Young Writers Society

the past projects stories through colours
green bottle-glass ground to chalky grey dust
under a scarlet heel, into the dandelion yellow
pavement the same colour as her dress. green like
his eyes, grey like his skin, scarlet like...
it was supposed to be blue.

there was a chocolate-coloured sky only twice
in his life, when he let out his first infant squawk--
baby think of the colours. tell me about the colours.
the sounds will worry about themselves.

it clashed with the orange flames, her
pink skirt and ashen hair. their promises were
silver and daisy white, clasping hands with
petal-soft skin. baby look at the colours
here a patchwork quilt, a stained glass
a rainbow with the paint running
and blending and fusing like oil slick.

his favourite shirt looked like wallpaper

she dressed the colour of music the third time
there was a chocolate-coloured sky and
her lips tasted like sand.

baby

pale purple flowers. she only saw the flowers
that smelled like lilacs. they didn’t mask
the other scents. they tasted like ash
felt like wax--please baby--and

dead.


[I'm always open to title suggestions. They're not my strong point.]

omg ur lyke, so amazin. i wish i could rite liek u. :OOOOO

-Holly

(you asked for it.)

Hey Anda-ness! Here as requested.

So!

At first reading, I was like "...what?". However, even in my confusion, I liked it. This led me to read it agian, which gave me a few more things -- but I still wasn't sure. I enjoyed it more the second time, so I gave it a third shot and I think I know what it means. (But, you'll have to tell me.)

Adnamarine wrote:the past projects stories through colours
green bottle-glass ground to chalky grey dust
under a scarlet heel, into the dandelion yellow
pavement the same colour as her dress. green like
his eyes, grey like his skin, scarlet like...
it was supposed to be blue.

You don't use much punctuation in this stanza, or throughout the poem itself. Which, we both know doesn't have to be present, but it made the read more difficult. Though, I did enjoy it. (It took me three reads to enjoy it, though, so I suggest adding in more punctation to seperate stuff. It won't really change the meaning, and it'll make it more understandable, possibly.

...
the sounds will worry about themselves.

Okay, so I had no clue what this meant. >.< This line seems random, but I'm sure it means something, I'm just not getting it. Tell me, please? You have a very interesting poem here, I will say that. It's new and has a fresh-feel to it. I like where it takes me when I read it -- but try to make it more clear. I also love your imagery, Adna.

...
and blending and fusing like oil slick.
Other than punctuation being almost absent from this stanza as well, I liked it. However, I think you should add more in to make pauses when needed; otherwise, it becomes jumbled. I liked the words you used, and I only have one suggestion: Make "slick" into "slicks".


his favourite shirt looked like wallpaper
Oddly enough, this is my favorite line. Great imagery for me, I loved it.

...
they tasted like ash
felt like wax--please baby--and

dead.
Okay, I felt the ending could have been a little stronger, but then again, I don't understand it. Is this poem about burning corpses with flowers...like a funeral? Sorry if I'm wrong. >.<

Anyway, even though I didn't quite get it all the way, you have talent. I loved your imagery.

However, the biggest thing I want to mention is the punctuation. Yes, you don't need it in a poem, but it makes it more readable.


Great job, Adna. Thanks for a good read. (I can always count on you for that, though, so pssh.)

-Jon

I can't say I liked this poem because I didn't understand it in full but I can say you have a good use of imagery.

My first question - since when, or in what situations, is the sky brown? My only thoughts were a thunderstorm, but even then, to me that is gray. Or black even. So I was quite lost with that concept.

I did understand that this is about his life, but the only part I really grasped was death. I think there was birth in there ("first infant squawk") but even then, I couldn't get the whole picture of the poem.

It's hard for me to review this because I'm not sure what you're trying to do with it/where you're going/what emotion you're trying to present, so I have no idea how to guide you. I do think a colon after the first line in the first stanza would work but this may simply be due to the way I interpreted that stanza.

I did read over it twice and still didn't gain much from it, meaning-wise. Some lines didn't seem to fit, I couldn't pluck meaning from them like you may be expecting me to: why should the scarlet be blue? What is so significant about the brown skies? How are the two people related? Why are the colors so meaningful, over everything else? Why do they argue over colors? I could ask so many questions about this simple because I don't understand it.

I won't dare say the reason I didn't understand it is because you wrote a bad poem. You know what you intended on doing and that's the important bit, now if you could add some clarity to it, that'd be the important part. I read over Jon's review a bit to see if he knew any better, but it seems we're both lost! So maybe there's a key to this that we're just not picking up on?

Sorry I wasn't very helpful! I'll try again next time.

This was a seamless poem. What I loved about it was the tumbling imagery, the overflow of language and words, the freedom of lines unhindered by a lack of commas, but, first and foremost, I am also an intellectual person, and I could tell, from reading it the first time, that I would need to read it again. The first time I read it, it was pretty. But you made sure, you made very sure that the reader would have to go back, reread, savour the lines again, decode the topic in some way, look beneath the pretty surface of the poem for some deeper meaning. And I enjoy doing that - the mental challenge of it, the stimulation. It is actually a delight to truly want to read and reread the poem, knowing that it will be charming on each read, but looking for that hidden message.

So...I thought I'd give it a more thorough read with you watching - i.e. in a step-by-step, line-by-line kind of process. Just so you could see where I was coming from, in whatever interpretation of it I end up with (of course, it's poetry, so I'd say there's not any 'right' way; but I'm certainly going to look for the poet's intentions in this!).

the past projects stories through colours
green bottle-glass ground to chalky grey dust
under a scarlet heel, into the dandelion yellow
pavement the same colour as her dress.

I love the feel of no caps, actually. It's so intimate. And I have to agree here - much of what I remember of the past is through colours as well. Some people I know I can say are distinctly orange; other events have a turqoise aura about them. I tend to remember things less by sound or another sense (by the way, the title needs modifying, though I am not sure to what...I'll mull it over).

So far, so good. Memories are made of colours. As a reader, I assume from this crucial first line that you'll elaborate on which memory exactly you're thinking of somewhere later. What's intriguing is that you use three descriptions for the same thing: the ground. This is described as green bottle-glass, as chalky grey, and as a dandelion yellow. This should really not work in a usual poem, but I had no issues with the triple adjectives - I think this was because you spaced them out well.

his eyes, grey like his skin, scarlet like...
it was supposed to be blue.

Ooooh - a 'her' (from 'her dress') and a 'he' (from 'his eyes' - interesting that you talk about visual features even here) - well, he and her really lead us to one thing, don't they? He has green eyes and grey skin??? Is he old? Is he even a human? (I'm thinking elephants with grey skin here). I'm going to go with the hypothesis it's human. What was supposed to be blue and ended up being red/scarlet? Is this an obvious hint at a theme? Love/anger/passion vs coolness/calm/iciness? (I may be reading too far into this, but I'm having fun...so what the heck).

there was a chocolate-coloured sky only twice
in his life, when he let out his first infant squawk--
baby think of the colours. tell me about the colours.
the sounds will worry about themselves.

The 'sky' is brown when he's just born, right? I.e., are you saying that on emergence from the womb (when the baby is still in the womb) the 'sky' (ie. the inside walls of of womb) still looks brown. Haha if that's so. You're addressing the baby, who is also the 'he' here, asking him to think of only colours. The line 'sounds will worry about themselves' is cute (maybe also a reference to the 'squawk'? - i.e. forget about the crazy bawling of babies in the past and concentrate on the images?). And do you mean that the brown sky is the time we're born (womb's insides), and the time we die (buried in earth)?

I'm looking for something overall that ties the little themes together. Memory, you say, should be seen and remembered visually through colour. The only confusion I have at this point is determining the significance of the baby and the 'she' in the poem - i.e. just the characters.

I read on:

it clashed terribly with the orange flames, her
pink skirt and ashen hair. their promises were
silver and daisy white, clasping hands with
petal-soft skin. baby look at the colours
here a patchwork quilt, a stained glass
a rainbow with the paint running
and blending and fusing like oil slick.

his favourite shirt looked like wallpaper

she dressed the colour of music the third time
there was a chocolate-coloured sky and
her lips tasted like sand.

Flames? What flames? Was there a fire? Who is the 'she' - the mother of the child? Whose promises - those of the wedded couple? So...a fire is important - makes me think the child is a survivor of the fire in which his parents died. Putting 'his favourite shirt looked like wallpaper' is poignant, sharp and arresting, but I really didn't think it added much to the meaning here. You said she 'dressed the colour of music' - I'm guessing this still is talking about the mother. Why music? To represent her screams? And the 'third time' there was a chocolate covered sky - I assume this means ash or flames or a mixture...but I missed the second time. I don't believe you ever stated what the second time actually was (explicitly).

baby

pale purple flowers. she only saw the flowers
that smelled like lilacs. they didn’t mask
the other scents. they tasted like ash
felt like wax--please baby--and

dead

What's the 'please' for? What are you asking the baby to do? I was so certain the baby couldn't be dead, since in the beginning you ask 'baby, tell me about the colours' = memory; i.e. you want the baby to remember what happened and what it was like (which is why I assume the baby is alive to tell the tale!).

Okay, so I tried. I made a halfway-decent attempt and I enjoyed doing that. But I'd love it even more if I could get to the centre of it all. I'd love for you to PM me - I'd love a good discussion session, actually.

Thanks for the read.

Navita was spot-on with her review - "a seamless poem with tumbling imagery" (wow, I love that). It was wild and free and mind-boggling all at the same time, and there were points I thought, "What's going on?" but then it sort of came together in a way that made it click and relate. I'm still not sure I understand the poem's meaning, but in any case it's beautiful imagery and really free-flowing. Whether or not I understand it, I love it. Maybe I even love the fact that I DON'T understand it.
Keep writing,
~StoryWeaver