z

Young Writers Society



cold feet + guests

by Pompadour


cold feet wrapped in silken morning fog— 
pull your socks on, double-quick, while still in bed.
it is hard to see past the window: the lamp
flickers like a fly—its wings
caught-not-caught on flypaper.
(woe is early morning clumsiness.)

your eyes are greased shut 
with yesterday's after-hour turbulent mourning. 
sleet gathers over the shelves
in your pantry, and the front door— 
is unhinged, is a gash, is a mouth—

wide open.

you are having a party, it seems, and the wind
is chief guest. 
but you close the door anyway, because you think,
it is late and the wind
is just so very bothersome. 

you fall asleep to it as it taps
against your window, as it begs
to be let in. 
('it's cold out, please.')
the city is made of salt, and salt 
does not keep the cold warm, or its wounds
from healing.

--

it is noon when you wake
to sunshine flooding the hall:
a gatecrasher that ignores 
your moan-groaning. you turn
and thrash on the sofa, you
part your eyelids
reluctantly.
and notice that the front door
is wide open again.


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Sat Jul 11, 2015 10:26 am
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Rydia wrote a review...



Hullo! So this is late and you have every right to give me 0 points, I just wanted to point that out first in case time differences and you don't realise/ whatever. I know, failing at my own contest right? Anyway!

Specifics

1. There's something about the first line which I keep stumbling over, but I'm struggling to put my finger on what exactly it is. I love how descriptive it is and maybe it's just that I'm thinking there's fog wrapped around the feet so if you then pull the socks up are you trying to trap the fog there or do you have to take the fog off first? I don't know. I think maybe it's that 'silken morning fog' is not an easy phrase to say and then the next line is quite long before we get a breather.

2. I love the next few lines, right up until we reach 'woe is early morning clumsiness' which just feels too much like it's giving us a summary of what you just hinted at so beautifully and I really don't think the line is needed and I don't feel like 'woe' fits with the gentle, almost fragile atmosphere you've built. I like that the images are all soft, delicate foggy things and 'early morning clumsiness' feels almost too solid?

2. I'm not sure what 'after-hour' is trying to suggest. Do you mean after hours as in late night? If so, there's a nice sound contradiction with the mourning. But maybe something night, dark, late would give us that contrast more clearly? Maybe last-hour or owl-hour? There's this book I ready once which described when the moon was up and just after midnight as the hour of the wolf.

3. Love the pantry description.

4. Nice personification of the wind and I love how casual the line 'the wind/ is just so very bothersome' is. That has a great feel to it. Very under-whelmed almost, which is what I feel the tone of this whole poem is. Like this person in mourning is moving around in a daze, only half aware of anything. I think that's why the line in brackets bothered me so much in the first stanza. It felt too much like a moment of clarity.

5. I'm not sure where the image of the city is made from salt comes from. It feels a bit sudden. It might be nice to have an extra line in there to create the image of the city first. Maybe 'the city outside' would even do it, just to say where this city is. In the persona's dreams? Outside the window with the wind? Link it to one of the images we've already digested like the falling asleep or the wind outside the door.

Overall

I really love the imagery in this poem but I was waiting for more of it at the end and I didn't get it. Just a repeat of the guest theme, which was nice, but I wanted more of fly's wings caught and not caught on fly paper or fog like silk crawling into the bedroom.

I also wanted to know more about the persona, more hints of their state of mind. You give us that one clue about mourning and then it's gone again and this could be anyone just waking up and drifting aimlessly. But I want to know who they are. Just more subtle hints that could give us a clue. Maybe they didn't used to live alone and you could bring a casual comment on that in with the wind - Maybe the dead still throw parties - or something more subtle. But more backstory please? And more imagery in the last stanza?

See you around!

Heather




Pompadour says...


Thank you so much for this! ^^



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Sun Apr 26, 2015 9:27 pm
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Rook wrote a review...



Looks like I'm on a Pompadour binge. XD
Is totally not doing this just so she can escape the wrath of bunnies no, no.

I really, really, REALLY like this poem. It's so beautiful. It will be hard to find things to bother on about.

First thing I can find is the fly paper thing. I'm not sure how a lamp can flicker like a fly's wings? Maybe that's just something your lamp does, but I'm having a hard time to picture it.

I wish the "cold feet" theme carried through the rest of the poem. Does the wind have hold feet? When the door is open, are the feet colder?

I know the exact feeling you're talking about with your eyes being heavy after you wake up after a night of crying. Such an interesting feeling.

I like the party concept with the wind. It seems weird to consider someone your "chief guest" though. I like the bothersome thing, and the part with salt, though, I wish I knew what kind of wounds the wind has. Maybe from blowing past all those sharp buildings? Churches with pointy steeples? hmm...

I like the ending. It makes me very happy.

And yeah. That's all I have. Wonderful poem, pomp. Seemplee Wuhnderhfuhl.

As always, Keep writing,
~fort.




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Sun Mar 29, 2015 4:25 pm
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Skydreamer wrote a review...



I am going to attempt to review this. I find it so difficult to even write a coherent comment after reading one of your works. It's so beautiful and inspiring and most importantly, filled with immense, significant imagery. You know that I love you and your works and this is going to be totally biased right? Good, okay. xD I'll go stanza by stanza (since you have them) and just comment on my perspective, etc.

First Stanza

It's beginning as usual, is beautiful, however, I'm left wondering what does the silken morning fog mean? Is it that the person's feet is out and about on the streets of their mind? I'm just curious as to the innuendo...if there is one, especially because then the person pulls their socks on, meaning their feet were in the air. Just wondering. And then, for this:

(woe is early morning clumsiness.)
I feel like it's connected to the fly and the lamp and if so, I'd suggest
(woe it's early morning clumsiness)
.

Second and Third Stanza

your eyes are greased shut
with yesterday's after-hour turbulent mourning.


Wow. Just wow. Did you know that my mind immediately read "morning". Because of the person/character morning-fog scene in the first stanza. I thought that was brilliant, even if you didn't think of that connection. I keep picturing someone living in a small home and fighting with the weather surrounding them, things crumbling around them. I thought it was interesting that you brought salt in there suddenly, I'm not sure how exactly it correlates, is it representing snow? Or something strong and painful? I'm not quite sure. That said, I like it!

Last Stanza

I love the ending. It's both funny and represents something important to the poem, the fight with the wind, and all parts of nature with the sunlight now intruding on in. And gives some context that this person was sleeping in their living room, or in someone's living room, possibly waiting for someone?

Conclusion/Overall:

I really enjoyed reading this! It's well written as usual, but it has more that you have to read twice a bit. I like how it seems to be about someone in battle with something annoying and dealing with air coming in causing them to lose sleep and everything. I do ask my questions of relevance and just curiosity because I believe that it's important for the readers to have clarity on what the poem means, even if it's kind of open ended. You do that well though, and this is great! : )

Peace!




Pompadour says...


And I just saw this. XD Thank you for the review, although this is quite overdue! >.>



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Tue Mar 24, 2015 6:42 pm
jayflames1 wrote a review...



"cold feet wrapped in silken morning fog—" Capitalize the first letter of every line in most poetry so do it or not. I feel silken could be something else, ill get back to you one that. You did the new lines weirdly, ill assume that you did that on purpose. "Caught-not-caught on flypaper." Find a way to semi-explain this, I don't get it."(woe is to early morning clumsiness.)" TRUE. "your eyes are greased shut" greased seems weird, I recommend saying "felt greased". That's about it




Skydreamer says...


I must speak as a fellow poet when I say, capitalization is up to the poet and has no rules when concerning poetry, and especially poetry. It's supposed to express something. ^^



jayflames1 says...


OK



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Mon Mar 23, 2015 7:34 pm
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Morrigan wrote a review...



Hi there, pompiepoo!

I loved this, with all your lovely imagery and personification. Very nicely done.

That being said, there are a few things I'd like to suggest that might make this poem even better.

(woe is to early morning clumsiness.)
The sentence structure here is confusing to me. Whereas "woe is to" sets it up for an infinitive, it instead is followed with a noun phrase. If you omitted "is", we would have "woe to early morning clumsiness" which would be appropriate if the narrator was cursing early morning clumsiness. Or you could say "woe is early morning clumsiness," which is also appropriate. It's all about what the narrator is trying to say. Right now, though, I don't know what they're saying.

I feel like there's another layer to this, something that connects to the door being open, as this was mentioned twice in a poem that does not take too much time on everything, only touching on everything as a harpist plays his strings, and I want a hint as to what the narrator is getting at. I want to be able to understand just a little more what this poem is really getting at. Unless I'm wrong and the door is just a door.

Altogether, I really enjoyed reading this. Very nice job with vivid imagery. I hope this proves useful to you! Happy poeting!




Pompadour says...


<3 thanks, mags! So very helpful as usual. I didn't really think over this much before posting, but I do agree that the door concept and suches could be greatly elaborated on%u2014I will make sure to do this when I edit~



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Mon Mar 23, 2015 2:52 pm
siyasingh wrote a review...



Hi pompadour. It is Siya here for review time. Honestly speaking, this poem was really good. I loved the way you have used double meanings to indicate things like-
"you are having a party, it seems, and the wind
is chief guest.
but you close the door anyway, because you think,
it is late and the wind
is just so very bothersome."

I would also like to compliment you as you have picked a suitable, funny and interesting title. I found a few parts of your poem quite funny. The poem is not very long and yet you have managed to be quite descriptive,and have managed to paint a vivid picture in my mind.

you have captured the essence of a cold winter morning, and the way we act during winter mornings very well.I could relate to what you were saying and i am sure many more people liked that to. I would like to ask you however what the following line means as i did not quite get it-
"the city is made of salt, and salt
does not keep the cold warm,"

in general wonderful job. Keep it up. If you like my review then follow me and then i could follow you back. I hope to read more of you work.





We are discreet sheep; we wait to see how the drove is going, and then go with the drove.
— Mark Twain