Ambidextrous - Revised 04-23-07, Wizard Award Options

[AMETHYST]

. .

****5th Revision********


Ambidextrous


I write with my right hand;
articulate and methodical
chirography.
Ink weaves itself, like silk threads
against a virgin leaf.

What's right feels wrong.
Neatly drawn words
fence in honesty,
confining truth, like stallions
in orderly corrals.

Secrets unleashed,
sowed in the unconscious,
as infertile seeds that release

prosaic verse, lacking passion,
like desert sun-tinged sands
are dry and useless.

I use my left hand these days,
speaking aloud, truths
that never dared to dance from my lips.

Prowling promises, secrets
emerge, purge my past
of decadent pleasures, and sordid schemes
that seep through crevices,
as unseen touches that haunt
in restless sleep.

Poetry surges
across vacant pages -- animated.
Unfortunately the words
are much too sloppy to decipher.

***** 4th Revision********
Ambidextrous


I write with my right hand;
articulative and methodical
chirography.
Ink weaves itself, like silk threads
against a virgin leaf.

What's right
feels wrong, neatly drawn words
fence in honesty; truth
is confined, like stallions
in orderly corrals.

Secrets, unleashed
sowed in the unconscious,
as infertile seeds that release

prosaic verse, lacking passion,
like desert sun-tinged sands;
it is dry and useless.

I use my left hand-these days,
speaking aloud, truths
that never dared to dance from my lips.

Prowling promises; secrets
emerge, purge my past
of decadent pleasures, and sordid schemes
that seep through crevices,
as unseen touches that haunt
in restless sleep.

Poetry surges;
across vacant pages-animated;
unfortunately the words
are much too sloppy to be read.

~~~~~~3rd Revision~~~~~~~~~~~

Ambidextrous

I write with my right hand,
an articulated, artfully methodical
chirography; ink weaves itself,
like silk threads against a virgin leaf.

What I write feels wrong,
neatly drawn words fence
in honesty, as horses confined
by orderly corrals,

to keep secrets locked. Sterile seeds
sow, in the unconscious -- release

in prosaic verse, void of passion,
and like desert sun-tinged sands;
it is dry and useless.

.......... I use my left hand-these days,
.......... speaking aloud, truths
.......... that never dared to dance from my lips.

.............Prowling promises; secrets
.............emerge, purge my past
.............of decadent pleasures, and sordid schemes
.............that seep through crevices,
.............as unseen touches that haunt
.............in restless sleep.

Poetry surges;
across vacant pages-animated;
unfortunately the words
are much too sloppy to be read.

~~~~~2nd Revision~~~~~~~~

Ambidextrous

[right]
I write with my right hand,
in articulated, artfully methodical
penmanship; ink weaves
itself, as silk threads against a virgin leaf.

What I write feels wrong,
As neatly drawn words fence
in honesty, like horses confined
by orderly corrals,

to keep secrets locked, they wither
sowed as dying seeds, and settle
in the unconscious -- [/right]

to release prosaic verse, void
of passion, like desert sun-tinged sands;
dry and useless.

[left]I use my left hand-these days,
speaking out loud, truths
that never dared to dance from my lips.[/left]

[left]Prowling promises; secrets
emerge, purge my past
of decadent pleasures, and sordid schemes
that seep through crevices,
as unseen touches that haunt
in restless sleep. [/left]

[left]Poetry surges; animated,
across the pages-
unfortunately the words
are much too sloppy to be read.[/left]





~~~~~~~~~~~First Revision~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ambidextrous


I write with my right hand,
in a articulated, artfully methodical
penmanship; ink weaves itself, as silk threads
against a virgin leaf.

What I write feels wrong.
Neatly drawn words fence in
honesty, like horses confined
by orderly corrals,

keeping secrets locked, withering
as dying seeds, to settle
in the unconscious --

to release prosaic verse, void
of passion, like desert sun-tinged sands;
dry and useless.



I'm using my left hand-these days,
speaking out loud, truths
that never dared to dance from my lips.

Prowling promises; secrets
emerge, purge my past
of decadent pleasures, and sordid schemes
that seep through crevices,
unseen touches that haunt
in restless sleep.

Poetry surges; animated,
across the pages-
unfortunately the words
are much too sloppy to be read.



~~~~~~Original~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ambidextrous

I write

with my right hand,
precise...definite...artfully methodical
penmanship; ink that weaves itself,
as silk threads against a virgin leaf.

And yet, what I write
feels wrong. Neatly drawn words
fence in the honesty, like horses
confined in orderly corrals,
keeping secrets locked, withering
as dying seeds, settling
in the unconscious. Creating
poetry void of passion; barren,
like desert sun-tinged sands
dry and lifeless.

But I've been using my left hand-
speaking out loud, truths
that never dared to dance from my lips.
of prowling promises; secrets
emerge, purging my past of decadent
pleasures, and sordid schemes,
seeping through crevices
of unseen touches that haunt
in restless sleep.
Poetry surges, passionately
across the pages-
unfortunately the words
are much too sloppy to be read.

This post has been edited by Cleo_Serapis: Apr 30 07, 18:47

Reason for edit: Fifth Revsion 04-23-07

[JustDaniel]

Greetings, Liz...

I'm not sure just how to take this piece, as I find it both serious and ironic or even humorous with your kicker last line!

I'd honestly forgotten, but one of the most REVEALING and SHOCKING poems that I've ever written is kind of a conversation between me and my father that never took place... that I wrote at an Adult Children of Alcoholics meeting (long before I knew he'd been an alcoholic) and we'd listened to a tape and were challenged to write something to a parent with our opposite hand...

I haven't read it in an age... I'd surely go home and look it up, if I can... but I remember writing it and feeling drained, relieved... and I cried, seeing some feelings that I'd had that I'd never expressed. It simply blew me away...

so, all of that to say, that I don't recall doing that since that time, but it DID get me writing poetry, and I DID get in touch with a part of me that had been boxed up forever...

so I take what you say here very seriously...

and now I sit here awaiting your response... and that of others.

Love in Light, Daniel

[AMETHYST]

Greetings, Liz...

I'm not sure just how to take this piece, as I find it both serious and ironic or even humorous with your kicker last line!

Hi Daniel,

Thank you. It is supposed to be both serious, and ironic - In fact, if you notice although the poem touches on some deeper thoughts, ideas or emotions, it never really gets into those truths (the idea is that if the reader is reading it, then it is clearly ledgable and was probably written with the right hand!) LOL And yes, that is the kicker - Yet, the seriousness of this is it is true, that subconsciously, when writing sloppy or writing with the non-dominant hand, there seems to be an unlocking of the consciousness and the writting is much more intense and creative, even if not secretive - there is HONESTY in the words that flow when the mind believes it is not going to be read because the other hand is being used.

I'd honestly forgotten, but one of the most REVEALING and SHOCKING poems that I've ever written is kind of a conversation between me and my father that never took place... that I wrote at an Adult Children of Alcoholics meeting (long before I knew he'd been an alcoholic) and we'd listened to a tape and were challenged to write something to a parent with our opposite hand...

This is a technique that is used in many writing workshops as well. I personally learned it when my right hand has cramps I switch over to my left and I find I think clearer, I think in multi-layered perceptions that seem to discover ideas and thoughts that just flow from who knows where... The exercise you've described is something I would love to try and perhaps (because I am home from work out sick today) I will do it tonight!


I

haven't read it in an age... I'd surely go home and look it up, if I can... but I remember writing it and feeling drained, relieved... and I cried, seeing some feelings that I'd had that I'd never expressed. It simply blew me away...

Most likely emotions not only that you never expressed but probably never really accepted that they existed too. It sure does open us up to say things that we would never dare say or disclose to anyone. Sort of like that old saying a drunk man's words is often a sober man's thoughts... well our primary hand seems to control our rational thoughts, while our other hand, is possibly the key to closets of experience, emotions and opinions we lock away from view of others...

so, all of that to say, that I don't recall doing that since that time, but it DID get me writing poetry, and I DID get in touch with a part of me that had been boxed up forever...

so I take what you say here very seriously...

and now I sit here awaiting your response... and that of others.

Love in Light, Daniel

Yes, it opens a world of expression. I am not sure what you mean by awaiting my response, are you waiting to find out if I meant it seriously or as a joke? ... It is that old saying 'Many a truth said in jest" there is irony to the subject and within the poem, but it is serious content that the subject exists and there so lies 'truths, unspoken" LOL

Have a go at it Daniel, I trust your talent and skill to help guide me and this poem to reach a more refined state of revision.

Hugs, Liz

[Eisa]

Hi Liz

Just to say I called here and will be back. I really like this one.

Snow

[Psyche]

Hi Liz!
I've often been told to use my left hand for many tasks, including writing, but I was only told that it was "good exercise for the brain". You know, one day you can lay the table, wash the dishes, put everything in the cupboards with your left (or vice-versa if you're left-handed).

But your poem brings a new dimension in. It's very enticing and I might try it out! Trouble is, I'm usually at the computer, except when I scribble in a café now & then.

Let's see now....

Ambidextrous

I write

with my right hand,
precise...definite...artfully methodical
penmanship; ink that weaves itself,
as silk threads against a virgin leaf.

And yet, what I write
feels wrong. Neatly drawn words
fence in the honesty, like horses
confined in orderly corrals,
keeping secrets locked, withering
as dying seeds, settling
in the unconscious. Creating
poetry void of passion; barren,
like desert sun-tinged sands
dry and lifeless. Beautiful stanza, Liz. The similes & imagery are highly original.

But I've been using my left hand-
speaking out loud, truths
that never dared to dance from my lips.
of prowling promises; secrets
emerge, purging my past of decadent
pleasures, and sordid schemes,
seeping through crevices
of unseen touches that haunt
in restless sleep.
Poetry surges, passionately
across the pages-
unfortunately the words
are much too sloppy to be read.

This is very interesting, about the words being too sloppy to be read. Nonetheless, in my case, when I first throw words on paper (with my right hand), they're also too sloppy to be read. I let them lie a while, then "work" on them, as we do in this forum...
All the same, I suggest you post some of those "too sloppy to be read" verses for us to judge!!! Maybe you'll begin a whole new style in your poetical experience, maybe it'll be a lot better than you think, because you're too judgmental of your own work, OK? I'll be waiting... unless you're just playing with us!
I have no crits, Liz, for the moment, but I'll follow your thread and come back.
Hugs, Syl ***

[Guest_kerri_*]

I love this poem, Liz.

It made me think about
the psychological aspects of writing,
the brutally honest feelings and moments in life
we want to show, the stories hidden within,
and we want express all of those things.

And when we get too caught up in the strict rules
of some poetic schools of thought, we lose
the passion.

There is that searching for the balance
of poetic skill and still being able to move
the reader.

I had some quick thoughts about revising your poem
but please take or leave what helps or doesn't
as far as revision.
It is always just another poets opinion.


Can I play with your poem a little bit?





Ambidextous

I write
with my right hand,
precise, definate, artfully methodical.
Ink weaves itself
as silk threads against a virgin leaf.

What I write feels wrong.
Neatly drawn words fence in honesty,
like horses confined in orderly corrals.

Secrets wither like dying seeds,
settle in the unconscious,
create poetry void of passion; barren
in sun-tinged sands
dry and lifeless.

But I've been using my left hand tonight,
speaking out loud, truths
dance from my lips.
Prowling promises and secrets emerge,
purging my past of decadent pleasures
and sordid schemes,
seeping through crevices unseen,
touches that haunt in restless sleep.

Poetry surges, passionately
across the page.
Unfortunatley the words
are much to sloppy to read.



I enjoyed this wonderful poem of yours, Liz.

take care,

kerri

[AMETHYST]

Hi Liz

Just to say I called here and will be back. I really like this one.

Snow

Hey Snow,

Thank you. I look forward to your thoughts! Hugs, Liz

[AMETHYST]

Hi Liz!
I've often been told to use my left hand for many tasks, including writing, but I was only told that it was "good exercise for the brain". You know, one day you can lay the table, wash the dishes, put everything in the cupboards with your left (or vice-versa if you're left-handed).


Yes, good exercise for the brain, and of course one side of the brain controls the other side of the body, and also accesses many different cognitive chambers... I found I use my left hand for many things these days because of my pains in my right hand. So I find myself using my left as a primary these days-had I been practicing when I was younger I would most certainly have been Ambidextrous! :)

But your poem brings a new dimension in. It's very enticing and I might try it out! Trouble is, I'm usually at the computer, except when I scribble in a café now & then.


Ah, a nice atmosphere to write down drifting thoughts!

Let's see now....

Ambidextrous

I write

with my right hand,
precise...definite...artfully methodical
penmanship; ink that weaves itself,
as silk threads against a virgin leaf.

And yet, what I write
feels wrong. Neatly drawn words
fence in the honesty, like horses
confined in orderly corrals,
keeping secrets locked, withering
as dying seeds, settling
in the unconscious. Creating
poetry void of passion; barren,
like desert sun-tinged sands
dry and lifeless. Beautiful stanza, Liz. The similes & imagery are highly original.


Thank You Sylvia!

But I've been using my left hand-
speaking out loud, truths
that never dared to dance from my lips.
of prowling promises; secrets
emerge, purging my past of decadent
pleasures, and sordid schemes,
seeping through crevices
of unseen touches that haunt
in restless sleep.
Poetry surges, passionately
across the pages-
unfortunately the words
are much too sloppy to be read.

This is very interesting, about the words being too sloppy to be read. Nonetheless, in my case, when I first throw words on paper (with my right hand), they're also too sloppy to be read. I let them lie a while, then "work" on them, as we do in this forum...
All the same, I suggest you post some of those "too sloppy to be read" verses for us to judge!!! Maybe you'll begin a whole new style in your poetical experience, maybe it'll be a lot better than you think, because you're too judgmental of your own work, OK? I'll be waiting... unless you're just playing with us!
I have no crits, Liz, for the moment, but I'll follow your thread and come back.
Hugs, Syl ***

Thank you for the feedback it helps to see how the underlying metaphors and/or images are working to get through... Big Hugs, Liz (PS if something comes to you - stop on back)

[AMETHYST]

Hi Kerri,

Your example revision is wonderful-I think it makes a great improvement with the thinned out stanzas and some of the line breaks that you've chosen, emphasizes the duality of some thoughts through out.

I love this poem, Liz.

It made me think about
the psychological aspects of writing,
the brutally honest feelings and moments in life
we want to show, the stories hidden within,
and we want express all of those things.

And when we get too caught up in the strict rules
of some poetic schools of thought, we lose
the passion.

Yes - I am so glad that comes through in the poem. Often we tend to only tell half truths, lacking the raw heart of a matter, focusing on the poetics and not the poetry of the subject.


There is that searching for the balance
of poetic skill and still being able to move
the reader.

I had some quick thoughts about revising your poem
but please take or leave what helps or doesn't
as far as revision.
It is always just another poets opinion.


Can I play with your poem a little bit?





Ambidextous

I write
with my right hand,
precise, definate, artfully methodical.
Ink weaves itself
as silk threads against a virgin leaf.

I will most likely take your reshaping of the stanzas in my first revision.

What I write feels wrong.
Neatly drawn words fence in honesty,
like horses confined in orderly corrals.

Secrets wither like dying seeds,
settle in the unconscious,
create poetry void of passion; barren
in sun-tinged sands
dry and lifeless.

But I've been using my left hand tonight,
speaking out loud, truths
dance from my lips.
Prowling promises and secrets emerge,
purging my past of decadent pleasures
and sordid schemes,
seeping through crevices unseen,
touches that haunt in restless sleep.

I will have to think on the addition of 'tonight' as one of the underlying ideas of the poem was I had hoped that because the poem is readable (even though typed) it is assumed it was written with the right hand, and lacks the truths there within. :) A sort of twist- however, I like the depth added in that revised line " but I've been using my left hand tonight' ... Hmmm...

Poetry surges, passionately
across the page.
Unfortunatley the words
are much to sloppy to read.

I felt the final stanzas suggestion is perfect, allowing the two details to bounce off that revised line and the word 'tonight' ... I do think I will be making use of that!


I enjoyed this wonderful poem of yours, Liz.

take care,

kerri

Again Thank you Kerri, your thoughts and example truly benefit the poems progress and I will be making some revisions over the next day or so in light of them! Please always feel welcome to play the poem, I often find it easier to 'show' what my thoughts for revision as suggestion through example.

Best Wishes, Liz

[bbnixon]

Hi Amethyst,

My first crit here, and crits always make me more nervous than posts...Go figure. I really like this poem, as I am somehat ambidextrous....actually, I write illegible with both hands. I was mostly unaware of it, until college, when I taught a class as a TA, and would switch hands during lectures, my students pointed it out... Also if a leftie teaches me something, I will likely attempt it left handed, and if a righty, I will attempt it right handed. I would say I am right handed, perhaps I was one of those natural lefties, that early education "fixed". Who knows...I regress...a very bad habit of mine...eventually I get there..

I like the contrast between the two hands, right one way, left the other..and from the thread the conscious choice to let the right hand be predominant in this poem..though when reading.... I think your left hand might of had some influence in a few of the strophes....I wonder can we not switch "hands" between strophes.. I also like the suggestions of the previous commentor...I would follow on with her thoughts...the strophes...right/left...could be no visualized by using italics or different font choice. a visual enhancement of the different perspectives. I will agree that this poem has underlying humor, but also a simple truth, that makes one pause and think. In my opinion it is good magic when a writer can make a person both smile and think...

I enjoyed your poem very much

here are two strophes with different fonts-italics to show different voice

I write
with my right hand,
precise, definate, artfully methodical.
Ink weaves itself
as silk threads against a virgin leaf.

What I write feels wrong.
Neatly drawn words fence in honesty,
like horses confined in orderly corrals.


Hope your day is good.

:) bebe

[Eisa]

Hi Liz,

This is a poem I think most can relate to as it is so difficult at time to write about out inner thoughts being easier to keep to the surface.

A few thoughts ~

Ambidextrous

I write

with my right hand,
precise...definite...artfully methodical
penmanship; ink that weaves itself,
as silk threads against a virgin leaf.

To my mind precise and definite are very close in meaning and this would flow better with just one.

I write

with my right hand,
precise, with artfully methodical
penmanship; ink weaves itself,
as silk threads against a virgin leaf.

Lovely descriptions in last2 lines

And yet, what I write
feels wrong. Neatly drawn words
fence in the honesty, like horses
confined in orderly corrals,
keeping secrets locked, withering
as dying seeds, settling
in the unconscious. Creating
poetry void of passion; barren,
like desert sun-tinged sands
dry and lifeless.

I love your thinking in this stanza – I’m sure we all relate!

Your last sentence is a fragment and might read better

…………………….Creating
poetry void of passion is barren,
like desert sun-tinged sands
dry and lifeless.

I feel an overdose of sameness here

Barren/ desert/ sun-tinged sands/ dry/ lifeless

All tell me the same in a different way. I feel you need to bring some freshness to this.

But I've been using my left hand-
speaking out loud, truths
that never dared to dance from my lips.
[of] prowling with promises; secrets
emerge, purging my past of decadent
pleasures, and sordid schemes,
seeping through crevices
of unseen touches that haunt
in restless sleep.
Poetry surges, passionately
across the pages-
unfortunately the words
are much too sloppy to be read.

Never dared to dance from lips – love it!

I really like how you’ve contrasted the metaphors of right and left hands

Poetry surges across the pages – great line!

At first read I felt ‘sloppy’ was a bit sloppy for this poem, (he he!!) but then became aware you were probably using it for the dual meaning

Sloppy ~ meaning careless

Sloppy ~ meaning slushy,emotional.

I will come back again, but these are my initial thoughts.

A very original piece.

Hugs Snow

[AMETHYST]

My first crit here, and crits always make me more nervous than posts...Go figure.

Hi Bebe,

It is great to meet you! I often feel the same way-what is more ironic is I feel like that even when I am nolonger a newbie! LOL I am glad you came in, you've brought out some interesting ideas, specifically the visualization of each stanza-and I will be making use of it! Thank you.


I

really like this poem, as I am somehat ambidextrous....actually, I write illegible with both hands. I was mostly unaware of it, until college, when I taught a class as a TA, and would switch hands during lectures, my students pointed it out... Also if a leftie teaches me something, I will likely attempt it left handed, and if a righty, I will attempt it right handed. I would say I am right handed, perhaps I was one of those natural lefties, that early education "fixed". Who knows...I regress...a very bad habit of mine...eventually I get there..

HAHAAHAA... I surely can relate ... my handwriting was once very pretty, a little bit of a swirl, some flair, but always legible - now my right hand cramps up so I too, switch from right to left; that's probably why they poetry I write over the past year or two is like a see saw, and often a little confusing) I was probably a part of that FIXED generation as well, they say left handed people are more artsey, and creative -- Hmmmm, I wonder if we all went into a Class Action suit, could we sue for lost achievements... Picture it "Yur Ona, I wudda had paintid da Moana Leasta first---but you gone and taken my left handed expressions away! " There's a poem in that isn't there? LOL

I like the contrast between the two hands, right one way, left the other..and from the thread the conscious choice to let the right hand be predominant in this poem..though when reading.... I think your left hand might of had some influence in a few of the strophes....I wonder can we not switch "hands" between strophes..

Anyway I love your idea of making a change of the font. Your example shows the contrast between them perfect. The italics gives it a whispering feeling, like what is being said is a secret, which I think enhances the differences between right and left-

I also like the suggestions of the previous commentor...I would follow on with her thoughts...

Yes, and also Snow who posted afterwards has left a few things I will be implimenting. It always makes me excited to see a poem coming to life through the workshopping of several people and their input becomes a part of the final entity! :) Thank you.

In my opinion it is good magic when a writer can make a person both smile and think...

Again thankyou! That is very kind of you...

I enjoyed your poem very much

here are two strophes with different fonts-italics to show different voice

I write
with my right hand,
precise, definate, artfully methodical.
Ink weaves itself
as silk threads against a virgin leaf.

What I write feels wrong.
Neatly drawn words fence in honesty,
like horses confined in orderly corrals.


Hope your day is good.

:) bebe

I look forward to your thoughts on the upcoming revision! And also your own work! :) ... Catch you on the flip side ...

Best Wishes and I hope your day is wonderful!

Liz ...

[AMETHYST]

Hi Snow

This is a poem I think most can relate to as it is so difficult at time to write about out inner thoughts being easier to keep to the surface.

I was hoping the subject would be inticing to others. I figured there must be many of us who switch our hands when writing, even grocery lists (because aging has brought artheritis or other problems) Then it got me to thinking how different I felt, and what thoughts came to me when writing with my left! Like a hidden door to the depths of a soul.


Ambidextrous

To my mind precise and definite are very close in meaning and this would flow better with just one.

I write

with my right hand,
precise, with artfully methodical
penmanship; ink weaves itself,
as silk threads against a virgin leaf.

Lovely descriptions in last2 lines

Yes I agree, what I wanted to express was precise, methodical, and crisp or clearly written-open to any other words that might reinforce the image of perfect penmanship.

I love your thinking in this stanza – I’m sure we all relate!

Your last sentence is a fragment and might read better

…………………….Creating
poetry void of passion is barren,
like desert sun-tinged sands
dry and lifeless.

I feel an overdose of sameness here

Barren/ desert/ sun-tinged sands/ dry/ lifeless

All tell me the same in a different way. I feel you need to bring some freshness to this.

What I was hoping for was to draw an image of a desert, with no life in sight, and the sands dry ... I think the word 'lifeless' could be omitted and or rearranged using a more fuller description of contrast, such as 'sun-tinged sands beneath a winter sky' as winter would also add/imply the cold (feelingless sense of the writer, while the view is one of life sucked out) I am going to play around with this area, but you've pointed out a very important issue for revision! Thanks Snow-

Never dared to dance from lips – love it!

I really like how you’ve contrasted the metaphors of right and left hands

Poetry surges across the pages – great line!

At first read I felt ‘sloppy’ was a bit sloppy for this poem, (he he!!) but then became aware you were probably using it for the dual meaning

Sloppy ~ meaning careless

Sloppy ~ meaning slushy,emotional.

I have to admit, I didn't really use it for the dual meaning, but I am grateful for the eye opener of it's duality, it works well with both meanings presented. I originally wanted to sloppy because the word seems to describe illegible, unreadable scribble best.

I will come back again, but these are my initial thoughts.

A very original piece.

Hugs Snow

I am about to post the first revisions! I hope to read your thoughts on those! As we seem to make a great team of fixer's LOL ...

Big Hugs, Liz

[AMETHYST]

Hi Bebe,


After telling my daughter of your suggestion to show a visual contrast between the two she added, that was a great idea, and suggested using courier new, as its appearance is like an type-writer, detailed straight lined letters; precise like the right hand, and then italicize the left hand using a more flairish font (I chose Verdana) ... What do you think? ...


Best Wishes and thank you - Liz

Hi Kerri and Snow,

I've implimented several of your suggestions and hope that I've soothed those nits, especially the repetitious meaning through out the poem. Also omitting a repeat of poetry -

I thank you all for the worthy assistance on this one! And I am open to any further thoughts and nits... :)

Hugs, Liz

[Peterpan]

Hi Liz

This is a most facinating poem.

I am ambidextrous, and I can mirror write with my right hand. (I am left handed).

Life and living made me thus as not much is for left handed people. I have double bladed knives (for the left handed and the right), special scissors. As a child I could not understand why I could not cut bread. The knife was pushing into the loaf instead of away like when a right handed person cuts. I can throw a ball with both. I can play squash with both too. But, exploring the left and right brain I have left to co-incidence. Perhaps I am well balanced! hee! hee!

Ambidextrous


I write with my right hand,
in a articulated, artfully methodical
penmanship; ink weaves itself, as silk threads
against a virgin leaf.

What I write feels wrong.
Neatly drawn words fence in
honesty, like horses confined
by orderly corrals,

keeping secrets locked, withering
as dying seeds, to settle
in the unconscious --Beautiful stanza

to release prosaic verse, void
of passion, like desert sun-tinged sands;
dry and useless.



I'm using my left hand-these days,
speaking out loud, truths
that never dared to dance from my lips.Interesting change and dared to dance lovely phrase

Prowling promises; secrets
emerge, purge my past
of decadent pleasures, and sordid schemes
that seep through crevices,
unseen touches that haunt
in restless sleep.

Poetry surges; animated,
across the pages-
unfortunately the words
are much too sloppy to be read. I am not to keen on the word 'sloppy' it is out of place - but perhaps that is what you want? Your other words are so polished?

Thank you for sharing this poem.

I am intrigued!

PP

[bbnixon]

Hi Liz,

Like the revision...a couple of nits. To many gerunds..I got rid of some of them. For your consideration.

My thought was the strophes should be intermiggled right/left or right right/left than right than Left/left as if the author slowly begins to move towards the left leaning..the honesty, the directness of the left. See what you think....

:) bebe

Ambidextrous


I write with my right hand,
in a articulated, artfully methodical
penmanship; ink weaves itself, as silk threads
against a virgin leaf.

Right feels wrong.
Neatly drawn words fence in
honesty, like horses confined
by orderly corrals,

I contemplate
my left hand-these days,
speaking out loud, truths
that never dared to dance from my lips.

Right releases prosaic verse, void
of passion, like desert sun-tinged sands;
dry and useless.

keeps secrets locked, to wither
as dying seeds, to settle
in the unconscious --

Prowling promises; secrets
emerge, purge my past
of decadent pleasures, and sordid schemes
that seep through crevices,
unseen touches that haunt
in restless sleep.

Poetry surges; animated,
across the pages-
unfortunately the words
are much too sloppy to be read.

[AMETHYST]

Hello Bebe,

I think your idea of right/left right/left left veering slightly further left is an excellent idea, creatively luring the reader to visually associate the stanza's with the idea for the change of creativity and clarity of thought and emotion as they alternate. I will most certainly be implimenting that powerful suggestion into the next revision.

I will also keep your example near hand while making the considerations for the upcoming revisions-I agree whole heartedly that there are just a few more gerunds than necessary and it takes away from the over all poem...

Hope to hear your thoughts for Revision II - I am thrilled to see this poem take on the shape it is about to take...


I am so glad you've joined us at MM, I enjoy your creative vision!


Best Wishes, Liz

[Eisa]

Hey Liz

That was a shock when I looked at your revision ... but yes! -- I like it!

Hugs Snow

[bbnixon]

Liz,



I love it.

:) bebe

[AMETHYST]

Hey Liz

That was a shock when I looked at your revision ... but yes! -- I like it!

Hugs Snow

Hey Snow,

Yes, I don't think the real effect comes through like this -- I wish I could make good use of the indents, but whenever I use them, it messes up.

How I would like it to be is slightly indented from stanza to stanza, starting in the middle going toward the left side of the page. Hmmmm....

If anyone knows how to use the indent feature the right way, please let me know... how ...

Hugs, Liz