One Poem A Day...

Whoever thought up this idea is amazing. I am so excited for NaPoWriMo. Woot! I will post one poem a day, and I hope that they will all be butchered to the brink of existence.

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April 1

There’s sex everywhere--
in their fingers, in their lips, in their skin
(oh so much delicious skin!)
and I can feel the wind as
their hips swing, to and fro,
like cabaret girls their voices
honey the applause, and it is
only here—in the jazz, in the
women, in the sweat—that you realize
this is the best city in the world.

I should be giving you a better critique than this, but:

Nix 'to and fro'. It sounds so...yuck. Doesn't match the tone of the poem at all, and taking it out won't hurt.

Good job establishing a strong tone...we get a good feel for the poem.

Hmm. I'm making this up as I go along. You might also take out '(oh so much delicious skin!)'. I don't think it's necessary either.

Good luck!
Colleen

haha, I haven't been in much of a butchering mood as of late, but I'll see what I can conjure up ^_^

There's a lot of the word "in". Is it all really necessary? Are you really trying to say something about the internal nature of everything? Or could the second line be just as easily (mixed an matched as) "on their fingers" or "on their lips" or "on their skin"?

"Feel the wind" in the fourth line strikes me as an odd phrase; almost like cutesy vulgar (like "pee" rather than "urine", sorry for the kinda gross example), rather than as ~gritty as the rest of the poem can be.

only here—in the jazz, in the
women, in the sweat—that you realize

I see the "in"s here; but I don't so much like the list [I've been told that this is just an odd personal preference of mine, though ]

I was kind of let down with the last line. All this promiscuity floating around, and you're really talking about just a city, and an unnamed city at that. It almost seems too big-picture-esque to me.

I must say, though, that you haven't wasted many words, and that's a good thing. And the tone is tight, which is also a good thing ^_^

Happy poetry!

Well, sorry about yesterday... here's todays:


April 3


1
she won the pulitzer for
telling the story of a dead man
to the world.

she reclines in her chair
and taps knuckles on wood:
sounds like shells
expelled from the mouth of a rifle.

2
broken bodies and
burning paper, fire and red blood
swarm like naked bees
in her head.

she remembers
the woman whose words sliced
like diamonds
and whose eyes
trembled like fingers

even though
she could only see black.

3
in the field, there is a sandstorm
and hills tower over faceless girls
who dance in wind-tossed grains.

she recalls the man’s picture print
stapled to his wife’s
walls, and she realizes

that women
are generic, like grains of sand
that all men must fight and die for.

4
she reclines in her chair
and
knows broken bodies.

a woman is sleeping.

April 3

Very nice imagery. I suppose the only thing that seemed out of place was the image of the rifle shells. It seems to take the poem in a different direction than it appears to be in. There were several nice touches to this, the first stanza for example.

[pre]lessons between chaverim

naim
liot itach
velahakshiv lach
shara.

it’s nice
to be with you
and listen to you
sing.

at lo yoda’at
et hamilim
aval ani yachol la’avin
kol mila.

you don’t know
the lyrics
but i can understand
every word.

tiri otam—
em choshvim she’em
mavinim kol mila
aval—

look at them—
thinking that they
understand every word
but—

chaverim:

friends:

anachnu rack
anashim pshutim
sheohavim echad et asheni
velachen

we are only
simple people
that love one another
and that’s why

ani yachol la’avin
kol ma she’at
omeret.

i can understand
all that you
say.[/pre]

Have I read you before? I feel like I would remember you...

Poem 1:
I agree about cutting "to and fro". I'd put a full stop after "swing". I like;
"like cabaret girls their voices
honey the applause,"
but I think that the ending is a little weak, especially the last line. Keep showing, don't tell.

Poem 2:
This is really great. The tone and flow are perfect and I love your imagery. I especially enjoyed;

"sounds like shells
expelled from the mouth of a rifle. "

"in the field, there is a sandstorm
and hills tower over faceless girls
who dance in wind-tossed grains. "

and
she realizes

that women
are generic, like grains of sand
that all men must fight and die for."

Brilliant stuff, Gadi.

Jas

"

April 5

The tree pours its roots deep into red soil:
olive, soothing, a slow summer afternoon.

The black skies tower behind it: this is where
the men, blinded by fire, dance with guns in their hands
and curses in their mouths.

The mayhem is light years
away. I am the sky: watching
a slug crawl through the grass,
leaves crunching under its wet
muscle. Olives splatter like brains
on the damp grass.

I watch over the swords, luscious
and serene, the metal pierces sweet
flesh. How could I not enjoy such splendor?

How romantic is Woman, weeping
over a skeleton she holds over her breasts,
a chocolate wisp of beef that
had come out of her core, years ago, in
the loveliest days of April when
the olive tree was passing fruit.

The skies can only show amusement
in its darkness and blackness, as it
consumes the soldiers who blow holes
in walls, the men who spit on women’s
faces, the children who spear the child
of a breathing man.

It is only in the sun when the skies
can see, and the blood runs
through cobblestone, and long
stems of roses break, and houses
burn and humans fall.

How I cry! How I weep! The skeletons
are over my breasts, in my arms, they are
my children.

How peaceful the skies are.

The fire encloses the olive tree
and licks its branches, thrashes
over its bark, kisses its leaves.

If only the skies could pour their rain onto trees:
but the flames are unconquerable, and a little girl’s
round face fades from too much sleep.

It's a little jumpy and difficult to grasp at for my taste, but the way you have with words is wonderful. I LOVED the first line, just loved it. Excellent image.

I have to say, the phrase "a chocolate wisp of beef" made me laugh when it probably shouldn't have.

It's Spring Break over here, and I'm going on a cruise, so there might be no internet: I promise I will write a poem a day, though, and when I get back I will post them all.

Have fun on your cruise. Looking forward to reading you when you get back. Good luck with all the poems.

Jas

April 1: Your persona has a strong voice and the opening line has a great impact but I think you need to work on the atmosphere and the feel of the poem. There isn't really much of a meaning behind it, the imagery is relatively low and I'd generally like to see you take the story further, give it a conclusive start and ending. if you're going with the ending that this is a great place, then describe more how it might not be. Are the streets filthy? Is there smoke and fumes lingering in the air, is there poverty and excess drinking? Work towards disgusting your reader at first and then the fact that the persona likes the place will come as quite a dramatic twist.

April 3: The imagery in this one is beautiful. The numbering of the stanzas irritated me so I'd suggest changing that and a few of your lines could have been cut to create a more concise, dramatic piece but I love your description and the stanza about how women are generic was beautiful.

April 4: I'm not going to say much about this one except that I didn't particularly like it. And I'm not sure why. I think the theme was perhaps a little too cliche.

April 5: Beautiful imagery. It was a little drawn out in places and I agree with Cade that the line 'a chocolate wisp of beef' really doesn't fit the atmosphere of the poem. I think the ending was great and portrayed the emotion very well.

I AM BACK BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE!

Vietnamese Waitresses

Vietnamese waitresses
hand Parisian, France crepes
and English scones
to an Egyptian child’s
Romanian parents
on an American cruise
in Scandinavian waters.

Everybody wears Italian
and dances in Spanish.

I really enjoyed this. It's very fresh, and I like what you're saying. Short and to the point. The last two lines are great.

My only problem is;
"hand Parisian, France"
it read a bit strangely and I'm not really sure what you mean... maybe try;
"Hand French crepes".

Hope this helps.

And welcome back!
Jas

April 14
water.



water

seeds rise to the surface
and the grass drinks from
a faraway pond, floating
in mire, howling like ropes.

it floods in a lettuce-colored
stench, of old kegs of beer
of flying feathers and of sweat.

they say one is the loneliest
number.

water is one: but the blue
droplets are millions, all
connected, linked, allied,
conjoined, bred, fused,
like the seeds as they rise
to the surface.