eulogies

A/N: Persephoneia made me do it. Blame her. And I suck at titles.

--

there’s a girl from someplace between hell
and a dusted town where
the white-paneled houses need another and
another coat of paint.
something to calm those board-
(tense) neighbours when they see
there are eulogies on these porchsteps,
where we can see the poppies nudge through with whisper-cupped secrets
etched on their petals. and perhaps the combination of apple pie and
se – də – tiv – s she can’t pronounce (& had for breakfast)
makes for summer rains. the kind
that leaves static in the air,
that you can feel down your fingers
and up my wrists, those plundered vines in -
veins around my arms that crepe petals coax out
until I’m here; no – stretched to dry with the rain
on this town’s dusty steps.

.

OH YES.

I do so love to see the same poem refracted, sprung off from, reshaped, deconstructed, reconstructed. This is what Kylan has since shown me is the highest form of a compliment: having managed to inspire someone. Girl from hell. Poppies. Summer rains. Just keep the title short and sweet -- 'eulogy' is fine as title.

there’s a girl from someplace between hell
and a dusted town where
the white-paneled houses need another and
another coat of paint.
something to calm those board-
(tense) neighbours when they see

Perfect. Especially 'another and / another' and how you made me laugh again at 'board- / (tense)'.

there are eulogies written on these porchsteps,

I like the idea of eulogies written in porchsteps, but visually, that line bothers me. Too long. Or rather, too many extraneous words in there -- the only two things that interest me are the eulogies and the porchsteps. Cut the rest down: 'when they see / eulogies on porchsteps' packs a far better punch.

where we can see the poppies nudge through whisper-cupped secrets
etched on their petals.

No. I mean, again, the 'poppies nudge' part is the only bit that interests me. 'Whisper-cupped' is too predictable. 'Etched on their petals' likewise adds nothing new. The 'where we can see' is too long a length of a descriptionary flagellum.

and perhaps the combination of apple pie and
se – də – tiv – s she can’t pronouce (& had for breakfast)
makes for summer rains.

Nice. I like the odd arrangement of words, the weird focus on the sedatives as being what she had for breakfast, and the even stranger association with those two facts and summer rains. I like strange twists of thought.

the kind
that leaves static in the air,
that you can feel down your fingers
and up my wrists, those plundered vines in -
veins around my arms that crepe petals coax out
until I’m here; no – stretched to dry with the rain
on this town’s dusty steps.

Not a fan of this. After mentioning 'summer rains', I don't see what 'static...down your fingers and up my wrists' adds that the two words, 'summer rains,' don't already encompass. If the reader can make the natural association easily, I see no point in having a section. 'Vines' and 'veins' would have been good, were it not for the fact that it seemed to serve no other purpose in the meaning of the lines.

The last lines -- no. You talk of a girl from someplace between hell and a dusted town, and eulogies on porchsteps -- the focii of the poem. I want to hear more about them. I want them referred back to at least one more time, and it would be lovely if that were at the end, since the poem would circle back that way. As it is, it leaves off nowhere; you know this. You also know that you can't make such an obviously pivotal statement as the 'girl from hell' and 'eulogies on porchsteps' -- both of which not only capture the reader, but also seem to be very strong hints for the rest of the poem -- without delineating them again, somewhere, in some way. Otherwise, you throw your reader-writer relationship out the window. You set up expectations, which we expect to have met, and when we don't, we leave dissatisfied. Two things please us in poetry: the unexpected, and the expected. The first because it surprises, delights, and the second, because it attributes some kind of meaning to that delight; comforts.

Regardless, I think you need to be threatened more often.

Thank you for the read, and validation.


Navi

My first comment and only nitpick: 'neighbours' is actually spelled 'neighbors', and 'pronouce' is actually spelled 'pronounce'.

Now, down to the review. I really like this. But I have a few problems with it.

I love the beginning. Up until the line (tense) neighbors when they see. After that the next few lines just bother me a bit.

there are eulogies written on these porchsteps,
where we can see the poppies nudge through whisper-cupped secrets
etched on their petals. and perhaps the combination of apple pie and
se – də – tiv – s she can’t pronouce (& had for breakfast)

I'm not exactly sure what bothers me about the first line. Maybe to long? For sure instead of 'on' I would use the word 'in' though. I know it is kind of a nitpick, but I think the word 'in' makes me feel that they have been put in the porch steps over centuries while on doesn't do that. I'm not sure.

The second line just has way too many details. The phrase 'whisper-cupped secrets' throws me off from the rest of the poem. Maybe it was too expected. Maybe it was just a bit too much. Either way I would play with different phrases.

I love the stuff in bold.

But, the last part also bothers me. I don't feel satisfaction when I read it. I feel that you maybe should have gone back to the beginning again. Because in the end you don't really mention anything you stated in the beginning of the poem. I felt robbed because the beginning promised me that the poem would talk about those things.

You also give too much detail about the summer rain. I mean compared to the rest of your poem. When I first read 'the kind that leaves static in the air,' I knew exactly what kind of rain it was. You actually made me focus more on the words when you explained it more not the imagery.

This is a great poem, but like any other it can always be improved.

I hope I helped,

A. S.

P.S. That title is much to long. Try something more simple.

Nice title!

So, like I said before, I really, really, really like this. I definitely think that it could use some reworking, but it's lovely.
Now, in our conversations earlier, I was more nitpicky than helpful, so I'll see what I can do this time. Now, following Nav and everything, this might be a little bit difficult.

there’s a girl from someplace between hell
and a dusted town where
the white-paneled houses need another and
another coat of paint.

I really like this-- looking at the "another and another", I think that it could work. However, going back up to the first, I'm left wondering where the description of the girl went. We get a brief glimpse at her, just enough to peak out interest and it heads straight into the neighbors and half of the places she comes from, neglecting to tell us anymore background or anything, or why exactly hell is a factor.

something to calm those board-
(tense) neighbours when they see
there are eulogies written on these porchsteps,
where we can see the poppies nudge through whisper-cupped secrets
etched on their petals. and perhaps the combination of apple pie and
se – də – tiv – s she can’t pronouce (& had for breakfast)
makes for summer rains.

I'm still not entirely sure about the "board- (tense)" thing, but I do like that you resolved the "their are" thing. That was a painful decision to make. >.<
Personally, I like the "whisper-cupped", though I do agree with Nav on the etching. You could incorporate something a bit fresher there. (I know. I cheated. I usually don't read other people's reviews.) The (& had for breakfast) still feels really awkward to me, and I'm not sure what exactly you're alluding to with the summer rains, as it feels really random to me.

the kind
that leaves static in the air,
that you can feel down your fingers
and up my wrists, those plundered vines in -
veins around my arms that crepe petals coax out
until I’m here; no – stretched to dry with the rain
on this town’s dusty steps.

You can probably have a colon instead of a period at the end of the last bit, to make the transition to here a bit smoother. The sudden change from what I thought was third person to first and THEN second person was a bit much, I found. I still think that you could play with the vines and veins thing to make that a bit clearer (though I'd keep it), and I still love the imagery of crepe petals. I know I brought this up earlier, but the ending still feels weird to me. It's not that it's abrupt; it is abrupt, but in a good way, but the wording itself is really odd, even for speech. Clarify.

Overall, awesome piece, again. Thank you for posting it. ^^

Kamas wrote:A/N: Persephoneia made me do it. Blame her. And I suck at titles.

--

there’s a girl from someplace between hell
and a dusted town where
the white-paneled houses need another and
another coat of paint.
something to calm those board-
(tense) neighbours when they see
there are eulogies on these porchsteps,
where we can see the poppies nudge through with whisper-cupped secrets
etched on their petals. and perhaps the combination of apple pie and
se – də – tiv – s she can’t pronounce (& had for breakfast)
makes for summer rains. the kind
that leaves static in the air,
that you can feel down your fingers
and up my wrists, those plundered vines in -
veins around my arms that crepe petals coax out
until I’m here; no – stretched to dry with the rain
on this town’s dusty steps.

A sufficient amount of time has passed since this was done to take another look at this, so I'll help you back in while I'm on a reviewing gambit.

What exactly do we always look for in poems? And what do we find between life and art? Really two pretty lonely things if left alone, no exposure to the other and over the years god forbid they get separated from each other totally we might never be able to find anything meaningful overtime ourselves.

Your experiments apparently always rough and tough to chew. I like that, the rawness of your writing. That said it's no excuse to be sloppy on your line breaks or the ability for the reader to wrap their head around what they find in your writing. You show something and you present voice and you say what you mean and think, but a reader needs a distinct frame of mind to capture all of this. So conversational tone you present in here can very sell turn you wayward from taking me anywhere but through your eyes experience. Thats not all I want to experience, give me the complete moment of time and the time itself, and don't just give me feelings of what was. Crush me under your diction and your voice.

Your lines straddle several things, both implied and unimplied meanings that can be both coy and interestingly obvious, but at the same time don't try too hard. Really, it becomes preposterous if you try to both show up poetry itself and then relay experience in a poem the size of a thimble. People talk about movements and people talk about content and people garishly fawn over sensory detail while eviscerating the poem they review; beautiful, but what has the interaction left?

Take the end of your poem about the vines and veins and crepe petals, what have we got here? An interesting manner to talk about the feeling, the sensation of rain and the air, and always leaving us with something familiar, but is that it alone? No because we the audience are also a part of your poem, and we also need a coverage of events, a conversation. Wouldn't you say a healthy, full encompassing conversation has equal completion of all parties? A successful person communicates in both spoken and unspoken manners, initiative is in actions that are natural to them, have become habit and lead to results, thus they are attractive people to be around.

So what of your speaker? Are they this type of person? Are they being described in this way possibly, while appearing as another skin, another identity? What truly ail them is a multitude of events in their life and existence, a layering process of realities slowly crushing them from the same old same old routine, routine even made harder by impediments, and they describe life as already being dead. Put that through your brain. Now look at your voice, what's going on there?

Experiments are buggy things, and this was one that shows the underflowing elements of the poem are both within and without. It's too beautiful in it's own tragedy, and thats not honest to your overall work. In the end, what'd I'd do to see the world in your eyes for a day.