Thread: Mind my Matters

See me
in the sun sewn to the sky
and in the cook of a candle stick
and the aeration of rain drops on your sill.
Don’t avert your eyes
from frog warts,
bent coffin nails
and the sticky cloth of a glue head.
Let me be everywhere,
omniscient like a god mirror.

I am
the sobbing toddler
who wobbles to mad mother,
bandaging her hand with apron.
The magician who’s lost
his bag of tricks
while leering at a stripper’s hips before the show
and the owl who hoots alone
in a forest made of old brown
popsicle sticks, splintered.

Bathe me
in the waters rooted to the ground
and in the blood of wars gone by.
Dunk me in a barrel of apples
and sip me like a fine Cabernet.
Toss me in a chlorinated pool
and watch my eyes squint and tear apart.

Observe me
dancing, wavy, like Isadora Duncan
who's long silk scarf was the death of her.
Through the vertical strip of the closet
see me tweezing hair strands for the trash can.
Peer at me while I read Kafka in bed
dog earing page twenty four, smiling
cause I’ll dream of insects, boldly.

Hear me
in the woodpecker
pecking a concrete street
for man raped the woods.
Heed me beneath a piano key, suffocating,
cause the player
had died for his art.

Bend your ear
while I whisper my sins
to an old fissured china doll
who finally breaks at my last declaration.

I can't explain how I feel about this. It's just... I feel everything works together so brilliantly, I can't help but smile. To be honest, I did not see the actual picture you're trying to paint here, but I sense loneliness, and a longing for some attention. It was there and it's thick and touching.

I know I'm nowhere near your caliber of writing poems but, I do have a slight issue with this:

The magician who’s
lost his bag of tricks

The 's doesn't seem to fit, or at least for me. What if you delete the 's altogether? Take a look at it when the 's is deleted:

The magician who
lost his bag of tricks

I know you're perhaps trying to keep some sort of half-rhyme with this one, but I really feel the fluidity more when the 's is deleted.

Other than that, the internal rhymes work superbly, and the flow is simply serene. Kudos to you for such a wonderful piece.

Thank you so much Fuhrer. This poem was slipping toward the bottom and I feared no one was understanding it or just plainly didn't care for it.

I'm basically trying to get across "Love me for beauty, the ugly, the good and the bad. There "is" a longing to be understood and accepted despite my many sides. And had hope that others would identify. The "basement" of ourselves. The universal condition. This poem is an example of the Confessional genre of writing where in some cases the very personal is exposed such as mental illness, sexuality, despondency. I would say that this poem is very mild compared to some poems which I've written. And even those I will try to top with more of a nakedness put to paper. (First I have to learn to take my hat off. No, really, I've written up to my britches)

And I'm very pleased that it made you smile. Most of my work is not "Smiling Material". But to hear that it got you to smiling pleases me. Who doesn't want to make a person smile? I'll have to read my piece again and see how it can have a different effect than intended.

I've taken your point about the "The's" and will read over again but in the following instance I was eliminating "I am the magician" so the line doesn't become too wordy. I wanted the "I am" to be implied.

"The magician who’s
lost his bag of tricks"

Though your point is well taken and as I said, will comb over.

Oh, please do not misunderstand my "smile." What I meant with it is that it touched something within me, despite the dark nature of the piece. It is this ability to touch something inside me is that which made me smile. Hope I haven't offended you in any way!

And please do continue writing your pieces. They provide inspirations as well as models for new poets like me.

Oh, you have not offended me at all. I read through and see exactly what you meant. I chuckled at some of the imagery!

Phew. Thanks!

You are certainly welcome, my fine fellow!

Peer at me while I read Kafka in bed
dog earing page twenty four, smiling
cause I’ll dream of insects, boldly.

Bend your ear
while I whisper my sins
to an old fissured china doll
who finally breaks at my last declaration.

Absolutely loved these lines, Laurie. Wonderful.

Your images did indeed present the message you were going for here. There is a lovely, haunting feeling to this one.

Cindy, thank you for the "lovely, haunting". Always what I go for. The part of my last stanza is my favorite, too. Thanks for reading and enjoying.

This was music to my eyes! If you were looking to highlight the universal condition, you've done so brilliantly! This has a cryptic, beat generation feeling that I adore. Strangely enough, I don't think that you need the last two lines. The poem is so strong without them, and they feel a tiny bit like stragglers. But that is just my humble opinion. You've written something beyond my capabilities, that's for sure! Beautifully done, SilverMoon.

Celeste, This "is" what I do. Yes. The universal condition. I write about the dark side of the Nature of the Human Condition. This however was of the Confessional genre. Think Robert Lowell, Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton. I'm glad you saw the strength and appreciate your very generous words. Thank you, greatly. Laurie

Oh Laurie, once again you have done a splendid work of art writing about our condition- the Human condition. Crying out to be seen, to be heard, for our existence, and most of all, what we all want and need, LOVE, despite our shortcomings. And knowing what I do, you are very bold in your Confessional genre in this poem, so I do commend you. Great imagery, also.

Cindy

Thanks, Cindy. I'm so glad you enjoyed the imagery. Imagery, the fun aspect of writing a poem for me. I derive much pleasure in exploring the human condition. I'm aware of doing so since I was five!

The magician who’s
lost his bag of tricks
while leering at a stripper’s hips before the show
and the owl who hoots alone
in a forest made of old brown

That! Internal rhyme, word after word rhyme, slant rhyme. This is such an excellent stanza, I had to read it like five times before I could discover all the great little nuances.

I like the juxtaposition of connectivity and disconnect in this. I like the beauty of the normal squalor of self. And of course, structurally this piece is very deep. Lots of nice moments of alliteration, etc.


Some crits to think over:

See me
in the sun sewn to the sky,
and in the cook of a candle stick such a nice opening. Alliteration is juicy.
and the aeration of rain drops on your sill. "Sill" - good word
Don’t avert your eyes
from frog warts,
bent coffin nails
and the sticky cloth of a glue head.
Let me be everywhere,
omniscient like a god mirror.

I am
the sobbing toddler
who wobbles to mad mother
who bandages her hands with her apron. A confusing sentence, mostly because of the repetition of who and her. Maybe look to economize this for the sake of the flow?
The magician who’s I like the "who's" here. What I would suggest is bringing lost up to this line so it reads "The magician who's lost/his bag of tricks".
lost his bag of tricks
while leering at a stripper’s hips before the show
and the owl who hoots alone
in a forest made of old brown Ending the line on brown felt choppy to me, but I don't think bringing up popsicle sticks and leaving splintered by itself would work. It would work because the word splintered would be... splintered, but it might be a tad gimmicky.
popsicle sticks, splintered.

Bath me
in the waters rooted to the ground,
andin the blood of wars gone by.
Dunk me in a barrel of apples
and sip me like a fine Cabernet.
Toss me in a chlorinated pool
and watch my eyes squint and tear apart. My favorite image. Beautiful and disturbing.

Observe me
dancing alone like Isadora Dunkan
waving long silk scarf which was the death of her. Awkward syntax
Through the vertical strip of the closet
see me tweezing long hair strands for the trash can. I get the change up in syntax here, but it seems almost passive and distracting.
Peer at me while I read Kafka in bed,
dog earing page twenty four, smiling
cause I’ll dream of insects, boldly. So cool! The boldly at the end is a nice touch

Hear me
in the woodpecker
pecking a concrete street Here I would combine with the line above. The enjambment is a bit stressed, I think.
for man raped the woods.
Heed me beneath a piano key
suffocating cause the player I would bring suffocating up a line here for enjambment purposes. And then you might combine "cause the player" with the next line.
had died for his art.
Bend your ear
while I whisper my sins
to an old fissured china doll
who finally breaks at my last declaration.

Thank you, Glass, for all your suggestions. Will give it a go over. Very pleased you liked the poem in general. Being such a great poet yourself, I find this to be a compliment. Laurie