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[Guest_megan_*]

i'm going to revise this anyway, maybe take a whole different turn with things. i will leave the first revision, and add the other later. any comments are still welcome... i can always do better.


first edition

you figure a mile's walk
will wash away a thousand
actions as water grinds
its knuckles into your ankles,
your footprints,
breaking every molecule
as the imprint swallows and chokes
and tries not to cry and spit
back saltwater;

after all, it's a favor to the ocean.
someone pushed their palms into your heart
molding you into but an impression

(but damn what an impression you made)

you're on a one-mile stand,
erotica like goose bumps dizzying to your skin-
splitting cells and fainting hearts
(the faint of heart is another story)
the soul's grown unconscious in that distance
and it's your turn to make it up.

it's your turn.

it's your time to turn this around
spin around and grind yourself into someone else
as you push their palms away because
those fingers and your hips and both tongues speak
another language you don't want to understand,
you just want to make the right
impression.

so you figure maybe if you can turn Everything
inside-out )and outside in(
you'll find how many footprints you smoothed out

in just one mile.

revision (edition #2)

i wondered if a mile's walk
along the sand
could wash away
my faults as easily
as the deserted
desecrated
sand-castles i find,

the water grinds
its white-knuckled waves
into my ankles,
my heels,
my little footprints,

the imprint swallows
and chokes and tries
not to cry and spit
back saltwater.

you pushed your palms
into this heart

in motion

you were destined elsewhere,
the sand ate you first
like some silly stupid
ocean game.

i'm holding shoulders straight,
aiming for sandprints and shadows,
watching silhouettes balancing
on unsteady grains, not quite
ready for the inevitable tidal wave
sentences foaming from the mouth,
it's your word versus mine.

you caught me
in my unimpressive
impressiveness
of eloquence
and often innocence;
you knew my kind of expression
gave way to mold me
into a deeper impression

(but damn
what an impression made)

i’m on a one-mile stand,
stepping on the ebb to paint
a faint circle round my legs,
just to step a little deeper
and have the water
make them fade
and wash away
across the waves

my hands play along-
imprints of palms
against the sand
holding together
another lover’s
desperate
dexterous
slight of hand.

now it's your turn

to turn this around
spin around and grind yourself
into someone else
as you push away
their palms:

those fingers
linger round your lips,
words reflect off your tongue
evasively eclipsing Everything
much like the sun

your words burn too

yours and mine,
we seem to find
the storm within
our hectic expressions
sparking hearts
to compress
the impression.

maybe if i turned everything
inside out
)and outside in(

i’ll find how many footprints
i’ve smoothed over
in this revised mile.

(revision #3 [thanks to Jax--yes, I decided I really liked the couplets!!])
I wondered if a mile's walk along the sand could wash away
my faults as easily as the deserted, desecrated sand castles I find,

the water grinds white-knuckled waves into my ankles,
my heels, my little footprints as the imprint swallows itself

and chokes and tries not to cry and spit back saltwater.
You pushed your palms into this heart in motion,

destined elsewhere, the sand ate you first in its silly stupid
ocean game. I'm holding both these shoulders straight,

aiming for sand-prints and shadows gray, watching silhouettes
balancing abstractly on unsteady grains, not quite ready for

the inevitable tidal wave articulations foaming at the mouth,
combing the dampened shoreline: it’s your word versus mine.

You caught me in my unimpressive impressiveness,
a conflicted antagonist inflicting idiotic syntaxes and synonyms

meant to complement the heightened contradiction of tides.
You knew my kind of fickle expression gave way to mold

me into a deeper, prominent, pressured impression
(but damn what an impression made)

I’m on a one-mile stand, stepping on the ebb to paint a faint
circle round my legs, just to step a little deeper and have

the water make them fade and wash away across the waves—
my hands play along in this silly stupid ocean game,

imprints of palms against the sand holding together
another lover’s desperate dexterous sleight of hand.

Now it's your turn to turn this around, spin and grind
yourself into someone else as you push away their palms:

those fingers linger round your lips, words flicker flexing
off your tongue, evasively eclipsing everything in your wake

like the blazing sun scorching eyes when deflected: our words
burn, yours and mine, in the blister of our minds we seem to find

the storm inside hectic expressions sparking hearts compressing
the forced impression. But maybe if I turned everything inside out

) and outside in ( I’ll find how many footprints
I’ve smoothed over in this revised mile.

[Cleo_Serapis]

Hi Megan and welcome to MM.

I need to close this topic until Tuesday as we have a post today, not tomorrow rule here in this forum. Since you've already posted 'The worm' earlier today, I will re-open this poem then provided that you have offered 2 critques to other member's works.

Here is a link to the forum participation rules: http://forums.mosaicmusings.net/index.php?act=SR&f=51

Best regards,
Lori

[Cleo_Serapis]

This tile is now open for critiques.

TY!

[JaxMyth]

i'm going to revise this anyway, maybe take a whole different turn with things. i will leave the first revision, and add the other later. any comments are still welcome... i can always do better.

Hi Megan

IMO one eschews punctuation and grammatical construction totally or uses it fully. The hybrid is neither fish nor fowl.

I did not feel the line breaks allowed the reader to enjoy this poem which has much to recommend it.

I have played a little putting it into a rather more heroic stand *smile* and tidying up that bit of punctuation. The enjambment allows the reader to be pulled along as though by the tide.





I wondered if a mile's walk along the sand could wash away
my faults as easily as the deserted, desecrated sand-castles I find.

The water grinds its white-knuckled waves into my ankles,
my heels, my little footprints, the imprint swallows

and chokes and tries not to cry and spit back saltwater.
You pushed your palms into this heart in motion.

You were destined elsewhere, the sand ate you first
like some silly stupid ocean game. I'm holding shoulders straight,

aiming for sandprints and shadows, watching silhouettes balancing
on unsteady grains, not quite ready for the inevitable tidal wave.

Sentences foaming from the mouth, it's your word versus mine.
You caught me in my unimpressive impressiveness of eloquence {straining a bit here}

and often innocence; you knew my kind of expression
gave way to mold me into a deeper impression (but damn

what an impression made) I’m on a one-mile stand,
stepping on the ebb to paint a faint circle round my legs,

just to step a little deeper and have the water make them fade
and wash away across the waves. My hands play along-

imprints of palms against the sand holding together
another lover’s desperate, dexterous slight of hand. {typo sleight}

Now it's your turn to turn this around spin around and grind yourself
into someone else as you push away their palms: those fingers

linger round your lips, words reflect off your tongue evasively
eclipsing everything much like the sun. Your words burn too

yours and mine, we seem to find the storm within our hectic
expressions sparking hearts to compress the impression.

Maybe if I turned everything inside out )and outside in( {very nice}
I’ll find how many footprints I've smoothed over in this

revised mile.

This is rather good. I enjoyed, thank you.

Regards,

Jax

[Guest_megan_*]

Thank you very much Jax.

Punctuation, unless in essays, is really not my thing. But perhaps it should be.....

trial and error, I guess.

I'm not sure about the couplets, the "formal formation" if you will... I really liked how it looked, but maybe not in couplets... it gives me a lot to think about, as I do really like the less breaks, more words technique.

I will definitely work on this more. Thank you.

[Peterpan]

Hello~

Welcome to MM.

This is a hectic glimse of where we have all been. I love your imagery. Well done!

I will digest, and be back.

PP