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> Adonis in Dreamscape --First Revision ~~tweaked
azurepoetry
post Feb 26 07, 05:20
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1st Revision ~~tweaked (thank you Liz and Snow)

Somewhere--
where chimney smoke dots the distance
in synaptic gaps, like memory loss in warm rolling meadows, I tango

with the sun matching my every step.
Our growing heat--a fever un-indexed on any chart--
warms my neck as meadowlarks

sing warnings to intruders. I pause
in rehearsed mid-curve of a dip
to slip myself off; upside-down, the blue sky

becomes a cloudy skipping stone path
along a zen azure river bed.
Someone crosses that rarefied stream; meadowlarks

scatter and soar into those rapid currents to drown,
as the timothy grass above
bows and parts like hair yielding to watery eyes. He arrives

hunkered and stalking; the sun
returns to its rightful place; released,
I twist and fall onto my knees.

The wind offers burning incense:
cherry-wood and ripened blackberries
from the undergrowth of his kinky hair.

His indefatigable arms,
with sun-kissed skin, gather me up--
wildflowers bunched to his bare chest

in one motion; I stare at thin scars on his stomach
while his breath--
a Snowy Owl's stuttering wingtip-- brushes me.

My trembling fingers crawl inside his hands: hands
dewy and deathless as the Earth
that receives us all in our due turn.

We spin.

Where did you come from, O Beautiful One? The ancient capital
of Nineveh, by way of Lesbos and Sappho's revered verse,
only to descend into my arms...maybe...


pivoting, his dark myrrhic eyes betray his intentions,
and I feel my breasts heave and sigh, as our rush
blurs grass and sky,

until colours fracture, fall
and form iridescent steps to Aphrodite's throne. We ascend the clouds;
I half expect feathers to tear from his back, during our dance.

We drift.

I kiss him before he condenses and falls like rain,
returning back to the soft ground.
His blood slowly thickens into a bed of red roses

that are plucked
by young, barefoot maidens in flowing, virginal dresses
who have come far to worship our passing beauty.

I wake.

The sun bestows me red rows through my window in consolation;
I grin at those fresh flowers filling the kitchen vase,
while my husband, awake early, smiles coyly
and burns myrrh incense.


-------------------------------------------------------------------

Original

Somewhere--
where chimney smoke dots the distance
in synaptic gaps, like memory loss in warm rolling meadows, I tango

with the sun matching my every step.
Our growing heat--a fever un-indexed by any chart--
warms my neck as meadowlarks

sing warnings to intruders, while I pause
in rehearsed mid-curve of a dip
to slip off myself; upside-down, the blue sky

becomes a cloudy skipping stone path
along a zen azure river bed. Something
crosses that rarefied stream; I see

the meadowlarks scatter and fly into those rapid currents to drown,
as the timothy grass above
bows and parts like hair yielding to watery eyes. He arrives

hunkered and stalking; the sun
returns to its rightful place; released, I twist and fall onto my knees.
The wind offers burning incense:

pine needles and ripened blackberries
from the undergrowth of his kinky hair.

His arms,
indefatigable, with sun-kissed skin, gather me up--
wildflowers bunched to his bare chest

in one motion; I stare at the thin scars on his stomach
while his breath--
a Snowy Owl's wingtip brushing a white rabbit--surrounds me.

My shaky fingers crawl inside his hands, hands
dewy and deathless as the Earth
that receives all of us in our due turn.

We spin.

Where did you come from, O Beautiful One? The ancient capital
of Nineveh, by way of Lesbos and Sappho's revered verse,
only to descend into my arms...maybe...


pivoting, his dark myrrhic eyes betray his intentions,
and I feel my breasts heave and sigh, as our rush
blurs grass and sky,

until colours fracture and fall
like iridescent steps to Aphrodite's throne. We ascend past the clouds;
I half expect feathers to tear from his back, during our dance.

We drift.

I kiss him before he condenses and falls like rain,
returning back to the soft ground.
His blood slowly coagulates into a bed of red roses

that are plucked
by young barefoot maidens in flowing virginal dresses
who have come far to worship our passing beauty.

I wake.

The sun offers me red rows through my window in consolation;
I grin at those fresh flowers filling the kitchen vase,
while my husband, awake early, smiles coyly
and burns myrrh incense.


**Inspired by Nina's poem: I Want to Disappear **


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JustDaniel
post Feb 26 07, 08:43
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Well, this one leaves me breathless and without words...

except...

masterful


limpin' away Lightly, Daniel 8)


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azurepoetry
post Feb 26 07, 10:32
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Daniel,

That's very generous of you. i wouldn't go that far...really.
Thanks for stopping in, sir.

~tim


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JustDaniel
post Feb 26 07, 10:57
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As you may be able to tell my my own meagre attempt at fv that incites little interest, I'm so intimidated by it... I obviously don't know how to critique it; there are not bounds and it just soars beyond my reach.

It's masterful to me... or I wouldn't have said so.

deLightin' to read you, Daniel sun.gif


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AMETHYST
post Feb 26 07, 22:01
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Ooooops I forgot to start off with a big hello and smile-before going right into my critique! LOL But I was at work and first wanted to finish my thoughts on the poem, then I would worry if I had time to shoot the breeze! So here I am shooting the breeze! wink.gif ... *duck

No shoe throwing...

On a more serious note. This is absolutely powerful poetry-the way it is sort of a montage of various levels of conscious, as I felt the mixture of mythology, realization, and the dreamy spiritual aspects are woven in that none seem to dominate, but rather have their own part, as within ourselves. I really enjoyed this-

Best Wishes, and Big hugs, Liz



QUOTE
1st Revision

Somewhere--
where chimney smoke dots the distance
in synaptic gaps, like memory loss in warm rolling meadows, I tango


Perhaps 'over warm rolling meadows,' to paint that misty dreamlike state of dotting clouds (allowing 'over' to also intensify the idea of memory loss (of the mind) ... I like the 'I tango' which takes the reader from a introduction of a mysterious tone, eluding to a dreamlike state, but not committing to it so early on... to actual movement of the narrator. Good build up.

with the sun matching my every step.
Our growing heat--a fever un-indexed by any chart--
warms my neck as meadowlarks

In L1, perhaps 'as the sun matches my every step. l2, I kept wanting to say "on any chart' as when I think of a chart I think of a visual measurement shown on the chart, while indexed by any thermometer (which does the measuring) However, it doesn't disrupt the flow so it is merely a point of consideration.
L3, excellent emjambment -


sing warnings to intruders. I pause
in rehearsed mid-curve of a dip
to slip myself off; upside-down, the blue sky

Perhaps of intruders. My reasoning for this suggestion, is normally they aren't warning their preditors, but sending out warnings to the flock/family protecting nestlings- however, again a very minor point and I like the fullness of "I pause" ... The remainder of this stanza if musical--enhancing the singing of the birds, excellent use of sonics.

becomes a cloudy skipping stone path
along a zen azure river bed. Something
crosses that rarefied stream; meadowlarks

Excellent imagery in this follow up stanza. As I read, I feel the gravity-less dreamscapes, I envision a child also perched on a branch, hands clenched as he/she somersaults around, flips and dangles head toward the ground, viewing this stone path nearing this peaceful, tranquil river bed. I would suggestion bringing down meadowlarks to the next stanza, but I like the way it seems to reinforce their presence, their importance, somehow to the narrator till this point, illusively setting up the scene, intensifying their worth in the poems over all correlation to the narrator, the scenery and the meadowlarks.

scatter and fly into those rapid currents to drown,
as the timothy grass above
bows and parts like hair yielding to watery eyes. He arrives

L1, '... and fly ' felt weak. Perhaps swoop, which gives a more defined direction (as you paint an image of downward toward the currents, I would sense that swooping would be a stronger definition of the action and also bolder-as well as the enjoyable alliterative benefit between scatter and swoop. Again, you have coupled some very smooth flowing inner rhymes and sounds that compliment each other bows and parts/hair yielding ... above/bows eyes/arrives - every word seems to slide off the tongue like butter-without effort. The image it maintains is both active and still-which I felt taken to.

hunkered and stalking; the sun
returns to its rightful place; released, I twist and fall onto my knees.
The wind offers burning incense:


Although you probably have a very good reasoning. I felt that L2 might be improved omitting 'to it's rightful place- also in L2, knees perhaps the use of haunch/haunches/haunched such as
perhaps ...

hunkered and stalking; the sun returns
released, I twist and fall haunched (a visual being falling down onto knees and palms as apposed falling on the knees and also the very nice rhyme between hunkered haunched) I love the inner weaving of rhymes and rhythm through out, as well as strong descriptors making your images work for you.


pine needles and ripened blackberries
from the undergrowth of his kinky hair.

Ok, now you bring a 'him' into it-with a very interesting introdcution...

His indefatigable arms,
with sun-kissed skin, gather me up--
wildflowers bunched to his bare chest

L2, perhaps gathers me up-- L3, perhaps against his bare chest -

in one motion; I stare at the thin scars on his stomach
while his breath--
a Snowy Owl's wingtip brushing a white rabbit--surrounds me.

L1, I would suggest omitting 'the' before thin ... L2, feels incomplete as it neithers completes a full statement from L1 or into L3, perhaps ...

in one motion; I stare at thin scars on his stomach,
animated with each breath--
a Snowy Owl's wingtip brushing a white rabbit--surrounds me.


My shaky fingers crawl inside his hands: hands
dewy and deathless as the Earth
that receives all of us in our due turn.

Perhaps a substitute for shaky, trembling fingers crawl inside his hands: hands
dewy and deathless, as the earth
that receives us, all in our due turn.



We spin.

Where did you come from, O Beautiful One? The ancient capital
of Nineveh, by way of Lesbos and Sappho's revered verse,
only to descend into my arms...maybe...


I felt the various single lined actions worked well with this-'We spin." it on its own line, separated by all else gives the reader a moment to feel the motion, the sense of twirling, and gonig round in heavy, thick arms ...

The follow up stanza is truly beautiful with the mentions of Saphho's the poet of Lesbos, and how you keenly link revered verse, making this ancient glorification, of the Island of poetry.


pivoting, his dark myrrhic eyes betray his intentions,
and I feel my breasts heave and sigh, as our rush
blurs grass and sky,

This is full. Enlivening. There is a sense of unknown drama in the movement of the poem, I would suggest line break L2 after heave, bringing and sigh, as our rush blurs grass and sky.

until colours fracture, fall
and form iridescent steps to Aphrodite's throne. We ascend past the clouds;
I half expect feathers to tear from his back, during our dance.


L2, suggest 'to form iridescent steps to Aphrodite's throne. also perhaps ... 'We ascend the clouds; (as past isn't really necessary and doesn't add any further intention (such as for rhyme or pairing off in another point relating a specific unspoken meaning.

We drift.

I kiss him before he condenses and falls like rain,
returning back to the soft ground.
His blood slowly coagulates into a bed of red roses

Something other than blood. Or perhaps it is coagulates that has me feeling untouched by the line, inwhich the flow into it should stir some reaction. Perhaps ...

returning back to soft ground.
His blood slowly thickens to form a bed of red roses (or shaping into a bed of red roses or what you have is fine too. LOL)


that are plucked
by young, barefoot maidens in flowing, virginal dresses
who have come far to worship our passing beauty.

Excellent. Excellent. Excellent.

I wake.

The sun offers me red rows through my window in consolation;
I grin at those fresh flowers filling the kitchen vase,
while my husband, awake early, smiles coyly
and burns myrrh incense.

Perhaps (although not a big nit at all, but suggested just for rhyme use) ...
The sun bestows to me, red rows through my window, a consolation;
I grin at those fresh flowers filling the kitchen vase,
while my husband, up earlier than I, smiles coyly
and burns myrrh incense.




What an amazing poem. Fantasy, reality, movement, Myth and spirituality-all linked into the spirit of poetry.

Excellent poetry, Tim... Hope something I left helps, otherwise, please use what you can and discard the rest...

Hugs, Liz


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Eisa
post Feb 27 07, 05:32
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Hi Tim

I'm absolutely out of time now, but had to call and say I'll be back to this asap as I absolutely love the imagery here and feel it is a very poweful poem. It's brought me out in goosebumps!

I'll be back!

Snow Snowflake.gif


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azurepoetry
post Feb 27 07, 17:07
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Snow,
i look forward to your helpful thoughts.


Liz,
i am putting my boots on right now to go back to work (and am running late at that); i will respond late tonight, when i return. Thank you for your helpful insight,

Cheers!
~tim


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Eisa
post Feb 27 07, 19:32
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Hi Tim

I have returned with a few thoughts, although there is little to pick at here. I just have praise and admiration!


Somewhere--
where chimney smoke dots the distance
in synaptic gaps, like memory loss in warm rolling meadows, I tango

The beginning has a dreamy feel that draws me in.
I keep feeling I’d like to see ‘I tango’ on a new line here, but I like the feel of movement on the narrator’s part.


with the sun matching my every step.
Our growing heat--a fever un-indexed by any chart--
warms my neck as meadowlarks


Perhaps ‘unindexed on any chart'


sing warnings to intruders. I pause
in rehearsed mid-curve of a dip
to slip myself off; upside-down, the blue sky

Great sonics in this st. which fits in nicely with the birds singing.

becomes a cloudy skipping stone path
along a zen azure river bed. Something
crosses that rarefied stream; meadowlarks

scatter and fly into those rapid currents to drown,
as the timothy grass above
bows and parts like hair yielding to watery eyes. He arrives

beautiful imagery in these 2 stanzas. I felt that meadowlarks might work better beginning the following stanza and also miss the ‘and’

meadowlarks scatter, flying into …

in fact I think swoop or dive would fit better – perhaps dive would fit well with the water below.


hunkered and stalking; the sun
returns to its rightful place; released, I twist and fall onto my knees.
The wind offers burning incense:


perhaps original position for L2

pine needles and ripened blackberries
from the undergrowth of his kinky hair.

Now some added interest – you introduce ‘he’ -- and the sudden change to a 2 line stanza is interesting

His indefatigable arms,
with sun-kissed skin, gather me up--
wildflowers bunched to his bare chest

Perhaps ~
Indefatigable, his sun-kissed arms
gather me up
wildflowers bunched against his bare chest


in one motion; I stare at the thin scars on his stomach
while his breath--
a Snowy Owl's wingtip brushing a white rabbit--surrounds me.

I feel like saying
while his breath like ….


My shaky fingers crawl inside his hands: hands
dewy and deathless as the Earth
that receives all of us in our due turn.


L1 I think shaking fingers sounds better here – or trembling
L3 receives us all …….


We spin.

Where did you come from, O Beautiful One? The ancient capital
of Nineveh, by way of Lesbos and Sappho's revered verse,
only to descend into my arms...maybe...

pivoting, his dark myrrhic eyes betray his intentions,
and I feel my breasts heave and sigh, as our rush
blurs grass and sky,

until colours fracture, fall
and form iridescent steps to Aphrodite's throne. We ascend past the clouds;
I half expect feathers to tear from his back, during our dance.


I love the introductory short line ‘we spin’. Hereon this becomes mystical. You have added so much interest with reference to poetry and ancient goddess. Excellent!


We drift.

I kiss him before he condenses and falls like rain,
returning back to the soft ground.
His blood slowly coagulates into a bed of red roses

that are plucked
by young, barefoot maidens in flowing, virginal dresses
who have come far to worship our passing beauty.

Perhaps ‘his blood flows into a bed of red roses?
This has a wonderful mystical feel of dream-like fantasy
.

I wake.

The sun offers me red rows through my window in consolation;
I grin at those fresh flowers filling the kitchen vase,
while my husband, awake early, smiles coyly
and burns myrrh incense.

I was wondering how this would end and have to applause!
You have the incense and roses from earlier to tie it all together.

I really love this Tim. it is one of the most unique poems I have read in a long time

I have a feeling I shall be back again to digest this even further.

Snow Snowflake.gif


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Live one day at a time -it's simpler that way.
Laugh loud & often - it's medicinal.
Write from the heart - it's therapeutic.
Beauty comes from within - the outer is just skin!

Nominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more details, click here!

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azurepoetry
post Feb 28 07, 04:54
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Hi Liz,

Hugs to you as well. Thank you, in advance, for the thorough reply to my offering; i greatly appreciate.

i don't want to over-explain this poem, in its history or mythology, but keep in mind that the thrust of this poem is derived from a poem by Nina. Simplified, her poem is about an N who sheds her old, slightly damaged flesh, for a new body. Afterwards, she dances naked in a field of bluebells, until her tall, dark Adonis comes to her. She climbs an iridiscent stairwell and entwines with her lover as they jump off the top of the steps onto the clouds.

i could go into a great detail of my research regarding the figure of Adonis, but let me offer a couple of points, only. If you want i'll message you further details.

Adonis is figure that the Greeks received from the Assyrians (modern day Syria, Lebannon, etc). The myth of Adonis is that his mother (Myrrha) is cursed by Aphrodite, for some offense, to incestuously lay with her own father (a king whose know escapes me) through duplicity, until the king discovers her identity and then attempts to kill her. Pregnant, she flees wishing not death, nor life and Aphrodite takes pity and turns her into a Myrrh tree. A blow delivered either by her father's arrow or from a boar tears open the bark and Adonis is born from it. Aphrodite sees his beauty and whiskes him away to Persephone. Later, the two fall in love, until Adonis is slain by a boar during a hunt. Aphrodite sprinkles a nectar on his blood and Persephone takes his shadow into the underworld. This changes him to becoming a "lesser' god of perennial vegetation. Birth-life-death-rebirth are his attributes.

Additionally, Sappho created a cult of the Undying Adonis where maidens worshipped him regularly. Thus going from Ninevah-to-Sappho-to-the N (in the Midwest) is part of the theme.

Okay enough of this...on to your responses.

QUOTE
Somewhere--
where chimney smoke dots the distance
in synaptic gaps, like memory loss in warm rolling meadows, I tango


Perhaps 'over warm rolling meadows,' to paint that misty dreamlike state of dotting clouds (allowing 'over' to also intensify the idea of memory loss (of the mind) ... I like the 'I tango' which takes the reader from a introduction of a mysterious tone, eluding to a dreamlike state, but not committing to it so early on... to actual movement of the narrator. Good build up.

with the sun matching my every step.
Our growing heat--a fever un-indexed by any chart--
warms my neck as meadowlarks

In L1, perhaps 'as the sun matches my every step. l2, I kept wanting to say "on any chart' as when I think of a chart I think of a visual measurement shown on the chart, while indexed by any thermometer (which does the measuring) However, it doesn't disrupt the flow so it is merely a point of consideration.
L3, excellent emjambment -

Yes, a thermometer is more organic a means to interpret a dance or fever or whatever, yet a visual measurement is something a person uses in a dream. Besides, charts are what thermometer readings are stored on. To make the statement this is the hottest day ever, a person not only needs to know how hot it is, the person also needs to have some sense of comparison of the temp of today to the temp of all things. Perhaps the stagnant, intellectual choice detracts from the poem. It does stick out a little in a poem where action is everywhere and drives the poem from a group of modifiers to the next group of modifiers and aciton.


sing warnings to intruders. I pause
in rehearsed mid-curve of a dip
to slip myself off; upside-down, the blue sky

Perhaps of intruders. My reasoning for this suggestion, is normally they aren't warning their preditors, but sending out warnings to the flock/family protecting nestlings- however, again a very minor point and I like the fullness of "I pause" ... The remainder of this stanza if musical--enhancing the singing of the birds, excellent use of sonics. --thank you. *smile*

With regards to the meadowlark, specifically the male meadowlark, this bird is migratory and returns to the midwest plains where they pick out their territory and sing a (complex and beautiful to humans) song TO warn away competition. This is not explained in the poem; perhaps, i should add something about this to aid the reader?
Mix the bird choice with timothy grass and meadows in general, then the location elements focus on the midwest--the location of this poem's writer. This is true even of the snowy owl that does migrate south into Minnesota.



becomes a cloudy skipping stone path
along a zen azure river bed. Something
crosses that rarefied stream; meadowlarks

Excellent imagery in this follow up stanza. As I read, I feel the gravity-less dreamscapes, I envision a child also perched on a branch, hands clenched as he/she somersaults around, flips and dangles head toward the ground, viewing this stone path nearing this peaceful, tranquil river bed. I would suggestion bringing down meadowlarks to the next stanza, but I like the way it seems to reinforce their presence, their importance, somehow to the narrator till this point, illusively setting up the scene, intensifying their worth in the poems over all correlation to the narrator, the scenery and the meadowlarks. (See above regarding the meadowlark)

scatter and fly into those rapid currents to drown,
as the timothy grass above
bows and parts like hair yielding to watery eyes. He arrives

L1, '... and fly ' felt weak. Perhaps swoop, which gives a more defined direction (as you paint an image of downward toward the currents, I would sense that swooping would be a stronger definition of the action and also bolder-as well as the enjoyable alliterative benefit between scatter and swoop. Again, you have coupled some very smooth flowing inner rhymes and sounds that compliment each other bows and parts/hair yielding ... above/bows eyes/arrives - every word seems to slide off the tongue like butter-without effort. The image it maintains is both active and still-which I felt taken to.

Absolutely, fly felt weak to me, but i couldn't come up with a word with fly and dive at the same time. Remember: the N is upside down in metaphorical dip and thus the world looks in that position upside down, so if birds take flight into the sky and upside-down the sky looks like a river, then the birds take off/dive to drown/fly. i wanted something to speak of this dislocation of the N's senses. This is part of her seeing the world differently after the fever/heat of the dance and thus losing herself. i know, too much information.


hunkered and stalking; the sun
returns to its rightful place; released, I twist and fall onto my knees.
The wind offers burning incense:


Although you probably have a very good reasoning. I felt that L2 might be improved omitting 'to it's rightful place- also in L2, knees perhaps the use of haunch/haunches/haunched such as
perhaps ...

Metaphorically, the sun drops as well, which is above, but it is below to the perception of the pose still held. i wanted her released from her 'fever' with her dance under the sun to be specific. Thus, she falls to her knees indicates that the upside-down sight is over. This falling to the knees is a moment of vulnerability in transition from the dance with the sun to the dance with her lover. Yet, i am open to some other idea that lends the reader to understanding the N's next 'shift'.

hunkered and stalking; the sun returns
released, I twist and fall haunched (a visual being falling down onto knees and palms as apposed falling on the knees and also the very nice rhyme between hunkered haunched) I love the inner weaving of rhymes and rhythm through out, as well as strong descriptors making your images work for you.


pine needles and ripened blackberries
from the undergrowth of his kinky hair.

Ok, now you bring a 'him' into it-with a very interesting introdcution...

Keep in mind that Adonis becomes/is the sub-god of vegetation and that fresh berries and pine needles come directly from Nina's poem, then you should begin to understand this choice. Now, i am rethinking pine needles since that type of tree is not deciduous.


His indefatigable arms,
with sun-kissed skin, gather me up--
wildflowers bunched to his bare chest

L2, perhaps gathers me up-- L3, perhaps against his bare chest -

in one motion; I stare at the thin scars on his stomach
while his breath--
a Snowy Owl's wingtip brushing a white rabbit--surrounds me.

L1, I would suggest omitting 'the' before thin ... L2, feels incomplete as it neithers completes a full statement from L1 or into L3, perhaps ...

in one motion; I stare at thin scars on his stomach,
animated with each breath--
a Snowy Owl's wingtip brushing a white rabbit--surrounds me.

Interesting use of 'animated'; i love it.


My shaky fingers crawl inside his hands: hands
dewy and deathless as the Earth
that receives all of us in our due turn.

Perhaps a substitute for shaky, trembling fingers crawl inside his hands: hands
dewy and deathless, as the earth
that receives us, all in our due turn. ---trembling...hmmmmmmm



We spin.

Where did you come from, O Beautiful One? The ancient capital
of Nineveh, by way of Lesbos and Sappho's revered verse,
only to descend into my arms...maybe...


I felt the various single lined actions worked well with this-'We spin." it on its own line, separated by all else gives the reader a moment to feel the motion, the sense of twirling, and gonig round in heavy, thick arms ... Yes, that is what i wanted.

The follow up stanza is truly beautiful with the mentions of Saphho's the poet of Lesbos, and how you keenly link revered verse, making this ancient glorification, of the Island of poetry. ---thank you very much.


pivoting, his dark myrrhic eyes betray his intentions,
and I feel my breasts heave and sigh, as our rush
blurs grass and sky,

This is full. Enlivening. There is a sense of unknown drama in the movement of the poem, I would suggest line break L2 after heave, bringing and sigh, as our rush blurs grass and sky.
---good idea, thanks.


until colours fracture, fall
and form iridescent steps to Aphrodite's throne. We ascend past the clouds;
I half expect feathers to tear from his back, during our dance.


L2, suggest 'to form iridescent steps to Aphrodite's throne. also perhaps ... 'We ascend the clouds; (as past isn't really necessary and doesn't add any further intention (such as for rhyme or pairing off in another point relating a specific unspoken meaning.
---i see what you're saying. Wouldn't it be we ascend TO the clouds? If so, i wouldn't want the word 'to' thrice in as many lines.


We drift.

I kiss him before he condenses and falls like rain,
returning back to the soft ground.
His blood slowly coagulates into a bed of red roses

Something other than blood. Or perhaps it is coagulates that has me feeling untouched by the line, inwhich the flow into it should stir some reaction. Perhaps ...

returning back to soft ground.
His blood slowly thickens to form a bed of red roses (or shaping into a bed of red roses or what you have is fine too. LOL)

i know, i have an issue with the use of blood in a poem, yet (per above) his blood is added with nectar and forms a new type of flower. More importantly, i wanted blood-to-red rose-to-maiden connection to add to the idea of menstruation and that reinforces the "birth-life-death-rebirth" element of this poem. i will think on thicken, though.


that are plucked
by young, barefoot maidens in flowing, virginal dresses
who have come far to worship our passing beauty.

Excellent. Excellent. Excellent. ---thank you, thank you, thank you.

I wake.

The sun offers me red rows through my window in consolation;
I grin at those fresh flowers filling the kitchen vase,
while my husband, awake early, smiles coyly
and burns myrrh incense.

Perhaps (although not a big nit at all, but suggested just for rhyme use) ...
The sun bestows to me, red rows through my window, a consolation;
I grin at those fresh flowers filling the kitchen vase,
while my husband, up earlier than I, smiles coyly
and burns myrrh incense. ----i love bestow and will definitely use it. Thank you again.



Those are my thoughts on your thoughts. Lots for me to think on. Lots for me to be appreciative of. i hope this wasn't too much.

~tim/azurepoetry


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azurepoetry
post Feb 28 07, 05:14
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Hello Snow,

Thank you so much for coming back to this poem. Let me address your thoughts first.

QUOTE
Somewhere--
where chimney smoke dots the distance
in synaptic gaps, like memory loss in warm rolling meadows, I tango

The beginning has a dreamy feel that draws me in.
I keep feeling I’d like to see ‘I tango’ on a new line here, but I like the feel of movement on the narrator’s part.
---i want the break on the verb 'tango'. The "location" and the verb and then we are given the sun and the heat, like the building of the fever. i sense you internal uneasiness about the split; believe me, i wanted that.


with the sun matching my every step.
Our growing heat--a fever un-indexed by any chart--
warms my neck as meadowlarks


Perhaps ‘unindexed on any chart' ---um, yeah 'on'...i like it.


sing warnings to intruders. I pause
in rehearsed mid-curve of a dip
to slip myself off; upside-down, the blue sky

Great sonics in this st. which fits in nicely with the birds singing. ---thank you very much.

becomes a cloudy skipping stone path
along a zen azure river bed. Something
crosses that rarefied stream; meadowlarks

scatter and fly into those rapid currents to drown,
as the timothy grass above
bows and parts like hair yielding to watery eyes. He arrives

beautiful imagery in these 2 stanzas. I felt that meadowlarks might work better beginning the following stanza and also miss the ‘and’ ---got it. thank you.meadowlarks scatter, flying into …

in fact I think swoop or dive would fit better – perhaps dive would fit well with the water below. ---yes, dive might be better; i was looking for something like that, but a word that might address both 'up' and 'down'.


hunkered and stalking; the sun
returns to its rightful place; released, I twist and fall onto my knees.
The wind offers burning incense:


perhaps original position for L2

pine needles and ripened blackberries
from the undergrowth of his kinky hair.

Now some added interest – you introduce ‘he’ and the sudden change to a 2 line stanza is interesting
---i do not like the 2 line stanza break. Unable to address that weakness, i decided to workshop this. *smile*


His indefatigable arms,
with sun-kissed skin, gather me up--
wildflowers bunched to his bare chest

Perhaps ~
Indefatigable, his sun-kissed arms
gather me up
wildflowers bunched against his bare chest ---yes, i am fixated on keeping skin with sun-kissed. i will think about this as you are the third person to have omitted the word 'skin'.


in one motion; I stare at the thin scars on his stomach
while his breath--
a Snowy Owl's wingtip brushing a white rabbit--surrounds me.

I feel like saying
while his breath like ….


My shaky fingers crawl inside his hands: hands
dewy and deathless as the Earth
that receives all of us in our due turn.


L1 I think shaking fingers sounds better here – or trembling
L3 receives us all ……. ---you're correcting, one of this -ing's should be used. Thank you.


We spin.

Where did you come from, O Beautiful One? The ancient capital
of Nineveh, by way of Lesbos and Sappho's revered verse,
only to descend into my arms...maybe...

pivoting, his dark myrrhic eyes betray his intentions,
and I feel my breasts heave and sigh, as our rush
blurs grass and sky,

until colours fracture, fall
and form iridescent steps to Aphrodite's throne. We ascend past the clouds;
I half expect feathers to tear from his back, during our dance.


I love the introductory short line ‘we spin’. Hereon this becomes mystical. You have added so much interest with reference to poetry and ancient goddess. Excellent! ---thank you again, Snow.


We drift.

I kiss him before he condenses and falls like rain,
returning back to the soft ground.
His blood slowly coagulates into a bed of red roses

that are plucked
by young, barefoot maidens in flowing, virginal dresses
who have come far to worship our passing beauty.

Perhaps ‘his blood flows into a bed of red roses? ---This creates a possibility that one item is moving into another, not becoming. The latter is my intention for reasons i mentioned above, i want the birth-life-death-rebirth aspect of the lesser god Adonis to be repeated in the blood-red rose-maiden image of menstration.
This has a wonderful mystical feel of dream-like fantasy
.

I wake.

The sun offers me red rows through my window in consolation;
I grin at those fresh flowers filling the kitchen vase,
while my husband, awake early, smiles coyly
and burns myrrh incense.

I was wondering how this would end and have to applause!
You have the incense and roses from earlier to tie it all together.

I really love this Tim. it is one of the most unique poems I have read in a long time

I have a feeling I shall be back again to digest this even further.



Thank you very much Snow. This has been helpful. i don't think this poem is that extensive. The message is no matter what our dream lover may be, something of that love/lust/interaction can be manifest in the real world. Elements of mythology: Adonis and Aphrodite, etc., losing oneself (zen reference and slip off myself) and a sense of nature's participation can all make up a real love, imho.

Your words are very helpful. i will work this one over in a little bit. i have crits to catch up on. **smile**

~tim


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"What ceremony of words can patch the havoc?" ~ Sylvia Plath

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Eisa
post Feb 28 07, 05:50
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Hi Tim

Your explanations of your message and why you have written certain lines has been helpful to me.

The message is no matter what our dream lover may be, something of that love/lust/interaction can be manifest in the real world. Elements of mythology: Adonis and Aphrodite, etc., losing oneself (zen reference and slip off myself) and a sense of nature's participation can all make up a real love, imho.

I like your thinking behind your message.

scatter and fly into those rapid currents to drown,
as the timothy grass above
bows and parts like hair yielding to watery eyes. He arrives


---yes, dive might be better; i was looking for something like that, but a word that might address both 'up' and 'down'


I wonder if zoom might fit your intent better. Although its meaning does mean rising up, I feel it can indicate the speed rather than direction.

pine needles and ripened blackberries
from the undergrowth of his kinky hair.

---i do not like the 2 line stanza break. Unable to address that weakness, i decided to workshop this.


I have to agree here Tim and feel to keep to a 3 line stanza is visually more appealing. I suppose you could always cut back the previous stanza and bring the last line down to the next ~

hunkered and stalking; the sun
returns to its rightful place;
released, I twist and fall onto my knees.

The wind offers burning incense:
pine needles and ripened blackberries
from the undergrowth of his kinky hair.


Just a few more thoughts *smile*

Snow Snowflake.gif


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Live one day at a time -it's simpler that way.
Laugh loud & often - it's medicinal.
Write from the heart - it's therapeutic.
Beauty comes from within - the outer is just skin!

Nominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more details, click here!

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Eisa
post Mar 3 07, 16:58
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Hi Tim

I'm short on time, but will come back to read your revision properly and let you know what I think.

I am going to nominate this for next months IBPC as I think it is outstanding.

Snow Snowflake.gif

I'll be back!


·······IPB·······

Live one day at a time -it's simpler that way.
Laugh loud & often - it's medicinal.
Write from the heart - it's therapeutic.
Beauty comes from within - the outer is just skin!

Nominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more details, click here!

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azurepoetry
post Mar 4 07, 00:36
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Snow,

That's very gracious of you to say. Let's just wait and see what the rest of the month has to offer, shall we?

~tim


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"What ceremony of words can patch the havoc?" ~ Sylvia Plath

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AMETHYST
post Mar 4 07, 09:55
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Hey Tim,

I just read the revised draft and will be back later this evening with some feedback, but for now I wanted to give a thumbs up for several new word choices, such as adding 'rehearshed' excellent choice word. There is some very powerful changes and I will be going through them on return.

Hugs, Liz

(Lauren wants breakfast so Grandma must abide her wishes) LOL


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Siren
post Mar 4 07, 11:22
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Hello Tim,


This is my first reading of your work and U must say, WOW! This is definitely an incredible intro. Your imagery is captivating!

I've always loved mythology, and this reminded me why.


An incredible read.

Dani


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azurepoetry
post Mar 4 07, 12:30
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Siren/Dani,

thank you very much for the read. i am in no hurry about this poem, so don't you be either. It'll be here when ever you want to come back.


Liz,
Grandma's work always come first. Most of the changes are from either Snow or your suggestions, so i have both of you to thank, really. Okay....thank you.


~tim/azurepoetry


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"What ceremony of words can patch the havoc?" ~ Sylvia Plath

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Eisa
post Mar 6 07, 17:45
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Hi Tim

I agree with Liz -- thumbs up to your revision.

You say about the nomination~

That's very gracious of you to say. Let's just wait and see what the rest of the month has to offer, shall we?

Don't forget you can have more than one nomination put forward to the vote each month.


A couple of thoughts ~

in the firts stanza, I am wondering if 'where' is really necessary in L2. Also I would prefer the line break slightly different.

Somewhere--
chimney smoke dots the distance in synaptic gaps,
like memory loss in warm rolling meadows, I tango


... but this is probably a personal preference!


scatter and soar into those rapid currents to drown,
as the timothy grass above


I remember you saying you had used fly in the first line here, as it could mean 'up' or 'down'. I feel 'soar' does not fill that meaning and to me only means rising. Has your intent in this line changed?


The wind offers burning incense:
cherry-wood and ripened blackberries
from the undergrowth of his kinky hair.


Nice additional line here, making the stanza up to 3 lines to correspond with the others.

That's all I can say for now -- if I think of any more I'll be back!

Snow Snowflake.gif

I also prefer 'blood thickens' to 'blood coagulates' -- somehow it has a softer feel.


·······IPB·······

Live one day at a time -it's simpler that way.
Laugh loud & often - it's medicinal.
Write from the heart - it's therapeutic.
Beauty comes from within - the outer is just skin!

Nominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more details, click here!

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Arnfinn
post Mar 7 07, 05:28
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[quote name='azurepoetry' date='Feb 26 07, 10:20 ' post='91887']
1st Revision ~~tweaked (thank you Liz and Snow)


How are ya Tim,

Whatta Got.

Hmmm....


[b]By the way I haven't read any crits.
pinkpanther.gif

Somewhere--
where chimney smoke dots the distance
in synaptic gaps, like memory loss in warm rolling meadows, I tango

Hmmm... they're not rhyming lines, but for convenience sake I'll call them triplets. Mate, I like your poetry because its pure: original in structure and sense. Again, this is poetry, (nothing predictable) intellectual mindscape. Who could not understand and delight in this first stanza. ' Somewhere-- in a mind pause, in warm rolling meadows, I tango. Mate, an illustration of me after...say, six beers. However, the stanza is open to everyone's translation. I think any serious poet must appreciate the opening three lines of your poem.

with the sun matching my every step.
Our growing heat--a fever un-indexed on any chart-- <<< good and original.
warms my neck as meadowlarks
sing warnings to intruders. I pause <<< Ha, love the sentiment.

in rehearsed mid-curve of a dip
to slip myself off; upside-down, the blue sky

becomes a cloudy skipping stone path
along a zen azure river bed. <<< a path along a tranquil (blue Universe) Someone crosses that rarefied stream; meadowlarks <<< a warning, meadowlarks beautiful song
scatter and soar into those rapid currents to drown,
as the timothy grass above <<< What's timothy grass? Is it you?
bows and parts like hair yielding to watery eyes. He arrives

hunkered and stalking; the sun
returns to its rightful place; released,
I twist and fall onto my knees.

The wind offers burning incense:
cherry-wood and ripened blackberries
from the undergrowth of his kinky hair.

His indefatigable arms, <<< 'indefatigable' don't think so! Rudyard Kipling may have used such a word in defence of the Raj and the British Empire and the English navy also have use of the word. Mate, how about 'busy.' with sun-kissed skin, gather me up-- <<<
wildflowers bunched to his bare chest

in one motion; I stare at thin scars on his stomach
while his breath--
a Snowy Owl's stuttering wingtip-- brushes me. <<< Hey, great imagery, wonderful poetry.
My trembling fingers crawl inside his hands: hands
dewy and deathless as the Earth
that receives us all in our due turn.

We spin.

Where did you come from, O Beautiful One? The ancient capital
of Nineveh, by way of Lesbos and Sappho's revered verse,
only to descend into my arms...maybe...
<<< Good stanza the cradle of Greek literature/love.

pivoting, his dark myrrhic eyes betray his intentions, <<< Myrrhic colour. Resin of the Camphora (Camphor Laurel etc) hmm... eyes of dark gold? Yeah, I like that.
and I feel my breasts heave and sigh,
as our rush
blurs grass and sky,

until colours fracture, fall
and form iridescent steps to Aphrodite's throne. We ascend the clouds;
I half expect feathers to tear from his back, during our dance. Good , mate. wonderful imagery.

We drift.

I kiss him before he condenses and falls like rain,
returning back to the soft ground.
His blood slowly thickens into a bed of red roses <<< Again, what imagery, it's like an old fable.

that are plucked
by young, barefoot maidens in flowing, virginal dresses
who have come far to worship our passing beauty. <<< love the originality.

I wake.

The sun bestows me red rows through my window in consolation;
I grin at those fresh flowers filling the kitchen vase, <<< red roses? while my husband, awake early, smiles coyly
and burns myrrh incense. [/b] <<< Hah, does the husband have golden eyes?
-------------------------------------------------------------------

Good poetry, mate.

I think the transformation from new to old. The change in the translation from modern to greek mytholgy is well done.

Very enjoyable.

Regards,

John


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Arnfinn

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azurepoetry
post Mar 8 07, 10:43
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Hello John,

That is some pretty high praise you've given about this piece and i appreciate it. i'm not sure what i want with this poem. i'm thinking of moving out of crit for now; i feel indifferent on this for some reason.

Nonetheless, thank you very much for stepping in. i believe now i owe you two....give me a couple of days to repay the favour mate.

~tim/azurepoetry


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Cleo_Serapis
post Mar 18 07, 18:35
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Hi there Tim. knight.gif

WOW - this is awesome! I enjoyed the attention to detail, the drama building as your MC's dreams are retold through such impressive imagery. You've brought the Ancients back to life - if only we could live in that fantasy world, between the daily grind and our dreamworlds..... Sigh.... I would find it hard to get up when that alarm goes off! cloud9.gif

I only made a few alternate suggestions as I find this one very polished on my first read. I am unaccustomed to the longer lines and the placement of line breaks but it works and that's what counts.

Are you going to give this one a go in our IBPC Poll coming up on the 21st? If so, best of luck! This is a very original, wonderful poem.
~Cleo Pharoah.gif

[+] {-}

Somewhere--
where chimney smoke dots the distance
in synaptic gaps, like memory loss in warm rolling meadows, I tango

with the sun matching my every step. (How about silhouetting instead of matching)
Our growing heat--a fever un-indexed on any chart--
warms my neck as meadowlarks

{sing} [intone] warnings to intruders. I pause
in rehearsed mid-curve of a dip
to slip myself off; upside-down, the blue sky


·······IPB·······

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to." ~ J.R.R Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

Collaboration feeds innovation. In the spirit of workshopping, please revisit those threads you've critiqued to see if the author has incorporated your ideas, or requests further feedback from you. In addition, reciprocate with those who've responded to you in kind.

"I believe it is the act of remembrance, long after our bones have turned to dust, to be the true essence of an afterlife." ~ Lorraine M. Kanter

Nominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more information, click here!

"Worry looks around, Sorry looks back, Faith looks up." ~ Early detection can save your life.

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