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Critical Analysis #2
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On Love and Mirrors
| Critical Analysis #2 |
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On Love and Mirrors |
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beautyincalvary Member
since 2006-07-13
Posts 98 |
None of these are edited. I think they are separate poems, but they could be combined. I don't know... I am standing dead still. leaves twist fecal brown and bloody maroon, the skies howl in its greatness and I feel the rain droplets splat against my forehead, drip nose to tongue wet like salty tears and popcorn. thunder rolls in barrels of rum on a pirate ship; dead still in the hazel smell of burnt chocolate and autumn. * massage onto face the lotion reads- a cool tingle, then a massive rush of fire, burning engulfing, with no tears to soothe the peroxide- just me, t-shirt and plaid jammies, skinny and fat in the mirror, crying silently and smiling knowingly, like burning cookies that choke your lungs in unopened windows, I stare blankly at my cheeks of fire, pores oozing of passion as my beauty startles me in my violent ugliness, Loneliness quivers in my knees and aches in my back, draws me limp under white down and writes with a pencil; it burns in my face. * when did my arms become so small yesterday they were like branches safe to climb, today fragile like the time I cracked and fell. I, naked, but for a lavender towel that smells like wet hair (and I smell like wet hair), scratch my leg and notice, I am a woman at one glance, but squints and stares tell me nothing, making faces brings no laughter; what is there to detest and yet everything that stares at me seems to crack and dry, a sailboat not sinking but tipped on its side. [This message has been edited by beautyincalvary (12-30-2007 09:47 PM).] |
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| © Copyright 2007 emily boresow - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Brad Member Ascendant
since 1999-08-20
Posts 5705Jejudo, South Korea |
I can't go into detail yet. No time. But I had to say that I see so much to like here that I'm glad to see you haven't given up yet. I don't think I've ever seen someone make the jump as fast as you have. No, these aren't perfect (what poem is?), but you really are able to capture points that make me eager to read your next one. What makes this so exciting, perhaps, is that your eco-poem wasn't a lucky shot, it was a sign of real improvement. Can you see/feel what I'm talking about? |
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Yejun Junior Member
since 2007-11-21
Posts 49 |
These are my favorite lines: quote: They say so much in such a simple structure. I'd change the punctuation though. |
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beautyincalvary Member
since 2006-07-13
Posts 98 |
Thanks for the comments! Yes, I feel like my poetry has changed somehow. I don't really know why; I've been trying to read a lot (I found this amazing book called Cinquefoil). And the punctuation is always a problem... I just don't know what to do! When I write, I honestly do it by making new lines, but I understand people need punctuation to read the poem how I'm saying it in my head. Any suggestions for better punctuation? emily |
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beautyincalvary Member
since 2006-07-13
Posts 98 |
Brad, what do you mean by "not giving up" and "the jump"? Heh  |
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Brad Member Ascendant
since 1999-08-20
Posts 5705Jejudo, South Korea |
I was worried that your teacher would discourage you from writing. That's what I meant about not giving up. The 'jump' is harder to explain. The metaphor I use is learning a second language. There's a point when learning a second language where you can actually speak it to a native speaker of that language in a real conversation. It's not easy and you still make a lot of mistakes, but it is a tremendously empowering experience. I think the same thing happens when you're writing. It's not that you stop writing bad poetry (you are always going to make mistakes in a first language, let alone a second one), it's that you can 'see' it, 'feel' it. It's a sense of coherence or something -- I'm not sure. -- but as far as I can tell, it's a feeling that allows you discriminate between a rule "make it as simple as possible" and knowing when something just sounds "right". |
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beautyincalvary Member
since 2006-07-13
Posts 98 |
Hmm, something to contemplate.... When you have time, let me know the mistakes that I make... I am ignorant until I know what I am doing wrong, and once I know what not to do, I will never do it again. And that's how I improve, I guess, if that makes sense. Thanks so much for your input! emily |
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oceanvu2 Senior Member
since 2007-02-24
Posts 1066Santa Monica, California, USA |
Hi Beautyincalvary "a sailboat not sinking but tipped on its side." I don't know a thing about you, but this rips the heck out of what I've seen of yours before, and boy, or girl, this work is really on a path! I'd just go back and look at the adjectives. What can be compressed or expanded? It may or may not hang together as a single poem (I think it does) but I'd get back into the edit ring and bring it up to killer level. Best, Jim Aitken |
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oceanvu2 Senior Member
since 2007-02-24
Posts 1066Santa Monica, California, USA |
And, goodness, Emily, I think you once sent me an email which scared the heck out of me. I apologize for having been such a dolt! Best, Jim |
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beautyincalvary Member
since 2006-07-13
Posts 98 |
Thanks, Jim, and I vaguely recall an email, but I don't remember what I did to scare you! I'm sorry though! |
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TomMark Member Elite
since 2007-07-27
Posts 2133LA,CA |
Hi, beautyincalvary I have read several times and I like all of them. I read as three different feelings in different time. "I am standing dead still. leaves twist fecal brown and bloody maroon, the skies howl in its greatness and I feel the rain droplets splat against my forehead, drip nose to tongue wet like salty tears and popcorn. thunder rolls in barrels of rum on a pirate ship; dead still in the hazel smell of burnt chocolate and autumn." The talk of Tomb Stone or personal arrogance. no sorrow and no self pity though there were words of rains or burnt chocolate and autumn. * "massage onto face the lotion reads- a cool tingle, then a massive rush of fire, burning engulfing, with no tears to soothe the peroxide- just me, t-shirt and plaid jammies, skinny and fat in the mirror, crying silently and smiling knowingly, like burning cookies that choke your lungs in unopened windows, I stare blankly at my cheeks of fire, pores oozing of passion as my beauty startles me in my violent ugliness, Loneliness quivers in my knees and aches in my back, draws me limp under white down and writes with a pencil; it burns in my face." No matter how hurt I was, I was madly in love though with the words cool and tears. * "when did my arms become so small yesterday they were like branches safe to climb, today fragile like the time I cracked and fell. I, naked, but for a lavender towel that smells like wet hair (and I smell like wet hair), scratch my leg and notice, I am a woman at one glance, but squints and stares tell me nothing, making faces brings no laughter; what is there to detest and yet everything that stares at me seems to crack and dry, a sailboat not sinking but tipped on its side" The confuse and the feeling of uncertainty of both or everything involved.. Sailboat tipped on its side was faraway from sinking.. but you ended with it to give a great significance. my thought I love the read. |
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beautyincalvary Member
since 2006-07-13
Posts 98 |
Thanks for you replies- I'm glad you guys think I have potential But, actually, I'm really kind of lost on how to edit these... Normally, I can figure some things out here and there, but I'm just kind of unsure...And Thanks TomMark, you were right on the dot |
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