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The Struggling Poet's Lament (Free verse) by Ranger

So beautiful, that baffled moon Who watched my gentle hands - quiet In low-lit room move, exploring Soft sweeps across such pale skin Your body bared in honesty Smooth lines shown - all unashamed Then deftly flowed red silken dress Volcano ripple in reverse Extravagance shone, golden-trimmed To cover over canvas frame Slip on lace glove, then summer hat I line your eyes and brush your lips An idol of adultery I look again To notice threads which snake behind Like lazy flies, a drunken waltz A crooked hem, a button gone And in the heavy candle glow I stumble like the pregnant flame Wishing mine was Master craft The tailor's mind of genius For the seamstress cannot dress herself

LilMsLadyPoet 1-Mar-06/11:46 AM
Oh, Man! Awesome! Idea, premise,and the path to it; Great! Very intellegent!
Execution...needs to be worked on.
okay....Yes, some flow problems in a few places (In low-lit room move, exploring
Soft sweeps across such pale skin)

Maybe that's it, maybe make more complete sentences...alittle too sparse here and there. I think if you filled in a little, and then cleaned up the rythm that way, you would be more happy with this.
I'd like to see you play with the 'fire' alittle more here. I think volcano erupts, in reverse, to flow upon the floor, searing hot images that burn into the mind and refuse to be painted in their full glory onto the canvas...I'd like to see you go a little further with that idea. Pale...alabaster, porcelain...I would like a more precie definition/description here. But, maybe that is the whole, entire point of this. Less than mastered, it stands as the canvas and so a part of what it laments it can not master. But only a true artist agonizes over the inablility to fully capture it, but alas, does come close. You need to come closer to it, here, to pull off the imperfections; if they are meant to be there. 9 for the genius of thought this holds. 10 if you master it!




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