Soft-spoken Musings

[Rose Love]

Soft-spoken me
like a fluff of poplar
gliding
on tippy toes
through the air

Angels
flitting
in bolts of light
to an accident scene

White light
with a golden hue
trying to reach you
through the fog

And the flow
the natural flow
of a joyous world
held up at the foot
of your grief

Everything floats
from here to you
on a wing and a prayer
if you let it.

[Leanne]

Hi, Rose Love! I enjoyed this on first reading, now let's have a look at it through a critical filter.

Soft-spoken me
like a fluff of poplar -- would "like poplar fluff" do? I love the image and the mood these lines create
gliding
on tippy toes -- my preference would be for just "tiptoes", but that's a personal thing and it works your way
through the air

Angels
flitting
in bolts of light
to an accident scene -- this stanza partly gives me the image of angels riding those bolts of light -- if that's something you would like to pursue, I'd suggest trying to head in that direction with some of your word choices. Otherwise, this is a little tenuous as images go but it does still work.

White light
with a golden hue
trying to reach you
through the fog -- good sounds in this stanza

And the flow
the natural flow
of a joyous world
held up at the foot
of your grief -- this is my favourite stanza, I think it's very strong with the juxtaposition of joy and grief

Everything floats
from here to you
on a wing and a prayer -- this cliche spoils the stanza for me -- changing it would give you a much stronger, more profound ending
if you let it.

Really good stuff here, with just a few things that could be improved or removed. Thanks very much for posting

[Philatone]

hello rose!
some thoughts for on the piece

Soft-spoken me
like a fluff of poplar...like the vowel sounds you have begun with
gliding
on tippy toes...."gliding" could be brought to this line. personal preference: "tiptoes" over "tippy toes" the latter feels less mature; maybe that makes it more appropriate in a way?
through the air

Angels
flitting
in bolts of light
to an accident scene

White light
with a golden hue
trying to reach you
through the fog...this stanza almost reads like a haiku. it's great

And the flow
the natural flow
of a joyous world
held up at the foot
of your grief...this stanza works the least for me. the repetition of "flow" didn't sit well with me; neither did the opening with "and". What is a "joyous world"? I'm not sure what this image means for the speaker; making it clearer would impact me more. I think the last two lines almost balance what comes before it; I really liked them

Everything floats
from here to you
on a wing and a prayer
if you let it.....the last line establishes quite a tone for the poem as a whole and the last stanza in particular. repeating the "on a " for "prayer" could also make the "wing" and "prayer" stand out more as equals for me. that being said, the ideas have been done before.

overall, I liked what you did here. i hope one or two ideas may help! thanks for sharing

[billy]

Soft-spoken me
like a fluff of poplar does it need 'like a' or would it read softer as a metaphor?
gliding
on tippy toes
through the air great image straight off,

Angels
flitting
in bolts of light
to an accident scene at first i saw heavenly angles but now i see medics and ambulance. (because you said in and not on bolts of light)

White light
with a golden hue
trying to reach you
through the fog solid images great stanza.

And the flow is this line needed? you say the same thing in the next line though it is embellished
the natural flow
of a joyous world
held up at the foot
of your grief

Everything floats
from here to you
on a wing and a prayer this line (cliche) weakens the last stanza, which i feel would be excellent if you could use something else.
if you let it.

an enjoyable poem. i know i'm wrong but i saw it as a car accident, the flying through the air in the 1st stanza i took literally, though as one of those moments that last an age, where you see everything. i like that the poem has very little excess.

thanks for the read.

[Rose Love]

Hello.

Thank you all for your feedback, I will definitely take another look at the poem with your feedback in mind. Right off, though, from Leanne's feedback, I did change that one line to "on" bolts of light.

Billy--I also had a car accident in mind in that specific line and with that word, but more than that, overall an intermingling of a higher dimension with ours, one beyond our sight.

Thanks

[Todd]

Hi Rose,

I haven't read any of the comments so I could come at this cold. Forgive me if I repeat anything.

Soft-spoken me
like a fluff of poplar
gliding
on tippy toes
through the air

This opening sort of reminded me of the opening from the Forrest Gump movie with the feather floating by unnoticed. The musings of the speaker and the speaker seem to drift above the scene looking down at some panoramic scene. Tippy toes gives a childlike sense to both the observation and the observer. It also gives the sense that the speaker is peeking over the shoulders of more serious adults that may not share the same perspective. I have no issues with any of the choices in this strophe. The language flows and the tone is light and ethereal.

Angels
flitting
in bolts of light
to an accident scene

So, here's why the crowd has gathered. I take the angels as literal. The speaker wonders about, assumes, or can actually see angels moving quickly to the tragedy. I question whether Angels is strong enough to hold its own line. Another option would be a slight word change (in bolts... To ...as bolts) just a thought...in still works. maybe it should be your accident scene. It feels like this may be a better place to draw toward the personal and specific.


White light
with a golden hue
trying to reach you
through the fog

Here's the tunnel, the white light. The fog seems to be that place between life and death. Death may be scary but your cosmology which I like has something joyful reaching out. I like all of this.


And the flow
the natural flow
of a joyous world
held up at the foot
of your grief

I like the contrast of the grief on one side of this fog bank where all we see is separation. I also like that you cast joy as the natural flow. The repetition works for me. I have no issues with any of this.

Everything floats
from here to you
on a wing and a prayer
if you let it.

I actually found this a let down after the startling observation of the last strophe--the cliche didn't help, but even if it wasn't there I would consider ending the poem with of your grief.

It was a lovely poem. I enjoyed the read.

I hope some of this was helpful.

Best,

Todd

[penguin]

Hello Rose Love. I think the poem has a lot of charm. Soft-spoken me seems to chime with tippy toes. What I would suggest is that "Soft - spoken me" becomes the title line and that the 2 opening lines of the 4th verse are compressed into one - "And the natural flow." Then you'll have 5 verses of 4 lines each and the symmetrical side of you will weep with joy.

Angels
flitting
in bolts of light
to an accident scene - it seems short of a syllable or two, this verse, somewhere, probably line 3

White light
with a golden hue - is this the same light referred to in previous verse?

held up at the foot
of your grief - that's very good

[Rose Love]

Thank you both for your suggestions.

Hello Rose Love. I think the poem has a lot of charm. Soft-spoken me seems to chime with tippy toes.

Yes, I think I remember now why I put "tippy-toes" instead of "tip-toes," which refers back to the experience I had that inspired the poem when someone called me "soft-spoken." I'm a bit...or maybe a lot according to some...childish and that immature bit was a part of me in the poem.

What I would suggest is that "Soft - spoken me" becomes the title line and that the 2 opening lines of the 4th verse are compressed into one - "And the natural flow." Then you'll have 5 verses of 4 lines each and the symmetrical side of you will weep with joy.

Lol. Hmm...I wonder where that side of me disappears to whenever I write a poem. I'm usually pretty lost when it comes to punctuation and line count/separation when writing poems. I just try to force punctuation or a certain number of lines so that there will be symmetry, but the other side of me always says "No, that doesn't feel right." Sooo...that's the side that always wins. Or not "wins" per se, but I'm so indecisive I just quit trying to decide how to put it and just leave it.