Obligatory Leprechaun Patterned Novelty Pants

[20_Hamilton_18]

Revision#1

Obligatory Leprechaun Patterned Novelty Pants

Took her to St George’s market,
we’d grown tired of tracing streets
in the gloom of a baltic Friday morning.
If nothing else, she’d never been, and I wanted to go.
Never miss the chance to dander past bleary eyed mitten fingered
vendors flogging tattered books and love chipped ornaments with no home.
Examining vegetables picked at dawn transported here for noon, earth still clinging to’em
evidence of their freshness I suppose? Stalls heavin’ with the latest catch,
the smell made her gip. Embarrassed I made a show of querying the origin
and ageing process of prime Irish Beef, artisanal cheese
and sculptures made for new build homes.
Enlightened as ageing hipsters and Grammar school punks discussed Vinyl
and bemoaned current musical trends.  Not forgetting the stockpile of
obligatory Leprechaun patterned novelty pants,
I have three pairs now, a sucker for “Irish tat” as she puts it.
At any rate we’re greedy eyed and hunger paused gawking at potato bread,
soda bread and bowls of steaming stew, just like Ma made,
of course not quite as good, but proficient enough to quell
that craving and set us up for the afternoon.



Original

Obligatory Leprechaun Patterned Novelty Pants

Took her to St George’s market,
we’d grown tired of tracing streets
in the gloom of a frigid Friday morning.
If nothing else she’d never been,
and I wanted to go. Dander past
stalls selling tattered books,
cherished ornaments with no home,
vegetables picked at dawn transported here for noon,
stalls flogging the latest catch, prime Irish Beef,
artisanal cheese and sculptures made in drawing rooms.
Stalls ran by ageing hipsters and Grammar school punks
talking Vinyl and bemoaning current musical trends.  
Not forgetting stalls stockpiled with the obligatory
Leprechaun patterned novelty pants, I have three pairs now,
a sucker for “Irish tat” as she puts it. And the potato bread,
soda bread and bowls of steaming stew, just like Ma made it,
of course not quite as good, but proficient enough to
quell that craving and set us up for the afternoon.

[vagabond]

 Obligatory Leprechaun Patterned Novelty Pants

Took her to St George’s market,
we’d grown tired of tracing streets
in the gloom of a frigid Friday morning.                      maybe you find a subtler word than frigid.   
If nothing else she’d never been,             
and I wanted to go. Dander past                      is dander a verb? if so i´d write "we dander past" 
stalls selling tattered books,                    you could leave out "stalls selling"
cherished ornaments with no home,         "and" before "cherished" and full stop after home?
vegetables picked at dawn transported here for noon,                 consider a verb, to make it sound less like a series of impressions, presented to the reader, but more like a story. "at noon time they sold vegetables, picked at dawn" or something like that.
stalls flogging the latest catch, prime Irish Beef,    too many "ings" and "eds" , so maybe simply "stalls flogged the latest catch...". though i wonder if "flog" is the right word.. i thought of all things the prime beef was sold least cheap....
and i´d pull up "artisanal cheese" next to beef, just to mislead a bit more, concerning the double meaning.
artisanal cheese and sculptures made in drawing rooms.
Stalls ran by ageing hipsters and Grammar school punks                 even if the word has more than one meaning i think one "stall" is enough.
talking Vinyl and bemoaning current musical trends.  
Not forgetting stalls stockpiled with the obligatory                                just to make a full sentence of it: "stockpiled shelfs offered the obligatory leprechaun patterned pants. i have three pairs now and this makes me `a sucker for irish tat` in her eyes"
Leprechaun patterned novelty pants, I have three pairs now,               
a sucker for “Irish tat” as she puts it. And the potato bread,
soda bread and bowls of steaming stew, just like Ma made it,
of course not quite as good, but proficient enough to
quell that craving and set us up for the afternoon.           
 i experienced this culinary ending as less relevant than what came before, and the impression is not one i´d expect there (you seldom need mom´s home-made cooking if there is even the slightest hint of a love story).  
maybe the "sucker for irish tat" would do fine to make an ending (though i´m not quite sure if i get the point.. it seems to be something like "she doesn´t appreciate the wonder of st george´s market.. and others".. but then your poem seems to accentuate the clichés of that market, so i´m a bit puzzled about how the subject experiences it anyway)

i have a feeling i didn´t get what you wanted to convey, so probably most of my suggestions are not fitting. anyway, pick if you find something useful.

[20_Hamilton_18]

The other half doesn't frequent online poetry workshops so I have no qualms in saying this isn't a love story, although this was a few days before Valentines so maybe she thought it would be? If so I'm in trouble. Definitely glad of the feedback, lots to look at and work on and as always thank you for taking the time to read and comment, means a lot

Johnny

[Todd]

Hi Johnny,

Here are some comments for you:

Obligatory Leprechaun Patterned Novelty Pants

Took her to St George’s market,--This is not the sort of line you want to open a poem with. It is flat reportage. Consider this slight change instead (new words in brackets):

We'd grown tired of tracing streets
in the gloom of a frigid Friday morning
[at] St. George's market.
 
we’d grown tired of tracing streets
in the gloom of a frigid Friday morning.
If nothing else she’d never been,
and I wanted to go. Dander past--I've never heard dander used this way--but it sounds cools 
stalls selling tattered books,
cherished ornaments with no home,--while I like tattered books because it's visual, I don't like cherished ornaments. Cherished is abstract and it doesn't do anything for the noun. 
vegetables picked at dawn transported here for noon,--might not need "here" 
stalls flogging the latest catch, prime Irish Beef,
artisanal cheese and sculptures made in drawing rooms.
Stalls ran by ageing hipsters and Grammar school punks
talking Vinyl and bemoaning current musical trends.  
Not forgetting stalls stockpiled with the obligatory--your repeating stalls quite a bit. 
Leprechaun patterned novelty pants, I have three pairs now,
a sucker for “Irish tat” as she puts it. And the potato bread,
soda bread and bowls of steaming stew, just like Ma made it,--probably don't need "it "
of course not quite as good, but proficient enough to
quell that craving and set us up for the afternoon.

Just a first pass. I hope the comments help.

Best,

Todd

[tectak]

Hi 20-Hami,
This is very interesting because you are deceptively acute in the narrative department. The whole thing is sing-song and on that note I will have a pick at it. it won't be easy because I like it...much easier when it is detestable crap 

Revision#1

Obligatory Leprechaun Patterned Novelty Pants   Cute. very cute...and as a title, I just KNOW it will be about OLPNP's...and that's rare.

Took her to St George’s market,
we’d grown tired of tracing streets
in the gloom of a baltic Friday morning...I so want this to have some repeatable meter...the sing-song intonation lends itself to a lyrical lilt. You seem not to be concerned but I do believe it makes the thing a little clunky when it need not be. Re-rad it to yourself and just "feel" how this opening sentence could be great. The first two lines fit fine together "....on a gloomy baltic Friday morning.."
If nothing else, she’d never been, and I wanted to go. Again, this has rhythm....I cannot believe it is accidental.
Never miss the chance to dander past bleary eyed mitten fingered ...then it doesn't again...very frustrating. Maybe link-a-lot with bleary-eyed and mitten-fingered...but then there's that enjambment. It sounds as if you are trying out crutches for a friend. 
vendors flogging tattered books and love chipped ornaments with no home....I have it. it is the line length. Read it out loud. Make it smoother...make it more liquid...make it the consistency  of pouring cream...or at least, as consistent.
Examining vegetables picked at dawn transported here for noon, earth still clinging to’em
evidence of their freshness I suppose? Stalls heavin’ with the latest catch,
the smell made her gip. Embarrassed I made a show of querying the origin ...you are running of the tracks with this punctuation and stylised, clipped speech. Can I call it speech? It worked so well in the beginning but like most speech it can turn lazy. This should not be the case in a well-crafted poem because you have the TIME to make it right. Your poem, of course....but I'm a comma whore. Read it.
and ageing process of prime Irish Beef, artisanal cheese ...detail good. Relevancy not so good. Wondering me...wandering you.
and sculptures made for new build homes.
Enlightened as ageing hipsters and Grammar school punks discussed Vinyl ...wot "as". concurrent or equal. I cannot tell. Bad word...always.
and bemoaned current musical trends.  Not forgetting the stockpile of
obligatory Leprechaun patterned novelty pants,
I have three pairs now, a sucker for “Irish tat” as she puts it.
At any rate we’re greedy eyed and hunger paused gawking at potato bread,
soda bread and bowls of steaming stew, just like Ma made,
of course not quite as good, but proficient enough to quell
that craving and set us up for the afternoon....yet STILL I like it....


Overall impression is that it is a good read but a poor excuse for poetry. Maybe that is a little judgemental but you have not done enough to make this anything but a story with stops. The reason I still like it is because it is shiny, new and novel. That may be enough for you, and others, but I have a hang-over and need to take it out on someone. This kind of post is perfect for venting and railing...but I say again, hot damn...I like it. 
Best, 
 tectak



Original

Obligatory Leprechaun Patterned Novelty Pants

Took her to St George’s market,
we’d grown tired of tracing streets
in the gloom of a frigid Friday morning.
If nothing else she’d never been,
and I wanted to go. Dander past
stalls selling tattered books,
cherished ornaments with no home,
vegetables picked at dawn transported here for noon,
stalls flogging the latest catch, prime Irish Beef,
artisanal cheese and sculptures made in drawing rooms.
Stalls ran by ageing hipsters and Grammar school punks
talking Vinyl and bemoaning current musical trends.  
Not forgetting stalls stockpiled with the obligatory
Leprechaun patterned novelty pants, I have three pairs now,
a sucker for “Irish tat” as she puts it. And the potato bread,
soda bread and bowls of steaming stew, just like Ma made it,
of course not quite as good, but proficient enough to
quell that craving and set us up for the afternoon.

[20_Hamilton_18]

Tectak,

 Perhaps it is just a story with line breaks and stops, perhaps its not. That is up to each of us to decide. Definitely sat down to write this as a poem, does that make it one? I like to think I could copy out a receipt from my weekly groceries and call that a poem, maybe I will. I'm glad you enjoyed it at any rate and I'm very much obliged for the feedback, it definitely gives me something to think about in relation to this piece and we shall see how that impacts on any sort of revisions I may make to this in the future.

Good luck with the hangover

Johnny

[tectak]

Tectak,

 Perhaps it is just a story with line breaks and stops, perhaps its not. That is up to each of us to decide. Definitely sat down to write this as a poem, does that make it one? I like to think I could copy out a receipt from my weekly groceries and call that a poem, maybe I will. I'm glad you enjoyed it at any rate and I'm very much obliged for the feedback, it definitely gives me something to think about in relation to this piece and we shall see how that impacts on any sort of revisions I may make to this in the future.

Good luck with the hangover

Johnny

Hi 20-hami.
I cannot tell you how many times I have heard that a grocery list can be a poem. I no longer argue. My reasoning is simple...gather up receipts from Tesco and post them here. If anyone thinks they are worthy then I will post an Asda receipt. Thing is...it is not poetry and you would be seen to be disingenuous to suggest otherwise...otherwise why try?
Poetry is hard to define BUT good poetry DOES  exist...ips facto so does bad. Do you know the difference? I think you do or why revision 1?
Best,
tectak

Such judgements are best left to poetry discussion -- there are plenty of threads there on this topic, so it doesn't need to enter into Intensive Critique.  Whether you like the style of the poem or not is irrelevant to critique.  It is the style it is written in/ Admin

[billy]

i've only read it a couple of times so far but am rushed so here goes.

hi 20, welcome to the site. the first thing that i noticed were all the words ending with [ing] i'd suggest paring them down to add a little more strength. make "her" personal; give her a name on the 1st line...make it a good one. st georges places the market in one of a thousand places i suppose. would locking it in with a [down by the river blah] or [off the m25] etc help with the atmosphere and area.

some of the lines could be better broke. veg become fish becomes beef and the transitions aren't working for me.

there is an underlying feel about the poem that needs to better emerge. you use imagery but a lot of it is buried under verbiage. love the originality of the thing but originality isn't enough on it's own. the poetic devices you're using do work and would work better if you trimmed away the excess. all in all good effort.

Revision#1

Obligatory Leprechaun Patterned Novelty Pants

Took her to St George’s market,
we’d grown tired of tracing streets nice [t's]
in the gloom of a baltic Friday morning. [Baltic]
If nothing else, she’d never been, and I wanted to go. feels too busy, not sure [if nothing else] adds anything
Never miss the chance to dander past bleary eyed mitten fingered are you telling us not to miss the chance or do you mean [you never miss the chance. apart from the vagueness it's a great image
vendors flogging tattered books and love chipped ornaments with no home. as an ex vendor this line rings the bell
Examining vegetables picked at dawn transported here for noon, earth still clinging to’em [to 'em] feels like there's too much info, can it be more succinct?
evidence of their freshness I suppose? Stalls heavin’ with the latest catch, i'd suggest a new line for the fish.
the smell made her gip. Embarrassed I made a show of querying the origin again, the transition to beef while i'm smellin' fish
and ageing process of prime Irish Beef, artisanal cheese
and sculptures made for new build homes.
Enlightened as ageing hipsters and Grammar school punks discussed Vinyl
and bemoaned current musical trends. Not forgetting the stockpile of
obligatory Leprechaun patterned novelty pants,
I have three pairs now, a sucker for “Irish tat” as she puts it.
At any rate we’re greedy eyed and hunger paused gawking at potato bread, struggle to make this line work
soda bread and bowls of steaming stew, just like Ma made, nice [b's] and [s's]
of course not quite as good, but proficient enough to quell
that craving and set us up for the afternoon. feels too bland/too easy and end

[tectak]

Tectak,

 Perhaps it is just a story with line breaks and stops, perhaps its not. That is up to each of us to decide. Definitely sat down to write this as a poem, does that make it one? I like to think I could copy out a receipt from my weekly groceries and call that a poem, maybe I will. I'm glad you enjoyed it at any rate and I'm very much obliged for the feedback, it definitely gives me something to think about in relation to this piece and we shall see how that impacts on any sort of revisions I may make to this in the future.

Good luck with the hangover

Johnny

Hi 20-hami.
I cannot tell you how many times I have heard that a grocery list can be a poem. I no longer argue. My reasoning is simple...gather up receipts from Tesco and post them here. If anyone thinks they are worthy then I will post an Asda receipt. Thing is...it is not poetry and you would be seen to be disingenuous to suggest otherwise...otherwise why try?
Poetry is hard to define BUT good poetry DOES  exist...ips facto so does bad. Do you know the difference? I think you do or why revision 1?
Best,
tectak

Such judgements are best left to poetry discussion -- there are plenty of threads there on this topic, so it doesn't need to enter into Intensive Critique.  Whether you like the style of the poem or not is irrelevant to critique.  It is the style it is written in/ Admin

Yes...quite right. Hangover gone....noted.

[20_Hamilton_18]

Hey all,

first off I didn't mean to come across as argumentative or defensive when responding to feedback posted already on this piece so I'm sorry if that's how it came across. I can't say it enough but I'm very pleased to be here on this forum and I'm very grateful for the time and effort people put into critiquing someone else's work.

Moving on.

Billy,

thank you for the response, when it comes to revising this I'll definitely be looking at trying to help place the piece a little better, the river suggestion is a pretty good shout. I also agree that its worth giving "she" more of an identity, although I'm reluctant to give her a name, so I'll have to think about that.

The more technical aspects of poetry have always been my sticking point and form is definitely at the top of my list of deficiencies in my writing, but I'll have a look at that when it comes to the revision.

I'll let you know how I get on with this

Cheers again

Johnny

[Todd]

Hi Johnny,

My earlier comments on the opening are unchanged--though don't need to be pedantic. I like the longer lines of the revision. As a structural change, I think it serves the poem better.

My big issues at this point though:

1) Your opening and conclusion need to hit harder. I need to have some emotional oomph from reading this. Otherwise, I'll never be inclined to come back to it. 

2) There's still some filler in this that takes away from the condensed power of poetry. Consider this sequence as an example:

Examining vegetables picked at dawn transported here for noon, earth still clinging to’em 

evidence of their freshness I suppose? 

I don't mind the speaker's voice or asides. "earth still clinging to 'em" is quite nice. "transported here for noon" adds nothing. It is simply adding another fact. I would recommend going through the poem and savagely cutting out these sorts of phrases. Less is most certainly more. The excess clouds the language and minimizes your impact.

3) Part of this is related to the lack of conclusion but it could be the primary issue. What is the poem's theme? I'm at a loss to discover it. I think this makes things a bit unfocused and rambling.

There is something here to develop. I hope the comments help you.

Best,

Todd

Revision#1

Obligatory Leprechaun Patterned Novelty Pants

Took her to St George’s market,
we’d grown tired of tracing streets
in the gloom of a baltic Friday morning.
If nothing else, she’d never been, and I wanted to go.
Never miss the chance to dander past bleary eyed mitten fingered
vendors flogging tattered books and love chipped ornaments with no home.
Examining vegetables picked at dawn transported here for noon, earth still clinging to’em
evidence of their freshness I suppose? Stalls heavin’ with the latest catch,
the smell made her gip. Embarrassed I made a show of querying the origin
and ageing process of prime Irish Beef, artisanal cheese
and sculptures made for new build homes.
Enlightened as ageing hipsters and Grammar school punks discussed Vinyl
and bemoaned current musical trends.  Not forgetting the stockpile of
obligatory Leprechaun patterned novelty pants,
I have three pairs now, a sucker for “Irish tat” as she puts it.
At any rate we’re greedy eyed and hunger paused gawking at potato bread,
soda bread and bowls of steaming stew, just like Ma made,
of course not quite as good, but proficient enough to quell
that craving and set us up for the afternoon.



Original

Obligatory Leprechaun Patterned Novelty Pants

Took her to St George’s market,
we’d grown tired of tracing streets
in the gloom of a frigid Friday morning.
If nothing else she’d never been,
and I wanted to go. Dander past
stalls selling tattered books,
cherished ornaments with no home,
vegetables picked at dawn transported here for noon,
stalls flogging the latest catch, prime Irish Beef,
artisanal cheese and sculptures made in drawing rooms.
Stalls ran by ageing hipsters and Grammar school punks
talking Vinyl and bemoaning current musical trends.  
Not forgetting stalls stockpiled with the obligatory
Leprechaun patterned novelty pants, I have three pairs now,
a sucker for “Irish tat” as she puts it. And the potato bread,
soda bread and bowls of steaming stew, just like Ma made it,
of course not quite as good, but proficient enough to
quell that craving and set us up for the afternoon.