Welcome Guest ( Log In | Register )

IPB
 
Reply to this topicStart new topic
> Cool Jazz [revision 1], Thoughts/Critiques
Anisha
post Apr 17 13, 18:48
Post #1


Nomad
*

Group: Silver Member
Posts: 5
Joined: 17-April 13
Member No.: 5,181
Real Name: Anisha Bhat
Writer of: Poetry



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

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


Cool Jazz - Revision 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

I dream of holding emeralds
to the light.

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

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


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

Cool Jazz

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

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

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

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

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

Oh! The excruciating ecstasy
of impossibility.
The agonizing seduction
of life—
unlived.
 
+Quote Post  Go to the top of the page
Alan
post Apr 17 13, 23:43
Post #2


Laureate Legionnaire
******

Group: Gold Member
Posts: 3,446
Joined: 16-October 06
From: UK
Member No.: 298
Real Name: Alan McAlpine Douglas
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori/Eisa/loads of old friends



Dear Anisha,

First, WELCOME to MM ! Great to have new talent joining us.

This is an excellent write, very graphic and sensual.

Only place I get "stuck" in the mechanics is S3, where you use brown arm 2x in to lines, also, a shoulder as a heart does not quite do it for me, and

a raised relief map,
my vagabond fingers
itching
to explore.

I think it needs to be "are itching", to make a whole sentence.

Can't say why, but if your shoulder was "like" a throbbing heart, that would make sense to me !

All of what I say can be thrown away by you unless it meets your needs ! Take or toss, as they say.

Love
Alan


·······IPB·······

 
+Quote Post  Go to the top of the page
Anisha
post Apr 18 13, 02:28
Post #3


Nomad
*

Group: Silver Member
Posts: 5
Joined: 17-April 13
Member No.: 5,181
Real Name: Anisha Bhat
Writer of: Poetry



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

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

Also, I can definitely turn the shoulder as a throbbing heart metaphor into a simile with like, but do you think it would be better to come up with a different metaphor? I was trying to find a way of expressing the feeling of heat, vulnerability, and hypersensitivity that you feel when sitting close to someone you are attracted to.
 
+Quote Post  Go to the top of the page
Alan
post Apr 18 13, 03:11
Post #4


Laureate Legionnaire
******

Group: Gold Member
Posts: 3,446
Joined: 16-October 06
From: UK
Member No.: 298
Real Name: Alan McAlpine Douglas
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori/Eisa/loads of old friends



Dear Anisha,

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

I was wondering if you could clarify a few things though. Were you confused about what I was trying to say in S3 or just didn't like the repetition of brown arm? I thought the repetition might be an interesting way to connect and transition between a discussion of the sensuality of his voice to a physical longing (being riveted to the veins on his arm while he is gesturing in conversation). If it sounds very awkward though, I could always find another way.
- No confusion, but IN MY OPINION (ie you can DIScard if you want !) that one repetition is like a sore thumb - if you had used more rep in the poem it would have worked. I got the physical yearning for sure !

Also, I can definitely turn the shoulder as a throbbing heart metaphor into a simile with like, but do you think it would be better to come up with a different metaphor? I was trying to find a way of expressing the feeling of heat, vulnerability, and hypersensitivity that you feel when sitting close to someone you are attracted to.
- No, is a good simile, just that shoulder does not seem very much like a heart to me - but YOUR choice. Perhaps "Throbbing, as is my heart" ? Also, there is no need to mention brown at all, unless it is important to you ? The second brown could be "own" ?

This poem is certainly vibrant, I love it. Only a few matters to consider if you want to. I trust you do understand that !

Love
Alan


·······IPB·······

 
+Quote Post  Go to the top of the page
Anisha
post Apr 18 13, 03:28
Post #5


Nomad
*

Group: Silver Member
Posts: 5
Joined: 17-April 13
Member No.: 5,181
Real Name: Anisha Bhat
Writer of: Poetry



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


Cool Jazz

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

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

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

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

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

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

I dream of holding emeralds
to the light.

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

Oh! The excruciating ecstasy
of impossibility.
The agonizing seduction
of life—
unlived.
 
+Quote Post  Go to the top of the page
Cleo_Serapis
post Apr 18 13, 05:41
Post #6


Mosaic Master
Group Icon

Group: Administrator
Posts: 18,892
Joined: 1-August 03
From: Massachusetts
Member No.: 2
Real Name: Lori Kanter
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:Imhotep



Hello ANisha and Welcome to MM! Newbie.gif PartyFavor.gif Balloons.gif

I will be back to comment on your first poem posting with us, but for now I wanted to welcome you and to let you know that I have posted your revision in your initial thread up top. We do this so that all members can see the changes in one place.

If you;d be so kind, please tell us about yourself in our Newbie forum here: CLICK HERE

I'll just say what I do to all newbies here to you:

We offer honest, yet friendly feedback in our forums so I hope you'll find yourself at home here. odie.gif There are many members here with different skill levels and technique, which makes MM more comfortable and diverse. sings.gif cheer.gif

Please, wander our halls, take in our colorful 'tiles' and join in the fun. hsdance.gif Idea.gif If you have any questions, please feel free to ask. rose.gif margarita.gif mm.gif mm.gif

Cheers!
~Cleo (aka Lori) Pharoah.gif


·······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.

MM Award Winner
 
+Quote Post  Go to the top of the page
Alan
post Apr 18 13, 18:19
Post #7


Laureate Legionnaire
******

Group: Gold Member
Posts: 3,446
Joined: 16-October 06
From: UK
Member No.: 298
Real Name: Alan McAlpine Douglas
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:Lori/Eisa/loads of old friends



Dear Anisha,

Yup, no nits !

Love
Alan


·······IPB·······

 
+Quote Post  Go to the top of the page
Maureen
post Apr 19 13, 00:04
Post #8


Egyptian
**

Group: Gold Member
Posts: 399
Joined: 11-April 13
From: Australia - The great Southern Land
Member No.: 5,178
Real Name: Maureen Clifford
Writer of: Poetry
Referred By:arnfinn



The only nit pick I would have and this might just be from an Australian perspective relates to the 'sweet bass' you used twice throughout the poem.

Everytime I read it I visualized this fish flopping around....sorry clownfish.gif blush.gif

Were it my poem and of course it isn't so I offer this in the spirit of friendship for you to use or lose as you choose - I would perhaps write it as

I unfold the memory
on lonely nights, when the arch
of my spine aches,
for the sensual reverberations,
of your sweet deep dark voice.


You play your deep bass notes/trumpet/guitar ?? for some friend,
the coolness of your jazz
raising goose bumps on my brown arm.

Other than that I thought it was pretty spot on and a great poem.

Cheers


Maureen
The Scribbly Bark Poet


·······IPB·······

 
+Quote Post  Go to the top of the page
Anisha
post Apr 19 13, 02:47
Post #9


Nomad
*

Group: Silver Member
Posts: 5
Joined: 17-April 13
Member No.: 5,181
Real Name: Anisha Bhat
Writer of: Poetry



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

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

If you have any ideas on how I could frame it so that i still use the word bass, but that I'm obviously referring to the instrument, and not the fish, I'd really appreciate it! In the meantime, I have some thinking to do writersblock.gif
 
+Quote Post  Go to the top of the page
Psyche
post Apr 28 13, 02:01
Post #10


Ornate Oracle
Group Icon

Group: Praetorian
Posts: 7,357
Joined: 27-August 04
From: Bariloche, Argentine Patagonia
Member No.: 78
Real Name: Sylvia Evelyn Maclagan
Writer of: Poetry & Prose
Referred By:David Ting




Anisha, I love your poem, so sensual, so sad... a life unlived...if only.. mellow.gif

At this moment I have no crits to make, but I do want to say that this piece reminds me absolutely of the movie "Ghost", with Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze R.I.P.

The famous pottery scene, with the music Unchained Melody...aahh...by The Righteous Brothers. The outright sensuality of that ill-destined couple in love. shocked.gif

The sweet bass of one of the R.B.'s, can't remember which. Guitar.gif

How Sam (P.S.)follows her, invisible, their eyes meeting, but only in that sort of limbo he inhabits. So many things left undone, their love broken off so suddenly ghostface.gif

Your heart-breaking finale:

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


Maybe you didn't write this as a tribute to them, but that's the way it touches me. Beautifully cloud9.gif

Thanks so much for sharing. You've already had suggestions made by others, so for the moment I'll just balm in the mystic light of 'excruciating ecstasy of impossibility' and the 'agonizing seduction of life - unlived' lovie.gif

Psyche a.k.a. Syl***

P.S.: My family is full of musicians, so I had no trouble with 'sweet bass', but I certainly understand Maureen's problem. I've no ideas right now.



·······IPB·······

Mis temas favoritos



The Lord replied, my precious, precious child, I love you and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.


"There is no life higher than the grasstops
Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind
Pours by like destiny, bending
Everything in one direction."

Sylvia Plath, Crossing the Water, Wuthering Heights.



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!

MM Award Winner
 
+Quote Post  Go to the top of the page
1 User(s) are reading this topic (1 Guests and 0 Anonymous Users)
0 Members:

Reply to this topicStart new topic

 

RSS Lo-Fi Version Time is now: 28th September 2022 - 14:59




Read our FLYERS - click below



Reference links provided to aid in fine-tuning your writings. ENJOY!

more Quotes
more Art Quotes
Dictionary.com ~ Thesaurus.com

Search:
for
Type in a word below to find its rhymes, synonyms, and more:

Word: