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Woman in the purple cotton jacket(repaired) (Free verse) by INTRANSIT She talks quietly with
the elderly couple,
seeming healthy except
for her rubberized hands:
Small bendable fingers,
look alikes,
no fancy prosthetics,
stainless hooks, or
muscle triggers.
It took both of her hands
to manuever the fork
just to pick
a single beet slice.
I watched her
a moment more,
paid the bill, and
went outside to watch
a father showing his son
how to hold a stone
for skipping.
Up the ladder:
maternal-infant bonding (rejection)
Down the ladder:
A Sheepâs Wish
Votes: (green: user, blue: anonymous)
Arithmetic Mean: 7.5555553
Posted: March 6, 2004 5:52 AM PST; Last modified: March 13, 2004 3:05 PM PSTWeighted score: 6.2777777 Overall Rank: 902 Comments:
Odd. The conversation makes a bit more sense of it. But odd. I think I want more about the elderly couple, their interaction with her (if they were there with her, or if they just were all sitting at the same table). How old is she?
Hmm.
On a factual note, all three were together. The elderly couple looked like farmers. Sorry I can't be of more help than that. I was more focused on the one.
There are two people referring to she in this. The syntax does not always make clear which is which.
Like lower jaw inside her upper jaw.
She is not a she anyway. She is a what. A thing for others to gawk at for the rest of their miserable little existences!!!
what the hell is taking god so long.?
hey - thanks.
I'm fine up to "I wretched", and you throwing a pineapple slice - that's just sad, IT.
The reader ends up feeling more pity for the author. I'm fine with the prosthetic wielding lady, that is at least an interesting vignette.
Thanks, Shuushin. I wasn't feeling very open that day. My apologies.
Well, its not bad, but it isn't something that gets my juices boilin either.. the moment conveyed might be the problem, or.. ah whatever. It is worthy of my vile score of seven in any case.
I guess I liked it better when you threw the pineapple at her head.
I think what this poeme needs is some arbitrary line breaks. If I may:-
She talks quietly with the elderly couple, seeming healthy except for her rubberized hands: Small bendable fingers, look alikes, no fancy prosthetics, stainless hooks, or muscle triggers. It took both of her hands to manouevre, the fork just to pick a single beet slice. I paid my bill and walked outside to a father teaching his son how to skip stones across the pond.
MY GOD MAN! HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN KIRSCHNER? oops. Wrong room. sorry. Excellent point. It tickles the tympanum better this way also. I won't rewrite it though. It wouldn't feel like mine anymore. BTW, your Bretheren should sit next to "Instructions to a sculptor". Too bad the scoring has gotten such a bad rap.
She talks quietly with
the elderly couple, seeming healthy except for her rubberized hands: Small bendable fingers, look alikes, no fancy prosthetics, stainless hooks, or muscle triggers. It took both of her hands to manouevre, the fork just to pick a single beet slice. I watched her a little longer than I should have, maybe, until a waiter appeared beside me clutching the bill in a white glove.
but, why? I need to know WHY your image is better than mine. more immediate/direct, perhaps? Why- is very important to me.
Thanks for coming back.
Yours is better, but too hurried. Does that make sense?
Looks like you're using the "Kid Glove" explaination.
Yes. I read not too long ago, that part of free verse is carrying the pace through the poem. Did I slow it correctly?
As far as the "kid gloves" are concerned, you don't need them, however, "heavy handing" doesn't work. Not that you intended that originally. I am oversensitive at times, too. One request? No rewriting in the future, please. It feels like you're doing the work FOR me. Just a bump in the right direction and a reason, and I'm good to go. Thank you immensly, Captain Zodiac INTRANSIT
Actually.. that does work better lol. blessed with eight.
-10-
Perfect hazel. 9
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hand holding a forkfull of food.
My left hand was circling my cup of tea.
I looked back at her and wondered why."
These lines are awful. Just awful. The rest isn't half-bad; just change the end to anything - anything at all! - other than looking at your own hands and wondering why. PLEASE!!
Really, I'd cut everything after beet slice, which is good, and (yes, seriously) add an ending where you walk out of the restaurant, NOT OBVIOUSLY THINKING OF ANYTHING - just description. At the very end the narrator a) passes under trees which reach up into the dark like hands, b) boards a subway/trolley/whatever where bored commuters loop their hands through those hand-loopy-thingies, or c) some less cheesy image of your own. DO NOT MORALIZE!!!1! DO NOT RECEIVE ANY OBVIOUS LIFE-CHANGING EPIPHANY ABOUT ANYTHING!! Just keep up the naturalistic description, and have a hand-image show up somewhere unexpected before the end. That's all and this poem will be great. If you understand, blink twice. Good.