on Old River Sherbourne by Caducus
6 Apr 2006, 12:08 PM
Some people argue that if you crossbreed nature poetry with political poetry, you spawn and breed a mutant - environmental poetry. But most of this rings true, and avoids the preachiness of most environmental attempts.
on Inbetween Lovers/Blueprint by Ranger
6 Apr 2006, 11:54 AM
You have embellished the modern poem "Blueprint" with a tale of yore, which its author may find appalling. But you keep just enough “photographs” and modern language to cause wonder as to whether you jest, mimic or jab. Good poem.
on Monday Morning by Sunny
6 Apr 2006, 11:40 AM
Some great phrases and vivid images. But I'd rather see it tied together with transition and clearer flow of the story. It's not a story, but you show sequence, loosely connected.
replying on Pastoral Care (Psalm 23 revisited) by Dovina
6 Apr 2006, 11:26 AM
Thanks, I’m still thinking I don’t need or want the Psalm 23 reference in the title.
replying on The Battle of Fort Bragg by Dovina
6 Apr 2006, 11:09 AM
Thanks for the suggestion on “squelched.” I’ve changed it to “quenched in the edit, along with some other changes. “broken bottles,” however, are mixed in with ground-up rock that litters the seas floor.
replying on The Battle of Fort Bragg by Dovina
6 Apr 2006, 11:09 AM
You are right about the location of Fort Bragg.
replying on The Battle of Fort Bragg by Dovina
6 Apr 2006, 11:08 AM
Thanks C. I’ve changed it some and have kept Stanza 6, but with changes.
replying on The Battle of Fort Bragg by Dovina
6 Apr 2006, 11:07 AM
Thanks for the good critique. “Versus” is right in Stanza 1 of angry verses – blush.
In Stanza 2, “how it was” refers to the old solid cliff, standing obstinately against young belligerent motion of the sea. But I see your point, and have changed it in the edit. I think the new wording also shows that the rock was winning.
In Stanza 4, I’ve changed, “Now memory moved, met solid desire / the ocean going at it still.” to “Now memory moved, met solid desire / armies under different flags.” I think that improves the precision of the changing image as the narrator ages.
In Stanza 6, “greed” refers back to “solid desire,” which is a mild form of greed perhaps. The idea is that memory was winning over the strong desires of younger times. I have changed “greed” to “need,” to make it less jarring. Also, I’ve changed “little bits” to painful bits” – stronger, I think.
In Stanza 2, “how it was” refers to the old solid cliff, standing obstinately against young belligerent motion of the sea. But I see your point, and have changed it in the edit. I think the new wording also shows that the rock was winning.
In Stanza 4, I’ve changed, “Now memory moved, met solid desire / the ocean going at it still.” to “Now memory moved, met solid desire / armies under different flags.” I think that improves the precision of the changing image as the narrator ages.
In Stanza 6, “greed” refers back to “solid desire,” which is a mild form of greed perhaps. The idea is that memory was winning over the strong desires of younger times. I have changed “greed” to “need,” to make it less jarring. Also, I’ve changed “little bits” to painful bits” – stronger, I think.
on Good old days by amanda_dcosta
5 Apr 2006, 11:41 AM
The first verse sets up a rhyme scheme, which I expected to see in the other verses, and missed in Verse 2.
The last line changes from third to first person, repeating the previous line, making the poem personal, and losing the structure. I think it's best to stick with a structure, once started.
A poem with nostalgic recall of earlier times can be very effective, but it's also a very common thing to do. I think it needs metaphor or unusual wording or specific events to set it off as being different.
The last line changes from third to first person, repeating the previous line, making the poem personal, and losing the structure. I think it's best to stick with a structure, once started.
A poem with nostalgic recall of earlier times can be very effective, but it's also a very common thing to do. I think it needs metaphor or unusual wording or specific events to set it off as being different.
replying on Pastoral Care (Psalm 23 revisited) by Dovina
5 Apr 2006, 11:28 AM
It doesn’t have the voice of Psalm 23, where David, a shepherd, speaks as a sheep. It’s told by an amateur who looks on. I might remove the Psalm reference from the title. Maybe the woman rubs it in too much; maybe you’re right.
replying on Pastoral Care (Psalm 23 revisited) by Dovina
4 Apr 2006, 2:57 PM
A California escapee seeking refuge in the hills of Tennessee.
replying on Pastoral Care (Psalm 23 revisited) by Dovina
3 Apr 2006, 5:12 PM
But doesn’t the homely “within” hark back simpler times. And doesn’t the final “almost” remind of having witnessed a tender scene and wishing it were yours to the extent that it almost is? And “’corn, a few’ Baaad girl”? – I am so naïve as be completely uninformed as to what you mean.
replying on Pastoral Care (Psalm 23 revisited) by Dovina
3 Apr 2006, 4:19 PM
Yeah, Yoda-talking is getting passé in this age of the NOW. No decent poet would stoop thereto. “Name one poet who reverted to writing in a style from a previous era.” Well, Yoda, for one – he reverts to Wordsworth: “Away she goes, up hill and down, and to the wood, at length is come.”
Suck, my rhymes may.
In antiquity, my style lay.
But under the sun, nothing new has come.
Suck, my rhymes may.
In antiquity, my style lay.
But under the sun, nothing new has come.
replying on A Country Anecdote by Dovina
3 Apr 2006, 12:04 PM
"Again, I see him wake with me." Thanks, I think that's better.
replying on Pastoral Care (Psalm 23 revisited) by Dovina
3 Apr 2006, 11:18 AM
It's not necessary to read Psalm 23 first. This is a scene I saw wihle riding a bicycle along a country road, and it brought to mind the Psalm. But you may interpret it entirely without that reference.
on Shy, quiet by Ranger
3 Apr 2006, 10:56 AM
On first reading, I thought of a storm having some portent in lightning - cagy like a cat. Then I read your explanation, and the poem again. Frankly, I don't see the club scene even now. I think you've leaned too far on the side of poetry at the expense of leaving your readers without the sensation you want them to have.
replying on A Country Anecdote by Dovina
3 Apr 2006, 10:41 AM
I wrestled with the tenses, and decided to use present tense in the first and last verses, and past tense in all the others. The real story is past tense. But the reality of it is so close in present thinking that I almost still “have a man who wakes with me.” I understand how that is confusing.
His “lumpy arm” was muscular from hard work. I never thought of it as ungraceful, but I see how you could read it as such.
Thanks for your comments. They give me another perspective on a story that can easily become ingrown and uncommunicative if held inside.
His “lumpy arm” was muscular from hard work. I never thought of it as ungraceful, but I see how you could read it as such.
Thanks for your comments. They give me another perspective on a story that can easily become ingrown and uncommunicative if held inside.
on Fiery Hands by Sunny
1 Apr 2006, 3:55 PM
I see you trying to incorporate the comments on the former version, but to ill effect. I hate when people do to me whast I wioll do to you:
The woman does not move;
her clock has amnesia,
and her hands are scarred.
The peeping bird has ceased its
back-‘forth routine, and the mother,
in her complacent gown
under the arch of the bathroom door,
is consumed by a force
greater than herself.
It makes her baby’s
oval lips silent, before it’s attempted cry.
The toddler’s pruned fingers
twisted the cold water off, allowed hot water
to spill; and now the boiling water
tightens on the skin
that lies prey-pink raw.
He is a statue that burns,
he sees out of blue eyes.
tortured stare nembraces her.
Frozen fingers
are in limbo in this eternal pause,
cementing her feet.
Baby’s mouth
is opened without the screech; time quit in the seconds
that lived before a wail and attempt.
Not perfect. Play with it.
The woman does not move;
her clock has amnesia,
and her hands are scarred.
The peeping bird has ceased its
back-‘forth routine, and the mother,
in her complacent gown
under the arch of the bathroom door,
is consumed by a force
greater than herself.
It makes her baby’s
oval lips silent, before it’s attempted cry.
The toddler’s pruned fingers
twisted the cold water off, allowed hot water
to spill; and now the boiling water
tightens on the skin
that lies prey-pink raw.
He is a statue that burns,
he sees out of blue eyes.
tortured stare nembraces her.
Frozen fingers
are in limbo in this eternal pause,
cementing her feet.
Baby’s mouth
is opened without the screech; time quit in the seconds
that lived before a wail and attempt.
Not perfect. Play with it.
replying on Old Friend by drnick
1 Apr 2006, 1:18 PM
Yes, Verse 4. Sorry.
replying on A Country Anecdote by Dovina
1 Apr 2006, 1:14 PM
You have a vivid imagination and a correct assessment.
(ass essment) without even seeing it. And it was not you whom I was asking for more comments on my poem, since you've already commented. I'm happy for the nice votes, but was fishing for more participation.
(ass essment) without even seeing it. And it was not you whom I was asking for more comments on my poem, since you've already commented. I'm happy for the nice votes, but was fishing for more participation.