Thread: Brave

Note: Please no more comments on this. I'm scrapping it and would rather not have it bumped anymore. Thanks.


Brave

Dragged through ink, link by link,
she is a rusted, metallic word,
erased by the chains—the chains are loud.
Lift her up, dripping, and say she’s breathing.
(Voice diminished in shaking and clanks.)
Shaking like her head as a light bleeds in.

Ready to break. To the middle of the stage.
People are watching. Maybe in higher melodies
someone will hear it, a syllable breaching lips.
Or if it was on fire, embers painting flesh,
charcoal hearts, black, bloody hearts. Pumping.
And they would see what she needed.

Chest up. The light simmers in her eyes,
popping through metal, in scratches, in scrapes,
so she can see the word when the rust dissipates.
It’s embedded in a box, clamped shut and sealed
by shards of chain and dried up ink.

Then there is a key.

ah, this is nice! this is what i see:

lots of black, the ink, a story to tell (that is also black) the chain dragged thru ink, plus i imagine a galvanized chain, so black on black. and this becomes a performance, a plea. charcoal hearts, her audience, perhaps the whole world is dark and black like herself, heart pumping (and pumping is really singing, because dripping is really breathing) then breaking thru this feeling of metal, harsh, breaking thru the black for just a moment, but then contained, chained and locked... such a brief escape. and the key is the syllable, to guess, i would say "pain"

lots of vivid sensations in this, lots of sharp, transforming images. really enjoyed this, great job.

wood

Yeah -- this is pretty strong. My take is not too different than wood's. I'm slow, so it took a few passes, but I enjoyed each one. Did you think about shorter lines -- I could see doing that to emphasize some of things a bit, maybe make it read a little smoother. But I'm into that...

Anyway, nice work!

(Ha ha, cute little baby. Mine are 6 and 8 -- seeing the little ones makes me want to have another -- almost.)

Love the imagery.

Originally Posted by Angel101

Shaking like her head as a light bleeds in.

charcoal hearts, black, bloody hearts. Pumping.

I noticed you're pretty strong on imagery. Nice work.

Brave, indeed, I love this, Bay. I have this thing about clanking chains, makes me hairs stand up, always reminds me of the Hellraiser movies. That said, this really got to me, which is a good thing, check that, a great thing. It's vivid and all encompassing, and that final line is wonderful. No nits to these eyes. Well done, love.

Best,
Lisa

Angel, this is wonderfully written with terrific imagery. I read it over and over, enjoying your way with words each time, but each time failing to guess the hidden "rusted, metallic word." I really want to know. Hope you will tell us what you had in mind here. And the key. What a tease! What is the key? I searched for it in the poem, but finally just admitted defeat and gave up. Looking forward to your reply!

Let it be known that I HATE this poem. Ha! I mean, I dislike most things I write, but this one is one that I truly can't stand. It's old anyway, and I've grown so much since then. Probably just going to toss it. Just sort of my attempt at convincing myself that I'm brave (which is the key word), and I thought maybe writing about it would help or "unlock" that feeling, but it definitely did not. A new one that I'm trying to work on is similar in idea (in the smallest possible way), but I think it's going to be much stronger.

Angel, maybe you're just tired of it. Fresh eyes and ears still enjoy it, even if it is a difficult puzzle.

Hello Angel,
That is a lovely avatar/pic you have.
The poem is really nice and very well put together. With each line the way it was written, it made you think about the poem (it even inspired me to get my brain in gear) to imagine the mind of the author. What was she thinking? What was she trying to say? Most of all did she manage to get her message across to her audience?

I believe that the message was somewhat mixed as people are inclined to see differently to you or I. However I do think that the poem could do with a fresh approach, give it a new look with fresh images which will certainly inspire a wider audience.

That been said, I still enjoyed it

wacker.

Bay, last night I told you that your work lingers with me. Yes, because of your brave, intrepid “in your face” themes and startling imagery but how to define the distinctiveness of the whole of your work? This has been eluding me.

Then last evening, after we spoke it hit me about an hour later.

I had read an article years ago where Isabella Rosolini spoke of Robert Lynch’s mind (The post-modern surrealist film director of works such as "Eraserhead", "Blue Velvet"….)

She had said that “He has a mind of a seraphim, having no filter”

Now, I think this statement is a bit over dramatic, over the top, but she was living with him at the time and surely she was in especial awe of how his mind works

Though, I gave her analogy some thought and surmised that she was speaking about how his mind is open up enough to receive an overwhelming amount of information on the outskirts of consciousness.

Our brains are amazing filters. Without them we would go entirely mad. I think that his filter just has larger holes. They key to what allows him to let in bizarre, nightmarish images.

Something I relate to and relate to your work. Not necessarily the bizzare, nightmarish - but certainly disturbing, thought provoking works.
　

she is a rusted, metallic word,
erased by the chains—the chains are loud.

I imagine the imagery which you are open to receive gallops but it’s obvious that your left brain tames it for readability. For example, I’m told through “code”, here, that she was erased and fiercely so. Exeptional.

Looking forward to more forceful pieces.

Note: As it stands, Lynch is my favorite film director so you've been receiving grand compliments all along the way.

Your SB　
　
　
　
　

Angel101: Hello. Your poem will be the first upon which I have offered comment in a very
long while. I had given up on such endeavors; I have come to believe that, many times,
anonymous, off-the-cuff critique does little good, and I simply lack the time to give
poetry the attention it deserves to say something truly worthwhile.

But.

Here I am, and there your poem is, and, principles be damned, I am about to
give you a cursory, anonymous opinion on your poem (sigh...bad habits).

The strongest parts of your poem, to me, were the first strophe
and last line.

I like the sonics in:

"Dragged through ink, link by link,"

and the metaphor of:

"she is a rusted, metallic word," (also, there is rythmn, music in those lines)

Here:

"erased by the chains—the chains are loud."

I found the repetition of "chains" off-putting (even though I recognize those
lines may be something of a visual in that they represent links. Also, "loud"
seems un-enough)

I would suggest removing "and" from this line:

"Lift her up, dripping, and say she’s breathing."

The parenthetical here is a bit perplexing (though I love them; some of the most interesting things in the world are said within parentheticals)

(Voice diminished in shaking and clanks.)

"a light" reads strange here:

Shaking like her head as a light bleeds in.

These strophes:

"Ready to break. To the middle of the stage.
People are watching. Maybe in higher melodies
someone will hear it, a syllable breaching lips.
Or if it was on fire, embers painting flesh,
charcoal hearts, black, bloody hearts. Pumping.
And they would see what she needed.

Chest up. The light simmers in her eyes,
popping through metal, in scratches, in scrapes,
so she can see the word when the rust dissipates.
It’s embedded in a box, clamped shut and sealed
by shards of chain and dried up ink. "

seem disjointed, not cohesive enough to carry (or be carried).

I love the last line:

"Then there is a key."

What I see is a good beginning here, a nice raw piece of thought that could become
poetry.

Best of luck!

Guys, I really appreciate it. BUT I really just don't want anymore comment on this. Like I said, it SUCKS and I really am scrapping it. It's old, old, old... Not even close to what I can do now. I really appreciate all the time you've taken; however, I'd like this to be left in the dust. Thanks.

I like it, it makes the reader think, thats what i like.

Originally Posted by Angel101

Guys, I really appreciate it. BUT I really just don't want anymore comment on this. Like I said, it SUCKS and I really am scrapping it. It's old, old, old... Not even close to what I can do now. I really appreciate all the time you've taken; however, I'd like this to be left in the dust. Thanks.

Well it sucks compared to than. But would you say that because something is old means it sucks? Not really. Great job.

It doesn't matters if it's old or new. It's even better if it's and old poem and people still dig it up and read it. It means, it has it's value.
It's a really strong poem, I savored every and each word in it.