Where I lay my head edit 2 newsclippings, pet ak

[tectak]

In this room, I lay with loves I met.
I filed away the images I knew
would rise again, like wraiths of raw regret,
to dash my dreams of holding on to you.

You lie beside me as the light disclaims
the greyed out phantoms, fantasies still clear.
Another slips across my recalled frames
and strange, I taste the sweetness of her tears.

Then there was the long and snow-deep night;
she sat upon this discrete bed and cried.
I watched her, naked, rise in candle light;
then dress so slowly, leaving off her pride.

I look to where a silhouette still lies;
her name she kept, she never made it known.
We thrashed and threw our passion to the skies;
but when I woke and called her…she was gone.

I damn you for your bodies, ageless, pure!
Why do old recollections stay so new?
How could I love so long, yet be unsure?
Is this my dream...or are you dreaming, too?

Tectak
Jan 2013

Original
In this room, I lay with loves I met.
I filed away the images I knew
would rise again, like wraiths of raw regret;
and that one day I’d say goodbye to you.

You lie beside me as the light disclaims
the greyed out phantoms, fantasies still clear.
I see her move across my recalled frames
and taste once more the sweetness of her tears.

Then there was the long and snow-deep night;
another sat upon this bed and cried.
I watched her rise, naked in the light,
dress slowly, leaving with her pride.

I look to where a silhouette still lies;
her name was kept, she never made it known.
We thrashed and threw our passion to dark skies
but when I woke and called her…she was gone.

I damn you for your bodies, ageless, pure!
Why do the recollections stay so new?
How could I love so long, yet be unsure?
Goodbye past loves, another day with you.

Tectak
Jan 2013

[ellz483]

Every word seemed so wonderfully calculated. And, most importantly to me, you did not have repetitions of any words. The way you described the women, the one who put her clothes back on and the one whose name you never knew, they seemed so real. You have me just enough information about each of them that I was able to fill in the rest of their stories. I loved the way you ended this; the question of whether or not you or your partner was dreaming twisted the whole poem and was powerful. Thought provoking and very beautiful. I like the revisions you made- the edited version seems damn near perfect to me!

[tectak]

Every word seemed so wonderfully calculated. And, most importantly to me, you did not have repetitions of any words. The way you described the women, the one who put her clothes back on and the one whose name you never knew, they seemed so real. You have me just enough information about each of them that I was able to fill in the rest of their stories. I loved the way you ended this; the question of whether or not you or your partner was dreaming twisted the whole poem and was powerful. Thought provoking and very beautiful. I like the revisions you made- the edited version seems damn near perfect to me!

Thanks ellz,
I put more work into this than I often do The crits on this site are astute and perceptive so become "involved" in the evolution of the thing and I am grateful for that. Oddly, you might think, your comments spurred me to add the word "discrete" to describe the bed. A place of undivulged, hidden dreams. Thanks.
Best,
tectak

[popeye]

Philanderer! I'm jealous Enjoyed this and thought it better in the original as 'discreet' seemed like a cover up and less earthy, but both are very good mate, thanks for the read.

[tectak]

Philanderer! I'm jealous Enjoyed this and thought it better in the original as 'discreet' seemed like a cover up and less earthy, but both are very good mate, thanks for the read.

You are worse than my wife. This is a poem about someone else, honestly....I made it up! It's a bloody poem, for chrissakes! It's not about me. No, of course I don't want a divorce! No....I don't want to....why on earth would I want....for fuck's sake...I DO NOT WANT to sleep in the spare room......
The power of the pen, huh! Thank God beds don't talk to walls!
Best and thanks,
tectak

[popeye]

Much saddened by your love position,
Unaware of inquisition,
Have laid my Green Eyed Beast to rest.........Best! :angel:

[billy]

sorry for not replying tom busy travelling and getting settled in for a while in the uk. anyway, here goes, i'll just comment on the edit.

i enjoyed the read, and the sentiment of the memories. for me there are too many I's that start sentences which make the meter feel a bit forced, the secrecy of the poem shines through, and some of the pain that secrecy brought. some of the line are borderline cliche which in this type of poem doesn't add anything, unusally for you, i'd say more image and less tell.

In this room, I lay with loves I met.
I filed away the images I knew I,I,I, it's always about you isn't it , could you kill one of them or substite, maybe an 'and' on the third instance?
would rise again, like wraiths of raw regret, nice alitteration at work (including wraiths.)
to dash my dreams of holding on to you.

You lie beside me as the light disclaims
the greyed out phantoms, fantasies still clear.
Another slips across my recalled frames a, instead of my,
and strange, I taste the sweetness of her tears.

Then there was the long and snow-deep night; half a foot would help the meter, then, there, was, the, and,...to many packing words , 5 out of 10 on this line. 'then there was' could be something more solid
she sat upon this discrete bed and cried.
I watched her, naked, rise in candle light;
then dress so slowly, leaving off her pride.

I look to where a silhouette still lies;
her name she kept, she never made it known.
We thrashed and threw our passion to the skies;
but when I woke and called her…she was gone.

I damn you for your bodies, ageless, pure!
Why do old recollections stay so new?
How could I love so long, yet be unsure?
Is this my dream...or are you dreaming, too?

Tectak
Jan 2013

[newsclippings]

i like it.

[tectak]

sorry for not replying tom busy travelling and getting settled in for a while in the uk. anyway, here goes, i'll just comment on the edit.

i enjoyed the read, and the sentiment of the memories. for me there are too many I's that start sentences which make the meter feel a bit forced, the secrecy of the poem shines through, and some of the pain that secrecy brought. some of the line are borderline cliche which in this type of poem doesn't add anything, unusally for you, i'd say more image and less tell.

In this room, I lay with loves I met.
I filed away the images I knew I,I,I, it's always about you isn't it , could you kill one of them or substite, maybe an 'and' on the third instance?
would rise again, like wraiths of raw regret, nice alitteration at work (including wraiths.)
to dash my dreams of holding on to you.

You lie beside me as the light disclaims
the greyed out phantoms, fantasies still clear.
Another slips across my recalled frames a, instead of my,
and strange, I taste the sweetness of her tears.

Then there was the long and snow-deep night; half a foot would help the meter, then, there, was, the, and,...to many packing words , 5 out of 10 on this line. 'then there was' could be something more solid
she sat upon this discrete bed and cried.
I watched her, naked, rise in candle light;
then dress so slowly, leaving off her pride.

I look to where a silhouette still lies;
her name she kept, she never made it known.
We thrashed and threw our passion to the skies;
but when I woke and called her…she was gone.

I damn you for your bodies, ageless, pure!
Why do old recollections stay so new?
How could I love so long, yet be unsure?
Is this my dream...or are you dreaming, too?

Tectak
Jan 2013

This one has been waiting for you, billy. Thanks for your very astute input. I will modify to suit. Some of your points are so well made that I really think we should have a crit the crits forum.....you would get my vote.
Where are you in the UK?
Best,
tectak

[billy]

in manchester, (stretford) thanks for the kind words, i think the probs are there becaue you're doing the meter thing with the iambs, instead of the normal narratives that you excell at. it's good to see poets trying stuff outside their normal comfort zones.

[tectak]

in manchester, (stretford) thanks for the kind words, i think the probs are there becaue you're doing the meter thing with the iambs, instead of the normal narratives that you excell at. it's good to see poets trying stuff outside their normal comfort zones.

Yep. I'm working on some syllable count verse to go with strict rhythm. I have a nephew in law in Cleckeaton (Liversedge) who is a keen member of a punk band (Zapaian-not my bag!)
Some of their stuff is like death by machine gun but if I get enough angst in a subject they like to belt it out. Trouble is you need to have simple but very strict verse. It is not where I am comfortable .
This one is worth playing with as a keeper for me.....that's as far as it will run.
Best,
stay warm,
Tom

[Todd]

Hi Tectek, not a lot to critique on this one. You put a few subtle changes into the edit that I like, a she here, a candle light there. The choices made the poem expand from a simple reflection on the past to something warmer, more of a sensory experience. Some comments below:

In this room, I lay with loves I met.
I filed away the images I knew--I keep wondering if it might be better if you cut the full stop on L1 and led this line with "to file". Just a thought. I also love the break on knew
would rise again, like wraiths of raw regret,--That's an evocative line. When you take it with the later greyed out phantoms line you have something more three dimensional than a film in memory.
to dash my dreams of holding on to you.

You lie beside me as the light disclaims--disclaims is a fantastic word choice for the line and the theme.
the greyed out phantoms, fantasies still clear.
Another slips across my recalled frames
and strange, I taste the sweetness of her tears.--These are the types of details that elevate the poem. When the narrator steps back into the experience of the moment and we get these sensory flashes. From this point on, I would like to see something that captures the actual moment like this in each of the next stanzas save the last two where it moves back into the present.

Then there was the long and snow-deep night;--snow-deep night accomplishes part of that request. In that you get a sense of isolation for the couple. Its like their normal lives are blocked off from them, and it can be about them alone
she sat upon this discrete bed and cried.--All about the word choices here. The discrete bed now implies a need for her to separate herself, and the tears are not like the earlier ones. Nice detail to imply what she is leaving, and what she is returning to
I watched her, naked, rise in candle light;--candle light is such a nice addition here. It's important to the poem that she is greyed out or in dim light. This is about what happened with her, not about the her under the full light of the sun.
then dress so slowly, leaving off her pride.--Leaving off her pride and the next few lines seem to imply that this was a chance encounter. She arrived with pride, but didn't leave with. This is the first and only time for the two lovers.

I look to where a silhouette still lies;--again a play with light. I like this
her name she kept, she never made it known.--Great detail. That gives us an awful lot about the regret, the scenario itself
We thrashed and threw our passion to the skies;
but when I woke and called her…she was gone.--The narrator saw her rise and get dressed, the implication is she left in full sight of him. Did he return to sleep and then the memory of it all caused him to call out for her again? I don't this calling as a telephone.

I damn you for your bodies, ageless, pure!--Just fantastic observation of aging and regret. They always stay young.
Why do old recollections stay so new?
How could I love so long, yet be unsure?
Is this my dream...or are you dreaming, too?--The new conclusion has some nice symmetry to it. Does she have these same regrets? That's what we always wonder. The last stanzas observations really make this accessible to more than the lone experience.


Tectak
Jan 2013

I enjoyed the poem for its sensory details and observations. It sort of reminded me thematically of Carolyn Forche's Reunion.

Best,

Todd

[tectak]

Hi Tectek, not a lot to critique on this one. You put a few subtle changes into the edit that I like, a she here, a candle light there. The choices made the poem expand from a simple reflection on the past to something warmer, more of a sensory experience. Some comments below:

In this room, I lay with loves I met.
I filed away the images I knew--I keep wondering if it might be better if you cut the full stop on L1 and led this line with "to file". Just a thought. I also love the break on knew
would rise again, like wraiths of raw regret,--That's an evocative line. When you take it with the later greyed out phantoms line you have something more three dimensional than a film in memory.
to dash my dreams of holding on to you.

You lie beside me as the light disclaims--disclaims is a fantastic word choice for the line and the theme.
the greyed out phantoms, fantasies still clear.
Another slips across my recalled frames
and strange, I taste the sweetness of her tears.--These are the types of details that elevate the poem. When the narrator steps back into the experience of the moment and we get these sensory flashes. From this point on, I would like to see something that captures the actual moment like this in each of the next stanzas save the last two where it moves back into the present.

Then there was the long and snow-deep night;--snow-deep night accomplishes part of that request. In that you get a sense of isolation for the couple. Its like their normal lives are blocked off from them, and it can be about them alone
she sat upon this discrete bed and cried.--All about the word choices here. The discrete bed now implies a need for her to separate herself, and the tears are not like the earlier ones. Nice detail to imply what she is leaving, and what she is returning to
I watched her, naked, rise in candle light;--candle light is such a nice addition here. It's important to the poem that she is greyed out or in dim light. This is about what happened with her, not about the her under the full light of the sun.
then dress so slowly, leaving off her pride.--Leaving off her pride and the next few lines seem to imply that this was a chance encounter. She arrived with pride, but didn't leave with. This is the first and only time for the two lovers.

I look to where a silhouette still lies;--again a play with light. I like this
her name she kept, she never made it known.--Great detail. That gives us an awful lot about the regret, the scenario itself
We thrashed and threw our passion to the skies;
but when I woke and called her…she was gone.--The narrator saw her rise and get dressed, the implication is she left in full sight of him. Did he return to sleep and then the memory of it all caused him to call out for her again? I don't this calling as a telephone.

I damn you for your bodies, ageless, pure!--Just fantastic observation of aging and regret. They always stay young.
Why do old recollections stay so new?
How could I love so long, yet be unsure?
Is this my dream...or are you dreaming, too?--The new conclusion has some nice symmetry to it. Does she have these same regrets? That's what we always wonder. The last stanzas observations really make this accessible to more than the lone experience.


Tectak
Jan 2013

I enjoyed the poem for its sensory details and observations. It sort of reminded me thematically of Carolyn Forche's Reunion.

Best,

Todd

Thanks for the kind words, todd. Work in Progress.Taking a leaf from your book.Edit 3 and 3a uo but that's it for a while on this one.
Best,
tectak

---

Hi Tectek, not a lot to critique on this one. You put a few subtle changes into the edit that I like, a she here, a candle light there. The choices made the poem expand from a simple reflection on the past to something warmer, more of a sensory experience. Some comments below:

In this room, I lay with loves I met.
I filed away the images I knew--I keep wondering if it might be better if you cut the full stop on L1 and led this line with "to file". Just a thought. I also love the break on knew
would rise again, like wraiths of raw regret,--That's an evocative line. When you take it with the later greyed out phantoms line you have something more three dimensional than a film in memory.
to dash my dreams of holding on to you.

You lie beside me as the light disclaims--disclaims is a fantastic word choice for the line and the theme.
the greyed out phantoms, fantasies still clear.
Another slips across my recalled frames
and strange, I taste the sweetness of her tears.--These are the types of details that elevate the poem. When the narrator steps back into the experience of the moment and we get these sensory flashes. From this point on, I would like to see something that captures the actual moment like this in each of the next stanzas save the last two where it moves back into the present.

Then there was the long and snow-deep night;--snow-deep night accomplishes part of that request. In that you get a sense of isolation for the couple. Its like their normal lives are blocked off from them, and it can be about them alone
she sat upon this discrete bed and cried.--All about the word choices here. The discrete bed now implies a need for her to separate herself, and the tears are not like the earlier ones. Nice detail to imply what she is leaving, and what she is returning to
I watched her, naked, rise in candle light;--candle light is such a nice addition here. It's important to the poem that she is greyed out or in dim light. This is about what happened with her, not about the her under the full light of the sun.
then dress so slowly, leaving off her pride.--Leaving off her pride and the next few lines seem to imply that this was a chance encounter. She arrived with pride, but didn't leave with. This is the first and only time for the two lovers.

I look to where a silhouette still lies;--again a play with light. I like this
her name she kept, she never made it known.--Great detail. That gives us an awful lot about the regret, the scenario itself
We thrashed and threw our passion to the skies;
but when I woke and called her…she was gone.--The narrator saw her rise and get dressed, the implication is she left in full sight of him. Did he return to sleep and then the memory of it all caused him to call out for her again? I don't this calling as a telephone.

I damn you for your bodies, ageless, pure!--Just fantastic observation of aging and regret. They always stay young.
Why do old recollections stay so new?
How could I love so long, yet be unsure?
Is this my dream...or are you dreaming, too?--The new conclusion has some nice symmetry to it. Does she have these same regrets? That's what we always wonder. The last stanzas observations really make this accessible to more than the lone experience.


Tectak
Jan 2013

I enjoyed the poem for its sensory details and observations. It sort of reminded me thematically of Carolyn Forche's Reunion.

Best,

Todd

Thanks for the kind words, todd. Work in Progress.Taking a leaf from your book.Edit 3 and 3a uo but that's it for a while on this one.
Best,
tectak