#1
in chronographs,
she rests,
as if etched
in a turtle shell,
like a hieroglyph
or discoloured
graffiti, denaturing
as twelves meet twelves.

she's dressed up
in a bright green
evening gown,
and as she stumbles
through foggy mirrors,
she unknowingly leads
herself into cessation;
her mouth is full of bullets,
her teeth are made of flint,
and her hair-trigger temper
sets itself off
at her own reflection.

she falters and falls
to the floor, her eyes
filling with blood
as she slowly becomes
an anomaly.

I just want to sleep forever.


Last edited by Grovermans at Sep 11, 2007,
#2
I really liked the way this one read. The only real complaints I had was emrald blood and tears- It felt so out of place, personally, and "she slowly becomes an anomoly"- just didn't fit in. Content wise, it's good, but I didn't like the way the word anomaly itself was used.

Other than that, the flow was very good. I really liked this one even if the ending wasn't what I hoped for personally.
Anatomy Anatomy
Whale Blue Review

Park that car
Drop that phone
Sleep on the floor
Dream about me
#4
i actually put more thought into those few lines
than i put into the entire rest of the poem, so...

it really does mean something.

haha but i guess i see where you're coming from?

I just want to sleep forever.


#5
yeah, I can see it working but it didn't really connect with me. Sort of an "it's not you it's me" thing? (In a completely straight way, that is)

I didn't not like it, I just didn't get as much as it seems like I was intended to get...
Anatomy Anatomy
Whale Blue Review

Park that car
Drop that phone
Sleep on the floor
Dream about me
#7
This is from Matt:

"Next time use the word watch instead of chronograph, you fucking slug."
Poor advice.
#9
This is from Matt:

"Next time use the word watch instead of chronograph, you fucking slug."
if he's going to be an ass,
the least he could do is tell me himself.

but i guess i appreciate the comment.

EDIT: ah he's banned. that makes sense.
but it still seems unnecessary to get randy to
post a message for him just so he can insult me.

I just want to sleep forever.


Last edited by Grovermans at Sep 11, 2007,
#10
Quote by Grovermans
in chronographs,
she rests,
as if etched
in a turtle shell,
like a hieroglyph
or discoloured
graffiti, denaturing
as twelves meet twelves.

No idea what this all is supposed to mean, other than introducing a character, but it sounds good, flows well... I just don't get the imagery.

she's dressed up
in a bright green
evening gown,
and as she stumbles
through foggy mirrors,
she unknowingly leads
herself into cessation;
her mouth is full of bullets,
her teeth are made of flint,
and her hair-trigger temper
sets itself off
at her own reflection.

Definitely enjoy the imagery here. The "mouth full of bullets, teeth made of flint" was an awesome set of lines, and definitely the highlight of the piece for me

she falters and falls
to the floor, her eyes
filling with emerald blood
as she slowly becomes
an anomaly.

Unlike the others, I don't mind the emerald blood line, I actually rather enjoy the imagery and symbolism of the crying being the same as bleeding. I also like the placement of anomaly, the way you've essentially singled it out. I can just hear it echo-ing after its said. So, I don't mind that at all.



Well, my main gripes are that a lot of it didn't make sense, it was like it was written with a certain image in mind, and you almost hit it... and it might even make sense to you, because you know what you are describing, however to a reader (especially the first stanza) the imagery is unclear, and since this piece is based around the reader visualizing and understanding what your character is doing, it certainly takes away from the piece.

Still very solid, just needs some work.

Any questions, PM me and let me know.

peace and cocnuts,

-ZC
#11
Since you posted on mine, returning the favor. Like ZC mentioned, it was hard to make any sense out of it. But it wasn't so horribly incomprehensible that I couldn't enjoy it a little. Made me think a lil bit. Im with most of the others, the 'emerald' line didn't do it for me. The parts I did enjoy most were the turtle line, and also the reflection part. The were some really good ideas in here, just think it could be improved if it was a bit easier for the reader to get something from it. The style of writing, though, was very cool.
#12
Quote by Grovermans
in chronographs,
she rests,
as if etched
in a turtle shell,
like a hieroglyph
or discoloured
graffiti, denaturing
as twelves meet twelves.

she's dressed up
in a bright green
evening gown,
and as she stumbles
through foggy mirrors,
she unknowingly leads
herself into cessation;
her mouth is full of bullets,
her teeth are made of flint,
and her hair-trigger temper
sets itself off
at her own reflection.

she falters and falls
to the floor, her eyes
filling with blood
as she slowly becomes
an anomaly.


When I was a tender lad of eleven or twelve, I began my unfortunate tenure at the pit of hell that goes by the name of "middle school." In sixth grade, I had an English teacher who, G-d bless her soul, saw it as her duty on this planet to strip every bright-eyed student of every shred of his or her youthful innocence, and to indoctrinate us into the ways of serious, academic scholarship. It was she who tore up my pitiful essay on choosing the right Christmas tree with my family to really drive the point home that I knew absolutely nothing about proper essay structure. That's the kind of dedicated disregard for her students' feelings that was emblematic of her teaching style, and was ultimately what made her the most effective, memorable, and inspiring teacher I've had in my entire life.

In the spirit of Mrs. Bumpas, I hope to tear apart this poem before your eyes. May you become better for it.

You claim you put more thought into the first few lines than any others in the poem. I hope for your sake that it wasnt much. The words are completely inert. There are so few of them and they are so facile that I feel I can take them one by one:

in

Okay, blunder number one: Opening the poem with a prepositional phrase. The exact opposite of a strong opening, since prepositional phrases are by definition unnecessary parts of a sentence. Any subject-verb pair would be a stronger choice. Sure, at first "She rests / in chronographs" sounds too straightforward and simple, but in reality it's hundreds of times a more powerful syntactic structure to progress from concrete action to a determiner. I know 'cause I study linguistics at an Ivy League school.

chronographs

I get that "chronographs" has a slightly different meaning than just a watch. But is that shade of meaning worth the extra pretention that a Greek-based, unfamiliar word that no one has used in a century carries with it? This word is in no speaker of modern English's active lexicon, only those of us who can piece together its roots (which isn't everyone, remember that) can actually read through this piece, only stopping to think "Chronograph? What is he trying to prove?" rather than "Chronograph? Better haul out the O.E.D." Not everyone knows koine greek. Those of us who do can tell that you don't either.

she rests

Despite the ambiguity of the image brought up by "rest," I still maintain that this phrase would be a decent opener since it's the goddamn subject-verb pair and all.

as if

Hoo boy, here comes the subjunctive. Not a good call to take us into the hypothetical when we haven't established the literal yet. So wait, she rests...in a stopwatch? Now he's going to ask me to compare that image with another? Oh man I hope it's more literal and not more esoteric!

etched

This doesn't look promising.

in a turtle shell

God damn it.
Okay, let me step back for a second, I know close reading has its downfall in missing larger thematic arcs. If we take the image of the turtle to represent slowness, as it forever will, then I guess we can sort of build our little card house of metaphor here, with the time measurement motif, and now...slow time? Been reading Keats, Kyle? I hope you don't have tuberculosis like he did, Kyle. Either way, these metaphors are delicate, you should probably stick to them, and not introduce some other image that I'll have to strain to relate to the first two.

like a hieroglyph

Fuck, Kyle, were you even listening?

or discolored graffiti

Even though these two images make an interesting pair, there's really no way I can reconcile them with your first two. You built your house of cards, now you're shooting rubber bands at it. Rubber bands that you have lit on fire. I can't go any further with this analysis. "Denaturing" is a biological term, which further muddies your image, and I guess your twelves come back to the clock image, but at this point you've lost your read so completely that even if they notice the connection, they'll wonder whether that's even what you meant. That's what I'm doing, after all.

Okay, the first stanza was an imagistic mess. It had to be said; it seemed like you were throwing picture-words at the wall to see what would stick, but whether everything or nothing did didn't really matter, you were still throwing things indiscriminately. Now, stanza two.

she's dressed up in a bright green evening gown

You've lost a lot of credibility with the reader at this point. I'm second-guessing everything you say. "Did he say bright-green because it's an uncommon color for an evening gown, and he wanted to bring it to our attention? Or was it just because he felt like dressing her in green?" Either way, you can certainly pick a better modifier than "bright." Is it grass-green? Sea-green? Kelly green? Make me see the dress, the word "bright" just makes me think you haven't thought it through.
Secondly, present tense again? Either this stanza is not contemporaneous with the first, or it's about a different "she" altogether, or it's just lazy and not thought-through. Your track record in stanza one forces me to consider the latter. See what you've lost with that meaningless image train? Regardless, you've told us without a doubt what she's wearing. Thanks for giving me something to hold on to, I guess, even if it's something facile.

and as she stumbles through foggy mirrors

I'm glad she's up and around doing something, since I was afraid she might have been asleep in the evening gown, a possibility I didn't initially consider. But is that really my fault? You should establish the action (again, S-V pair) early on so as not to confuse the reader. Even if it's something as esoteric as stumbling through foggy mirrors, at least we know she's no longer at rest. The first time reading through, I had to just surmise that due to the fact that she was dressed up. Your pacing makes bizarre image decisions even more inscrutable sometimes. I'd say fix both, but at least fix the pacing. It's what made Ezra Pound great, and he got away with many a ridiculous image. Then again, he was put in an insane asylum for much of his later life.

she unknowingly leads herself into cessation

In a different context, this would be an interesting thought to stop and consider. What's the nature of cessation? Has she stumbled into cessation of her own mind/body, or into a realm of general calm and cessation? Had I been secure in what happened beforehand, I would approach this line with glee. Here, though, it's just another meaningless thought that you've tossed off without communicating its significance, and I know my questions as to what you really mean by it will remain unresolved in the coming lines, when you jump to another image to ejaculate onto. Let's see if I'm right...

her mouth is made of bullets

Bingo. F
uck. I don't even feel like going into the rest of this poem. You've got some kind of point here about her being angry at her reflection, but I'm on such insubstantial ground to begin with that I can't even make an attempt at interpreting it any further. It's getting to the point that I feel a little weird about even using "she" and "her" in my explication. This person you're (ostensibly) writing about has no being, no humanistic qualities whatsoever. Anything there is obfuscated by image after image. I've been trying to make heads or tails of this mess and I'm practically spent now, Kyle. This poem is all work and no pay-off, just like most of the girls I fall in love with. If you honestly wrote this poem as a metaphor for my love life, I will hotwire a car, drive to Canada and blow you this very evening. That's how confident I am that you didn't mean this poem to be as confusing as my life is.

I feel like I've been repeating myself over and over, and an analysis of the last stanza would just be more of the same. Give me clarity, Kyle. Give me structure. Give me capitalization. Give me any indication that you think about these words before you write them down because they sound cool. I'm muddled, slightly angry, and in an eroto-existential funk after doing a close read of this stuff. Now if you'll excuse me, there are plenty of girls in my life who make me feel the same way. I've spent a lot of time considering this poem that I could've spent writing them messages on facebook. I can't get into a poem's pants, after all.
#15
Quote by pixiesfanyo
I guess deciphering a massive amount of unrelated pop culture references isn't really his deal..



Oooh, saucey!

I suppose not.
Poor advice.
#17
Quote by pixiesfanyo
it should've been heard on the neXt bus.

WAIT you should use that in your neXt song!

she spoke in sentences that should've been said on the neXt bus.

oh man! so much meaning..


Wha? What the Hell are you talking about?
Poor advice.
#18
Quote by *Truly Ninja*
When I was a tender lad of eleven or twelve, I began my unfortunate tenure at the pit of hell that goes by the name of "middle school." In sixth grade, I had an English teacher who, G-d bless her soul, saw it as her duty on this planet to strip every bright-eyed student of every shred of his or her youthful innocence, and to indoctrinate us into the ways of serious, academic scholarship. It was she who tore up my pitiful essay on choosing the right Christmas tree with my family to really drive the point home that I knew absolutely nothing about proper essay structure. That's the kind of dedicated disregard for her students' feelings that was emblematic of her teaching style, and was ultimately what made her the most effective, memorable, and inspiring teacher I've had in my entire life.

In the spirit of Mrs. Bumpas, I hope to tear apart this poem before your eyes. May you become better for it.

You claim you put more thought into the first few lines than any others in the poem. I hope for your sake that it wasnt much. The words are completely inert. There are so few of them and they are so facile that I feel I can take them one by one:

in

Okay, blunder number one: Opening the poem with a prepositional phrase. The exact opposite of a strong opening, since prepositional phrases are by definition unnecessary parts of a sentence. Any subject-verb pair would be a stronger choice. Sure, at first "She rests / in chronographs" sounds too straightforward and simple, but in reality it's hundreds of times a more powerful syntactic structure to progress from concrete action to a determiner. I know 'cause I study linguistics at an Ivy League school.

chronographs

I get that "chronographs" has a slightly different meaning than just a watch. But is that shade of meaning worth the extra pretention that a Greek-based, unfamiliar word that no one has used in a century carries with it? This word is in no speaker of modern English's active lexicon, only those of us who can piece together its roots (which isn't everyone, remember that) can actually read through this piece, only stopping to think "Chronograph? What is he trying to prove?" rather than "Chronograph? Better haul out the O.E.D." Not everyone knows koine greek. Those of us who do can tell that you don't either.

she rests

Despite the ambiguity of the image brought up by "rest," I still maintain that this phrase would be a decent opener since it's the goddamn subject-verb pair and all.

as if

Hoo boy, here comes the subjunctive. Not a good call to take us into the hypothetical when we haven't established the literal yet. So wait, she rests...in a stopwatch? Now he's going to ask me to compare that image with another? Oh man I hope it's more literal and not more esoteric!

etched

This doesn't look promising.

in a turtle shell

God damn it.
Okay, let me step back for a second, I know close reading has its downfall in missing larger thematic arcs. If we take the image of the turtle to represent slowness, as it forever will, then I guess we can sort of build our little card house of metaphor here, with the time measurement motif, and now...slow time? Been reading Keats, Kyle? I hope you don't have tuberculosis like he did, Kyle. Either way, these metaphors are delicate, you should probably stick to them, and not introduce some other image that I'll have to strain to relate to the first two.

like a hieroglyph

Fuck, Kyle, were you even listening?

or discolored graffiti

Even though these two images make an interesting pair, there's really no way I can reconcile them with your first two. You built your house of cards, now you're shooting rubber bands at it. Rubber bands that you have lit on fire. I can't go any further with this analysis. "Denaturing" is a biological term, which further muddies your image, and I guess your twelves come back to the clock image, but at this point you've lost your read so completely that even if they notice the connection, they'll wonder whether that's even what you meant. That's what I'm doing, after all.

Okay, the first stanza was an imagistic mess. It had to be said; it seemed like you were throwing picture-words at the wall to see what would stick, but whether everything or nothing did didn't really matter, you were still throwing things indiscriminately. Now, stanza two.

she's dressed up in a bright green evening gown

You've lost a lot of credibility with the reader at this point. I'm second-guessing everything you say. "Did he say bright-green because it's an uncommon color for an evening gown, and he wanted to bring it to our attention? Or was it just because he felt like dressing her in green?" Either way, you can certainly pick a better modifier than "bright." Is it grass-green? Sea-green? Kelly green? Make me see the dress, the word "bright" just makes me think you haven't thought it through.
Secondly, present tense again? Either this stanza is not contemporaneous with the first, or it's about a different "she" altogether, or it's just lazy and not thought-through. Your track record in stanza one forces me to consider the latter. See what you've lost with that meaningless image train? Regardless, you've told us without a doubt what she's wearing. Thanks for giving me something to hold on to, I guess, even if it's something facile.

and as she stumbles through foggy mirrors

I'm glad she's up and around doing something, since I was afraid she might have been asleep in the evening gown, a possibility I didn't initially consider. But is that really my fault? You should establish the action (again, S-V pair) early on so as not to confuse the reader. Even if it's something as esoteric as stumbling through foggy mirrors, at least we know she's no longer at rest. The first time reading through, I had to just surmise that due to the fact that she was dressed up. Your pacing makes bizarre image decisions even more inscrutable sometimes. I'd say fix both, but at least fix the pacing. It's what made Ezra Pound great, and he got away with many a ridiculous image. Then again, he was put in an insane asylum for much of his later life.

she unknowingly leads herself into cessation

In a different context, this would be an interesting thought to stop and consider. What's the nature of cessation? Has she stumbled into cessation of her own mind/body, or into a realm of general calm and cessation? Had I been secure in what happened beforehand, I would approach this line with glee. Here, though, it's just another meaningless thought that you've tossed off without communicating its significance, and I know my questions as to what you really mean by it will remain unresolved in the coming lines, when you jump to another image to ejaculate onto. Let's see if I'm right...

her mouth is made of bullets

Bingo. F
uck. I don't even feel like going into the rest of this poem. You've got some kind of point here about her being angry at her reflection, but I'm on such insubstantial ground to begin with that I can't even make an attempt at interpreting it any further. It's getting to the point that I feel a little weird about even using "she" and "her" in my explication. This person you're (ostensibly) writing about has no being, no humanistic qualities whatsoever. Anything there is obfuscated by image after image. I've been trying to make heads or tails of this mess and I'm practically spent now, Kyle. This poem is all work and no pay-off, just like most of the girls I fall in love with. If you honestly wrote this poem as a metaphor for my love life, I will hotwire a car, drive to Canada and blow you this very evening. That's how confident I am that you didn't mean this poem to be as confusing as my life is.

I feel like I've been repeating myself over and over, and an analysis of the last stanza would just be more of the same. Give me clarity, Kyle. Give me structure. Give me capitalization. Give me any indication that you think about these words before you write them down because they sound cool. I'm muddled, slightly angry, and in an eroto-existential funk after doing a close read of this stuff. Now if you'll excuse me, there are plenty of girls in my life who make me feel the same way. I've spent a lot of time considering this poem that I could've spent writing them messages on facebook. I can't get into a poem's pants, after all.

oh wow.

that was probably the most
helpful crit i've ever received.

thanks a lot, evan.

I just want to sleep forever.