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Anisha
Posted on: Apr 19 13, 02:47


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Group: Silver Member
Posts: 5
Joined: 17-April 13
Member No.: 5,181


Hmm, thanks for your input! I definitely don't want people to be thinking of fish haha =) I guess as a musician any other associations never occurred to me! I'll have to think on it for a while though, because I can't really change it without having to readjust the central metaphor of the poem.

If I say "sweet bass music" does that clarify things a bit? I want to express how his voice is like the double bass used in jazz bands, deep and rhythmic and sensual. I could use baritone, but I kind of like how bass refers both to an actual instrument (tying it to the jazz metaphor) and to a vocal part in a choir (hearkening back to the fact that I am describing his voice).

If you have any ideas on how I could frame it so that i still use the word bass, but that I'm obviously referring to the instrument, and not the fish, I'd really appreciate it! In the meantime, I have some thinking to do writersblock.gif
  Forum: Free Verse Poetry for Critique -> Seren'... · Post Preview: #131343 · Replies: 9 · Views: 1,716

Anisha
Posted on: Apr 18 13, 03:28


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Group: Silver Member
Posts: 5
Joined: 17-April 13
Member No.: 5,181


Thanks again! Here's a revision. I kept the repetition, but hopefully the rearranging of some words and the new line breaks make it seem less out of place. The jury is still out on that one for me so I might end up changing it later on! I incorporated your other comments though. smile.gif


Cool Jazz

I like to remember the sound of your voice, snatched
from overheard conversations,
tucked away in the depths
of my mind.
I unfold the memory
on lonely nights, when the arch
of my spine aches,
for the sensual reverberations,
of your sweet bass.

The memory of your voice is the clay
that I spin. Contorting and distorting
mundane utterances
into quixotic shapes, I thrust
my hands into the slippery smoothness
of those invented words.
They swell into my open palms, caressing
the curves of my longing,
toes curling in a pottery dream,
where you are the vessel
that I
am spilling into.

The next morning I sit beside you, the sliver
of space between our shoulders
throbbing
like an open wound.
You play your sweet bass for some friend,
the coolness of your jazz
raising goose bumps on my brown arm.

Your brown arm, supple
as polished wood, is riveting.
My eyes survey
the rugged topography
of your veins,
a raised relief map,
these vagabond fingers
are itching
to explore.

In the afternoon I pass you in the hall, yearning
for a moment of contact.
By chance my plain black eyes
meet your emeralds,
so brief, but in that moment, my heart screams
for oxygen, turning purple,
then blue, asphyxiated,
strangled,
by the immensity of an imagined intimacy,
of a soul peering out
from behind your jade curtains,
if only.

Long after sunset, when the lonely silence
encroaches again, I unfold a deep corner
of my mind, releasing that sweet
bass music. It tickles my spine
with rhythmic kisses.

I dream of holding emeralds
to the light.

I prod the fresh
bruises on my heart,
again and again, limbs writhing
beneath sheets—

Oh! The excruciating ecstasy
of impossibility.
The agonizing seduction
of life—
unlived.
  Forum: Free Verse Poetry for Critique -> Seren'... · Post Preview: #131294 · Replies: 9 · Views: 1,716

Anisha
Posted on: Apr 18 13, 02:44


Nomad
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Group: Silver Member
Posts: 5
Joined: 17-April 13
Member No.: 5,181


Hi, I'm kind of a newbie to poetry writing in general, but I really loved this poem! The tone is consistent throughout and very soft and romantic. The only thing i would say is in reference to this portion:

Wind chimes broken reeds
tinkled in the evening breeze
as calmly, she daintily drank jasmine tea
from a delicate porcelain cup.

I'm slightly confused about the inclusion of 'broken reeds'. Maybe it's a reference I don't understand, but the way I read it, it is the wind chimes that are tinkling in the breeze. I really like the subtle rhyming between reeds and breeze though.

Also, the use of two adverbs (calmly and daintily) almost directly next to one other feels a bit awkward. I think you could omit the calmly, as the entire tone of the poem, as well as the use of the words daintily and delicate, exude tranquility already!
  Forum: Free Verse Poetry for Critique -> Seren'... · Post Preview: #131292 · Replies: 10 · Views: 2,230

Anisha
Posted on: Apr 18 13, 02:28


Nomad
*

Group: Silver Member
Posts: 5
Joined: 17-April 13
Member No.: 5,181


Thanks for the feedback! I will definitely add the "are" before itching because I realize that I've been using whole sentences throughout the rest of the poem.

I was wondering if you could clarify a few things though. Were you confused about what I was trying to say in S3 or just didn't like the repetition of brown arm? I thought the repetition might be an interesting way to connect and transition between a discussion of the sensuality of his voice to a physical longing (being riveted to the veins on his arm while he is gesturing in conversation). If it sounds very awkward though, I could always find another way.

Also, I can definitely turn the shoulder as a throbbing heart metaphor into a simile with like, but do you think it would be better to come up with a different metaphor? I was trying to find a way of expressing the feeling of heat, vulnerability, and hypersensitivity that you feel when sitting close to someone you are attracted to.
  Forum: Free Verse Poetry for Critique -> Seren'... · Post Preview: #131291 · Replies: 9 · Views: 1,716

Anisha
Posted on: Apr 17 13, 18:48


Nomad
*

Group: Silver Member
Posts: 5
Joined: 17-April 13
Member No.: 5,181


I used to write poetry as a kid, and just started writing again now that I'm in college. Please let me know what you think/how I can improve! Just a fair warning, I'm not too knowledgeable about the technicalities of poetry, so explanations in layman's terms would be greatly appreciated! I've always loved reading, but I'd really like to develop my writing. =) Thanks!

Thanks again! Here's a revision. I kept the repetition, but hopefully the rearranging of some words and the new line breaks make it seem less out of place. The jury is still out on that one for me so I might end up changing it later on! I incorporated your other comments though. smile.gif


Cool Jazz - Revision 1

I like to remember the sound of your voice, snatched
from overheard conversations,
tucked away in the depths
of my mind.
I unfold the memory
on lonely nights, when the arch
of my spine aches,
for the sensual reverberations,
of your sweet bass.

The memory of your voice is the clay
that I spin. Contorting and distorting
mundane utterances
into quixotic shapes, I thrust
my hands into the slippery smoothness
of those invented words.
They swell into my open palms, caressing
the curves of my longing,
toes curling in a pottery dream,
where you are the vessel
that I
am spilling into.

The next morning I sit beside you, the sliver
of space between our shoulders
throbbing
like an open wound.
You play your sweet bass for some friend,
the coolness of your jazz
raising goose bumps on my brown arm.

Your brown arm, supple
as polished wood, is riveting.
My eyes survey
the rugged topography
of your veins,
a raised relief map,
these vagabond fingers
are itching
to explore.

In the afternoon I pass you in the hall, yearning
for a moment of contact.
By chance my plain black eyes
meet your emeralds,
so brief, but in that moment, my heart screams
for oxygen, turning purple,
then blue, asphyxiated,
strangled,
by the immensity of an imagined intimacy,
of a soul peering out
from behind your jade curtains,
if only.

Long after sunset, when the lonely silence
encroaches again, I unfold a deep corner
of my mind, releasing that sweet
bass music. It tickles my spine
with rhythmic kisses.

I dream of holding emeralds
to the light.

I prod the fresh
bruises on my heart,
again and again, limbs writhing
beneath sheets—

Oh! The excruciating ecstasy
of impossibility.
The agonizing seduction
of life—
unlived.


-------------------------
Original:

Cool Jazz

I like to remember the sound of your voice, snatched
from overheard conversations,
tucked away in the depths
of my mind.
I unfold the memory
on lonely nights, when the arch
of my spine aches,
for the sensual reverberations,
of your sweet bass.

The memory of your voice is the clay
that I spin. Contorting and distorting
mundane utterances
into quixotic shapes, I thrust
my hands into the slippery smoothness
of those invented words.
They swell into my open palms, caressing
the curves of my longing,
toes curling in a pottery dream,
where you are the vessel
that I
am spilling into.

The next morning I sit beside you, my
shoulder a throbbing heart so close to yours.
You play your sweet bass for some friend,
the coolness of your jazz
raising goose bumps on my brown arm.
Your brown arm is flailing,
gesticulating.
My eyes are riveted
to the topography
of your veins,
a raised relief map,
my vagabond fingers
itching
to explore.

In the afternoon I walk past you in the hall, yearning
for a moment of contact.
By chance my plain black eyes
meet your emeralds,
so brief, but in that moment, my heart screams
for oxygen, turning purple,
then blue, strangled,
asphyxiated,
by the immensity of an imagined intimacy,
a soul peering out
from behind your jade curtains,
if only.

Long after sunset, when the lonely silence
encroaches again, I unfold a deep corner
of my mind, releasing that sweet
bass music, that tickles my spine
with rhythmic kisses.
I dream of holding emeralds
to the light.
I prod the fresh
bruises on my heart,
again and again, limbs writhing
beneath sheets—

Oh! The excruciating ecstasy
of impossibility.
The agonizing seduction
of life—
unlived.
  Forum: Free Verse Poetry for Critique -> Seren'... · Post Preview: #131278 · Replies: 9 · Views: 1,716


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