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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
Up the ladder:
Northern lights
Down the ladder:
The Acorn Daisies
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 7.7777777
Posted: February 10, 2006 11:49 AM PST; Last modified: February 10, 2006 12:19 PM PSTWeighted score: 6.388889 Overall Rank: 800 Comments:
[8]
wilco @ 24.92.74.122
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10-Feb-06/1:20 PM
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Reply
pretty and all that
So many images put together - seamstress, makup artist, lover - all with viewpoints and imaginations. But it works well. My sister is a seamstress, and she dresses herself.
Hopefully the idea of the poet dressing his poem in embellishment and metaphor but ultimately finding he hasn't put it together well enough will come through as well; if it doesn't then I have some work to do...
Cheers for the comments as well!
"So beautiful, that baffled moon
Who watched my gentle hands - quiet" "Like lazy flies, a drunken waltz A crooked hem, a button gone And in the heavy candle glow I stumble" These are good.
Some nice lines, Ranger, but not hanging together quite yet. Some images don't stand close scrutiny ("deftly flowed"; "volcano ripple in reverse"? "idol of adultery"--what's the story there? snaking flies, pregnant flame). I do like the sound of this and some images like a hem waltzing drunkenly, but it needs some tweaking.
Well this whole piece is supposed to be about trying to write a piece of literature through use of metaphor but it not quite working - hence the slightly disjointed imagery here. The idea is that the lady in this poem is an allegory of the poem, but I am using imagery and metaphor to describe her (and therefore, indirectly, the poem). She's an idol in the sense of the narrator being absolutely obsessed with describing her; but adulterous because so many descriptions have been used by many other people before. And so on.
Too pretentious perhaps? Any suggestions will be gratefully received.
Ranger, I've just stumbled upon your poem, more like... I looked for your latest poem. It's good, but I will comment on it more tomorrow hopefully. It's pretty late... I could do with some beauty sleep. Nighto...
It almost comes across as a love poem.
Nice approach. Some great lines.
Yes, I've read this one before, but was unable to realize what exactly you were talking about. Now that I know, this is quite a beautiful and amazing piece. You've really done a great job describing the passion behind our words, and our struggle for satisfaction. There are so many good lines in this, but I'd like to point out my favorite(as I always do): "I stumble like the pregnant flame". Very good, and sorry for not commenting on more of your works.
I love it - but I think it needs tweaking, then I'll love it more. xxx
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! 325 view(s)
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