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> Stanzas in the Wind
RC James
post Nov 29 15, 13:57
Post #1


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Referred By:Rhapsody



On the midnight train out of Santiago, the vacant seat
is an empty tomb of black marble behind my eyes.

The moon is full, as it was then through the myrtles;
distressed, I turn my head to avoid the gossamer light.

I see her face outlined in the clouds, her eyes hidden
from my desire in the faithless, conspiratorial sky.

She drained my thoughts and breath with her glow;
it would have been folly and clear neglect to resist.

She’ll serenade the stranger, the interloper, in whispers,
he’ll attempt to beguile her mind, devour her soft hands.

I am inconsolable tonight, hunger nearly consumes my soul;
her words bloomed in dance through teeming winds.

I stay with gypsies tonight and listen to achingly sad songs;
from an elusive horizon she sings words not meant for me.







(Rev.2)
On the last train out of Santiago, my feelings expand
past memory; I'm left with shadows of our meeting.

The moon was full, as it is now through the Myrtles,
discontented, my arms fail to respond to the gossamer light.

I see her face outlined in dim clouds, her eyes blind
to the longing I hold out to her lips blossoming in the sky.

She consumed my thoughts and breath with her glow,
to resist would have been folly and delusion.

She will serenade the stranger, the interloper, with whispers,
he will attempt to vanquish her body, consume her soft hands.

I am inconsolable tonight, yearning imprisons my soul,
her eyes were blossoms dancing in winds of surrender.

I stay with the gypsies tonight, cry achingly sad songs of absence,
from an impossible horizon she sings words not meant for me.











My feelings, beyond love’s bounds, languish in a universe
expanding past memory; I’m left with shreds of our meeting.

The moon was full, just as it is now through the Myrtles,
discontented, my arms fail to respond to the gossamer light.

Her face I see outlined in the dim clouds, her eyes blind
to the longing I hold out to her lips blossoming in the sky.

She consumed my thoughts, my breath, with her glow,
to resist would have been not only folly but delusion.

She will serenade with whispers the stranger, the interloper,
he will attempt to vanquish her body, consume her soft hands.

I am inconsolable this night, yearning has imprisoned my soul,
her eyes were dancing blossoms in a wind given to surrender.

I stay with the gypsies tonight, I cry achingly sad songs of absence,
from an impossible horizon her voice sings words not meant for me.





(original)
It will take longer than the afternoon train from Santiago
to forget her love that endured no longer than minutes.

The moon was full, just as it is now through the Myrtles,
discontented, my arms fail to respond to the riveting light.

Her face, is it her face? It appears as though her eyes trace
the longing I hold out to the blossoming sky for her lips.

She consumed every fiber of my body with her glow,
to resist would have been not only folly but delusion.

She will serenade with whispers the stranger, the interloper,
he will attempt to vanquish her body, consume her soft hands.

I am inconsolable this night, yearning has imprisoned my soul,
her eyes were dancing blossoms in a wind given to surrender.

I stay with the gypsies tonight, I cry achingly sad songs of absence,
from an impossible horizon her voice sings words not meant for me.
 
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Luce
post Nov 30 15, 03:58
Post #2


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Romantic and sexy Richard and it reads smoothly. However, some of the imagery was a tad confusing and a bit cliché. It also read more like prose then poetry. I think if you add more sonics and avoid the obvious clichés, you could have a great poem.


QUOTE (RC James @ Nov 29 15, 13:57 ) *
It will take longer than the afternoon train from Santiago
to forget her love that endured no longer than minutes.

Okay. It sounds like both the narrator and subject won't be remembering each other for long if it only lasts a train arrival or minutes. Of course, I don't know how long it takes the train from Santiago to arrive. But, the time is still short.

The moon was full, just as it is now through the Myrtles,
discontented, my arms fail to respond to the riveting light.

What riveting light are we referring to if this is occurring at night? It can't be the moon! If it is the moon's light, can you describe it in a fresher way? Maybe a softer form of light then riveting. Can you avoid the cliché "the moon was full"?

Her face, is it her face? It appears as though her eyes trace
the longing I hold out to the blossoming sky for her lips.

Where do you see her face? I love the tone of the poem but sometimes it gets too flowery

She consumed every fiber of my body with her glow,
to resist would have been not only folly but delusion.

Try and avoid clichés like "every fiber of my body". I appreciate the fact that you did use body instead of being but it still reads like a cliché.

She will serenade with whispers the stranger, the interloper,
he will attempt to vanquish her body, consume her soft hands.

I like the top line "she will serenade with whispers the stranger, the interloper...".

I am inconsolable this night, yearning has imprisoned my soul,
her eyes were dancing blossoms in a wind given to surrender.

I stay with the gypsies tonight, I cry achingly sad songs of absence,
from an impossible horizon her voice sings words not meant for me.

Huhhh??? Oh you got it bad!!!! I have this tremendous urge to throw cold water on you right now. laugh.gif



I'm also a big fan of Neruda. There's a wildness in his poetry that's inspiring.

Luce
 
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RC James
post Nov 30 15, 15:17
Post #3


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Luce - I worked on those spots you pointed out, See whachoo tink.RC
 
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Eisa
post Nov 30 15, 16:02
Post #4


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Referred By:Lori



This is lovely, Richard - very sensuous. I suppose it could be termed a prose poem. I like the 2 line stanza format.
I feel that some lines cold be written a little more concisely I've made a few suggestions below:


[ ] delete
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My feelings, beyond love’s bounds, languish in a universe
expanding past memory; I’m left with shreds of our meeting.

The moon was full, [just] as it is now through the Myrtles,
discontented, my arms fail to respond to the gossamer light.

Her face I see outlined in [the] dim clouds, her eyes blind

I prefer

I see her face, outlined in dim cloud ...

to the longing I hold out to her lips blossoming in the sky.

She consumed my thoughts[, my] and breath, with her glow,
to resist would have been [not only] folly [but] and delusion.

She will serenade with whispers the stranger, the interloper,
he will attempt to vanquish her body, consume her soft hands.

I prefer:
She will serenade the stranger with whispers ....

I am inconsolable [this] tonight, yearning [has imprisoned] imprisons my soul,
her eyes were dancing blossoms in a surrendering wind [given to surrender].

I stay with the gypsies tonight, [I] cry achingly sad songs of absence,
from an impossible horizon her voice sings words not meant for me.

Just a few thought to chew over. A very enjoyable read.

Eira


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K.S. Lenk
post Nov 30 15, 17:54
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Hi Richard,

I read this lovely piece before on MM and although your revision reveals your talent, I had no issue with the original.
For me this is not sensuous, you are not in heat, you are desolate and heartbroken, you are longing and lost and this emotion is so vividly clear throughout.

I mentioned before you write wonderful prose and this is a mixed prose/FV poem as only you can write them.

Always a pleasure.

Regards,
K.
 
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Luce
post Nov 30 15, 21:50
Post #6


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Richard,

I like the revision a lot. I especially like the new opening lines and how you describe the light of the moon as a gossamer light.

Won't offer any additional suggestions since Eira has already offered some great ones.

Luce
 
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RC James
post Dec 3 15, 06:34
Post #7


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Once again into the breach. R
 
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JustDaniel
post Dec 3 15, 07:42
Post #8


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Referred By:Lori



Hello, Richard...

and once again welcome to MM. I don't have the advantage of having read you before as Snow, K and Luce have, so I'm just jumping in.

Obviously you've made some considerable changes since your first draft. That is one of the advantages of writing in FV, of course. You can make wholesale changes without disturbing a thing; that's not so easy when you're writing in form poetry. When I try to critique (because of my dyslexia) all the changes I try to follow get all garbled up sometimes, especially if I'm tired.

However, I think I follow the changes you've made, and they seem to be positive. At this point I'd only make the suggestion that you review the entire piece to notice quite a number of run-on sentences, where you've used commas instead of semi-colons or periods. Perhaps the narrator's thoughts are so "consumed" or "drained" that he slid right past those stops?

The guy really has been taken aback by this singer of words for someone else. Oh, the heartbreak of such a meeting in passing!

I am pleased to see that you've eliminated some of the flowery speech and clichés, by the way. Flowery speech is always a distraction, like someone is working a bit too hard?

deLighting to read you and to watch your processing this piece, Daniel sun.gif


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Maureen
post Dec 18 15, 05:32
Post #9


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Real Name: Maureen Clifford
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Referred By:arnfinn



Hi Richard - I really liked this version of your poem the one at the top

On the Santiago train, the vacant seat, her absence,
is an empty tomb of black marble behind my eyes.

but felt - my opinion only - that it would read better perhaps as

The vacant seat on the Santiago train
is an empty tomb of black marble behind my eyes.

To my way of thinking 'her absence' is kind of superfluous.

And this line is divine - I see her face outlined in the clouds, her eyes hidden
from my desire in the faithless, conspiratorial sky.

YES YES YES - Very good - beautifully descriptive word picture, just lovely


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RC James
post Dec 18 15, 06:58
Post #10


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Maureen - Thank you (what's the feminine in Australian for "mate?" --- "Dearie" --- "Luvie?") -- at any rate I really like your take on that vacant seat line. You go ahead and have a sit-down in that seat next to me and keep those revisions coming - in need of them, I am. I love Austrailian expressions, I think the closest thing we have in the states is probably Southern dialect and folk sayings. Have yourself a merry little Christmas Day and a great new year. Richard
 
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weaver
post Dec 19 15, 17:20
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RCJ
I absolutely love this. The unrequited empty tomb of want. Sucks doesn't it!
This is eloquent, painful and real. Keep 'em coming!

Cheers
W
 
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