Poem Critiques
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Re: Poem Critiquesthanks for your honesty Gogant... I will try a "lighter" poem for you |
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Re: Poem CritiquesYou're most welcome indeed, Marion. Please read my, A Summer Lad, and you will smile and feel warm, and then, perhaps, I will see your poetry of the "lighter" side................g |
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Re: Poem CritiquesThanks RHPeat for the honest review, I will most surely keep my metaphors! |
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Re: Re: Poem CritiquesQuote: Originally Posted by MarionYost thanks for your honesty Gogant... I will try a "lighter" poem for you  Dark, Seems to be my speciallty though. Thanks.. All the best-Marion- Marion, if you are interested in dark check some of mine. I just spent some time on your page and it seems you have a talent for things of the shadowy persuasion, i enjoyed, though sometimes i wished i was reading more line to line, vs a paragraph. Thats simple as a few 'enter's though. It gives the writing a more inviting look and makes it easier to read. Darkness is def my specialty as well, though i am a very cheerful person on a day to day basis. i believe writing so dark helps me keep it on the page vs in my life. Please, take a look and let me know what you think as well. GOOD WORK LG 
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Re: Poem Critiquesthis is one of my older works. any thoughts? thought maybe it would be one that Marion would like Last edited by LGDisturb 10-25-2009 at 12:24:00 PM |
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Re: Poem CritiquesLGDisturb, I like "Cold" Good write for Dark poetry.... Awesome. Thanks for the acceptance on the friend request, I look forward to reading more of your work. Keep it up. All the best -Marion- |
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Re: Poem CritiquesI'm songmanpoet and would like some critiques to my poetry. I have many awards in poetry and some in songwriting, but any help would be appreciated. Sam |
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Re: Poem Critiques i just made this, please can i have reviews |
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fearless wordsI fear no words that I’ve spoken aloud |
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Re: Poem CritiquesI would like to hear from you if you can help me improve this poem. I would appreciate your critics. This is a poem dedicated to all of us. |
Looking forward...
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Re: Poem Critiques"Different views, one heart...POETRY" |
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Re: Poem CritiquesThis is a, typical for me, small poem written with rich imagery and I welcome any critique of it. |
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Re: Poem CritiquesAnother I request critique of. Thank you. |
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Re: Re: Poem CritiquesQuote: Originally Posted by Paolo This is a, typical for me, small poem written with rich imagery and I welcome any critique of it. The red wet apples resting in a yellow bowl on the window sill glisten as with fever, in heated pitch of midday sun Ah Polo, you use the Dr. William Carlos Williams method. (smile) That rich imagery that shifts consciousness so well as the reader is placed within the images. Nice little poem; short and to the point. Strong in that sense. The closure is a bit weak in the use of a metaphorical device that is a weak form in my opinion. (of) to make a metaphor is a waste. Even another preposition that offers some depth would be stronger. Something like beyond, inside or beneath would be a stronger preposition. A verb would be great, like awakens, illuminates, enlivens, or renews would offer the poem more depth in its closure. But even a reversal making the midday sun a possessive of the heated pitch would be stronger in my opinion, as (midday sun's heated pitch). Just some thoughts on the closing. Always liked this poem. It reminds me, in a strange way, of Williams red wheelbarrow poem. So direct with those images that you are there within the experience of the metaphor. You make the metaphor a snapshot in time much the way the haiku does: freezing the moment for eternity. A poet friend// RH Peat Last edited by RHPeat 11-23-2009 at 12:57:17 PM |
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Re: Re: Poem CritiquesQuote: Originally Posted by Paolo Another I request critique of. Thank you. Reaper The farmer starts, he does not speak his reaper clears the ground along the rows and mounds of earth and cuts with silent sound The strands of gold are thrown aside cast into the wind He moves into another row and Cuts the quiet again. Polo again your snapshot of time is wonderful and deeply felt. the farmer becomes part of the landscape of plowed fields as a gold dust is pronounced upon winds. A terrific poem. But again that dreaded (of) metaphor weakens part of the opening. Here I think a compound word would be stronger (mounded-earth). But any of the other methods given to change the metaphor in your other poem about the apples would also work here as well. Keep up the good writing my friend; I love how you have put the reader into the fields with the farmer. This is so grand// A poet friend// RH Peat |
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Re: Re: Re: Poem CritiquesQuote:
Originally Posted by RHPeat Originally Posted by Paolo This is a, typical for me, small poem written with rich imagery and I welcome any critique of it. The red wet apples resting in a yellow bowl on the window sill glisten as with fever, in heated pitch of midday sun Ah Polo, you use the Dr. William Carlos Williams method. (smile) That rich imagery that shifts consciousness so well as the reader is placed within the images. Nice little poem; short and to the point. Strong in that sense. The closure is a bit weak in the use of a metaphorical device that is a weak form in my opinion. (of) to make a metaphor is a waste. Even another preposition that offers some depth would be stronger. Something like beyond, inside or beneath would be a stronger preposition. A verb would be great, like awakens, illuminates, enlivens, or renews would offer the poem more depth in its closure. But even a reversal making the midday sun a possessive of the heated pitch would be stronger in my opinion, as (midday sun's heated pitch). Just some thoughts on the closing. Always liked this poem. It reminds me, in a strange way, of Williams red wheelbarrow poem. So direct with those images that you are there within the experience of the metaphor. You make the metaphor a snapshot in time much the way the haiku does: freezing the moment for eternity. A poet friend// RH Peat RH Peat, I cannot tell you how much I value your comments. Surprisingly I had only read Williams once nearly 20 years ago but his spare use of words that are carefully crafted as so to be weighted with images never left me. Even my first poem written as a child was spare but weighted. I knew the Sun would be too bright I stood up anyway and fell into it I am going to consider your suggestions and see how they might work. Thank you so much, Paolo Last edited by Paolo 11-24-2009 at 10:03:58 AM |
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Re: Poem CritiquesHardware Garden |
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PLEASE READ ~PSYCHO~THANK YOU FOR READING... Please ask question if you have any, I am not here to argue or have a fight... |
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Re: Re: Poem CritiquesQuote: Originally Posted by Paolo Hardware Garden Have you bruised geranium-- smelled its blood--- The red flower explodes atop the spike--- too beautiful to care that it smells metallic like shiny skin--- a new bucket, galvanized wears--- Polo; I think you want (has your bruised geranium smelled it's blood?) or (Have you, bruised geranium, smelled your blood?). Either would work depending on your intent there. the way the line is constructed it's a bit mis-leading. In L3 you could replace the word (the) with (your) since you have already personified the geranium. Just continue referring to it in the second person within the poem. (you, your, yours) etc. That would make L6 (your) matallic smell like shiny skin—a new bucket—with galvanized wear. Nice poem as usual. your metaphor sings out in its own special truth. The passion of the bloom is revealed. a poet friend// RH peat Last edited by RHPeat 11-25-2009 at 01:08:59 PM |
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Re: Re: Re: Poem CritiquesQuote: Originally Posted by RHPeat Originally Posted by Paolo Hardware Garden Have you bruised geranium-- smelled its blood--- The red flower explodes atop the spike--- too beautiful to care that it smells metallic like shiny skin--- a new bucket, galvanized wears--- Polo; I think you want (has your bruised geranium smelled it's blood?) or (Have you, bruised geranium, smelled your blood?). Either would work depending on your intent there. the way the line is constructed it's a bit mis-leading. In L3 you could replace the word (the) with (your) since you have already personified the geranium. Just continue referring to it in the second person within the poem. (you, your, yours) etc. That would make L6 (your) matallic smell like shiny skin—a new bucket—with galvanized wear. Nice poem as usual. your metaphor sings out in its own special truth. The passion of the bloom is revealed. a poet friend// RH peat It is of humor to me that the omission, or addition, of a word can change the way something reads. The first line should have read; Have you bruised the geranium-- It was my hope to present this as if I were saying this to you while I show you the geranium and sharing with you even the odd smell. A smell I happen to enjoy. Thank you again for your guidance, Paolo |
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Re: Re: Re: Re: Poem CritiquesQuote: Originally Posted by Paolo Originally Posted by RHPeat Originally Posted by Paolo Hardware Garden Have you bruised geranium-- smelled its blood--- The red flower explodes atop the spike--- too beautiful to care that it smells metallic like shiny skin--- a new bucket, galvanized wears--- Polo; I think you want (has your bruised geranium smelled it's blood?) or (Have you, bruised geranium, smelled your blood?). Either would work depending on your intent there. the way the line is constructed it's a bit mis-leading. In L3 you could replace the word (the) with (your) since you have already personified the geranium. Just continue referring to it in the second person within the poem. (you, your, yours) etc. That would make L6 (your) matallic smell like shiny skin—a new bucket—with galvanized wear. Nice poem as usual. your metaphor sings out in its own special truth. The passion of the bloom is revealed. a poet friend// RH peat It is of humor to me that the omission, or addition, of a word can change the way something reads. The first line should have read; Have you bruised the geranium-- It was my hope to present this as if I were saying this to you while I show you the geranium and sharing with you even the odd smell. A smell I happen to enjoy. Thank you again for your guidance, Paolo Many times a critique will lead us to unexpected places; it can cause us to change things in a very different manner due to what is said. Having those unattached eyes look at our work can be valuable in many strange ways. The (article) (the) can make a big difference in the reading. It does read better with the word in the line. I always think that a critique is to make you rethink your work and its depth not to really make suggested changes. You prove me out once again. Oh, by the way, thanx for the comments on my poem they made me look into the depth a bit more. I'm still thinking over what you had to say. Later Polo. A poet friend// RH Peat. |
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Re: Poem CritiquesI come from a farming family and this work holds a great deal of interest for those who work the ground, like Wendell Berry. Last edited by Paolo 11-30-2009 at 09:04:47 PM |
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Re: Re: Poem CritiquesQuote: Originally Posted by Paolo I come from a farming family and this work holds a great deal of interest for those who work the ground, like Wendell Berry. Blade Music The file draws it’s teeth along the hardened edge, the plowshare sings the music of red clay. A stone tuned the blade to it’s tone, then brought it to the smith to see if there is wish or choice in remembering the cleft a coulter took too soon to lose it’s voice-- Paolo I don't know if I'd change anything much here. I might suggest the plowshare singing its melody into the earth. That this: the plowshare sings the music of red clay. might read something along the lines of: the plowshare sings (its) music (through or into) red clay. It makes the compounding of the metaphor forced into both sides of the image. That music belongs to the plowshare and it is becoming more a part of the land by that music being spread into or through the red clay. Of course even a word that related to music might even be better. A musical term would even allow the clay to become a bigger part of the music of the plow. This is a almost nothing. The rest of the poem sings. Concise to the point and very enjoyable to read for the metaphors do their thing and pull the reader into the poem as a whole. Later a poet friend RH Peat |
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Re: Poem CritiquesTonight there is no rush. |
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Re: Re: Poem CritiquesQuote: Originally Posted by wolfinlove Tonight there is no rush. T'is breezy and the air is cold and crisp Smell this, Ah! Refreshing! Goosebumps arise as I Stare across and into this dark field, Only to contrast with the sky alight. All constellations have been shown to My straining eyes of dark blue; For they peer into a sky so vast and alive with light. I have nothing to do, nothing to wake for In the morning, I only want to lie and wait For morning dew! And so... I do! With nothing but dew and morning light that await me, I attend this adventurous engagement... I lie between two palms, To which the winds provoke a secret conversation. Both have words that is Nature's secret language, Undecipherable, though t'is beauty to embrace their sway and swish of language that amazes. Close my eyes... Yes! sound of bliss! Open my eyes... Ah! what I have missed! A sky artfully lit and a quality of wonderment ensues, As my newly awakened eyes adjust to the light Of stars that are staring and winking at me! I gaze upon all of the constellations ablaze in fiery glory; White fiery light hidden by Nature's natural camouflage. There is a time of day when the bright light of a star hides these White fires of distant galaxies a-hidden by another's fury This one blazing luminary, (The highest point being at noon) disguises the beauty, which appeals to thine eye, Of theses thousands of thousands of blinking Night eyes! The power of nature t'is so divine! Why? Why? Does this Mother of Nature hide Her innumerable eyes of white diamonds? The amazing and powerfully beautiful, Other side of the coin, Mother Nature! As I awake, in a dew-soaked meadow, warmth And yellow light is falling upon me and this verdure; (Of which my slight body is hidden) The two palms have quieted their specious and Covert conversation, and Mother Nature's eyes Have been disguised, and so returns my Implacable anger of Nature's unremitting choice To hide the stars! The divine and unparalleled beauty of last night has Inspired a sense of perspicacity of what is the Night! For shame Mother! Nature Hide Your Dark Side Not! I'm hoping to have this poem critiqued and am willing to accept any and all constructive criticism. Thank You. Wolf, I really enjoy this poem. Though below I ma some suggestions. The words in (here) are things I fe shod be mostly deleted; they mostly are words like "and" and others that steps us away from an experience and with their elimination the narritive goes immediately to the object or action. Next while I enjoy the use of old English words like Tis or thine, today it appears to many to be out of date and resulting in a bit of a corniness. I don't hold to this despite others. In brackets i.e. { } you will find a suggestion of the use of a different words. I was and am still guilty of adding 'ands" in my writing and after I get the wold written I take time to see if the and steps the reader back from what I have written. Now for the content of the poem. I once found myself sneaking out of the house and laying on a picnic table that sat in a lush field looking up at the stars feeling much as the poem had for me. Using the universe as a metaphor of a women for a universe is ingenious and made it more important to me. The details were certainly important to the voice of the poem and your carefully crafted work helped to take me along with. Very good work. A poet friend, Paolo Tonight there is no rush. (T'is) it breezy and the air, cold and crisp Smell this, Ah! Refreshing! Goosebumps (a) rise (as) I Stare across (and) into this dark field, Only to contrast with the sky alight. All constellations have been shown to My straining eyes of dark blue; (For) they peer into a sky so vast and alive with light. I have nothing to do, nothing to wake for In the morning; I only want to lie and wait For morning dew! (And) So... I do! With nothing but dew and morning light that await me, I attend this adventurous engagement... I lie between two palms, (To which the )winds provoke a secret conversation. Both have words that is Nature's secret language, Undecipherable, though (t'is ) its beauty to embrace their sway and swish of language that amazes. Close my eyes... Yes! sound of bliss! Open my eyes... Ah! what I have missed! A sky artfully lit (and) a quality of wonderment ensues, As my newly awakened eyes adjust to the light Of stars that are staring (and) winking at me! I gaze upon all of the constellations{, }ablaze in fiery glory; White fiery light hidden by Nature's natural camouflage. There is a time of day when the bright light of a star hides these White fires of distant galaxies a-hidden by another's fury This one blazing luminary{; }The highest point being at noon disguises the beauty, which appeals to (thine) {your}eye{s}, Of theses thousands of thousands of blinking Night eyes! The power of nature (t'is) so divine! Why? Why? Does this Mother of Nature hide{?} Her innumerable eyes of white diamonds? The amazing (and)powerfully beautiful, Other side of the coin, Mother Nature! As I awake, in a dew-soaked meadow, warmth (And) yellow light is falling upon me and this verdure; (Of which my slight body is hidden) The two palms have quieted their specious and Covert conversation, and Mother Nature's eyes Have been disguised, and so returns my Implacable anger of Nature's unremitting choice To hide the stars! The divine and unparalleled beauty of last night has Inspired a sense of perspicacity of what is the Night! For shame Mother! Nature Hide Your Dark Side Not Last edited by Paolo 12-03-2009 at 11:38:50 AM |
Poetry is what is lost in translation.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.