Dovina
on some deleted poem
22 May 2007, 11:11 AM
Verses 1 and 2 are wordy and weak. The rest is good.
Turn this into a concrete silhouette poeme and it will be brilliant.
Everyone's a closet neo-Kantian even if they won't admit it.
you get us about a quarter of the way there and we are begging for some chocolate milk served by kids on the side of the road.
quaint and so pastoral
And poetry is lost - And since romance is the beauty of things far away or gone, let the poetry of who Jack was roll on. May parents were not nearly as romantic during their lives as they are now. I like this.
Rebuke arose! Rebuke arose!! like out of the ether or something. Jesus. What an appalling word choice. God knows how a cyclist is a preacher in a wandering soul or what the hell that vague utterance even means. Yet fear thepain of flimsy fence? Do you speak English? Supposed duties of your breed? Is this one of your crazy ideas again that means something to you because it doesn't to the reader. In the weariness of afternoon, as alcohol, so legs draw concentration. WTF. The rest is ok but prosaic.
Cows will be cows and nothing more - which seemed to irritate the cyclist, to the point of internal dialogue where the cyclist attempts to free them from a fence that obviously doesn't bother the cows, for they have all they need exaclty where they are. Did the cyclist also feel the cows disdain for one who would expand energy so uselessly - as the next hill offers nothing but the same as the last? I like this, and think it needs nothing but the use of imagination in the reader.
The last three stanzas could possibly stand alone, with a little explanation about photography...I love the last stanza - it speaks a duality - nice!
I think that gospel blues is definitely your forte.
The potential here, in my unhumble opinion, is to go "my heart dwells *in* every word..." and build a house-of-God analogy from there.
Nice to see you're still writing :-)
Nice. You could do with looking a bit more at your articles - sometimes you use them when I don't think they're needed, and others you leave them out when they'd be better included.
"Forty shades of southern green" is a good line.
You seem to be aiming more for word-music - put some subtle rhymes in to make it move smoothly.
I'm not sure that you need so many of the main verbs - "I see" and "I feel" could go without detracting (if the sights and sensations in the poem are effective, you won't need to tell us that you're seeing or feeling them). Perhaps some of the more prosaic bits could make way for extra sensory detail ("But with deeper observation", "With clarity" etc.) After all, what I think you're doing here is in a way creating your own memory - make the poem as rich as that creation.
This is brilliant. Perhaps it's more a senryu than haiku? You're getting good at these, oh-so-cynical one.
The passion's there, it just needs crafting now. Work the musicality, the cadence and add a couple of killer images. If it's the Gothic you're after, aim for a Poe-style effect. Who do you read?
good work. I like anything that bashes Bush--especially when it's done as well as this.
Have to be honest with you. I don't get half of it. I get the first two verses, but then? It's very abstract to me... and perhaps needs a bit of explanation for a simple girl like me.
I like the final verse now.
You over chisel your poems as much as Rockmage under chisels his rocks. I would suggest you pad you quatrains for aesthetics and imagery sake. Maybe make them all 6 lines each. Nothing wrong with indulging in superfluous language.
Bovilexia (bo vil eks' e uh) - n. The uncontrollable urge to lean out the car window and yell "Moo!" every time you pass a cow.
-from Richard Hall's Sniglets: Words that don't appear in the dictionary, but should.
you need an editor. and someone to let you on to the fact: you don't buy fruit from trees, known or otherwise... and lastly, as a poet you should know all trees... tsk tsk