sort of grin:
Could you spare us any change lads?
At change the colour of his song had fiercely decayed.
Perhaps capital for him was a painfully distant trade.
It then became clear to me, I'm afraid,
That I again saw deprivation, it its darkest shade. -Why is this man such a symbol of deprivation? I feel like you should explain this more.
Because you chose to rhyme and follow meter, your overall meaning is somewhat hurt in this poem. I actually came up with a stanza by stanza analysis about how I thought this poem was all about prostitution because of some of the word choices you made to follow the meter. My biggest suggestion would be to try and revise this so it doesn't rhyme or follow meter as strictly. For example, call the Eiffel Tower a "tower" instead of a "ground breaking erection." I look forward to seeing where you take this poem from here.
Keep writing,
Richard
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Hi 67eager
When I first read the poem I found myself rudely offended by some of the graphic depictions, but after reading it over and over, I began to read some hope into it and I saw it quite differently. Let me share what i can a critique with mixed interpretation.
A DECEMBER MIDNIGHT IN PARIS. -too much info in the title, and strange you even provide it
From giggly passages of ground breaking erections, -too vulgar for a poem about Paris, waste of time
Past transparent blue yet impermeable nightgowns, -The first two L confused me
Come double decker routes heading two directions; I thought about the Storming
To either nearby junctions or far away towns. of the Bastille and many a soldier's battles
Gathered across in varied shapes and sizes
Are fuel powered rodents in perfect alignment,
Waiting and watching up until the sun rises, -seems that way, at times...
Ready to pursue their master's next assignment.
Two blocks ahead, in her fading peach splendour,
The friendless monster bids you a hopeless goodnight.
She puts to bed her perceived slender
And falls to rest, though standing upright. -can you explain this line?
Below the fleeting rareness of the purple night
Stands the skeletal remnants of a once blooming trade -these
Whose absence left a party pleading for light. last three lines
Below is not age, but deprivation in its darkest shade. too nondescript... "below" twice doesn't work well, either
By this hour, frost engulfs benches and rails, -hopefully a carving of TRUE LOVE ALWAYS (frost means poetry to me)
And the faint glimmer of lamp posts guides no one,
For most lie in bed dreaming up tails,
Except for one man, whose bird nest hair was far from done.
Glued on him were fragmented sheets of faded flannel
And the occasional patch of harsh, malnourished skin. -
As he approached, he arrested our flowing channel,
And kindly asked us, with a mined out sort of grin: -mined out seems strange
Could you spare us any change lads? (s)?
At change the colour of his song had fiercely decayed. These were the four lines I saw
Perhaps capital for him was a painfully distant trade. as a victory
It then became clear to me, I'm afraid, though the author
That I again saw deprivation, it its darkest shade. may have intended else wise
I deleted much of my original critique
that included the part where
I wrote "I just puked in my mouth"
because I failed to read forum rules
at first
I hope you will soon be able
to view a lovely purple night,
like the one I saw very recently
(without having to wait forever).
janine
there's always a better reason to love
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Hi all,
Thank you very much for all your commentary. It is very important important to know whether a second pair of eyes can understand what one is writing in a poem. It seems I haven't done the greatest job in doing so.
Most of you seem to (understandably) have trouble with 'impermeable night gowns', and 'friendless monster'.
-the impermeable night gowns is a reference to shop windows- Like a transparent night gown would be, shops, though closed (impermeable), are inaccessible, but enticing at the same time.
-The friendless monster that I am going on a about is the Eiffel Tower. I thought the 'peach' colour I invoked would make that clear. I am specifically talking about the way it turns off at 1:00 am, its final light display being dark but twinkling at the same time. To me it seems like a goodnight to everyone.
In this poem, I am trying to draw the similarities between a leafless, winter tree (skeletal remnants), with a homeless man. They are both deprived of their necessities, which in the trees case is sunlight, and for the homeless man is money. Winter for lots of things is simply deprivation
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First up, I read this as free verse simply because your meter doesn't work and so the rhymes seem irrelevant. I'd tend to suggest not trying so hard to rhyme if you're not going to bother with formal structure. Your need to rhyme is where you lose your meaning and make the poem seem forced.
(05-08-2017, 10:37 PM)67eager Wrote: A DECEMBER MIDNIGHT IN PARIS.
From giggly passages of ground breaking erections, -- either the Eiffel Tower et al or a really good night for the zombies in Pere Lachaise 
Past transparent blue yet impermeable nightgowns, -- perhaps "impenetrable" rather than "impermeable". Transparent and impermeable, though not referring to precisely the same thing, do not sit well together (and "impenetrable" gives you extra consonance)
Come double decker routes heading two directions; -- these two lines seem a little clunky to me. I'd suggest something like "double decker routes head in two directions: junctions nearby or some faraway towns"
To either nearby junctions or far away towns.
Gathered across in varied shapes and sizes
Are fuel powered rodents in perfect alignment, -- I quite like this image
Waiting and watching up until the sun rises,
Ready to pursue their master's next assignment.
Two blocks ahead, in her fading peach splendour,
The friendless monster bids you a hopeless goodnight. -- "monster" really doesn't seem the right word. "Skeleton"? But then you'd have to change "skeletal remains" in the next stanza, which wouldn't be a bad thing, because it's such a cliche
She puts to bed her perceived slender -- see, this is a really good example of bad rhyming destroying/obscuring meaning -- slender is just not a noun
And falls to rest, though standing upright.
Below the fleeting rareness of the purple night
Stands the skeletal remnants of a once blooming trade
Whose absence left a party pleading for light.
Below is not age, but deprivation in its darkest shade. -- this is a strong concept, contrasting the excitement of the surface with the ignored underprivileged
By this hour, frost engulfs benches and rails,
And the faint glimmer of lamp posts guides no one,
For most lie in bed dreaming up tails, -- tales, unless they're fantasising about puppies
Except for one man, whose bird nest hair was far from done.
Glued on him were fragmented sheets of faded flannel -- these lines remind me of "The Streets of London". It's good if you can fix up the rhyme/meaning issue
And the occasional patch of harsh, malnourished skin.
As he approached, he arrested our flowing channel,
And kindly asked us, with a mined out sort of grin:
Could you spare us any change lads?
At change the colour of his song had fiercely decayed.
Perhaps capital for him was a painfully distant trade.
It then became clear to me, I'm afraid,
That I again saw deprivation, it its darkest shade. -- this stanza contrasts very well with the first
It could be worse
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you start describing the splendor and end with the apparent realization that there is poverty as well.
maybe there is a way you can show that the poem´s subject expected nothing but splendor but is then appalled to find the opposite. i think that would give the poem more message.
maybe then you wouldn´t need the explanation in the last two lines.
was in budapest in 2004, the center is starbucks and gold, but when you move to the outskirts it´s wood crates and and dirt. all the capitals in the world are this way i guess.
I really liked this, some beautiful lines. Feels a bit plodding in parts though, just needs finessing!
(05-08-2017, 10:37 PM)67eager Wrote: A DECEMBER MIDNIGHT IN PARIS.
From giggly passages of ground breaking erections,
Past transparent blue yet impermeable nightgowns,
Come double decker routes heading two directions;
To either nearby junctions or far away towns. Far away towns is nice.
Gathered across in varied shapes and sizes
Are fuel powered rodents in perfect alignment,
Waiting and watching up until the sun rises, "Waiting and watching up" feels a bit clunk to me, maybe just, "watching until the sun rises"?
Ready to pursue their master's next assignment.
Two blocks ahead, in her fading peach splendour,
The friendless monster bids you a hopeless goodnight. I love this line. "A hopeless goodnight" is quite affecting.
She puts to bed her perceived slender
And falls to rest, though standing upright.
Below the fleeting rareness of the purple night I love "rareness of the purple night" but I see fleeting as a generally overused word, could take it out?
Stands the skeletal remnants of a once blooming trade
Whose absence left a party pleading for light.
Below is not age, but deprivation in its darkest shade.
By this hour, frost engulfs benches and rails,
And the faint glimmer of lamp posts guides no one,
For most lie in bed dreaming up tails,
Except for one man, whose bird nest hair was far from done.
Glued on him were fragmented sheets of faded flannel
And the occasional patch of harsh, malnourished skin.
As he approached, he arrested our flowing channel,
And kindly asked us, with a mined out sort of grin:
Could you spare us any change lads? Quite an archaic line, but maybe that's what you're going for.
At change the colour of his song had fiercely decayed.
Perhaps capital for him was a painfully distant trade.
It then became clear to me, I'm afraid,
That I again saw deprivation, it its darkest shade.
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