Days of yesteryear are gray,
damp and plastic in our fingers,
molding light and color; sounds
are fixed with slip or carved away,
or ticking hands will sculpt for us.
Edit 7: Argil
Memories, damp and gray, are plastic in our fingers, shaping light and color; sounds are fixed with slip or carved away, or an abstract artist sculpts for us.
Edit 6: Argil
Memories are damp and gray
and plastic in our fingers shaping
light and color; sounds are fixed
with slip or carved away, or
an abstract artist sculpts for us.
Edit 5: Argil
Memories turned damp and gray
and plastic in our fingers shaping
light and color; sounds are fixed
with slip or carved away, all
when an abstract artist
is not sculpting for us.
Edit 4: Argil
Some-time-ago turned gray
and wet within our fingers shaping
light and color; sounds are glued
with slip or carved away, all
when an abstract sculptor
is not sculpting for us.
Edit 3: Plasticity
Moments become damp and gray
between fingers that begin to mold
light and color; sounds are carved
away or attached with slip
when the shady sculptor
isn't sculpting for me.
Edit 2: Plasticity
A moment becomes damp and gray
between my fingers, they begin
to mold light and color; sounds
are carved away or attached with slip,
when a shady sculptor
isn't sculpting for me.
Edit 1: Plasticity
A moment becomes damp and gray
between my fingers. My hands begin
to mold colors, and sounds are carved
or scored into and attached with slip
if it all fits a metaphor, or
a shady sculptor sculpts for me.
Original: Plasticity
A moment becomes damp and gray
between my fingers. My hands begin
to mold a bench's color, and words
are sometimes carved or added if
it all fits a metaphor, or a shady sculptor
sculpts for me.
Considered titles were: Plasticity, Clay, Greenware, How Gravity Warps Clay (which I feel just makes the piece more complicated than it needs to be)
A moment becomes damp and gray
between my fingers. My hands begin
to mold a bench's color, and words
are sometimes carved or added if
it all fits a metaphor, or a shady sculptor
sculpts for me.
This poem is really deep. I don't really understand some of it. But the bits I do understand are really meaningful and deep. Its like about a carpenter building a bench, but he is sad because it reminds him of the bench he once sat on with his girlfriend when he was a kid. And they probably carved their names into it with a hart around their names. And now this bench he is making now is probably in memoriam of a dead granddad or someone else and it reminds the carpenter his own girlfriend is probably dead too. Its also a bit like a metaphor aswell, about how the mind is like a bench where memories and thoughts sit.
#thanks@alexorande
I like the title and opening line, I think both intrigue,
and the 'pottery' metaphor is (potentially) interesting.
But the thought does not seem to be sustained.
L1-4
Do you need 'hands' so soon after 'fingers'?
What is the distinction between 'carved' and 'scored'
(though the latter offers a pun)?
I don't think 'into' is right, just 'in'.
L5-6
You start with a conditional ('if') but don't resolve it.
- If it all fits...then what?
[A moment becomes damp and gray
between my fingers. My hands begin
to mold] colors, and sounds are carved -[good description of clay in hands, though sounds made me think of something musical]
or scored into [and attached with slip] -[you lost me here]
if it all fits a metaphor, or
a [shady sculptor sculpts] for me. -[this seemed to be a good metaphor for manipulation]
I am catching parts of the poem but am trying to piece together how it all fits, clearly. In one moment I thought about a sculptor, then a fall, then manipulation, then writing poetry. Plasticity made me think of something suggestive or adaptable or maybe even, fake?
Thank you for your comments. You're pretty spot on with you're interpretation, but I'd like to hear what you mean about "a fall". I think I fixed the lines you commented on in my second edit.
(11-16-2017, 05:29 AM)alexorande Wrote: Hi nibbed,
Thank you for your comments. You're pretty spot on with you're interpretation, but I'd like to hear what you mean about "a fall". I think I fixed the lines you commented on in my second edit.
Best, Alex
Hi Alex
it was the "attached with a slip" slip made me think of fall, as in slip & fall
but I remember now, slip. I'd forgotten. It's what happens to the clay
when you dip your hands in water to make it creamy, so you can attach
a handle or just to make the clay easier to move. I'm sorry, I'd forgotten.
It's been many years. Funny how a poem can make you thankful, to tears.
I need to look at your 2nd edit:
Plasticity The title doesn't seem right
A moment becomes damp and gray
between my fingers, they begin
to mold light and color; sounds
are carved away or attached with slip,
when a shady sculptor
isn't sculpting for me.
I'm not sure how true it is, but it is a finer,
more easily understood poem now.
Better for the revision.
I do wonder if you need some sort of explanation (or hint)
about 'how' moments become damp...
I think 'attached' lets the piece down. Perhaps 'secured'?
Hey Alex,
of the titles so far, I liked Greenware, though it doesn't really work with sculptor/sculpting.
Did you consider the (admittedly simple) 'clay'?
Not so much a critique, more something for your consideration:
[Memory] becomes damp and grey
[malleable] between fingers;
shaping light and color,
sounds [affixed] with slip
or scored, [molding] all
when an abstract sculptor
is not sculpting for us.
Clay was considered. Argil is a pretty identical synonym to clay, if not, more specific on what type of clay I'm referring to.
I'm not sure of the transition on "all" either. I'm working on finding a way to reword it.
Your version was definitely considered. Thank you for putting it up there.
Memories...away.
Flows a lot better now (but 'turned', where it is, is ambiguous;
'Memories, damp and grey, turned...' - might better maintain the metaphor)
For me, it still stumbles at 'all...'
It's almost as if there's a thought/line missing, and the poem just skips over the gap.
You may be trying to fit a bit too much into too small a space.
Or else I'm being terribly obtuse.
Are you 100% sure about 'sculpting'?
Because up until here I though the 'artist' could have been either a potter or a sculptor.
'Memories, damp and grey, turned...' - might better maintain the metaphor) This would flow into the next line that starts with plastic. This would be saying that the clay that's damp and gray was somewhat hard before it turned plastic, which would be inconsistent. The clay is already plastic at the start of the poem. Edit: Okay I see what you mean. I omitted "turned" in my edit. Apologies
For me, it still stumbles at 'all...' Made an edit. It was a simpler fix than I thought it would be, but as you're the reader I'd like to hear your thoughts as always
Are you 100% sure about 'sculpting'? Yes
Because up until here I though the 'artist' could have been either a potter or a sculptor. No you're right. The artist could be a potter or sculptor.
Hey alexorande,
You have a strong piece here. The many edits show in a good way. I'll go into more detail below:
(11-15-2017, 05:48 AM)alexorande Wrote: Argil
Memories, damp and gray,
is plastic in our fingers, shaping -I like the enjambment here because "shaping" is an important word for the meaning of this poem.
light and color; sounds are fixed
with slip or carved away, or -I love the whole memory metaphor here. I especially like how it shows how we can control what we do with our memories.
an abstract artist sculpts for us. -I like this last line. I just wonder if "abstract" is the right word. May be it could be "another artist" who sculpts for us? Just a thought.
Edit 5: Argil
Memories turned damp and gray
and plastic in our fingers shaping
light and color; sounds are fixed
with slip or carved away, all
when an abstract artist
is not sculpting for us.
Edit 4: Argil
Some-time-ago turned gray
and wet within our fingers shaping
light and color; sounds are glued
with slip or carved away, all
when an abstract sculptor
is not sculpting for us.
Edit 3: Plasticity
Moments become damp and gray
between fingers that begin to mold
light and color; sounds are carved
away or attached with slip
when the shady sculptor
isn't sculpting for me.
Edit 2: Plasticity
A moment becomes damp and gray
between my fingers, they begin
to mold light and color; sounds
are carved away or attached with slip,
when a shady sculptor
isn't sculpting for me.
Edit 1: Plasticity
A moment becomes damp and gray
between my fingers. My hands begin
to mold colors, and sounds are carved
or scored into and attached with slip
if it all fits a metaphor, or
a shady sculptor sculpts for me.
Original: Plasticity
A moment becomes damp and gray
between my fingers. My hands begin
to mold a bench's color, and words
are sometimes carved or added if
it all fits a metaphor, or a shady sculptor
sculpts for me.
Considered titles were: Plasticity, Clay, Greenware, How Gravity Warps Clay (which I feel just makes the piece more complicated than it needs to be)
I think you're pretty close to done with this one. I look forward to seeing what you decide next.
I think I'm actually pretty set on this edit. At the moment, I cannot come up with other words (meaning I can't spot a better word in the thesaurus) in place of "abstract". The artist makes abstract art which are the memories (making us the abstract artists as well, rendering this interpretation redundant. In this case, the word "another" would be used well to substitute abstract, but I think this artist is more worthy of some sort of characterization), or is an abstract thing-- which it is.
In the meantime, I think I'm gonna set this aside to look at later again with fresh eyes. Thank you nibbed, Knot, and Richard for your critiques.
