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Post by Robin on Dec 28, 2005 11:50:46 GMT -8
"Little Ballerina never stop"
I like this part, but I don't like the rest of the stanza. "The dance of life" just sounds too blunt.
I think "little ballerina, promise me you'll never stop" would sound cooler, but that's just me.
"Cold metal of the dusk Music of the dawn arrives"
This was the best part of the second stanza. The second stanza just didn't really fit in with the rest of the poem.
The third stanza was just repetitive. You could have gotten away with not having it at all.
"Painted expressions Never changing Silken dresses more beautiful Than perfection Red slippers dangled by The rosy ribbons"
Whimsical, but irrelevant. It doesn't really illustrate your point. I've learned that, if it doesn't contribute to your main point, you don't need it. Otherwise, you end up being too wordy, like me.
The next three stanzas are equally irrelevant. If I was writing this poem, I'd just take them out.
"You slow You stop you rest"
I like this part. It's powerful. I could see it being sung in a song.
"An ivory hand will keep you Turning Never breaking My Little Ballerina girl"
The ivory hand part seemed out-of-place to me, but the rest of the stanza was cute. 'Turning/Never breaking//My Little Ballerina girl" was nice.
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Post by Robin on Dec 28, 2005 11:42:27 GMT -8
I see. It makes sense now that you tell me what it was supposed to do.
Regardless of its purpose, it was still great.
You're welcome. =)
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Post by Robin on Dec 28, 2005 11:36:30 GMT -8
That's sweet. Not the cancer part, but that you wrote a poem for her.
"The beauty seems shriveled, now so wasted that the desert looks more moist."
This part appealed to me. It just stuck out at me when I started reading it. It's a strong way to start something, and it sucks the reader in. It was a good choice to open with.
"Glory praises us in silence because as a world, we’ve chosen to see the decadence, the other side of splendor."
Good wording. The choice of words such as "glory," "praises," "decadence," and "splendor" spell out a really vivid image for the reader, even if it is an abstract image. They're words that make you feel.
"Isn’t it true that two halves make us whole? So what do you think you’re missing?"
Not my favorite part in the poem, but a neccesary one. It's blunt in comparison to the other lines in your poem, but it adds a needed contrast that keeps the reader awake.
The third stanza was just beyond any kind of reprimand. It was lovely. I was reminded of a director just madly going on and on about the brilliance of an actor's performance. It was beautiful.
"films rearranging inside our heads."
Rock moment. I was reminded of "and there's a demon in my head that starts to play a nightmare tape loop of what went wrong yesterday," but it was original in that sense. I've never seen somebody able to put something like that in their poem and manage to be neck-to-neck with writers like Stephan Jenkins.
The last stanzas were lovely, too. However, I think they were a little repetitive. You could have compressed them together and gotten your point across, but perhaps you wanted to draw out the ending because if you die of cancer it's drawn out...?
In any case, it was a lovely poem. I liked it.
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Post by Robin on Dec 29, 2005 12:46:50 GMT -8
I like it better now, but that could just be me.
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Post by Robin on Dec 28, 2005 11:29:34 GMT -8
If you can add another stanza without disrupting your flow/meaning, by all means, do it.
It won't hurt your poem if you can do it right.
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Post by Robin on Dec 28, 2005 9:07:09 GMT -8
"Wrapping itself around the plastic woman inside"
This was the only line that really appealed to me.
The rest of it didn't really click together.
Why is the lavender coffin dangerous to the man? Is it because of depression that his lover died?
While holes in your plot like this can be interesting and make the reader think, you should do all you can to explain it without spoon-feeding your idea to the reader.
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Post by Robin on Dec 29, 2005 15:15:11 GMT -8
Okay. I'll try those things. I'll be sure to update this when I have it all edited.
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Post by Robin on Dec 28, 2005 11:37:42 GMT -8
Thanks.
I'm glad it sounded real. It's what I was going for. Dreamy usually works, but with the view I was writing it from, I wanted to make sure that it sounded realistic.
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Post by Robin on Dec 28, 2005 9:03:41 GMT -8
Okay.
Now I have to figure out what to put in place of it every other stanza.
Perhaps 'it's a dorky love ballad that I wrote to you?'
It keeps the same thread of what was going on before, but with a slightly different sounding adjective. It might be subtle enough.
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Post by Robin on Dec 27, 2005 18:43:39 GMT -8
Yeah. Maybe I could change it every other stanza or something. It might just add enough change to make it less tiring.
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Post by Robin on Dec 27, 2005 18:31:57 GMT -8
Thanks, Ramona.
Do you think the repetition gets overpowering?
I felt like I was rambling when I wrote the end.
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Post by Robin on Dec 27, 2005 6:40:06 GMT -8
It's not really a ballad, but from the perspective it's written from, you need everything to try and get what you need. It's kind of an odd piece, and, like a lot of my stuff, it's written from the perspective of a man (which I am not,) and in this case, an adult man who was recently divorced and is in a custody battle over his son with his wife. He wants her back.
Okay, I modified this. I took out the corny love ballad bit every other stanza, replacing it with something that I thought fit it based on the content in the stanza. Tell me if the lyposuction worked. If it didn't, it's back to the cutting board.
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It’s a corny love ballad that I wrote to you And hid in your glove compartment, Right there next to ‘The Best of Barry Manilow,’ So that when you were driving to work, You would find it when you got out your CD And listened to our song, Bobbing your head and swaying your torso, Jamming to that Essential Manilow.
I wrote it to you, and only to you For you to read in your car, Taking your mind off the road on the way to work, So that before you lose your eyesight, We can dance one more time together, And be just like Elton John. So that we can saw inside your head And see what makes you tick.
It’s a corny love ballad that I wrote to you, Crouched behind the scenes At our son’s drama class theater room. I heard him talking about his latest squeeze, And it got me thinking about Stephan Jenkins and Charlize Theron, And I didn’t want to be them. I wanted to be Stephan and Vanessa. I wanted to be with you.
I listened to Queen as I wrote it to you, Staying up late in my room And trying to figure out how to win this custody battle. Hearing our son blast Eminem from his headphones All the way from his room to mine, And it got me thinking about how he was destroying his hearing, And I didn’t want him to be me. I wanted him to hear his squeeze when she talked to him. I wanted him to be Lear.
It’s a corny love ballad that I wrote to you, Trying to win you back And trying to figure out exactly when I fell behind the times. Wondering how I would get new women if you left forever And took our son all the way to Mississippi, And it got me thinking that Mississippi was where we met, And I didn’t want to be me. I wanted to be one of those kids who were alright in Mississippi. I wanted to be Charlie Mars.
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Post by Robin on Dec 27, 2005 18:29:01 GMT -8
Yeah. I kind of went off on a tangent.
I like all the parts of this poem, though.
Does anybody have any suggestions on what I should probably cut out? Like what's just unneccesary fluff?
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Post by Robin on Dec 27, 2005 11:24:52 GMT -8
You're both right.
So you think I should compress it?
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Post by Robin on Dec 26, 2005 18:14:57 GMT -8
I'm particularly proud of this piece, but that's no reason for you to not post anything that could improve it! I know it has quite a few flaws, and I'd like to fix those.
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My dear Beulah, I have left you. You must understand that I could not stay. It is not because I was drafted to the army, Or because my mother is ill, But because I couldn't stand you.
Oh, dear Beulah, I do not hate you. I do not hate you and your kind ways. I do not loathe your expensive perfume, Nor your taste in music, But I hate the way you love.
Dear Beulah, you give yourself sparingly, You call out 'I object' at my marriage to sweet paradise, And I am not allowed to lift your nightgown higher than your waist, Or fall down onto your breasts. Oh, I hate the way you love.
Sweet Beulah, you smother me. You kill me with your candied kindness. It is not a hidden bitterness that you suffocate me with, Nor is it enmity smothered like an infant in the crib. No, it is kindness, Beulah, You kill me quietly with your kindness.
Oh, beautiful Beulah, I love you. But I do not love the way you love me back. To you, I am your bleeding heart, to cultivate, Your hollyhock to tend and groom as you please. I am not a flower, Beulah, You cannot keep me in your prettily painted pots.
Lovely, dear, Beulah, I have no recipe, But you keep trying to mix in more of what pleases you. A little sugar here, a little vanilla there, but that won't fix me. I am not even broken, Beulah, but you keep taping me up. I am not a torn dress, Beulah, But you still keep trying to patch all my rips.
Darling Beulah, I would marry you. But you have long been a married woman. There's a ring on your finger, a gold one with little diamonds, You can't see it, but I can, and I know who gave it to you. You're wed to God, Beulah, And when we love, you never stop thinking of him.
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