Hourglass

[Philatone]

V. 3 switched to present tense. removed opening line, adjusted stanza structure, adjusted the "bark" simile, adjusted the "measuring" stanza. thanks to tec, billy, and dale


hourglass

I find a plate of tangerine
slices, frosted in the back of the fridge.
The peeled curls return my thoughts to you,
wilted in a slender gown in a sterile room,

age stripping color from hair
as though bronze were bark.

Separated for a night, we still count
what neither of us can measure;
not in front of a counter strewn with flour,
not in the grasp of a detached machine.

A tally of hours may grow to days or crumble into sand
during a shift of sleep in a familiar bed

or as I eat the fruit set to spoil.
Cold, one slice is lifted away, then another,
until the dish loses its citric patients,
its finish so clear, unstained. White.




V. 2



Back from the hospital,
I found a plate of tangerine slices
frosted in the back of the fridge.

Those peeled curls, unfastened, returned my thoughts to you,
wilted in a slender gown in a sterile room,
your age stripping color from hair like bark.

Separated for a night, we still count
what neither of us can measure, from a kitchen
or while strapped to a machine. A tally of hours

may grow to days or crumble into seconds of sand
during a shift of sleep in a familiar bed
or as I eat the fruit set to spoil. Cold,

one slice is lifted away, then another,
before the dish loses its citric patients,
its finish so clear, unstained. White.





V. 1

Back from the hospital,
I found a plate of tangerine slices,
frosted in the back of the fridge.

Those peeled curls, huddled without their shell,
returned my thoughts to you, wilted in a slender gown,
your age stripping color from hair like bark.

For now, we count what none of us can measure
from a kitchen or while strapped to a machine.
A tally of hours may grow to days

or shrivel into sand, making it hard
to take this shift of sleep in a familiar bed,
eat the food set to spoil. Cold,

one slice is lifted away, then another,
before the dish loses its citric guests,
its finish so clear, unstained. White.

[abu nuwas]

I thought that this was built on a terrible foundation of sadness, overlaid with dilemma and confusion. I shall spare you a sequel, based around my fridge....

[Philatone]

hey abu!

thanks for the time and read. I wasn't entirely sure if you meant the poem's foundation was terrible or that the sentiments were just depressing (I do need to find happier topics). do you feel as though anything was overwhelming?

again, appreciate the feedback

[billy]

V. 2

Back from the hospital, is this line needed, it weakens the plot.
I found a plate of tangerine slices
frosted in the back of the fridge.

Those peeled curls, unfastened, returned my thoughts to you,
wilted in a slender gown in a sterile room,
your age stripping color from hair like bark. what a great image

Separated for a night, we still count
what neither of us can measure, from a kitchen
or while strapped to a machine. A tally of hours

may grow to days or crumble into seconds of sand
during a shift of sleep in a familiar bed
or as I eat the fruit set to spoil. Cold,

one slice is lifted away, then another,
before the dish loses its citric patients,
its finish so clear, unstained. White.

i just pointed out one good line but there are a good few. i have no nits per say, i just feel the format could be really improved
just an idea;


I found a plate of tangerine
slices, frosted at the back of the fridge.

like i say it's just a suggestion at best but i think you could express an already good poem better with a bit of re arranging, not sure the three line thing you're now into helps this one much.
thanks for the read.

[tectak]

V. 2



Back from the hospital,This line and the next kind of reverse into each other, neither line looking where it is going. It is almost as if the way back from the hospital is through the fridge! Needs clearer intent. " I am back from the hospital. Not really hungry but need comfort food. In the back of the fridge I find......" etc.
I found a plate of tangerine slices
frosted in the back of the fridge.

Those peeled curls, unfastened, returned my thoughts to you, Connection is close enough to use "the" instead of "those". "Those" always implies selectivity. When there are many choices you define which you want by saying "those apples/sausages/gloves/etc". When there is no choice you say "the apples/sausages/peeled curls"
wilted in a slender gown in a sterile room,
your age stripping color from hair like bark.I see some like this. I do not. It is one of those riffs which sound as if it makes sense until you examine it. What is like bark? The "stripping" action, the colour or the hair? " Age streaks your hair, like bark is stripped from old trees ". Still not good but it is your poem

Separated for a night, we still count
what neither of us can measure, from a kitchen Again, not precise enough to "get" on a read. By using "from a kitchen" you introduce duality of meaning. "From" can mean "source" or it can be the linkage in a "range" as in "from a to z". I know you mean it as a "range" so: "...what we cannot measure; not standing in this kitchen nor whilst strapped to a machine"
or while strapped to a machine. A tally of hours Well. You know my thoughts on this stanza "break". It will not become an issue. I give up.You win

may grow to days or crumble into seconds of sand Why bring in "of sand"? It was just fine as it was, but extended the sentence length until it became unstable.
during a shift of sleep in a familiar bed
or as I eat the fruit set to spoil. Cold,AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHH! Oh, sorry about that. I just fell of a steep enjambment which I didn't expect to see here

one slice is lifted away, then another,
before the dish loses its citric patients, "Until" is better than "before".Maybe "citrus" is less insulting!
its finish so clear, unstained. White. ...but a great metaphor, nonetheless. Last triplet/stanza/thingy is, for me, the best.

I like.

Best,
tectak





V. 1

Back from the hospital,
I found a plate of tangerine slices,
frosted in the back of the fridge.

Those peeled curls, huddled without their shell,
returned my thoughts to you, wilted in a slender gown,
your age stripping color from hair like bark.

For now, we count what none of us can measure
from a kitchen or while strapped to a machine.
A tally of hours may grow to days

or shrivel into sand, making it hard
to take this shift of sleep in a familiar bed,
eat the food set to spoil. Cold,

one slice is lifted away, then another,
before the dish loses its citric guests,
its finish so clear, unstained. White.

[abu nuwas]

hey abu!

thanks for the time and read. I wasn't entirely sure if you meant the poem's foundation was terrible or that the sentiments were just depressing (I do need to find happier topics). do you feel as though anything was overwhelming?

again, appreciate the feedback

No, I should have said 'frightening' or something like that. For what is worth, (and I am not sure I have any business critiquing on the serious forum), my thought was that it did what it set out to do well.

[Erthona]

Geoff,

Just an idea. Starting in present tense makes a cleaner separation between the two states in time.


Back from the hospital,
I find a plate of frosted tangerine slices
in the back of the fridge:
peeled curls, unfastened,
return my thoughts to you,
wilted in a slender gown in a sterile room


Dale

[Philatone]

tec, billy, dale, and abu again

made many adjustments based on all of your suggestions. thanks very much for your time and eyes; they helped me to see and strengthen many points. everything offered was appreciated!

[tectak]

V. 3 switched to present tense. removed opening line, adjusted stanza structure, adjusted the "bark" simile, adjusted the "measuring" stanza. thanks to tec, billy, and dale


hourglass

I find a plate of tangerine
slices, frosted in the back of the fridge.
The peeled curls return my thoughts to you,
wilted in a slender gown in a sterile room,

age stripping color from hair
as though bronze were bark.

Separated for a night, we still count
what neither of us can measure;
not in front of a counter strewn with flour,
not in the grasp of a detached machine.

A tally of hours may grow to days or crumble into sand
during a shift of sleep in a familiar bed

or as I eat the fruit set to spoil.
Cold, one slice is lifted away, then another,
until the dish loses its citric patients,
its finish so clear, unstained. White.




V. 2



Back from the hospital,
I found a plate of tangerine slices
frosted in the back of the fridge.

Those peeled curls, unfastened, returned my thoughts to you,
wilted in a slender gown in a sterile room,
your age stripping color from hair like bark.

Separated for a night, we still count
what neither of us can measure, from a kitchen
or while strapped to a machine. A tally of hours

may grow to days or crumble into seconds of sand
during a shift of sleep in a familiar bed
or as I eat the fruit set to spoil. Cold,

one slice is lifted away, then another,
before the dish loses its citric patients,
its finish so clear, unstained. White.





V. 1

Back from the hospital,
I found a plate of tangerine slices,
frosted in the back of the fridge.

Those peeled curls, huddled without their shell,
returned my thoughts to you, wilted in a slender gown,
your age stripping color from hair like bark.

For now, we count what none of us can measure
from a kitchen or while strapped to a machine.
A tally of hours may grow to days

or shrivel into sand, making it hard
to take this shift of sleep in a familiar bed,
eat the food set to spoil. Cold,

one slice is lifted away, then another,
before the dish loses its citric guests,
its finish so clear, unstained. White.

Very, very good edit. How could I say otherwise. Still don't like citric, though, but that's just sour grapes!

[Erthona]

Geoff,

I think this reads a lot better.

Also, I really like this image "wilted in a slender gown in a sterile room"

Dale

[billy]

for me the progression of edits to this state of being is almost exceptional.
a great job of workshopping the piece geoff. this grew into a really good poem.
thanks for the edits

billy

[Philatone]

tec
-thanks for the returns; the feedback was exceptionally helpful! I understand about the citrus, but I wanted something darker; I think citric makes a deeper cut.

dale
-thanks! always great to make an image or two that sticks, appreciate your time.

billy
-thank you as well for your returns and for guiding me in the editing. appreciate your time and words