Death Threat to Prufrock

I plan on seriously revising this several times, and I need your help. Writing powers, activate!

Prufrock, the universe does not move
with you. Perhaps occasionally
you move me, and there are another
few who move too, yet the universe –
it does not move with you.

Talk to me, let my glare
glide over your cheekbones and those
gray swirls you’ve seen thrice a day
in the mirror, and pick-chose words for
the split ends that curl like questions posed
to your countenance: “Why be reposed?” Can
we just tear out our hair and smear mud
on our faces in this rut, in these swell places?
And your words will
move through me, but the price of
my coffee will take over it,
and the stranger in the olive pullover
will replace.

Why want claws, why scuttle-?
Seagulls pick at crabs, and often
I feel as a gull, scrambling over
the hull and screeching for bits
and bits of food and baubles-
they crack just like humans do.

I heard what the women were talking about,
and I’d prefer if we discussed Rauschenberg, because-
did you know! - he took the sketching expressions of De Koonig
and with some eraser impressions he erased the mottling marks
meant to mean, who knows? But it was great art gone, and
they called it art again and
here you are, taking time to contemplate
decisions not yet made and not yet great
and not yet created and not yet erased.

Heya Clo! Another fab poem, I see

Now on with the review!

Prufrock, the universe does not move with you.

Ooh! good opening line here

I feel as a gull

You just mentioned the gulls so maybe change "a" gull to "that" gull or "those" gulls?

But it was great art gone, and
they called it art again and...

Personally, I'd make this two seperate sentences so it'd look like this: "But it was great art gone. And they called it art again and..."


Hope I've been of some help!

happy-go-lucky

Thanks! *hugs for you!*

I really need some revision tips, and no one at Will Review for Food is biting. Can I has edits?

I don't think this made too much sense to anyone who hasn't read Eliot's poem. I did read Elly but can't connect. You might not be trying to but I imagined the narrator of this piece as Prufrock's object of affection (provided there was one in the original)-- the narrator was guiding the conversation as if to rival Prufrock's own crazed imagination.

Your phrasing of lines is very good but again I can't crack it:

"And your words will

move through me, but the price of

my coffee will take over it,

and the stranger in the olive pullover

will replace."

In the end, it did seem like just a reply by a feminine Prufrock with a few original ideas. Don't let Eliot hold you by the throat, fight him, give him a one-two.

Clo. Clo Clo Clo Clo Clo. Such a wonderful name. Rolls right off the tongue.

Anyways, since you were so nice and reviewed a poem of mine without me even asking you, I thought I'd do the same for you. I know that you probably haven't looked at this poem in a while, but I love T.S. Eliot, so I had to have a go at this one.

I love the way that you pick apart The Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock. Taking apart everything from "dry claws scuttling across the floors of silent seas" to "back and forth the women go, talking of Michelangelo", it really was quite good.

I seem to sense the theme behind this poem is one of telling Prufrock to stop pitying himself as he does so much in the original poem. I'm not good at finding themes to poetry though, so I wouldn't know for sure.

It is a nice poem. I like it a lot, even if I can't quite say exactly why I like it. Good job Clo, and thanks for being such a faithful reviewer of mine.

Clo -

Just as a disclaimer I haven't read TS Elliot's poem, so my understanding of the piece may be slightly hindered.

Anyway. Fantastic. It is so rare that a poem like this turns up on YWS. A poem with real abstract grace and beauty, with imagery and stimulating word choice. Not too overbearing, but not too naked either. I particularly enjoyed the second stanza, and how the entire poem radiates a kind of age-old and introspective atmosphere.

I'm not sure if I like the idea of writing a poem in response specifically to another poem. It seems cheap in a way. But I suppose if Elliot's poem moved you in a significant way, that writing this kind of poem is justified.

I heard what the women were talking about,
and I’d prefer if we discussed Rauschenberg, because-
did you know! - he took the sketching expressions of De Koonig
and with some eraser impressions he erased the mottling marks
meant to mean, who knows? But it was great art gone, and
they called it art again and
here you are, taking time to contemplate
decisions not yet made and not yet great
and not yet created and not yet erased.

This is the only stanza I have any problems with. It breaks from the original flow and continuity of the other three and is kind of harsh on the tongue and ear. If you were going for a more erratic, choppier feel, then you achieved it. But I'm not sure that it helps the poem any. Consider removing some of the excess punctuation and pieces like, "who knows?" or "did you know!" unless they are critical for this piece. Also, at times referencing the names of less known entities in a piece of poetry to acheive an educated, scholarly feel is really dissatisfying for me. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't. Referencing a pop artist and an expressionist painter who I knew nothing about until a couple minutes ago doesn't help me grasp the meaning of the poem or glean any sort of insight. It does not contribute to the imagery, it only makes the imagery more specific, possibly too specific. But what do I know?

Anyway, fantastic. I wish you'd write more poetry.

-Kylan

Cool poem. I liked it alot. Now for me to try my first review ..

there are another
few who move too,

I'm nor sure but it seems that "are" should be "is". Maybe its just the word "another" making it should kinda off.

I feel as a gull, scrambling over
the hull and screeching for bits
and bits of food

Did you mean bits and "bites" of food? i read a book earlier .. thats why I ask. If not, Awsome.

But it was great art gone, and
they called it art again and
here you are, taking time to contemplate
decisions not yet made and not yet great
and not yet created and not yet erased.

Best sentence that I have ever read. I read it over and over and over again.