Peep Show

Hey Twit, sorry this one took me so long.

I dig the sentiment, simple though it may be (there is, of course, nothing wrong with simplicity). What I don't like is the sameness of it all. Check it:

How different my nakedness to that of a man’s!

I could find beauty in it, but no,
I am told that this is shameful.

Milk for the babies, satisfaction for the men,
but where am I?

My body does not exist in touch and smell;
it lives in ugly words made by men.

Even after cutting a significant chunk the poem says pretty much the same thing. All the bits I omitted were more or less repetitions of what you'd already said. While I think maximalism and repetition are perfectly valid techniques, it takes a degree of skill to employ them without it becoming boring. The first way you could do this, obviously, is by simply axing the bits that aren't absolutely 100% vital to the poem like I did above. The second way is to really change it up in terms of vocabulary or technique. Your technique is textbook to the point of banality. There's nothing wrong with it other than the fact that it makes the whole poem exceedingly predictable. If you want to go down a maximalism route in terms of content you have to keep the readers interested in other ways - play around with stanza length, spacing and pacing, formatting, the strength of line-ends, punctuation or lack of, etc. etc. Make it memorable.

It's cool Twit, but I think you need to spice it up a bit.

K

You are a lovely writer. I plan to read more of your work. This poem really portrays the way some men view women and how disgusting it is. I am in love with the part about covering ourselves up because it is shameful. The sagging flesh is perfect. The way I worded that was absolutely horrid. Truly, you are a lovely writer.

I am truly in love with this poem. You are an amazing writer. I would love to read more of your work.

Tootsy love! Take everything here said with buckets of salt. I write because I really liked this.

I quite like this; and your portrayal of a woman and her nudity.

The first line bothers me a bit, it seems more 'prose' and the jump to the next line is awkward. Like you jump of a raggedy cliff; and fall and then find some nice smooth roller coaster ride.

The second two lines - there's a change in perspective; and yeah it makes sense, but maybe if it was in quotes and then you talk about looking in the mirror; I think you could connect the two a bit better. I think the tones create a clashing effect? I'm not sure.

Downward domes//upward curves --loved that! It sounds poetic and does justice to the picture you're painting.

The last line - I'm still vacillating over whether I like it or not. In one way, it's sad that she's stuck in her skin which is painted by the men(?) and then she is unable to find herself. Or is she repulsed by her physical image due to a comment on societal acceptance? It sounds like she's succumbing under the pressure, but when she had a spark-moment of being able to find beauty, it's sad.
(I probably didn't make sense there. I'm a bit confused myself)


Anyhoopity, it's a good one!
Cheers!

I must say that after reading this I have an indelible image of Hatshepsut's beard permanently etched onto my mental corneas.

There does seem to be a certain stigma against female nudity, particularly in western culture, and a noticeable disdain for any lack of perfection in the female form, in our media-controlled culture. It certainly seems as though you've captured these laments of society within your work here.

"My body does not exist in touch and smell; it lives in ugly words made by men."

I went back and forth between decrying you as a radical feminist for this stanza but I kept my right-wing comments to myself and instead chose to appreciate the lyrical and observational genius. It certainly seems as though there are innumerable bywords for the human body that when applied often leave the owner of these sociological labels with less-than-thankful feelings.

"trapped in my own skin."

Certainly, there is a terrible fate faced by those who are unhappy with their physical appearance. Although I choose to see my skin as a vessel for greatness, the alternative is to see one's self entombed within a prison of flesh.

Just a quick comment its very good