of the sea

Spoiler

A/N: an experiment, it's long I know.

i.

They called me of the sea -
some cerulean fist
they’d like to crack open because
I’ve been drunk off
sea salts and broken lines
and since
I’ve been star eyed

in the fact
I took a ride down a dead end path
and forgot how to turn.
I know I’m stuck
sitting at a pier
not even sure if it exists.

ii.

I’m born again.

but blurry this time
I can only see the light everyday
splotched like salt stains.
I heard you met someone like me the other day
with a bend in their knee and
turns the tap off some days by kicking the pipes out

(has anyone ever told you
to take like a fish to water)

or out
choking on your own air.
I’m poisoned with oxygen
and feel it
plucked and strung in veins
that gasp air before sinking again.

My heart stretches
webs out in tissue maps
of the currents till I’ve lost myself
halfway around the world -
because everyone knows I’ve left pieces everywhere.

iii.

exhale;

I spent last night counting the buckets I keep under cracks in my ceiling
in case it rains sea water
and if I might catch a fish -
I can dream too,

of the break in water
and floating.
other times I swim to the west
whimpering till I'm taught to fish and
peel its belly upright.

I ate everything – even scales
like they’d replace my teeth
and I might grow gills
have it taste good again,
like those days where the easiest sound
was water
whistling between teeth.

iv.

breathe; just about anywhere.

I got lost
in some infatuation for air
and I swam through corn fields
broken mine fields
galaxy field guides to see
if I could float -

I was fished out of the snow
just to have my back bone pulled out
and to find my skin’s too tough for anything
(but water) to cut through
and now somehow everything smells like
recently dusted shelf rooms
and the battle-hardened shipwrecks
I curl into for years to learn
how to run water in between your fingers
so it sings a little in a conch shell -
tickled whorl of air

I breathe; yet again.

Wow. This is really well written! I really enjoyed this.Good job! Keep up the amazing work!

Kamas, I want you to take this poem and I want you to do one thing with it once you've taken all of these reviews.

I want you to read it aloud in front of an audience with all of the passion and fire and fiercecity (forget it's not a word who cares! IT RAGES, HAVE RAGE!) you can muster. Somewhere, anywhere, school, english, any class, at home, with friends, strangers, the park, the bridge, the fields, the whatever; READ IT ALOUD.

You've created a poem unto yourself, as you tell in the first line; who wants continuous analysis with such a powerful, soul laden piece? I'm not going to review this. It WILL NOT do you anymore good than getting the same old criticism! Go read this Kamas, and then come back and tell us in this thread how it was! Any bit of it!

Be passionate Kamas. Listen to yourself. I believe and trust you. Have fun.

I could tell you that I don't normally enjoy poetry; I could tell you that I'm not one for the ambiguity of it all, but what does that mean to you? I did enjoy this Kamas. I really enjoyed it. I found myself reading lines over and again. I found myself just reading and not thinking, not milling over extraneous metaphors and deliberately vague obscure language. It was just balanced enough. One line stuck with me

splotched like salt stains.

I loved this. I'm not going to say I read poetry now. But for a moment at least, you made me care about it. So thank you.

this is sort of epic, I...

I like how blue this poem is, the atmosphere... it really creates this rainy miasma of ocean waves and brine. Its good that you keep coming back to those images, but I think you may have overdone it. There are almost too many pins in the ocean metaphor, I think there's a lot more room to explore, or maybe just expanding it a little, because some places are kind of repetitive.

Condense. This poem is a wild, overgrown hedge. It is blocking the view of the mountains. Trim it back so we can see past it.

One suggestion is cut the salt from the first stanza and leave it in the second. Its more effective in the second but the first reference takes away from it. Tissue maps is great. Leave it. Take out all the references to stars, there are only two, and the second one repeats the word 'field' from the previous line (mine fields). The first field is better (because they are something that exist both in and out of water).

Also take ... that person who is named after a beatles song's advice and read it aloud. I read everything aloud many times. That is how poetry is supposed to be experienced. Aloud. I read all poems i read aloud. Poems I find in books, etc.

Also, your ending is bad. You need a new ending BAD. The poem should end on its strongest line, and I'm afraid you haven't found it yet. You're so close, don't give up.

best,

Hey Jazzeh! Section by section to begin with:

i.

< “Some” is completely awkward here. Use “a”, it gives the definition your poems needs on a base level. Don’t be so vague with us on the onset; we lack the foundation to continue onward. I enjoy your first line, in particular. In fact in this (what I will call) section, that is the best line, it has the feel I think you want in the entire poem. For now, you’re missing out on that immediately after. Your lines run down, less amazing, less strong from there. It’s understandable, you’ve chosen a less stable format to reflect the changing nature of the narrator, and poem, the chop and change of the sea itself. I dig on that, but I think that you’re not quite where you ought to be on this one. I’d consolidate some lings, make them a bit sharper and a big stronger. Give us some definite statements of image, ‘of the sea’ is clear and brilliant, but then you follow with the colour and I feel like it’s the wrong colour. Too bright, too clear. This woman (If I may make the assumption of woman) is one which is conflicted and moody, she is the sea. This sea isn’t the clear blue of Greece, it’s the deep, raging of the Atlantic (or wherever, I just happen to associate that bright blue with Greece for some reason). I think I want more grit, if you want her to be associated with the sea I’ll need more from you to prove to me the connection.

ii.

Well, this is disappointing from your beginning, we’re already slippering away from your initial concept – Yes I do see your continued water theme, the mention of salt and stains and such. But it’s not doing well enough. Your best lines here are “I heard you met someone like me the other day”, “(has...water). You’re losing vitality, I think. The poem is too self conscious and it’s showing in the lines, which need much more tightening. I’d like to see you lose that “with a bend” bit entirely, it’s uninteresting and the line after it is far more memorable, and inviting for the imagination. I know it shows the new person to be regular, human, and contrasts the next line, but it could do well to do. Why play with mediocrity if you don’t have to? After your parenthesis makes little sense, if only because you continue from the end of that bracket as though it isn’t bracketed which is technically confusing. I’m not yet sure if the poem is good enough to merit the thorough read through.

iii.

I would have preferred the loss of “I keep...ceiling” as the second bit isn’t important, really. The bucket makes the connection for us. In contrast to the other section, this references water, the sea, that little bit too much. I’m overwhelmed by it. I dig on the dreaming but lose it on the west, where it becomes too run on for me, too... self conscious once again. There’s a thin shell around this entire poem, and I feel like it should be broken so I can get to the meat. Your final strophe is much more interesting than the middle bit. I would suggest some wording changes, again, toward more focus and less malleable structure. Throwing away “like” to replace with “so”. And easiest sound? I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that. I like the idea of the water being sound, a whistle, but the easiest feels... too much. Is there a better modifier, or even (more appropriately) lose the “easiest” completely, and have it the sound. Which I like much more.

iv.

I’d lose the extra “just about anywhere” on your italics, it’s cumbersome, where “Breathe” works well following “exhale”. I’d lose “some” again in your second line; it’s an annoying word, really, because it’s a modifier that doesn’t need to be anywhere in this poem. This is only happening because of the shyness the line takes on when you use it, the indecision which is holding this entire poem back. I enjoy the rest of the first strophe; I like the feel of it. The brackets in the other strophe are unnecessary and distracting, I’d lose them entirely, “Just” and “somehow” on the same vein. It also stops making sense in the way that section 2 stopped making sense, it lost some focus and loosened up until I’m left not caring about the ending at all, even though there are some lovely words and half images, you lose me entirely with the shipwrecks which don’t fit at all with how your strophe is moving. They do in terms of ships in bottles, with the shelf rooms and all, but then battle hardened don’t make sense, and then it doesn’t make sense on the curling into to learn running water. No, I like obscurity as much as the next person, but you’re losing me here. I would also lose “yet again” from your end line, I dig on the being born the second time, or more, but it suits much better with “I breathe” but then I trend toward the dramatic.
--
The poem is a good one, as I’ve told several people already, I think it’s the best I’ve seen from you, probably ever. However, it’s also self conscious and indecisive and it’s making it very difficult to read and immerse myself in the poem while it’s fighting me the entire time. Rather than opening the poem to the reader, the language is closing it off in various sections (which creates a domino effect). Make some hard choices; be black and white in your language. If you think one thing, don’t modify it needlessly. You have good content, good context, but it’s slippery inside the language you’ve given it, it needs to be tightened and I think you’ll be able to do that fairly enough.

Thank you for the read, I enjoyed it. Always, hit me up if you want anything more.
Also plz dun h8 meh

I. love. this. A lot. There I was, feeling all proud of what I'd written recently, and I came here and read your poem, and... wow. That's all I have to say; I have nothing to review. Other than, I disagree with the person who said you need to change your ending- I liked it! It almost... faded out, but not weakly. It was a strong ending, but in its own way (to me, anyway). Please, please read this aloud, use it for a school project, send it in to your school newspaper or something. Get this out there. It's beautiful, passionate... NEVER stop writing.

Take off your pants, and eat this chocolate bread, we are going to talk about Debussy, cherie, for I am zee sonics mermaid, come to butter your croissant. Why are we talking about Debussy, he asks? Wicked child, but you know in your heart, "La Mer". If you have not heard it, scotchtape you seat and do so now.

I had a conductor recently who taught us much about this piece two of the main things were:
1) "I'm going to put this as tactfully as I can. Debussy was French. It isn't about waves."
2) Late crescendos are more exciting, fit in with the 'not waves' analogy.

Why does this apply to your poetry? I see you using alliteration as an onomatopoeic thing, and I know that you can expand and control it, so as to create the build and release of tension of flow.

They called me of the sea -
some cerulean fist
they’d like to crack open because
I’ve been drunk off
sea salts and broken lines
and since
I’ve been star eyed

in the fact
I took a ride down a dead end path
and forgot how to turn.
I know I’m stuck
sitting at a pier
not even sure if it exists.

The 'some' that Leroux objects to, it is chosen for alliteration, non? Not to mention what you are playing with here are the opposing forces, the soft approaching 's', the breaking 'k', or in the case of this line, the breaking 'st'. I think in this stanza, you choose your pivotal moments, be like haiku-controlled with the sonics approaching, and diversify your sonic palate to do this through similar consonants and to a lesser extent assonance. Create different waves with hard and soft sounds, with 'q's, contrasting with 'k's and hard 'c's, and the transition into the break. French! Debussy! Why is Debussy so good at portraying waves? In part it is because he is French and the French are renowned for the 'not waves' action, but it is also a linguistic advantage. French is almost never about a hard attack, they warm into the sound, if you're playing with a french singer, you have to anticipate this and always play late on the beat to be in time with them. Our language is not so,but we have stolen everything not nailed down, so there may be words that can mimic this effect.

'star eyed' I do not feel as a resolution, enjambment maybe, stanza break is too severe, I don't feel the link of the line through it, the focus is slightly frayed in that sentence, much like this one I am writing now. Good GOD is that one sentence til the third line of the second stanza? No wonder I was getting dizzy, pet. And then why end it, if that was your thing? Pivots. Direction to pivots. Underlying currents, you can have larger shapes created in sonics, and I do think maybe that is where assonance does good things, also relationship between line length, between words, the other rhythmic elements, the longer pulse. I want a whale under the waves, long dark shape for days.

Shall continue reviewing presently.

I could not resist giving a real critique for this poem.

Kamas wrote:

Spoiler

A/N: an experiment, it's long I know.

Experiment is not an excuse for mistaken creation of art which is flawed in the artist's eye; l'art pour l'art? I don't care, but to keep saying experiment I'm going to wonder what you think each morning when you wake up and think "an experiment today, let's pretend I have no limbs, quadriplegic ftw!". We'll know, see, realize it's an experiment, and may not care at that.

And please, length is just an excuse for people to not sit on their ass and give a review.


i.

They called me of the sea -
some cerulean fist
they’d like to crack open because
I’ve been drunk off
sea salts and broken lines
and since
I’ve been star eyed

in the fact
I took a ride down a dead end path
and forgot how to turn.
I know I’m stuck
sitting at a pier
not even sure if it exists.

Nonspecific pronoun opening the poem and the second natural pause falls on a transition word; messy, messy.

Your poetry up until now has been always depicting depicting depicting silhouettes on a vignette screen frieze effect; go check out Beckett's Act Without Words II (Acte sans paroles II), to see exactly what I mean. It's an interesting style and technique you do without really creating depth and a world of color to connect the organs and the bones to the sinew and tendons; perpetually anxious in its comatose paralysis, breathing on a machine with your occasional help. You are a god of a lonely word Kamas.

What water lies low below the dock you cannot touch with the flesh and folds of your skin, your own organ wrapped about your tiny bubble of existence in life where each day is a struggle for breath and a reminder of death kneeling on the horizon, a lone wolf watching whose frayed fur and wet sighs like a mad furnace needing a damn good smoke, a foreshadow of winter under your thighs that gravity pulls the dock apart and the water fills the room of your head; is this the sound when you write, cacophony?

No, just show me the world. Drop me in the water. It's fine, I'll enjoy reading it, and experiencing it, trust me, the reader.

Otherwise, interesting spoken word attempt. The rest goes about everywhere and has a lot of "I saying" but not a lot of yielding and bringing us in; keep going and food for thought. OH, and watch your enjambment and line breaks, they're getting weird and weak.