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OK, I'm in. Thanks for the inspiration, here's what I've got pre-revision: I'm walking. City drone fading out behind me. First buildings, Then cars, Then fear. I'm still walking, Bare feet in earthen trough. Heavy boots bounce on my pack, Slosh of drink, Rattle of pencilcase. I'm just walking, Generous September sun. The path endlessly straight, Massive cows, Blue sea of cabbage. I'm walking, And finally, My mind is still. Lots I'm not happy with, but I wanted to post before I convince myself not to.
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Apr 3, 2018 09:05
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| # ¿ Apr 20, 2024 02:18 |
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Thanks for the crit! The comment in Exercise about struggling to seperate what you know and what you've said is bang on, it's something I always struggle with - I think I'm being subtle, I'm actually being opaque. In this case, the non-sequiter of 'then fear [fades out]' - referring to my goon-bingo-card agoraphobia. Which went away in a field, of all places. Editing time!  I think yours is strong, to put it mildly. (I'm trying to avoid saying 'powerful', always feels like a default response.) I like the simple clarity of it, I think anything more ornate would just end up getting in the way. 'You were losing weight' is such a brutal line, says so much so quickly. I'd like to go more in-depth, give it a proper response, but I'm not really sure how - I don't know if a line-by-line would be any use on a poem that works through cumulative effect. How do you go about taking a poem apart?
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Apr 4, 2018 19:25
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Sorry teach, lifestuff has come up, so I'll be a day late on my revision.  Took a poke at it this morning, but my rewrite put a weird tonal clash in there that I want to resolve before I post it.
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Apr 7, 2018 12:15
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I'm walking. City drone fading behind me; practical yellow-brick cubes, howl of the ring road, chitter of my mind. I'm still walking. Bare feet in earthen trough, heavy boots bounce on my pack. Slosh of drink. Rattle of pencil case. I'm just walking. Generous September sun, Monolith cows, Blue seas of cabbage, and the path endlessly straight ahead. I decided to keep the changes fairly minor eventually. There was a whole verse that got added and cut, focusing on why I was there, my mind, but that brought in a tonal shift I didn't like, so it went again. As I said before, I really like yours. The weakest parts for me are cultural things with no connection to me (britgoon) - 49ers, Fred Meyer, D.A.R.E. I can see why you've used them, but to someone less familiar with them they're a bit jarring, especially the acronym. I'm not sure if that'd be possible to resolve without losing some of the relevance of the poem, though. The first verse is my favourite, every line is really on-target and adds a facet to the story.
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Apr 8, 2018 18:45
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I'm a city kid, irl cows are plenty monolithic to me - I didn't know beef was that big! :P This weeks' memory prompts are tough, took me ages just to do the first part. I've not really come across prose poems before, it's one of those ideas that's obvious the minute you see it done but just wouldn't occur to you. My first shot at the shorter one: I stare down at the fish and the fish. The real one smog-yellow and glistening, and my fumbling pencil copy, the whole so much less than its excruciatingly detailed parts. "Not very good" was all the dismissal it earned, and my jaw hurts from my silence at this teacher who won't. Still angry at that rear end in a top hat, can't remember his name. Can remember that loving fish better than his face. More soon!
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Apr 11, 2018 00:41
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Second one, the object poem. I really struggled with this, because generally when I get descriptive about something I jump straight into weird structures and not-prose. It feels like it's not one thing or the other in a really awkward way. Imagine a very serious man. An engineer, with a thick moustache and a set square. The pencil that man would use is clipped inside his shirt pocket. A mechanical pencil, heavy brushed steel, solid, dependable. Reliable. This is a tool, one designed by precise people for precise people with precise needs. Just picking it up is an exercise in quiet satisfaction, a weight that reassures, knurled metal grip with rubber dimples, belt-buckle and braces. Lead hardness indicator. Refillable eraser under metal cap. A good weight to slide the bolt mechanism home, deploy the half-millimetre graphite from its housing with a sensible click. Metric system, impeccably rational. Colour-coded markings scratched from everyday labour but still legible at a glance. An infinitesimal nod, appreciation of quality craftsmanship, and work can proceed. e: Oh hey, you posted while I was editing! areyoucontagious posted:I considered sending my father’s call to voicemail; one more digitized copy of “hey, bud” tossed on the already stale pile cluttering up my memory. I really like that image, the greeting being less valued than storage space. On this Thursday however — my thirty-first birthday — I took the call and the quiet pain of my father’s voice was a shepherd’s sling against my iron heart. Yeah, as you said, the imagery here is a bit shotgun - is it biblical? The stuttered snips Not sold on this - the alliteration sets a rhythm the rest of the sentence doesn't follow of conversation stretched out as if gravity pulled extra hard that day on just us two, until the universe finally saw fit to pull our orbits apart. I don't think the gravity similie works here, because gravity makes me think 'pulling together'. On the next Thursday, and for all the Thursdays thereafter, there were no more calls. Simple, effective. I think the middle section, stuttered snips to orbits apart, pulls the piece down. It feels over-worked to me, too much in it, and it ends up distracting from what you're saying. lofi fucked around with this message at 17:45 on Apr 12, 2018 |
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Apr 12, 2018 17:32
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I dunno. I feel like I struck close enough to the brutally functional design of the pencil that I wrote a brutally functional piece. It works as a thematic description, if it was part of a bigger piece I'd be happy, but by itself it feels heavy, dull. A good exercise, I guess, but I much prefer the fish one I posted before. If you're struggling to write, I find hard limits help me - too much choice is a paralytic. Close your eyes, point at something, and give yourself an hour to write. If it's poo poo, c'est la vie, it's at least better than nothing. lofi fucked around with this message at 03:22 on Apr 15, 2018 |
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Apr 15, 2018 03:19
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I do not get this type of poem. Like, both those example ones seem terrible to me, I had to catch myself from skipping over lines as I was reading. I guess that's the point of learning, though, trying new stuff out. Well, here's my memory slurry: In '88, I'm sick on the way back from the bathroom. Mart tries to scrub it from the carpet while Eddie tries to eat it. In '96 I'm arrested. Tea is takeout pizza. In '16, I'm more proud of my Art Foundation distinction than I am of my degree, and it's not even close. I've never worked harder at anything. In '02 I come out. Too nervous to say it out loud, I down another can of Fosters as Mart reads the short letter I wrote. In '04, Illiterate Steve and his nightshift clan imaginatively nickname me Pinky at work for my neon pink hair. I despise them all. In '01 me and Rach buy a How to Draw Manga book, and a wood chip wrapped in clingfilm sold to us as hash. We try to smoke it just to be certain. In '98 me and Rach sit under the bridge for hours every night, smoking and making out. In '06 I visit Maxie in Oxford. I give my month's notice to work on the train home, and live in Oxford six weeks later. In '10 I arrange the contents of the lounge into concentric circles orbiting my seat on the floor in front of the computer.
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Apr 17, 2018 17:35
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areyoucontagious posted:The last stanza feels out of place. Rereading it, you're totally right - again, it's the 'what you know vs. what you've told' thing. Such a great bit of advice. I got the bones of my list figured out today, and I think I get it now - the list is just a vehicle for snapshots of a whole - it's like cubism in words, showing a thing from a bunch of different (contradictory/different times) angles to make up a whole image. I'm still not totally sold on it, but I think with some pruning I might be able to make something work. Or I've just had too much beer, one of the two.  spectres of autism posted:these are both a little short areyoucontagious posted:I changed the title to be less crude and give an implication. If I were to submit this somewhere lofi fucked around with this message at 02:04 on Apr 20, 2018 |
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Apr 20, 2018 01:54
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Things made of metal. - A dozen steel choke chains, heavy on the right hip of ripped black jeans. - Chrome Zippo with embossed Jack Daniels logo, rusted shut from contact with resin catalyst. - Stainless steel barbell, worn in tongue. - High carbon steel pocketknife blade. Kept sharp enough to shave arm hairs. - Rusty bike chain on a rusty bicycle. - Steel hobby knife handle, the memento I keep from my dead granddad. - Tarnished silver rings on every finger of the left hand. - Aluminium fountain pen, black, with carbon black permanent ink, medium nib. - Steel cog, worn as dreadlock bead, removed once for surgery. - Brass bracelet, handmade on art course. - Pewter finger ring that cost far too much and needed modification to fit. - Four dusty nickel strings on a black Ibanez bass guitar. - Iron scramasax, a viking shortsword used before a night's clubbing. Dense, heavy, permanent in a way my memories can never be. Anchors to stop me drifting away. 
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Apr 20, 2018 17:14
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areyoucontagious posted:Around 1993, my dad took me to see Jurassic park in the theater. I was seven and have never had a movie theater experience that lives up to it since. Niiice, there aren't any lines that don't add anything, and some of them (2014,1995) are great. The only bit I didn't totally like was the 2003 - your first line was 'nothing rivalled jurrasic park', then 2003 has 'kill bill rivalled jurassic park'. Aside from the fact you're wrong, it's a bit of a mixed message that makes my mental gears crunch. The rest of the line is good, though.  I'm not certain you need the 'around xxxx', thinking on it - the films themselves might be enough to establish times, since they're such classics. Thanks for the crit on mine, and yeah, the shortsword line maybe needed a little more context I guess. One day I'll remember to do a 'what am I saying explicitly, and will it make sense in context' pass.  I mean, I looked over it, but somehow didn't spot it. Lack of experience, I guess.
lofi fucked around with this message at 02:44 on Apr 21, 2018 |
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Apr 21, 2018 02:37
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No worries.
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Apr 23, 2018 08:25
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Here's my original, for context. lofi posted:Yawn AYC pointed out it was very told-not-shown and dry, and I agree. I also used 'lest' which I couldn't think of a better replacement for but still sucked. So I've basically completely re-written, keeping very little of the original beyond the concept. I focused in more on the character's feelings and reactions. I figured 'write what you know', so I leaned into the feeling I get when I'm climbing and I get stuck up a wall and the only way down is to let go and drop down. This is insane. To be falling endlessly around a planet, To be outside my ship and To be hyperventilating the last dregs of my air. This is insane, To have hosed up so comically, To have been such a loving moron as To have tied the safety line to the panel that blew off. This is insane, To be utterly stranded so close to the airlock. To thrash and howl and rage and To have it make not a hair of difference. This is insane, To have only one plan. To even consider this and To know it's my only choice. This is insane, To disable the alarms, To ignore the ice in my guts, and To force terror-stiff arms to reach up. This is insane, To clench eyes, scream hard, wrench bolts. To burn with cold as I tear the heavy helmet free. To fling it behind me and demand that it be enough force To launch me home.
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Apr 28, 2018 16:24
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Hey there! Don't worry, you're not the only one figuring this out as you go! And yeah, sharing poetry is hard, I absolutely get the feeling of "but everyone will think it's whiny emo devart poo poo", it gets easier after the first. Free Drinks posted:
I think you've got nice images in this! My main difficulty with it is that it doesn't seem to go anywhere - even if it's a mood piece, focusing on a sense of progression would help a lot, something to lead the reader through the poem. Sorry I can't put it better than that, I've only been at this a month myself! areyoucontagious posted:I think this one suffers from being over dramatic, which makes it a bit dull to read. There’s a few lines in there that don’t execute well. I think the central concept is really what’s holding this back. I feel like it’d be more suited to a short story or prose than poetry. I may have overcorrected a little. Judging how much drama to add is a skill I'm... "working on". I kinda agree this concept is more suited to a short story - it was written with the intention of turning it into a super short comic originally. But now I just want to get my silly scifi stuck-astronaut poem working, there has to be a way... Thanks for the crit! lofi fucked around with this message at 10:23 on May 5, 2018 |
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May 5, 2018 10:14
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Wow, this week's a tough one. I'm really struggling to pick out much beyond obvious alliteration. I guess if it was easy, I wouldn't need to learn it!
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May 8, 2018 00:48
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| # ¿ Apr 20, 2024 02:18 |
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areyoucontagious posted:
I'd lose the line-breaks. Could just be me, but I found your whole post there a bit hard to follow with so many short lines. Was it copy/pasted? Sorry if my comments are a bit vague, I'm really struggling to put stuff together in my head at the moment. It is a good poem, it really shows me the scene you're describing, and tattooed/eardrums and perform for gods/imperfect hands are great lines. My effort for this week. It's not really had much of a chance to 'settle', I waited to collect fragments and didn't really leave myself enough time to write & edit it. I did enjoy scribbling down a couple of lines regularly, it was really nice to spend a minute going 'hey, let's really pay attention for a bit'. Ghetto mindfulness. (Ghetto Mindfulness is my new trip-hop band name.) Winter has passed, now woodsmoke smells fill my room in the evening. Winter has passed, and I eavesdrop upstairs' arguments through open doors and windows. Each day a variation on the theme, he doesn't love her enough, she screams. Winter has passed when kids dart around drying clothes on a shop roof, inventing the rules of their game as they go. A tinge of jealousy for their improvised playground, a smile that it's not wasted. Winter has passed with a dusty scrape as I drag my chairback-turned-cushion to stay in the sun, toes curling into the warmth. Winter has passed, but pale blossom falls like snow in the sun, turns road into river and dances in the wake of the cars. Winter has passed, and four old men sit watching the traffic, each alone at their table. e:  My poem was so bad I killed the thread!
lofi fucked around with this message at 22:41 on May 19, 2018 |
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May 13, 2018 17:02
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