To a Poet
#1
Adjusted a lot here. Regarding the title, how about if I change the name to simply "Jealousy"? Thoughts would be appreciated.

To list the changes:
S. 2 L. 2 in the middle was adjusted
S. 3 condensed.
S. 4 axed the "museum" bit
S. 5 removed the "name of a room"
S. 6 last line replaced to "Sunday mornings" (took out the "labor" bit)
S. 7 removed "because" on the first line
S. 8 shortened the first line
replaced everything after S.9, so S.10 and 11 would love feedback if you have thoughts.

----------------------------------------------
Jealousy (tentative title)

Was I wrong to think
It was born in your words
And not in me?

Is your mind not a wave
Crashing against the dried beds
Of those lips, the desert of a page?

You used to talk as I held
This very net
Over your voice
Only to see the words scurry through the line.

They are the words I want
To take from your attic
And frame in my cage of glass;

Where you leave them
Swallowed by dust and fingerprints,
I have the rags and polish,
The marble pedestal,
The room where they would sleep
In my house.

If I had those words,
We would share orange juice and sit
In the silence that comes
With Sunday mornings.

There would be no more pens
And hours chasing shadows from a desk.

No more scratches, no erasers;
Only a camera to take their picture
So years from now
I could say "Remember when,"
And laugh.

But instead,
I find your signature
Like fire in a dry wood
And my photographs burn into dreams.

It's an alarm
That sends me back to the office
Ringing from morning until morning,
Loudest when you are near,

And softest when I almost forget
That this is something
You already said.




---------------------
original

To a Poet

Was I wrong to think
Jealousy was born in your words
And not in me?

Is your mind not the wave
I watch crash against the shallowness
Of those lips, the desert of a page?

I remember how you would talk
As I held
This very net
Over your voice
Only to see the words scurry through the line.

They are the words I want
To take from your attic
And frame in my museum, in my cage of glass;

Where you leave them
Unprotected, swallowed by dust and fingerprints,
I have the rags and polish,
The marble pedestal, the space;
Even a name for the room
Where they would sleep
In my house.

If I had those words,
We would share orange juice and sit
In the silence that comes
With finished labor every morning

Because
There would be
No more pens
And hours chasing shadows
From a desk.

No more scratches. No need for erasers;
Only a camera to take their picture
So years from now
I could say "Remember when,"
And laugh.

But instead,
I find your signature
Like fire in a dry wood
And my photographs burn into dreams.

I will have to keep
My place at the desk.

There will be
No end to this work
To have my name
Stitched to your words,

No end to the search
To have this written
Before you have the chance
To put it away
For good.
Written only for you to consider.
Reply
#2
i've been back to this one a few times. mainly trying to get a connect from poem to title and i think i get it but i'm struggling to see "the big picture" of it. i love some of the images.

"the desert of a page" is a whoop whoop image i wish i'd thought of.
i see the awe in your words. and how the 1st person would cherish the works of the poe. and i think there in lays the rub. the poem feels more about the love of words or books that a poet generic or other. stanza 5 i think is superb if about books. i'd like to see a connection to a poet. without the title there are only references to words and authors.

definitely a good poem for me, with lot's of original passages. though i feel either the title needs changing or something needs to be added in the poem to make a stronger connection (jmo) all just suggestion.

thanks for the read

(10-07-2011, 11:16 AM)Philatone Wrote:  Was I wrong to think
Jealousy was born in your words
And not in me?

Is your mind not the wave
I watch crash against the shallowness
Of those lips, the desert of a page?

I remember how you would talk
As I held
This very net
Over your voice
Only to see the words scurry through the line.

They are the words I want
To take from your attic
And frame in my museum, in my cage of glass;

Where you leave them
Unprotected, swallowed by dust and fingerprints,
I have the rags and polish,
The marble pedestal, the space;
Even a name for the room
Where they would sleep
In my house.

If I had those words,
We would share orange juice and sit
In the silence that comes
With finished labor every morning

Because
There would be
No more pens
And hours chasing shadows
From a desk.

No more scratches. No need for erasers;
Only a camera to take their picture
So years from now
I could say "Remember when,"
And laugh.

But instead,
I find your signature
Like fire in a dry wood
And my photographs burn into dreams.

I will have to keep
My place at the desk.

There will be
No end to this work
To have my name
Stitched to your words,

No end to the search
To have this written
Before you have the chance
To put it away
For good.
Reply
#3
(10-07-2011, 11:16 AM)Philatone Wrote:  Was I wrong to think
Jealousy was born in your words
And not in me? Nicely conveyed sentiment.

Is your mind not the wave
I watch crash against the shallowness
Of those lips, the desert of a page? This rambles on a bit. Could it be trimmed to something like:

"Is your mind not a wave
which crashes against these shallow lips,
that desert page?"


I remember how you would talk
As I held
This very net
Over your voice Could this trio of three word lines be pushed together? Separating them has no real effect. I like the net metaphor.
Only to see the words scurry through the line. What line? A line on the desert of a page? If so you're mixing metaphors, as to me "desert" implies the page is empty.

They are the words I want
To take from your attic
And frame in my museum, in my cage of glass; Are both these metaphors needed? I like "cage of glass". I think that implies "museum" without you having to say it.

Where you leave them
Unprotected, swallowed by dust and fingerprints, I like "swallowed".
I have the rags and polish,
The marble pedestal, the space; "Marble pedestal" is good. Is "the space" needed?
Even a name for the room Is "a name for the" needed? Isn't just saying you have a room reserved for the words enough?
Where they would sleep
In my house.

If I had those words,
We would share orange juice and sit I like the specificity of "orange juice".
In the silence that comes
With finished labor every morning I don't understand this line. Surely if it's morning the labour hasn't begun?

Because
There would be
No more pens Could from "Because" to "pens" be made one line?
And hours chasing shadows
From a desk. This is a great line, but I think it would be more effective as one, bringing up "from a desk" to go after "shadows".

No more scratches. No need for erasers;
Only a camera to take their picture
So years from now
I could say "Remember when,"
And laugh. My favourite verse. Quietly, shimmeringly profound.

But instead,
I find your signature
Like fire in a dry wood Is "dry" needed?
And my photographs burn into dreams.

I will have to keep
My place at the desk.

There will be
No end to this work Could a comma go here?
To have my name
Stitched to your words,

No end to the search
To have this written
Before you have the chance
To put it away
For good. Hang on... I thought the narrator was putting the person the poem's addressed to's words away?

The poem is littered with wonderful lines, but they don't have much narrative cohesion. I'm confused as to what the poem is about beyond perhaps a series of generic observations on love and sadness. You have a way with metaphors, but could do with some practice at storytelling. JMO, of course, and thanks for the read.
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe
Reply
#4
Hi Philatone,

Here are some comments for you. Hopefully they'll be helpful

(10-07-2011, 11:16 AM)Philatone Wrote:  Was I wrong to think
Jealousy was born in your words
And not in me?

While the idea of jealousy here is a good one, this strophe doesn't feel strong enough to lead with (maybe rearrange and start with S2). This feels sort of like what got you to the poem without being the poem.

Is your mind not the wave
I watch crash against the shallowness
Of those lips, the desert of a page?

The desert of a page is fine writing. Is there some image you can use that conveys shallowness wihout pointing it out directly?

I remember how you would talkDo you need, "I remember how"? I wonder if it would be more immediate without that lead in
As I held
This very net
Over your voice
Only to see the words scurry through the line.--love this image.

They are the words I want
To take from your attic
And frame in my museum, in my cage of glass;


I like words from your attic quite a bit. I don't know if I like museum so much. It feels like we're in a home and now we're in a public building. Would the image still work for you if you cut "in my museum"?

Where you leave them
Unprotected, swallowed by dust and fingerprints,--I would be tempted to cut unprotected
I have the rags and polish,
The marble pedestal, the space;
Even a name for the room
Where they would sleep
In my house.

I think the strophe works. I like swallowed by dust and fingerprints quite a bit

If I had those words,
We would share orange juice and sit
In the silence that comes
With finished labor every morning

I like the tone of this. While I see nothing wrong with how it's written, optionally you could cut "with finished labor".

Because--I don't know if you really need because
There would be
No more pens
And hours chasing shadows
From a desk.

No more scratches. No need for erasers;--Punctuation seems a bit odd here. As to the second phrase maybe simply "no erasers"
Only a camera to take their picture
So years from now
I could say "Remember when,"
And laugh.

But instead,
I find your signature
Like fire in a dry wood
And my photographs burn into dreams.

I love this strophe. I love the last two lines of it especially. No issues with it from me.

I will have to keep
My place at the desk.

There will be
No end to this work
To have my name
Stitched to your words,

No end to the search
To have this written
Before you have the chance
To put it away
For good.

Everything after " photographs burn into dreams" is a bit of a let down for me. I would like to see you end with more power. I'm not saying that these final lines are bad necessarily just that I'd prefer to see you begin on strong lines and end on them (which I feel is my only true issue with the poem).
This was a nice read, thank you.

Best,

Todd

The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
Reply
#5
Thank you for the feedback guys! It's helped so much; I hope the adjustments are moving me in the right direction. Individually...


Billy-I don't want to name a specific person unless I absolutely have to (saving it as a last resort). I tried some adjustments, and I think the last 2 stanzas might lead a bit more towards admiration of another person (as well as the title, which I realize is not 100% perfect). I'm glad you like the images; this is a piece I think had some potential, and I am starting to see some light!

Heslopian-Thanks for the very useful crit, especially when combined with Todd because you guys agreed on a number of specific issues. I found a big pair of scissors, so hopefully a lot of the trimming helps with the reading; that goes for switching some of the words and line breaks around (like unfinished labor; might play with some of the latter a bit more). I'm glad some of the images appealed to you!

Todd-You especially helped me to alter/ demolish/ recreate the last two stanzas, and I'm grateful for that. Again, you and heslopian touched on similar points throughout which is much easier to deal with than having everyone disagreeing. Still thinking about the first stanza in terms of ways to strengthen it--not sure just yet I want to pull a switch. Would be curious to see what you think of the "dried beds" in stanza 2, as well as the new finish of course.
Written only for you to consider.
Reply
#6
it looke wildly better for me. i could make a suggestion. you changed the title to jealousy and i admit it work, it's one of those power words.
but on line two you use it again. would a simple "it" suffice.


i think it's a great edit. the parts you removed strengthen the poem i think.

i get that you can't give a poets name but you could allude to oneSmile

were i under milkwood,

could i ask "If"

to write of "-----" in a sonnet

depending on who the poet is

either way, it's really getting there i think
Reply
#7
Yeah, this is solid. I agree with Billy on making Jealousy an It on L2. The opening has more power, I liked the Sunday mornings addition, and your conclusion gives me the payoff I was looking for. Right now, it looks very good. I'd probably spot check it in 3-6 months, but I'd say very successful rewrite.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson
Reply
#8
Just when I was beginning to think that, despite the best efforts of all, the crits were getting too 'nicey nicey'--- along comes Jack (Heslopian) with v honest and down-to-earth comments, followed by Todd, in much the same vein, but all positive.

I shall not repeat the exercise. However, I did swing back and forth: cut it down, sharpen it up! No, let it be, let it ramble. I must extract the last drop of meaning! No, not really. Then I realised, it sent me back years, not to poetry, but letters, the private letters of other people: 'Pam, meet you at 4pm for tram, as per usual' Understood. 'Worried about Jen and mayhem'. Half-undestood, and that was it -- reading something half-intelligible to anyone, wholly intelligible to perhaps two people, or even one. Made me think and work a little, which is unusual......
Reply
#9
thanks again to you guys, heslopian, todd, and billy; this piece would have bugged me for some time without your very precise suggestions. abu nuwas, I hope I was able to present something relatively clear for you; if there were specific things that stood out for you, I'm open to most things!
Written only for you to consider.
Reply
#10
Welcome, Philatone! I seem to be late to the party. Smile

The re-write is stunning. I'm sorry I don't have anything constructive to add. This reminds me very much of Pablo Neruda's tone and pace. If he is a favorite, may I suggest you test run Rumi?
PS. If you can, try your hand at giving some of the others a bit of feedback. If you already have, thanks, can you do some more?
Reply
#11
i'm sure i read your name somewhere but seem to have forgotten it Blush
i'll call you phil.

i've just read the piece and the work you did on it from start to finish is so evident.
for me, anything i said from now on woud just be picking for picking's sake. nicely done.
Reply
#12
Interesting idea, making jealousy the title; I think it does wonders for the first stanza. With jealousy not explicitly named in the body of the text, it matches the nice narrative thread you've got going on in the poem, where you allude very specifically and very personally to the other persons words and your most minute reactions to them (you produced truly magical lines from this creative premise: the entirety of stanza 3,6,7,8... honestly at this point I'll just be quoting your entire poem if I have to name favorites Smile) but leave much to the imagination of the reader about the actual nature of the words.

I adore the last two stanzas that you'd completely redone... it completely transformed the poem for me. (those last four make for a beautifully poignant closing). A truly well done edit.

PS. If you can, try your hand at giving some of the others a bit of feedback. If you already have, thanks, can you do some more?
Reply




Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)
Do NOT follow this link or you will be banned from the site!