Young Writers Society

I'm going to give this a shot, taking it easy, one poem everyday. I don't expect much from myself, but it would be nice to get something out of this. Hope to hear from all of you and good luck with your own NaPos.

Enjoy.

#1.

[Unwritten - Natasha Bedingfield]

the countryside road, a two furrowed path that runs by the willow tree
like an overturned bowl of clay running through the branches.
Let the clouds mingle with the spidery suns that bottle the leaves
until they become a swollen pastry, beaten and rolled by the wind.
The air popping out with a fan of flour, dusting the hills with white,
that blossom into hundreds of fairy slippers and trilliums, weaving themselves
through the greenery and up to the golden brown beams.

Hey, Kamas. I like this chunk, but it's a little like a too-large piece of bread that tastes nice and spongy in my mouth but is probably going to choke me if I don't spend enough time dissolving it. All I get is colors or brief, faded images, and I can't hold this landscape in my mind. I think it might be better if you added location to it, unless you purposefully wanted it to float.

Look forward to following you this month.

-Hannah-

#2.

[Mercy - One Republic]

spheres formed from viridescent baby fists
attached to its mother's jointed bloodline like a weak link
of fetus walls, braiding itself into the essential helix with strands
bonded together to a womb. then the fists are at their acme,
jaundiced into matchless citrine stone. grooved with individual
friction ridges, then varnished like criminals as they escape their vault
into new hands: wailing like sirens with saturated colours, the air
sterilized with bitter citrus. then when round auburn eyes
are tender, it is cut into parts, hemispheres soggy
with copper ichor that dribbles down through hills of a face.
marrow pounded into the carcass for every last drop. pungent yet
sweet and sought for constantly, to watch the gensis of citrus
and its death at your hungry fingers.

murgh, bit of a shaky start. I'll get into stride soon enough.

#2 has lots of fun words, and several good images. "Genesis of citrus" is great. I'd suggest focusing less on the wordplay, tone down the verbosity maybe. Because viridescent doesn't do anything for me.

-Kylan

Kylan wrote:#2 has lots of fun words, and several good images. "Genesis of citrus" is great. I'd suggest focusing less on the wordplay, tone down the verbosity maybe. Because viridescent doesn't do anything for me.

-Kylan

I was trying to figure out what left a sour taste in my mouth about the second poem, and that was it. Too many words and images in too small a space, without a whole lot of meaning.

-Hannah-

(Thanks you two. I appreciate the comments.)

#3. [Feel Good Inc. - Gorillaz]
(Why I can't get anything good down is beyond me)

Those wind-catcher sails, angled over the cobble path: it takes mouthfuls
of the combed stratus cloud and purple gales. With dreams that churn
in its belly, concocted from thin air and made palpable with years of grime.
Forming a golden creature, with clinking claws and stretched like a preying cat;
battered down and pressed through a grinder until they are single cell grains.
Yet they thrive, sticking to the harassing stone and dance along that swirling sky.
Reaching infant fingers into flesh, germinating and exponential growth of crop circles.
Wrapping the windmills in devotion and the picture puzzle is complete.

I think that the imagery is ever-inventive, but I agree (having written such poems myself, where I try to pack as many words together into as short a poem as possible), it is a bit overwhelming. If you're quite attached to the imagery, that's fine, but think about breaking up the lines a lot more - maybe have them zigzagging and break up each into two or three parts. Put other, comprehensible things in the middle to give it flow. Really, the fantastical word combinations are beautiful; they just need some shape. And some breathing space

Yes, please, Kamas! Listen a little to Navita in your next poem. Try a story, maybe? Not prose, but a story that serves to connect the images so that they don't flash and disappear from our hearts, but get burned in or at least transferred so we can develop them later! ^_^

-Hannah-

Thanks very much, you two. I tried to give my poem a little form in the 3rd one, but I guess that didn't work. I'll try to work with a story for my next one.

Many thanks!

#4.
(my punctuation is a bit of a mess, but I attempted to incorporate a story)

[Wonderwall - Oasis]
[Story: Boston Light]

(Lighthouse man)

watch you rubblestone tower fall,
your guiding lamplight erode
in the sparks of ego battles.
and the water, your nervous girl with
fretting fingers and sea salt lips;
now braced with boots and empty sails.

(talk of war; talk of hate; talk of home)

on each man's mouth, cracked from the
briny caress and it tastes like it used to.
when sheep dotted the grass, singing ungraciously.
With bone tight jaws they stare:
at the lighthouse parading its ghostly grey
stained with ribbons of salt.

(those lips)

just to touch those walls again but you

(lighthouse man)

dared to embrace the siren with navy whirlpool eyes.
who kisses the fate of those who pitchpole.

#5.
(*head/desk* I'll get something right eventually.)

[Yellow - Coldplay]
[Story: Kidnapping Persephone]

a beauty to compete with Venus herself,
embellished with multi-coloured blooms and
mint leaves; robed in her virtue and her mother's
armor. a guileful seductress in thy eyes,
poise among the lazy flora, slipping out their
secrets from teacup petals. the idle hills awake
gushing out compliments as wildflowers and lyre-sounds
as she snaps stems in half like proud bosoms.
Broken by the distance between them and their need.

She is mine, I will crack and move the earth.
Have the heart of the earth swallow us up;
stain her lips pomegranate red and though the lonely
world will be bare without her grace, she will be mine.

Well, you are certainly improving. The fourth one was a delight to read - so easy on the eyes, and not overwhelming at all! Beautiful imagery used, and it has more impact, now that it's nicely broken up - 'your nervous girl / with fretting fingers and sea-salt lips' - such a powerful image. The brackets look a bit out of place, and I'd probably recommend either removing them or incorporating them. Ha - 'sheep dotted the grass, singing ungraciously' - also a sweet line. The last couple of lines were a bit much - the words 'dared,' 'embrace,' 'siren,' 'whirlpool, 'navy' - yowch, that's hard to digest in one go - maybe break this up too, yes?

The second one is pretty, too, but...the subject matter (Venus, Persephone) is such that I EXPECT it to have flowery and beautiful imagery, so it somehow has less impact. 'Slipping out/ their secrets from teacup petals,' is charming, and so original, and perhaps less original, but enchanting nevertheless is: 'stain her lips pomegranate red.'

Kamas, I found the story come in at the end of your fifth poem. It came with a strong character who knew what he wanted. I don't know if you've heard the advice of knowing what each character in your story wants, generally, and building them on that, but I guess it works well. Even without creating your own character, you made him strong, and I want your fifth poem to start with the second stanza, discard the first, but bring little pieces of it in to describe whatever you deem comes after Hades's proclamation.

She is mine, I will crack and move the earth.
Have the heart of the earth swallow us up;
stain her lips pomegranate red and though the lonely
world will be bare without her grace, she will be mine.

She will be yours, and what next?

I love this story and so I want it to be executed gracefully. It's a good start, especially lines like

slipping out their
secrets from teacup petals

The fourth one is nice because it gives me the sense of the sea. It leaves the brine taste on my tongue, but it's just a fleeting feeling. Still, probably one of my favorite even though I can't understand it. How odd is that? ^__^

-Hannah-