The Little Red Book

[redyelruc]

I see that the forum has a lot of new posts everyday which is a good thing but I don't want to take up so many threads so like Kitten and HippieChick, I will put all of my poems in one thread which I will update with anything new that I write. I intend this thread to be a self-improvement tool so as usual all comments/criticisms are more than welcome.

http://www.hipforums.com/forums/images/icons/newicons/icon32.gif The Hobo's Life (Ode to a homecooked meal)

No doorbells to disturb you,
No keys to lose and swear.
No mortgages to sweat over,
No bills to hide or tear.


No redecoration needed,
No trash to take outside.
No lawns to go unheeded,
No neighbours who deride.

But it's not all good, this wanderin' life,
Drawbacks like all great deals.
No nights in with a darling wife,
No homeless homecooked meals.

[redyelruc]

http://www.hipforums.com/forums/images/smilies/sad.gif Suicide Note

Barrel to temple, not long left now.....

12 months of pointless one-night stands, countless shitty bands
Full of half-assed attempts at reconcilliation in full-blown inebriation,
That one long conversation......
And then so many unanswered calls, punched walls and drunken falls.
Nothing can stop my self-condemnation.
I've tried it all...........
Meditation, medication, even psychiatric evaluation
But you're still there.

You've left me, but you just won't leave me alone.
You're memory's a cancer, It's gnawing at my bones.
I've heard them all........
First opinions, second opinions and now I hear the devil's minions.
They've come to take me home,
To free me from this living hell.
But unlike my chance with you,
I won't fuck this up, Michelle.

[redyelruc]

http://www.hipforums.com/forums/images/icons/newicons/crazy.gif Alone

To wank alone is normal,
To speak alone, not quite.
To smoke alone, a pleasure,
But to drink alone is shite.

[WoodstockChild]

The first one was simple and to the point, I liked it :)
But I really really enjoyed the second one. A lot of emotion in it that the reader can definitely feel. Kudos!

[redyelruc]

http://www.hipforums.com/forums/images/icons/newicons/icon15.gif An Idiot's Loss


Unforced laughter,
Untroubled smile.
Unscripted answers,
Natural style.
She had it ALL. She gave it ALL. I lost it ALL.
How infantile
My Jealousy
Green-eyed monster
Couldn't see
How innocent
Her love for me.
Uncontrolled
Stupidity.
_______________________________________________

[WoodstockChild]

Seems like how I write sometimes
I just put my anger down on paper in a poetic way.

[redyelruc]

http://www.hipforums.com/forums/images/icons/icon1.gif Love's Smile

Our love was once a perfect smile,
Pure and Brilliant White,
Gleaming from Attention
Morning, noon and night.


Assured, I grew complacent,
Teeth began to stain.
Payed her less Attention
Causing the first pain.


I tried to shore-up the cavities
With fillings of silver and gold.
But no cure beats Prevention
Perfection 's never sold.


Anaestethised by Apathy
I watched our teeth fall out.
Our perfect smile becoming
A bloody gummy mouth.

[redyelruc]

http://www.hipforums.com/forums/images/smilies/mad.gif The Seeds of Racism


Mommy, mommy,
Come meet my friend.
Which one son,
That boy near the bend?

No, Mommy, No.
He's got curly hair.
I see him now son,
That boy over there.

No, mommy, No,
He's taller than that!
That must be him, son,
That boy with the hat.

No, Mommy, No,
His shirt is blue.
Oh!
The Black kid!

[redyelruc]

http://www.hipforums.com/forums/images/icons/newicons/icon5.gif The Sin of Apathy


Lying here in my envelope of peacefulness,
Mozart's melodies bathing me in bliss,
Streams of summer sunset sooth my soul,
Sleep well, they say, sleep well.

Eyes closed, my mind wanders.
Where to tonight I wonder.
Down dark and dreary dungeons,
To hell, they say, to hell.

There's no flames, no fire,
And no fucking Lucifer.
But I did nothing, I did nothing, I protest.
Exactly, they say, exactly.

[redyelruc]

:cuss: Visit from A Woman Scorned


She's back!
A midnight thunderstorm
Of vengeful stilletto strikes
And screaming blue murder.
The fluffy clouds of slumber,
Scattered, ripped asunder.
No wonder.
Amid ignored predictions
And misplaced convictions,
Comes consequence.

[redyelruc]

:$ Liar


Oh pinnochio puppet,
Carved with lies,
Artfully polished.
You're a modern masterpiece
So proud in your deceit.

An advertiser's wet dream
Of self-promoting stolen ideas
Stuck together
With a resin of half-truths.

BEWARE

Truths termites
Will hungrily reveal
Your dusty origins.

[Justagrrl420]

I like most of your poems. Especially the last one and Love's Smile..very well written thanks for sharing :)

[Vetty214]

http://www.hipforums.com/forums/images/smilies/sad.gif Suicide Note

Barrel to temple, not long left now.....

12 months of pointless one-night stands, countless shitty bands
Full of half-assed attempts at reconcilliation in full-blown inebriation,
That one long conversation......
And then so many unanswered calls, punched walls and drunken falls.
Nothing can stop my self-condemnation.
I've tried it all...........
Meditation, medication, even psychiatric evaluation
But you're still there.

You've left me, but you just won't leave me alone.
You're memory's a cancer, It's gnawing at my bones.
I've heard them all........
First opinions, second opinions and now I hear the devil's minions.
They've come to take me home,
To free me from this living hell.
But unlike my chance with you,
I won't fuck this up, Michelle.
You are very good with rhyming - most rhyme you use is very authentic and doesn't feel forced. This poem could be spoken word type - very passionate. The Alone poem was good but thought I would share that for me... the drinking alone would have been "trite"... pretty typical in a writer's life I think. Keep up the good work. There was one other one I wanted to comment on... but I forgot now. I'll go look for it... Vetty

[Vetty214]

:cuss: Visit from A Woman Scorned


She's back!
A midnight thunderstorm
Of vengeful stilletto strikes
And screaming blue murder.
The fluffy clouds of slumber,
Scattered, ripped asunder.
No wonder.
Amid ignored predictions
And misplaced convictions,
Comes consequence.
this has such good imagery.... midnight thunderstorm, vengeful stilletto... You should build on this one more... I read it and want more... Vetty

[redyelruc]

Thanks for your comments justagirl and vetty. I appreciate you taking the time to read some of my stuff..

this has such good imagery.... midnight thunderstorm, vengeful stilletto... You should build on this one more... I read it and want more... Vetty
This poem is actually adapted from a journal entry from about 6 months ago. I tried to make it into a short story but when I re-read it, it was too full of imagery. Some friends commented too that it was hard to follow.

The night in question was a crazy one. So the journal entry was a bit all over the place. I took some of the phrases that I liked and compiled rather than wrote this poem. But it is a bit short. Maybe I'll have another go.

Anyway, as always thanks for your comments.:)
Peace,
A.

[redyelruc]

:( Working Class Whiner

Born into mediocrity,
You wallow in
Blue-collared bitterness.

A blame culture where
Every can't hides a won't.

Fate, a convenient ally
Excuses lack of success
With Karma-coated opt-outs.

You live in dreams you should be chasing,
Lament your cursed luck as Destiny.

And yet you wonder why?
__________________________________________________ __

As always, comments appreciated. What do you think about the title? OK?

[hippie_chick666]

I like the repetition of certain sounds. I love how the title sounds. It seems to roll off that tongue. Good work!

Peace and love

[blackheartbitch]

:( Working Class Whiner

Born into mediocrity,
You wallow in
Blue-collared bitterness.

A blame culture where
Every can't hides a won't.

Fate, a convenient ally
Excuses lack of success
With Karma-coated opt-outs.

You live in dreams you should be chasing,
Lament your cursed luck as Destiny.

And yet you wonder why?
__________________________________________________ __

As always, comments appreciated. What do you think about the title? OK?
i rather liked this one it made me think of the future ill have some day and the lives of those i know... i also like Visit from A Woman Scorned you sounded quite upset and angered...i know the feeling of being picked up and dropped by some heartless person who swares to love you...its hard and it hurts like hell...i hope everything works itself out with her whether it be the way you want it or not just as long as its whats best for you and your happiness

[redyelruc]

Thanks guys for reading and taking the time to comment. I just read Working Class Whiner again. It seems a very harsh view, especially coming from me. I'm pure working class. But I don't like people who constantly complain about their situations without really trying to change them.

So, I think I am going to try and write something to rebuke it, kind of 'Working Class Hero' if you may. If any of you poets would like to do the same it would be fun to see some of the results posted on here.

Anybody up for the challenge?

Peace,
A.

[Vetty214]

Anybody up for the challenge?

Peace,
A.
I can try.... back in a few days on this, not sure when I can get to it and I really do kind of like the idea/theme so want to take a serious stab at it. It would be fun. Vetty

[KittenX]

:cuss: Visit from A Woman Scorned


She's back!
A midnight thunderstorm
Of vengeful stilletto strikes
And screaming blue murder.
The fluffy clouds of slumber,
Scattered, ripped asunder.
No wonder.
Amid ignored predictions
And misplaced convictions,
Comes consequence.Wow! This I love a lot. The juxtaposition of "asunder" and "no wonder" was amazing. This one's got teeth!

[redyelruc]

Wow! This I love a lot. The juxtaposition of "asunder" and "no wonder" was amazing. This one's got teeth!
Thanks. A nice bowl of milk for you.

I can try.... back in a few days on this, not sure when I can get to it and I really do kind of like the idea/theme so want to take a serious stab at it. It would be fun. Vetty
Cool. I might take a while too as I'm up to my eyeballs at the moment. It will be fun if a couple of people post poems all on the same theme. Just to have a look and compare.

[usfcat]

wow you are very talented,I must say. Great work! Also, I love your sig. Looks so amazing.

[redyelruc]

:( Cocktail Thoughts

One more shot!
That's all I want.
A second chance
To dream again.

One more shot!
That's all I need.
A tequila river,
To drown you in.

One last shot!
That's all - it takes
A final choice,
To reach the end.

__________________________________________________ ________

Random thoughts that just seemed to flow while I was extremely drunk last night. What do you guys think?

[Vetty214]

Ode to the Working Class

This morning my waitress looked in the mirror
and saw her mother there behind her tired eyes
and remembered how she loved horses as a girl
and dreamed of having one she called her own.
She calls her mom everyday.

Today my neighbor’s son, a soldier, home now
after one month of service in Iraq, his right foot
blown clear off thinks, he will never play soccer
again, except in dreams where he will be the star.
He still mows the lawn for me.

The old man bagging groceries at my corner store
will lift his old wife out of her wheelchair when he
gets home, and then, after changing her diaper and
cooking dinner, he will remember their first date.
He kisses his wife’s forehead every night.

Late tonight, a young woman who ran from home
a year ago, will strip down to nothing and smile to
make ends meet, baring her breasts to hungry men
as she wonders if her little sister back home is safe.
She prays about her often.

The sunburned young man holding up the sign on
the interstate saying slow down, caution, workers,
is daydreaming of his girlfriend who wears short
skirts, and who said I love you to him last Friday.
He takes her flowers every payday.

Not sure I really like this, but it's what I came up with in response to something more "hero" vs. whiner. I think the idea is good but it does need a lot more work - at least from my perspective. Oh well, no more time today - have to get some chores done! Vetty:sunny:

[redyelruc]

I like your poem Vetty. The idea is there but it's a lot less developed than most of your other work. Still, you seem to have encompassed the Hero in his/her many forms. This is my attempt. I wrote it last night. Still unpolished, just sort of flowed after spending the last few days mulling over the idea.



:worthy: A Real Hero

These calloused hands tell their own tale:
A life of hard work, my body for sale.

I built the towers for you big-shot bankers,
You heroes of commerce, you white-collared wankers.

I laid the pathes for your heroes of war
To march their armies and go down in 'lore.

I built the houses you heroes call homes,
I even caste those garden gnomes.

I'm the man that built them all.
The KL tower, the Chinese wall.

So when you stand there up on high,
A concrete shadow in the sky.

Remember my words
Before you condemn.
Real heroes build pedestals,
Not stand upon them.
__________________________________________________ ________

Don't be shy to leave a comment or especially a criticism.
Let me know what you think, please.

[redyelruc]

I always find thunderstorms an inspration and last night I was blessed with an apocolyptic one. Absolutely awe-inspiring.

:H Birthday Thoughts

At midnight on the eve of my birth
I got a surprise from Mother Earth
With violet skies and blinding light
Thunderous cheers of heaven's delight
She blasted away my failure and sin.
with trembling heart, I shed my skin.

I stood naked and careless, a baby again,
My soul soaring and fearless, a bird amongst men.

Like a bolt from the blue
My thoughts turned to you.
My wings had been clipped
And falling, I knew.

These powerful rains that so filled the night
Were torrents of torment, tears at my plight.
They mourned the man that I used to be,
Who died on the day that you walked out on me.
__________________________________________________ ______________


Need I say it once more... All comment and criticisms are more than welcome.
Thanks for reading.
Peace.

[redyelruc]

^^

[usfcat]

WOW! Birthday Thoughts was REALLY amazing. great work :):)

[redyelruc]

WOW! Birthday Thoughts was REALLY amazing. great work :):)
Thanks. A nice bowl of milk for you too.

[Vetty214]

Aidan, wow, Birthday Thoughts was an amazing poem. I love that poem. You are right about the working class poem attempt, most of the work I've been posting here has seen an average of ten revisions and effort x10 poured in. I put that poem in with my body of work for tweaking down the road. Will see, sometimes things sit in there and I just never get to them but other times I might be reading some other poem written by someone else and it may remind me of something I wrote and I will go back and pull it out and work on it again, and again. The inspiration has to strike. I much preferred your "A Real Hero" to the whiner poem. Much better idea and I like the direction you took on that one. Take care, I worked on a Villanelle form for the first time. May post here... will see, was going to work on it a bit more tonight but it's getting late. Will go read some of the other posts. I miss a couple of days and lots of new stuff! Take care, Vetty

[little ski]

wow, your poems are amazing. i enjoyed every single one. i hope to read lots more of your work. :) X

[she88]

i love your work. i thought that suicide note was perfect.

[redyelruc]

Thank you all. She88 and little ski, welcome to the forum. I'm pretty new myself and I hope you enjoy this place as much as I do.

Peace,
A.

[Autentique]

http://www.hipforums.com/forums/images/smilies/sad.gif Suicide Note

Barrel to temple, not long left now.....

12 months of pointless one-night stands, countless shitty bands
Full of half-assed attempts at reconcilliation in full-blown inebriation,
That one long conversation......
And then so many unanswered calls, punched walls and drunken falls.
Nothing can stop my self-condemnation.
I've tried it all...........
Meditation, medication, even psychiatric evaluation
But you're still there.

You've left me, but you just won't leave me alone.
You're memory's a cancer, It's gnawing at my bones.
I've heard them all........
First opinions, second opinions and now I hear the devil's minions.
They've come to take me home,
To free me from this living hell.
But unlike my chance with you,
I won't fuck this up, Michelle.

this is so personal, is almost like reading a story.
I can really feel the despair... and its just amazing how you wrote it

[Autentique]

http://www.hipforums.com/forums/images/icons/newicons/icon15.gif An Idiot's Loss


She had it ALL. She gave it ALL. I lost it ALL.

_______________________________________________
I love this whole poem, but specially when you say that.. its crushing.

[Autentique]

http://www.hipforums.com/forums/images/icons/newicons/icon5.gif The Sin of Apathy


Lying here in my envelope of peacefulness,
Mozart's melodies bathing me in bliss,
Streams of summer sunset sooth my soul,
Sleep well, they say, sleep well.

Eyes closed, my mind wanders.
Where to tonight I wonder.
Down dark and dreary dungeons,
To hell, they say, to hell.

There's no flames, no fire,
And no fucking Lucifer.
But I did nothing, I did nothing, I protest.
Exactly, they say, exactly.uff...just amazing, the more poems I read the more I liked them :)

[Autentique]

I always find thunderstorms an inspration and last night I was blessed with an apocolyptic one. Absolutely awe-inspiring.

:H Birthday Thoughts
With violet skies and blinding light
Thunderous cheers of heaven's delight
She blasted away my failure and sin.
with trembling heart, I shed my skin.

My wings had been clipped
And falling, I knew.
__________________________________________________ ______________
WoW :)

[redyelruc]

Thanks Authentique for your kind words. I'm glad that you enjoyed these poems. I'm especially happy you liked The Sin of Apathy. It's my baby. I've had it with me since I was 17, The first poem I ever wrote. It's not perfect but I will never change it.

Everything else here has been written since I joined these forums a couple of months ago. Signing up and reading others work has been an inspiration and increased my motivation to start writing again.

To all of you forum members,
Thanks for the help and inspiration,
Peace,
A.

[redyelruc]

This is a bit of a change for me. Most of my writing is pretty straight-forward and self-explanatory. I've purposely tried to write a more complex poem, inspired by the likes of Vetty214 and KittenX(who for all newcomers and interested parties has an amazing thread called Kitten's Litter with a huge array of poems and styles which has been running for three years. Check it out!).


I'm not sure of my effort, so I would love to hear from you all with any comments or suggestions for improvement. Let me know what you think. Even if you hate it. I can take it.

:dupe: The Original Protection Racket

Hanging clouds of incense
Reek of guilt.
Morn's golden rays of innocence,
Long since smothered.

That old Italian blanket
Suffocates the afternoon
Under promises of protection
From a flame-filled fate.

For a weekly ransom
Of copper-minted wishes
That fill the Roman dishes

It unveils a silver staircase
Through the choking clouds of eve.
Those golden rays, at sunset,
Visible once more.
______________________________________

What do you think it's about, if anything? Does it say anything to you?
I don't know really. But I am, as always, eager to hear from anyone who wants to comment or criticise.

Peace,
A.

[Autentique]

Thanks Authentique for your kind words. I'm glad that you enjoyed these poems. I'm especially happy you liked The Sin of Apathy. It's my baby. I've had it with me since I was 17, The first poem I ever wrote. It's not perfect but I will never change it.

Everything else here has been written since I joined these forums a couple of months ago. Signing up and reading others work has been an inspiration and increased my motivation to start writing again.

To all of you forum members,
Thanks for the help and inspiration,
Peace,
A.17?? You must have been a very interesting 17 year old :)

[redyelruc]

Interesting is a polite way of saying fucked up. At the time , I felt so alienated and alone in the world. A real crazy. Like I was the only one who saw the reality of it all.

Now, I realise that there are many more of us. We are still a minority but we can be active. We can fight the apathy in our daily lives. Strive at least to improve our personal worlds. When there are enough personal worlds being improved, they will take over. A power beyond the realities we are forced to endure as destined. We will dance amongst the stars, slide down crescent moons and revel in the harmony that was always there, the one we helped unveil.

[Autentique]

When there are enough personal worlds being improved, they will take over. A power beyond the realities we are forced to endure as destined. We will dance amongst the stars, slide down crescent moons and revel in the harmony that was always there, the one we helped unveil.happy thoughts :)

[Cassifrass]

Your poems make me feel all fluttery.. :blush:

Look forward to seeing more!

[Cassifrass]

This is a bit of a change for me. Most of my writing is pretty straight-forward and self-explanatory. I've purposely tried to write a more complex poem, inspired by the likes of Vetty214 and KittenX(who for all newcomers and interested parties has an amazing thread called Kitten's Litter with a huge array of poems and styles which has been running for three years. Check it out!).


I'm not sure of my effort, so I would love to hear from you all with any comments or suggestions for improvement. Let me know what you think. Even if you hate it. I can take it.

:dupe: The Original Protection Racket

Hanging clouds of incense
Reek of guilt.
Morn's golden rays of innocence,
Long since smothered.

That old Italian blanket
Suffocates the afternoon
Under promises of protection
From a flame-filled fate.

For a weekly ransom
Of copper-minted wishes
That fill the Roman dishes

It unveils a silver staircase
Through the choking clouds of eve.
Those golden rays, at sunset,
Visible once more.
______________________________________

What do you think it's about, if anything? Does it say anything to you?
I don't know really. But I am, as always, eager to hear from anyone who wants to comment or criticise.

Peace,
A.
I *think* this is about religion... it speaks of guilt, innocence lost, promises of salvation unmet.

Did I get it? LOL..

[emelia]

I really do love your poetry, it flows really well and evokes powerful emotion, I do hope you keep on writing forever:D

Much love,
Emelia

[KittenX]

Wow red, I'm flattered, you made me squeee. :D Thanks for the plug!!

This is a bit of a change for me. Most of my writing is pretty straight-forward and self-explanatory. I've purposely tried to write a more complex poem, inspired by the likes of Vetty214 and KittenX(who for all newcomers and interested parties has an amazing thread called Kitten's Litter with a huge array of poems and styles which has been running for three years. Check it out!).


I'm not sure of my effort, so I would love to hear from you all with any comments or suggestions for improvement. Let me know what you think. Even if you hate it. I can take it.

:dupe: The Original Protection Racket

Hanging clouds of incense
Reek of guilt.
Morn's golden rays of innocence,
Long since smothered.

That old Italian blanket
Suffocates the afternoon
Under promises of protection
From a flame-filled fate.

For a weekly ransom
Of copper-minted wishes
That fill the Roman dishes

It unveils a silver staircase
Through the choking clouds of eve.
Those golden rays, at sunset,
Visible once more.
______________________________________

What do you think it's about, if anything? Does it say anything to you?
I don't know really. But I am, as always, eager to hear from anyone who wants to comment or criticise.

Peace,
A.I got two different vibes upon reading this at separate times.

At first, I got the atmosphere and the impression of an old home, an old family with a history, and secrets which are kept hidden and protected from the new generations. The second time around, I got a more political vibe from words like "guilt", "innocence", "protection", and even "copper-minted wishes" (which by the way is a great image). To me it sounds like you're describing the bubble wrapped, cushy, oblivious American life. Although the references to Italy/Roman do throw me off a bit, but then again, maybe I could connect it to...the American "empire"? It's interesting how you bring back the golden rays once again at the end, perhaps it's a cycle or a rebirth?

[Vetty214]

:dupe: The Original Protection Racket

Hanging clouds of incense
Reek of guilt.
Morn's golden rays of innocence,
Long since smothered.

That old Italian blanket
Suffocates the afternoon
Under promises of protection
From a flame-filled fate.

For a weekly ransom
Of copper-minted wishes
That fill the Roman dishes

It unveils a silver staircase
Through the choking clouds of eve.
Those golden rays, at sunset,
Visible once more.


I like this but I hate what it makes me think of. This reminds me of a Catholic mass and the dogma... incense, guilt, weekly ranson, and "promises of protection"... were you an alter boy or did you know one? I didn't get the silver staircase that is unveiled... unless you mean like a Stairway to Heaven (I love that song)... "eve" in this meant "evening" to me but again, wasn't sure that's what you meant. At sunset... at the end of something (the end of a life - word golden brings to mind "golden" age)... visible once more... hope perhaps? Eve as in the fall of Eve in the Adam and Eve story? That doesn't seem right. choking clouds...

okay, at first I'm thinking poor alter boy... but I think you reached back in history... of the Roman Catholic tradition of seeking $$ for forgiveness in order to avoid hell and find the stairway to Heaven... so for a price (vs. actions/behaviors) you get to to see the golden rays of sunset...

Very effective and very accessible to the reader, more complex like you mentioned but still very accessible so that it is enjoyable.

[redyelruc]

Thanks guys for all your insights and comments.

Peace,
A.

[redyelruc]

:dupe: The Original Protection Racket

Hanging clouds of incense
Reek of guilt.
Morn's golden rays of innocence,
Long since smothered.

That old Italian blanket
Suffocates the afternoon
Under promises of protection
From a flame-filled fate.

For a weekly ransom
Of copper-minted wishes
That fill the Roman dishes

It unveils a silver staircase
Through the choking clouds of eve.
Those golden rays, at sunset,
Visible once more.
______________________________________

I want to explain a little about what I was trying to achieve here and maybe get some more ideas for improvement. The poem was born from a memory of the old lady whose house my mother used to clean. I always felt unreasonably smothered and restricted there.
But when I started writing, it reminded me of other stuff. The guilt of a Catholic. We clutch at their comfort blanket which in turns smothers our childhood(morning) innocence and freedom of choice in adulthood(afternoon). The collection plate at church takes our copper coins and prayers, to fatten the bishops in Rome, promising to reveal the stairway to heaven escaping the guilt of original sin(eve, maybe choking clouds does not work so well here. but I was struggling to keep with the smothering theme). And in death, we finally attain the innocence that was hidden from us since childhood.
It's not a perfect poem and I am very grateful for all of your help. I will work some more on it.

Peace,
A.

[redyelruc]

:behead: The Test

In torturous silence
The hands edge ominously onward,
Feeding pressure cooker air
That fan blades fail to stir.

Heads down, straining under burdens
They struggle to bear,
Concentrated rows of children
Plot their escapes
With graphite scratches
And stolen glances.

In shuffling silence,
They approach the master
Faces etched with terrified anticipation.

Heartless, unmoved,
He shreds their paper ambitions
With a blood-red handheld sabre,
Scarring futures and branding failures,
Ignorantly unaware of his own.

________________________________________________


This is most definitely a work in progress. Any comments/criticisms/suggestions for improvement will be gratefully received.

Peace,
A.

edit : I have reworked the ending and have re-posted the new version below.

[Hypocrit]

More htan happy to oblige. ;)

It's really a terrific scene until teh last stanza. I think besides that last part it's all great, near perfect I'd say.

The first 2 lines are great. The third really just doesn't strike me as the excitement I think you were going for. You need a more shocking weapon. Plus bloodred handheld just didn't mesh well together. Maybe blood rusted would sound better?

Line four is good but I feel like you need a line inbetween that and the final line. Maybe a short metaphorical description of said scar. Maybe a color. Maybe something like "painting black unfettered skin".

The the final line needs to be redone. "Ignorantly" just doesn't sound good and doesn't mesh well with any of the other words in this stanza. It's almost as if it's too blunt. Maybe oyu want to end on a blunt note, but try something either a little more blunt, like a semi out of the blue statement, or a little more metaphorical. Right now unfortunately you hit right inbetween the two and fail to deliver.

Thanks for the read,
Hypo.

[redyelruc]

More htan happy to oblige. ;)

It's really a terrific scene until teh last stanza. I think besides that last part it's all great, near perfect I'd say.

The the final line needs to be redone. "Ignorantly" just doesn't sound good and doesn't mesh well with any of the other words in this stanza. It's almost as if it's too blunt. Maybe oyu want to end on a blunt note, but try something either a little more blunt, like a semi out of the blue statement, or a little more metaphorical. Right now unfortunately you hit right inbetween the two and fail to deliver.

Thanks for the read,
Hypo.Thanks for your insight. I really appreciate this sort of constructive criticism. Since I posted this, this morning, I have been endlessly working and reworking the final stanza. I too had a feeling that it just was't right. I will re-post the edited version below.

Once again, your help is much appreciated,
Peace,
A.

[redyelruc]

:behead: The Test

In torturous silence
The hands edge ominously onward,
Feeding pressure cooker air
That fan blades fail to stir.

Heads down, straining under burdens
They struggle to bear,
Concentrated rows of children
Plot their escapes
With graphite scratches
And stolen glances.

In shuffling silence,
They approach the master
Faces etched with terrified anticipation.

Heartless, unmoved,
He shreds their paper ambitions
Ruthlessly slashing his blood-stained sabre,
Scarring futures and branding failure.

When all have been despatched,
He surveys the carnage,
Piles of slaughtered dreams
And disfigured hopes.

In lonely silence,
He sinks to his knees,
Swamped by remorse,
Wracked by the guilt
Of his own ineptitude.

________________________________________________


This is still a work in progress. It kept me awake till 4am last night and I've already changed it numerous times today.
Although, I am much happier with this ending, I'm still interested to hear what you all might think. All comments/criticisms/suggestions for improvement will still be gratefully received.

Peace,
A.

[Vetty214]

I'll give it a look a little later when I have more time, hope all is well with you.

[Hypocrit]

Much MUCH better. You really strengthen the whole piece up by fixing that last part and adding another stanza.

However lonely doesn't sound right. Maybe "lonesome" is hte word you are looking for? "Loathsome" would work too.

Have you thought about maybe changing the name? You have a recurring theme of silence here and you might want to add something like that into the title. Maybe add something in parentheses. LIke... "The Test(Silent Fight)" or "The Silence(Testing Sanity)".

[Vetty214]

It seems like you wavered a bit… first the master is this evil almost surreal being, then you gave him a heart at the end…. I like that he has a heart at the end (and that he is just an unfeeling ineffective asshole, but if you want this truly evil person, then he would sink to his knees in relief to have the class over and get away from all those little “failures”.

In torturous silence
The hands edge ominously onward,
Feeding pressure cooker air
(wasn’t sure feeding was best word here, not sure if it worked with clock hands moving above…)
That fan blades fail to stir.

Heads down, straining under burdens
They struggle to bear,
Concentrated rows of children
Plot their escapes
(wasn’t sure Plot was best word here, Imagine their escape - ? okay, maybe plot, not sure)
With graphite scratches
And stolen glances.

In shuffling silence,
(I wondered about adding something here to indicate the passing of time… The hour has ended/In shuffling silence/…)
They approach the master
Faces etched with terrified anticipation.
(I would drop anticipation…Faces etched in terror, or leave it but have Terrified faces etched with anticipation… can’t give you the rationale… just liked it better)

Heartless, unmoved,
(I would change this part completely….based on your last stanza, see comments there… perhaps “Appearing heartless, unmoved”
He shreds their paper ambitions
Ruthlessly slashing with his blood-stained sabre,
(I would include “with” and change this to “carelessly” slashing with his blood-stained saber – again to give a clue to last stanza… he is not cold-blooded – just uncaring)
Scarring futures and branding failure.
(I would flip these, progression from bad to worse case “Branding failure and scarring futures”

When all have been despatched, (sp – dispatched)
He surveys the carnage,
Piles of slaughtered dreams
(I would drop “piles”)
And disfigured hopes.
(not sure disfigured is best word here – but not bad, just wondered if there might be some other word…)

In lonely silence,
He sinks to his knees,
Swamped by remorse,
Wracked by the guilt
Of his own ineptitude.
(this is good… I almost wonder if now at the end he doesn’t have a flash back to his own “master” who has made him who he is today – this failure/disfigured teacher?)

By the way, I like the title…The Test.

I really did love this once I started working on it with you. I know you wanted serious critique... so don't be upset with me - I worked it like it was my own cause I like you and I want you to go write more of those stories in your journal. :drool:

[Vetty214]

Hey, just read the first version you posted again and see now more clearly what you were aiming for. So would use "appearing heartless..., carelessly slashing". It wasn't your first version where he was "evil" it was in the rewrite where the master took on this evil. Isn't this fun? haha! I read another post on another forum and a woman there was indicating that she has a hard time after she finishes a poem because she feels empty somehow. I didn't get that. I generally feel relief, then I realized that's probably because I work so hard on every single one of them and sometimes for months before I feel they are completely finished and so I'm in total relief. So hang in there... I can see that you are totally in work mode now on these in a very serious way. You have great ideas and I love your work. I do want more stories. Vetty

[redyelruc]

Vetty214, you are without a doubt one of the most helpful posters on this entire forum. I'm extremely happy to have found this place. I haven't been motivated to write this frequently in years.

The poem itself was a reflection on last Thursday at school, when I had to test and grade my wonderful barefoot children. A terrible day that left me emotionally exhausted and extremely unsure of my effectiveness as a teacher.

Today, however, was a great day that helped put it all behind me and I am now looking forward positively to next semester.

Thank you to all who read my poems,
Help me improve,
And generally increase the pleasure in my life.
Peace,
A.

[Vetty214]

I'm glad you feel positive about my feedback. Thank you for the compliment. I imagine that you are too hard on yourself and you are a wonderful teacher to those barefoot children. You might write a poem about bare feet... You must see amazing things everyday. I'm glad to hear parts of that... looking forward to more. Vetty

[redyelruc]

This poem is dominating my life at the moment. I'm trying to capture what that test really felt like... to me anyway. I'm obsessed...in a good way, I think. This is the last edit for a while. I will put it away now and have another look in a month or so.



:behead: The Test

In torturous silence
The hands edge ominously onward,
Feeding pressure-cooker air
That fan blades fail to stir.

Heads bowed, straining under burdens
They struggle to bear,
Concentrated rows of barefoot children
Plot their escapes
With graphite scratches
And stolen glances.

In shuffling silence,
They approach the master
Faces etched in terror.

Dutybound, detached
He shreds their paper ambitions,
Powerfully slashing with his blood-stained sabre,
Branding failure and scarring futures.

When all have been dispatched,
He surveys the carnage
Of slaughtered hopes
And dismembered dreams.

In exhausted silence,
He sinks to his knees,
Swamped by remorse,
Wracked by the guilt
Of his own ineptitude.
________________________________________________


Thanks Hypocrit and Vetty for your invaluable help.

[KittenX]

I haven't read the revisions of this (sorry). But the final draft is very solid and well versed! You do a fine job weaving the descriptions with the metaphors and feeling.

[Vetty214]

:applause: :drummer: :sunny: :rockon:

This was awesome. Yes! Your plan to set it aside to rest awhile is a good one. Have a beer on me. Vetty

[redyelruc]

http://www.hipgallery.com/photopost2/data/518/myanmar.jpg


A Desperate Plea

Floating face-down
In a pool of murdered hope,
I sadly watch the two-faced street trader,
Who, laughing from his plastic stool,
Sells pidgeons now, not poultry.

Bald Eagle's eyes seem blind to this,
For I can see but vultures
Black armour-clad and angry,
Screeching their impatience
As my corpse marches on.

I am fearless, shoeless, hairless.
Their hatred has finally set me free.
But who will free my barefoot brethren?
Will you?
__________________________________________________ ______

I am rarely moved so much by a photo. This is a 5 minute poem from last night. Unpolished. What do you think?

[skyfire]

I very much enjoy your style! all of your pieces flow so well & you use wonderful imagry. I would have to say that "Love Smile" is one of my favorites, very cool metaphor.

[Vetty214]

A Desperate Plea

Floating face-down
In a pool of murdered hope,
I sadly watch the two-faced street trader,
Who, laughing from his plastic stool,
Sells pidgeons now, not poultry.

Bald Eagle's eyes seem blind to this,
For I can see but vultures
Black armour-clad and angry,
Screeching their impatience
As my corpse marches on.

I am fearless, shoeless, hairless.
Their hatred has finally set me free.
But who will free my barefoot brethren?
Will you?

This is excellent for 5 minutes! good job - doesn't it feel great when it flows like that! Passion is always good for your writing. In going back to work on this, if you intend it for an audience who will not have the benefit of the pic, think about adding some clues to the title and/or body of the work about the topic so you can pull the reader in from their context into yours. So for example, when you say pool of murdered hope, my context of living in a large U.S. city, I might envision a pool of blood and the two-faced street trader brings to mind a drug dealer.

The black armour-clad part is a good clue... and so is "who will free my barefoot brethren?" So you do take the reader into your context but further down in the poem. I like both of those very much by the way and wouldn't change either much including the part "screeching their impatience...." Reference to Bald Eagle is very clear, but wasn't sure about "sells pidgeons, not poultry." - although I like that but I couldn't interpret what it meant. A clue in the title would help or about the street - a reference to a city/country there could be a very distinct clue. Aidan, I like your writing very much, hope to see more soon.

[redyelruc]

Thanks Skyfire for your kind words, much appreciated.





The black armour-clad part is a good clue... and so is "who will free my barefoot brethren?" So you do take the reader into your context but further down in the poem. I like both of those very much by the way and wouldn't change either much including the part "screeching their impatience...." Reference to Bald Eagle is very clear, but wasn't sure about "sells pidgeons, not poultry." - although I like that but I couldn't interpret what it meant. A clue in the title would help or about the street - a reference to a city/country there could be a very distinct clue. Aidan, I like your writing very much, hope to see more soon.
Thanks again Vetty for your comments. I haven't actually written anything coherent in the last few days as I'm on the road in Laos for a couple of weeks(getting drunk and gathering inspiration). I will be back in a couple of weeks, hopefully returning to see some more of your poems on this forum. I will probably give this poem a little more thought during the long hours on buses/pick-ups. Back soon...

Peace,
A.

BTW. The pidgeons thing was refering to an article I read where the reporter had said that there are more and more plain-clothes spies on the streets in Myanmar now...the street traders are stool-pidgeons.


I sadly watch the two-faced street trader,
Who, laughing from his plastic stool,
Sells pidgeons now, not poultry.

[Vetty214]

I did think stool-pidgeons when I read it but wasn't sure. Use to your advantage the streets and cities you are visiting... give us specifics... tell us Myanmar, Laos, etc. For example:

Floating face-down
In a Myanmar pool of murdered hope,

(of course if you are lying face-down you can't also watch the street-trader - so you need to change this part up a little to smooth the transition here on the next few lines)

most poetry in trying to make it more accessible for the reader at large - yes - skip using identifiers like a name of a city/country/etc.

Once I was told to think: What is the occassion of the poem? You are in Laos, tell those of us who have never and will never see it about it. The flavors, colors, encounters, smells... take us on your Laos Bus (title for your next poem?)

As always, love reading your stuff. I'll post something soon. I decided to write one poem a day for 31 days - but I probably will not post any of those quick drafts but I have others that I do want feedback on and will post one soon. Wishing you a good trip and safe return. Vetty

[redyelruc]

Jesus Christ!!

It's been 3 months since I've been able to write anything even remotely coherent.

Heeelllllppppp[!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1111

[redyelruc]

Escape

Throttle open
Engine screaming
Dust burnt eyes
Wide open streaming
Salted protests
Down stubbled cheeks
Wind cracked skin
Like sundried creeks

FUCK! I swerve.
Phew, that was close.
No time to brake
Escaping ghosts.
But they just can't
Be left behind
They ride within
My guilty mind.

It seems I can't
Outrun the past.
FUCK! A truck!
Now peace at last.

_______________________________________

This is something of an instant poem. I'm really desperate to start writing again and hopefully this will uncork the creative juices.
As usual, I appreciate all criticisms of anything I post here.

[usfcat]

Wow! I really like that last poem! I really like the struggle, the striving, and then the ending. :-) Nice work.

[skyfire]

i was going back through your thread and i really enjoyed watching "the test" develop...i do that a lot, leave a poem be for a while then go back and change it, tighten it up...the emotions in the final product are clear and strong...way to stick with it!

i also liked "escape," the language isnt heavy but it carries a heavy message, thats never easy to pull off...and the imagery in the first stanza is spot on...

[redyelruc]

i was going back through your thread and i really enjoyed watching "the test" develop...i do that a lot, leave a poem be for a while then go back and change it, tighten it up...the emotions in the final product are clear and strong...way to stick with it!



i also liked "escape," the language isnt heavy but it carries a heavy message, thats never easy to pull off...and the imagery in the first stanza is spot on...

Thanks skyfire. Yeah, the first stanza of escape just blurted out of me one night and the rest was an effort/struggle to finish it. I think I may have some editing to do on the second stanza, but I just wanted to get an idea of what some of you guys thought.
Peace,
A.

[Mr. Mojo Risin']

Suicide Note is fucking brilliant.

[HawkinsOrchestra]

Phew, that was close.
No time to brake
Escaping ghosts.
But they just can't
Be left behind
They ride within
My guilty mind.
-i really like this

and i also enjoyed "The Test"
very powerful with good vocab and images, however im not so sure about the twist at the ending where he gains a heart, although i am one to talk, i twist everything. lol. but maybe mention something about him being alone, maybe his whereabouts and something about sinking into his own shadow

[DroopySnoopy]

All I can say is, BRILLIANT. I loved most all of the pieces, and I love the way you capture the raw depth of emotion in each line. Beautiful.

[The Instinct]

gifted poets all have a good following, you are among them.

[Major Peacenik]

love's smile is aces, this stuff is great

[redyelruc]

Sleepless

Trapped under treacle skies,
No starlit dreams for me.
Prisoner of my poisonous mind.

I sit,
Finding patterns in my soul-smoke,
Endless exhalations of toxic mood rings
That stretch and drift,
Twist and die.
Enveloped in a darkness
That never delivers;
Not even a shadow.


_____________________________________________

This needs some more work. Any suggestions?

[skyfire]

oooh i like! i can so relate...especially now, going through some crazy times as i am, at night my mind just races, but it never gets me anywhere...

[KittenX]

[Endless exhalations of toxic mood rings
That stretch and drift,
Twist and die.
Enveloped in a darkness
That never delivers;
Not even a shadow.]

That was just pure magic..I liked toxic mood rings a lot!! I don't think I have any suggestions for that one.

[redyelruc]

Thanks to everybody who has taken the time to comment recently. KittenX and Skyfire, I'm checking in on your threads in impatient anticipation.

[skyfire]

and when will you be posting someting new??!

[usfcat]

I miss your posts. Put up some more stuff :)

[skyfire]

ok stagnant pool...maybe this will get you stirred to write something! try this metaphor exercise: (write these freely now, dont think too hard about it!) for the 1st line, write an abstraction, a verb, and a place. for the 2nd line, describe attire. for the 3rd line, summarize an action.

my examples:

Lust dances down the alleys
sporting lace stockings,
flagging down cars.

Fear whispers in the jail cell
tied in white robes,
weaving gossamer webs.

Silence wafts through the clock tower
dressed in candle smoke,
trailing dust.

if you find that works, ask me about more...or research different writing exercises online. do you keep a writing journal?

[edenfield]

working class whiner, lol, good stuff

[Vetty214]

I see you haven't found that muse again. hmmm... I did love Escape. I also like Skyfires metaphor exercise...

sometimes... you have to become someone (or something) else and write through their eyes.

i'll post one for you here soon and dedicate it to your muse... an incantation to call it back to you.

[redyelruc]

One Night Stand

I awoke,
Adrift amongst scattered memories
And hastily removed clothes.

Shards of Sunday morning
Pierced Venetians.
My mind melted,
Dripping like ice-cream on a summer's day,
A sticky mess.

Rising
From beneath crumpled sheets,
Her bloodshot eyes
Asked questions that remained unvoiced,
Launched like distress flares
From a sinking ship.

But I'm no hero.
I'm a bearded drunken pirate,
Remorseless,
Blessed with a grease-pole conscience.

__________________________________________________ _______________

OK, this is in need of a lot more work. I'd hardly even call it a poem. It's just sort of an idea at the moment. Any criticism or suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

[skyfire]

red you wrote something! yay! ok...i like the concept here and your images are really good, can i make some suggestions? i would just rearrange some of the verses in the stanzas and cut the abstractions and unneccessary words:

I awoke,
amongst memories scattered
hastily as removed clothes.

Shards of Sunday morning
Pierced Venetians.
My mind melted,
ice-cream dripping on a summer's day,
A sticky mess.

Rising
From crumpled sheets,
Her bloodshot eyes
Launched questions like distress flares
From a sinking ship.

But I'm no hero.
I'm a bearded drunken pirate,
Blessed with a grease-pole conscience.


sorry, i didnt mean to like rewrite your poem...i think the idea of her as a sinking ship and you not going to save her (not only because of lack of will but also the inability to pull yourself together) is great. i cut the word "remorseless" in the last stanza because i think that comes across with the "grease-pole conscience."

anyway, i'm glad to see you posting again...keep 'em coming!

[Vetty214]

Nice! I kind of liked the word "beneath" in front of crumpled sheets... I different visual altogether when beneath the crumpled sheets. I would have taken the first word "Rising" off instead...I also liked the "s" sounds when you leave the word remorseless in... blessed, grease... it pulls the "s" sounds forward...

My fav. is shards of Sunday morning/Pierced venetians. I'll post something here soon, is it Tuesday already!

[redyelruc]

Well Sky and Vetty, I can't thank you guys enough. Skyfire, your writing exercises from a while back did produce a lot of ideas, one of which has inspired a short story I'm now working on. And Vetty, your prodding last week actually finally moved me to try to put something together,

I don't really like this poem at all, to be honest, but I will be posting a re-worked version some time this week. The image/idea I want to develop a little more is the ship/pirate theme.

Anyway, thanks again you guys.
Peace,
A.

[skyfire]

hey no prob! glad to be of service! i cant stand it when i dont know what to write or where to start, i feel a little off kilter in those times (i was born to write! haha). my writing exercises usually dont turn up anything concrete, but they get the ideas flowing and that is the most important part. i'm anxious to read this short story you've started...hopefully you will post it when it's done. hit me up if you ever get stuck again, i have exercises for days!

[redyelruc]

Hooligan

Egos burn in crowds of
Incendiary slogans
And football colours.

All it takes is a match.

We are red!
We are white!
We are fucking dynamite!
Un-i-ted!
Un-i-ted!

The staccato hypnosis
Brings metamorphosis.
I am no longer me,
When I become we.
__________________________________________________ __

Hey guys, I may try to lengthen this a little over time. It's a lttle short, but at least I'm writing again.

All criticisms/comments greatly appreciated as always. Don't forget, sometimes you got to be cruel to be kind.

[Vetty214]

Hooligan

Egos burn in crowds of
Incendiary slogans
And football colours.

All it takes is a match.

We are red!
We are white!
We are fucking dynamite!
Un-i-ted!
Un-i-ted!

The staccato hypnosis
Brings metamorphosis.
I am no longer me,
When I become we.
__________________________________________________ __

Hey guys, I may try to lengthen this a little over time. It's a lttle short, but at least I'm writing again.

All criticisms/comments greatly appreciated as always. Don't forget, sometimes you got to be cruel to be kind.

Liked the element of "heat" in this: burn, incendiary (which brings to mind incite), match, dynamite
title Hooligans is perfect, at first thought it was a negative connotation but realized that a crowd can definitely go quickly to destructive as we have seen when a crowd rushes a field - picturing this strengthens the "match" word you used
I like pulling out the "I" in united the way you do as part of the cheer and how it contrasts with the "me/we" at the end where the person removes responsibilities for their actions.
The use of Red/White colors is good here... brings to mind British/Native American conflicts: Red Coats, red faces, white skin, British... Also fits traditional for Football (Redskins vs. Cowboys)...
Title of Hooligan (singular) vs. Hooligans (plural) - I wondered if this was on purpose... it adds to the me/we the individual/crowd study you have going here... Either title would work, but singular points out the responsibility of the individual here...
Cruel? You wanted cruel, but I couldn't find anything to be cruel about... this is a good solid poem. I would be curious to know if any of the comments above are a suprise to you. We have so much going on in our subconcious that someone else's perspective can highlight something we didn't even realize we did! haha!

I don't think it necessarily has to be longer... the only suggestion I could make is that I wanted it to have something more between the cheer (the last "Un-i-ted") and the next stanza that helped move the the cheering crowd to the angry Hooligans... some kind of transforming element here... something that lit the match... perhaps more staccato sounding words to keep the cheer flowing... the cheer turns somehow, something unexpectadly nasty... a thrown bottle, something physical... spittal in the eye, a thrown punch?? Not sure. I really like the last two lines so don't lose those there.

If you add some action there just below the cheer to transform from cheer to anger... and then maybe a line between metamorphosis and the last two to tie it all in... Perhaps "I throw my freaking beer..."

I am no longer me
when I become we.

great work, keep writing!

[userfriendly]

All i can say is that you are a funny fellow. Especially about drinking alone is shite.
_______________________________________________
Poetry writers Network edited (http://www.hipforums.com/forums/showthread.php?t=138824)

[Keeper of the Forest]

you are amazingly talented. keep em coming

[redyelruc]

Thanks Keeper and Userfriendly for taking the time to leave a line of encouragement.

Vetty, your comments as always are very insightful. You asked whether any of what you said surprised me. Well, yes it did. To be honest, the red and white standing for Cowboys and Indians, or the British army never crossed my mind. I also didn't give much thought to the Hooligan(s) title. I never really considered the plural version, as the poem started out as an exploration of losing our individuality.

Originally, I wanted to write something about how Hitler used words to strip people of their ability to think for themselves and of their personal responsibility for their actions. I had been struggling with it for ages, when I remembered a book I'd read about hooliganism called "Amongst the Thugs" by Bill Buford. It was an exploration into what caused young men to become a 'mob'.

I also have a lot of personal experience with hooliganism from my youth. I used to go to soccer matches regularly, and have both seen and been involved in some nasty incidents. It's funny but the chant from the poem is actually something we used to sing at those games.

Anyway, the poem was a lot longer after the first draught but I cut it down to be short and snappy, like the fuse of these young men at football games. I do think I need to add a little more, possibly some sort of incident to spark the metamorphosis but I have put it on the back-burner for a little while to see if anything bubbles to the top.

Thanks again for your constant help and support.

[The Instinct]

You knew red, I don't think you need criticism. You are still the great poet that you have been when I first started reading your's. To you too, I'm sorry I haven't kept up on your's. When you have to go to the library to get online it gets tough, now it's at home. Keep writing Red, I enjoy your talent.

[redyelruc]

Ode to the brevitity of life and the consequences of actions

Mozzy, Mozzy buzzing by,
Do you know that you will die?
Are you aware or do you care,
how dangerous it is?

You land and feed
You suck, I bleed.
A swift sharp smack,
I've got the knack
of killing without flinching.

__________________________________________________ ______

So, I wrote this in 1 minute for a thread in RT. I sorta like it though. What do you guys think?

[The Instinct]

I kind of like it too. For some reason it made me think and I like it when I'm made to think.

Ode to the brevitity of life and the consequences of actions

Mozzy, Mozzy buzzing by,
Do you know that you will die?
Are you aware or do you care,
how dangerous it is?

You land and feed
You suck, I bleed.
A swift sharp smack,
I've got the knack
of killing without flinching.

__________________________________________________ ______

So, I wrote this in 1 minute for a thread in RT. I sorta like it though. What do you guys think?

[KittenX]

Hooligan

Egos burn in crowds of
Incendiary slogans
And football colours.

All it takes is a match.

We are red!
We are white!
We are fucking dynamite!
Un-i-ted!
Un-i-ted!

The staccato hypnosis
Brings metamorphosis.
I am no longer me,
When I become we.
__________________________________________________ __

Hey guys, I may try to lengthen this a little over time. It's a lttle short, but at least I'm writing again.

All criticisms/comments greatly appreciated as always. Don't forget, sometimes you got to be cruel to be kind.


Loved this! Holy cow. It's short but it's punchy, I don't think it needs anything more. :)

[skyfire]

You land and feed
You suck, I bleed.
A swift sharp smack,
I've got the knack
of killing without flinching.


nice...simple yet very dark...

[Nick Scratch]

Okay Red, I've read through everything here, and I've got to say, I like the way you write. Your pieces are succinct, at times hard-hitting, often humorous and always entertaining. Your short pieces are haiku-like in their depth, without being obtuse. You drive straight (me, i have trouble staying on the road). A piece like "Alone" is a good example of this. There's a philosophy in there, a perspective, that I love. "Suicide Note": an excellent piece of verse, very different from what you've produced since though. I'm not sure how you go about writing -- if you're deliberate or not (i'm not...everything I do is accidental; deliberately) -- but I wonder why you have walked down that avenue more often. Or perhaps you have and just haven't shared. I'm surprised no one mentioned "Seeds of Racism" that poem was hilarious, subtle (like the racism described) and, dare I say, perfect. The childlike tone, the patient parent responses. Too many poems on subjects like racism are maudlin or overblown -- this was not, and it was first rate. Of everything here, I'd have to say "real heroes build pedestals not stand upon them" is my favourite line, and a wonderful aphorism, definitely quotable. My hats off to you for being a teacher: tough job passing judgment upon the abilities of others, while expected to shape that ability. "behead" was a great way of expressing some of the pain you evidently feel have to wear the mantle of teacher. You can feel your love for your students, your feelings of responsibility towards them just bleeding through those lines, baby. Fuckin A (little nod to the teacher there). And finally "An Ode to Brevity...", awesome title, absolutely hilarious. Great, amusing little poem. I know I saw the "real heroes" line was my favourite, but it's got to be a toss-up between that one and "I've got the knack of killing without flinching" -- that is a line laden with power and depth. Cheers.

[redyelruc]

I have been reworking this poem over the last couple of months and although it is still far from perfect, I think it is a lot tighter than the original draft. I would really appreciate any comment, insights or suggestions.


One Night Stand (version 2)


Awoke
among memories scattered
hastily as removed clothes.

Sunday morning
pierced venetians, and slashed
the salted sheets.

Beneath the crumpled mess
were bloodshot eyes;
distress flares fizzling.

But I just turned and left,
a bearded rum-soaked pirate,
blessed with a grease-pole conscience.
_________________________________________________

[skyfire]

hey red i really liked this one the first time around, i'm glad you continue to work on it, you've really tightened it up a lot...can i just make a couple of suggestions?


Awoke
among memories scattered
hastily as removed clothes. -nice, this stanza is much better and very solid the way it is

Sunday morning
pierced venetians,
slashed the salted sheets. -i would eliminate "and"

Beneath the crumpled mess
were bloodshot eyes;
distress flares fizzling. -i'm not a huge fan of the "were" but dont really know what else to do with it..."were" seems like an unneccessary and fairly passive word here, i would be inclined to say
Beneath the crumpled mess
bloodshot eyes
fizzle like distress flares. -but that's not exactly very good either...

I turned and left,
a bearded, rum-soaked pirate,
blessed with a grease-pole conscience. -i would eliminate "but" and "just" because technically you didnt give us an alternative...does that make sense? you dont consider staying but then leave, you simply leave. i also suck a comma between "bearded" and "rum-soaked" just to be grammatically correct...

i really enjoy this poem...i like the last line especially...keep going red, good for you for taking the time to workshop your pieces...

[teh-horace]

i picked three random poems

Sleepless

Trapped under treacle skies,
No starlit dreams for me.
Prisoner of my poisonous mind.

I sit,
Finding patterns in my soul-smoke,
Endless exhalations of toxic mood rings
That stretch and drift,
Twist and die.
Enveloped in a darkness
That never delivers;
Not even a shadow.the first stanza, honestly, has me melting at the first line, and by the end of the stanza, i'm in a puddle. and that sounds really strange, but it's awesome. yeah.

i sit

i want to exhale toxic mood rings, you must teach me, what color is your soul-smoke?

twist and die. :)

how often DOES darkness yield shadows...? you see shadows in the dark?

i am in love with it.


:behead: The Test

In torturous silence
The hands edge ominously onward,
Feeding pressure-cooker air
That fan blades fail to stir.

Heads bowed, straining under burdens
They struggle to bear,
Concentrated rows of barefoot children
Plot their escapes
With graphite scratches
And stolen glances.

In shuffling silence,
They approach the master
Faces etched in terror.

Dutybound, detached
He shreds their paper ambitions,
Powerfully slashing with his blood-stained sabre,
Branding failure and scarring futures.

When all have been dispatched,
He surveys the carnage
Of slaughtered hopes
And dismembered dreams.

In exhausted silence,
He sinks to his knees,
Swamped by remorse,
Wracked by the guilt
Of his own ineptitude.torturous pressure cookers with ominous fan blades. awesome.

graphite sketches and stolen glances. awesome

all of a sudden it's like a quentin tarantino flick. slash/slash.

but i like the sound of "slaughtered hopes and dismembered dreams." awesome.

exhausted silence, sinks to knees, SEPUKKU


A Desperate Plea

Floating face-down
In a pool of murdered hope,
I sadly watch the two-faced street trader,
Who, laughing from his plastic stool,
Sells pidgeons now, not poultry.

Bald Eagle's eyes seem blind to this,
For I can see but vultures
Black armour-clad and angry,
Screeching their impatience
As my corpse marches on.

I am fearless, shoeless, hairless.
Their hatred has finally set me free.
But who will free my barefoot brethren?
Will you?i like "floating face down in a pool of murdered hope" but is that the speaker or the two face guy? how do you watch somebody face down in a pool of murdered hope?

who is Bald Eagle? is he the boss? make him the boss. the vultures are just his minions. you should stomp on them with your mighty foot. give yourself a mighty foot.

exactly. FEARLESS is the mighty foot.

the mighty foot will free us all.




i dig the hell out of all the stuff you write :D

[redyelruc]

Thanks horace for taking the time to troll through this lengthy thread and leave some positive thoughts. I appreciate it.

Skyfire, your line-specific criticism of 'One Night Stand' will definitely help me as I reshape and remodel it over the coming months. Thanks.

[redyelruc]

Untitled

The buffalo's bell clangs hollow
as he wallows in the muddied ditch
beyond the wooden fence. Dark farmers
stoop and shave the fields, spines curve
like question marks. Their sickles scar
the golden slopes, shimmer in the sun,
while the schoolbell echoes distant.
_________________________________________

I've been experimenting a lot with line-breaks and sonics over the last while. I've also been trying to cut down on adjectives, and would love some honest opinions about this. Where did it trip you up? What could be cut? Did it leave you with any overall feelings?

Peace,
A.

[magixarts]

Escape

Throttle open
Engine screaming
Dust burnt eyes
Wide open streaming
Salted protests
Down stubbled cheeks
Wind cracked skin
Like sundried creeks

FUCK! I swerve.
Phew, that was close.
No time to brake
Escaping ghosts.
But they just can't
Be left behind
They ride within
My guilty mind.

It seems I can't
Outrun the past.
FUCK! A truck!
Now peace at last.


Much spoken in a few words, like a deep emotion felt or sheen by one glimps on somebody's face. Beautiful!



A Desperate Plea

Floating face-down
In a pool of murdered hope,
I sadly watch the two-faced street trader,
Who, laughing from his plastic stool,
Sells pidgeons now, not poultry.

Bald Eagle's eyes seem blind to this,
For I can see but vultures
Black armour-clad and angry,
Screeching their impatience
As my corpse marches on.

I am fearless, shoeless, hairless.
Their hatred has finally set me free.
But who will free my barefoot brethren?
Will you?


What does brethren means? I couldn't find the word in the dictonary. I much appreciate these poems of you, the are 'fired'.


:behead: The Test

In torturous silence
The hands edge ominously onward,
Feeding pressure-cooker air
That fan blades fail to stir.

Heads bowed, straining under burdens
They struggle to bear,
Concentrated rows of barefoot children
Plot their escapes
With graphite scratches
And stolen glances.

In shuffling silence,
They approach the master
Faces etched in terror.

Dutybound, detached
He shreds their paper ambitions,
Powerfully slashing with his blood-stained sabre,
Branding failure and scarring futures.

When all have been dispatched,
He surveys the carnage
Of slaughtered hopes
And dismembered dreams.

In exhausted silence,
He sinks to his knees,
Swamped by remorse,
Wracked by the guilt
Of his own ineptitude.


This one makes me smile and for a second brought me back 17years ago back in the schoolbanks during the final exames. Stricking!

[teh-horace]

Untitled

The buffalo's bell clangs hollow
as he wallows in the muddied ditch
beyond the wooden fence. Dark farmers
stoop and shave the fields, spines curve
like question marks. Their sickles scar
the golden slopes, shimmer in the sun,
while the schoolbell echoes distant.

are you serious? please send me your book, i know you have one. this stuff needs to be shared. i don't know how you do it.

[redyelruc]

are you serious? please send me your book, i know you have one. this stuff needs to be shared. i don't know how you do it.
HAHA! Thanks Horace. I'm still not happy with this one. It needs to be fleshed out a little more, and I'm trying to convert it to a metric poem...but here's the latest version anyway.


The Harvest
The buffalo's bell clangs hollow
as he wallows in the muddied ditch
beyond the wooden fence. Dark farmers stoop
and shave the bearded slopes, spines curve
like question marks. Their sickles scar
the terraced fields, shimmer in the sun,
while the school-bell echoes distant.

[teh-horace]

from the first line thru "beyond wooden fence..." i can tell, i think, you've worked it into a meter

if not, it's just the way i hear it i guess

however, meter aside, i really like this. it feels very, "The Harvest"-y

bell, hollow, wallow, muddied ditch, beyond, dark, stoop, sickles scare, echoes distant

all those words make me feel it has a very sepia tone, which is the only way i can think to describe it

it all sounds great, each line feels and sounds perfectly crafted

it's very short, and very much just a snapshot of sensory details

but with just those details you get all the emotion, from the choice of words and the way they sound, to the lines their put in

really, it's almost as if just this little bit of "environment" or "scene" is enough to be whole

so i'd really like to see how this comes out "fleshed out"

[sylvanlightning]

The Harvest
The buffalo's bell clangs hollow
as he wallows in the muddied ditch
beyond the wooden fence. Dark farmers stoop
and shave the bearded slopes, spines curve
like question marks. Their sickles scar
the terraced fields, shimmer in the sun,
while the school-bell echoes distant.

Well done!

Quite a rich tapestry of feeling you have offered in this thread.

I love the expansive environment within 'The Harvest' and am looking forward to hearing more.

[Vetty214]

and found this delicious poem!

Untitled

The buffalo's bell clangs hollow
as he wallows in the muddied ditch
beyond the wooden fence. Dark farmers
stoop and shave the fields, spines curve
like question marks. Their sickles scar
the golden slopes, shimmer in the sun,
while the schoolbell echoes distant.
_________________________________________

I've been experimenting a lot with line-breaks and sonics over the last while. I've also been trying to cut down on adjectives, and would love some honest opinions about this. Where did it trip you up? What could be cut? Did it leave you with any overall feelings?

Peace,
A.

the only place I stumbled was on the word "golden"... the sudden brightness after the muddied darkness threw me off... or perhaps it was the hard "g" for that specific adjective. I don't have a suggestion... perhaps actually using the noun of what causes them to be golden... what are they cutting down? Perhaps taking off that adjective too? It might work...

As for what to take off...try taking off "while" in the last line and you might take off "as" in the second line... I use punctuation a lot, so I would probably have put a semi-colon after "sun" to separate it and slow it down before the last line is read...

As for feeling, this is a true jewel of a poem. You feel the connection with the earth/life and the school in the distance... a feeling of life/work happening... the struggle, darkness/hardship of being in the field... and not in school, or perhaps with children in that school. Very powerful and lovely.

[Vetty214]

The Harvest
The buffalo's bell clangs hollow
as he wallows in the muddied ditch
beyond the wooden fence. Dark farmers stoop
and shave the bearded slopes, spines curve
like question marks. Their sickles scar
the terraced fields, shimmer in the sun,
while the school-bell echoes distant.

I like the title, but you know me... I cut, cut, cut... I would just use "Harvest".... I liked earlier version... but slopes and fields switched is good... try just dropping the adjectives. Bearded with same line as "shave" doesn't work for me... too cutesy. I like terraced... it's original but it does one thing in my head... instead of a simple field, I suddenly see something broad and large... commercial even... the buffalo in a muddied ditch next to a huge terraced field took something away from the connection for me...

this is a jewel Red! I liked it very much... and especially I like that it got me excited to start writing more... I've been on a serious hiatus. I hope it's over. Later sir!

[redyelruc]

Thanks everybody for your comments and insights. They are invaluable.

[redyelruc]

Tabloids

My sister’s rape was sold
on Sunday; parsons stained her
with coffee cups. Lawyers
polished Jags with her fate.
__________________________________________________ ____


Needless to say, comments and critique is more than welcome.
Thanks,
A.

[Vetty214]

What a great day for me... come to Hip Forums (it's been a long time) and see your excellent little hard-ass poem. Loved It. I'm glad to see you are still at it. I've been reading/studying others stuff and not writing much. Some, but not enough.

[sylvanlightning]

HAHA! Thanks Horace. I'm still not happy with this one. It needs to be fleshed out a little more, and I'm trying to convert it to a metric poem...but here's the latest version anyway.


A metric poem would be powerful. I think 'The Harvest' is my favorite due to its expansive and evocative language which is almost taoist in its solid observational simplicity.

[redyelruc]

The Wedding

Shadows pranced madly in candlelight;
the uilleann pipes flooded the room. With whiskey
and water and warm pints of porter,
the revellers toasted the groom.

__________________________________________________ ___

This came from a writing exercise on another forum. I'm thinking of extending it. Thoughts?

[Vetty214]

The Wedding

Shadows pranced madly in candlelight;
the uilleann pipes flooded the room. With whiskey
and water and warm pints of porter,
the revellers toasted the groom.

__________________________________________________ ___

This came from a writing exercise on another forum. I'm thinking of extending it. Thoughts?

I liked this but was curious about what the exercise was about. On extending it... if you want to make a long poem to describe wedding atmosphere just make sure you add all the senses (smell, taste, sound, touch). Some quick observations on this... "pranced madly" - there might be a better verb that portrays both words vs. using the adverb madly - pranced did seem weak by itself (twisted? careened? - not sure). The pipes didn't "flood" the room, the music did and I understood what you meant but there is a confusion there. Maybe change the word pipes to something else. I like "warm pints of porter" but you can drop the "and water" to just leave whiskey. Post it again when you update it if you keep working on this, would like to see how it grows/transitions. There might be a theme/story in there yet to pop...

[redyelruc]

I liked this but was curious about what the exercise was about. On extending it... if you want to make a long poem to describe wedding atmosphere just make sure you add all the senses (smell, taste, sound, touch). Some quick observations on this... "pranced madly" - there might be a better verb that portrays both words vs. using the adverb madly - pranced did seem weak by itself (twisted? careened? - not sure). The pipes didn't "flood" the room, the music did and I understood what you meant but there is a confusion there. Maybe change the word pipes to something else. I like "warm pints of porter" but you can drop the "and water" to just leave whiskey. Post it again when you update it if you keep working on this, would like to see how it grows/transitions. There might be a theme/story in there yet to pop...
Hi Vetty, thanks for your thoughts on this one. I agree with you about pranced madly, but the exercise in question was to take the last line of the quatrain posted above you and use it as a first line of your own.

I'm not sure why, but the limerick-ish lilt to this has me wanting to do a poem about an irish wedding, with each stanza a stand alone limerick. Maybe I'm mad, but it seems like something worth trying, even if it's only to try and write connectable limericks.

[redyelruc]

OK, so it's April. The poems will be coming thick and fast. As always, feel free to comment or criticise. Peace.
__________________________________________________ ________

The Kneippist Cures a Hangover after a Binge in Baden-Baden

He soaked his knees
on piss-damp tiles; hurled
prayers, pleas and carrots; splashed
his face, soused eyes in hands,
palms cupped to make a chalice.

When the walls waved in
and out of focus, he crashed
through the doors into dawn, as it bled
through the gauze of the Schwarzwald sky, sprinkled
diamonds on the lawn.

He crushed a trail through the crystals,
a haphazard pattern of chance. He drowned
barefoot in the fountain, was found
with his boots in his hands.

[redyelruc]

My Father, the Scouser.

Every time I see a pigeon stain
the Beetles in the showroom
down the road, I stop and think
of my father’s cocky strut, his legs
blistered red from the sun, and the present
Mum found when he flew the coop.

__________________________________________________ _

Told you, thick and fast.

[redyelruc]

600 Staffordshire Blues

After the closure, line up; check
for a belly or unwanted bulge.

Throw on the bed. Pick up a brick and toss
to remove dust. A strong wrist helps
weigh the mortar. Butter her blue lip
top to bottom. Lay.

Twist from the hip and take
another, a sister perhaps,
or maybe a brother.
Toss, weigh, butter, lay.
Repeat.

Check your muck. Crack
your back. Curse at the pole
or the paddy. Spark up a smoke,
tell a few jokes. Thank God
you’re no longer the hoddy.

[redyelruc]

This is a re-draft of an earlier poem entitled 'A Desperate Plea'

A Burmese Woman Speaks of September 2007

Our saffron rots in open sewers. Monks
draw flies and vermin. Fat rats nibble
their stubbled skulls and feast upon their feet.

The markets teem with pigeons now,
perched on plastic stools. Buzzards
screech down city streets,
killing without flinching.

Bald eagle’s eyes seem blind to this,
for I can see but vultures. They feast
in dying crocus fields surrounding Mandalay.

[rambleON]

http://www.hipforums.com/forums/images/icons/newicons/icon5.gif The Sin of Apathy


Lying here in my envelope of peacefulness,
Mozart's melodies bathing me in bliss,
Streams of summer sunset sooth my soul,
Sleep well, they say, sleep well.

Eyes closed, my mind wanders.
Where to tonight I wonder.
Down dark and dreary dungeons,
To hell, they say, to hell.

There's no flames, no fire,
And no fucking Lucifer.
But I did nothing, I did nothing, I protest.
Exactly, they say, exactly.

dude, i really enjoy your work. especially any poem that mentions Wolfgang Mozart. what are your favorite compositions by this musical genius.

this struck a cord with me. i believe that Mozart's music can take you places. his emotion shines so pure in his work that it becomes your emotion...thus taking you to the heights of imagination.

thankfully when i drift, it's not to meet lucifer, rather grandiose pleasures in the infinite imagination.

two, rounds, two rounds.


oh, i like your subject matter too. very emotional. i think a wide audience, especially hipformers, can very much so identify with.



now i want to try and dissect this poem.

lying here in my envelope of peacefulness,
Mozart's melodies bathing me in bliss,

i take it that you listen to Mozart in bed with head phones. and the blanket is the envelope that holds the happiness together, while the music itself brings the joy.


streams of summer sunset sooth my soul,
sleep well, they say, sleep well.

these are the jubilant thoughts provoked by Herr Mozart. simply, Einstein is science and Mozart is music.at this point, sleep is a great option. sleep is essential to health and well being.


my eyes closed, my mind wonders.
where tonight i wonder.

well, even Mozart's music cannot change a persons most troubled thoughts. he can bring you to the green grass on the other side if only for a short while. eventually what comes up must come down. and once grounded your normal self takes over....just where is all up to you.now sleep might not be an option.


down dark and deary dungeons,
to hell, they say, to hell.

thats what you think others feel about you. after the Mozart effect tired, your unsettling disposition claims you. and they obviously don't like you. so you think.


theres no flames, no fire
and no fucking lucifer.
but i did nothing, did noting, i protest.
exactly, they say, exactly.

you were then disappointed that you didn't receive the fire and brimstone that you felt you deserved. for being such an outcast upon inner refelection...but exactly they say. well of course, you didn't get what you want.





beautiful that you can express such a character in these works. all of whom are different. all different moods and personalities....same concept with Mozart's music. i applaud you, sir.

[redyelruc]

Thailand's Flower Children

At junctions under red lights, children wear chains
of jasmine: threaded blooms that tickle their throats,
wrinkle noses and wilt in truckers’ windshields.

Scarecrows hung with perfumed charms, they bounce
between the bumpers, dance along the painted lines
search for lorries and the dead-eye stare.

Caffeinated customers who pay
a few pennies to sweeten their cabs, if only until
the milky petals wither and fall.

[Vetty214]

very worthwhile stuff. keep at it. knowing you are busy with just writing, will not critique but will say... awesome! it is as if I can see your "poetry" muscle getting sinewy and strong... everything you have posted this month shows your growth. i especially love that in this exhilirating month you are sharing what is close around you... what you have in your line of sight... loved the visuals in this.

Thailand's Flower Children

At junctions under red lights, children wear chains
of jasmine: threaded blooms that tickle their throats,
wrinkle noses and wilt in truckers’ windshields.

Scarecrows hung with perfumed charms, they bounce
between the bumpers, dance along the painted lines
search for lorries and the dead-eye stare.

Caffeinated customers who pay
a few pennies to sweeten their cabs, if only until
the milky petals wither and fall.

[redyelruc]

rambleON, thanks for your extensive comments no The Sin of Apathy, I'm glad you could find something you liked in here.

Vetty, I've been side-tracked for a couple of days with New Year's celebrations and visitors from overseas but I'm hoping to get the month back on track over the weekend. I'm glad you're enjoying what the pressure is sweating from me.