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because here, they create.

with indigo pastel dust collected under her fingernails,
she judges her thoughts, briefly, then with strokes of
enchanted eyes, sketches. the universe, caught in her
long tousled hair, waits release- a translation to vision
by sleight wrist. colour entwines; becomes her wine
and she sways to rhythms of changing shades.
in moments of hallucination, she falls,
collapses, and lays paling slowly,
awed by colours she has waited to discover.
sinking into crumpled paper heaps, he looks
for that old forgotten thought, the one which
reminded him that he pens of revolutions, love,
suffering, and change. and contrived reasons
to live and breathe- the ink, blotted to purple
with whiskey and then burnt to chars, suddently floats
into a single ray of light bursting from drawn curtains.
he remembers why destruction is the only way,
the only path to take which might lead
to re-invention, and peace, and acceptance.
the violin has remained boxed, dusty, forgotten.
and a piano rained melodies, sometimes softly-
often frenzied but calm insights of the musician's voice
of life. searching for hints, walking silent corridors-
listening to the buzzing of the fruit fly trapped
inside the cavernous mouth of a thunderous sky.
each note rings haunted with meaning, hanging
in mid-air like an omen- a sign of the present,
of the never-ending love affair
between what is wanted, and what is.
crouching in corners, they clench their jaws and
tighten wrists, let vision wander relentlessly,
wait for the tints and tones of the sublime-
destroy their worlds one by one, and each one,
without mercy- pine like autumn leaves for winter
to fall, let every sense choke and revive-
because here, they create.

26 Mar 07

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any constructive feedback?
 — varun

i wanted to take a look at varun's new poem, but didn't get to it until today; please don't make that sound like reading this a chore, heavens no. so, here it goes:

i was intimidated by the size of it, but you start off with a nice image, with the dust. it paints an odd picture: bruised fingernails, perhaps?

in all generality i think, that even though i thought this was long at the beginning, i now want to say that it needs to be longer because the word art encompasses so many topics, and even though this poem is different, the word art and all connected to it is just so broad, that i would suggest maybe writing a counterpart and then integrating it into this poem; the poem is finished, yes, but maybe you should leave it this way and just changed the title, make it more specific.

maybe you use the fingernails image to write about a bruised dream.

i had a thought around line five. maybe you should change "become" to "becomes." i know this would mess up the grammar here, but it might help to isolate that little bit, make it stand on its own. please allow me:

colours entwine; becomes her wine,
and she sways to rhythms of changing shades.

you see what i mean? that "lonely" stand? not really lonely, though, of course. but you see where i'm going?

if anything i like this for its character. she seems a little lost maybe.

an effective strategy i found here was that you mention two opposing people related nonetheless, and close with referring to them together. that closes the poem very nicely.

a note on the counterpart: maybe if you change the title you wouldn't have to worry about making it longer; well, you shouldn't have to worry about making it longer anyway, i'm just saying what i might like to see; indeed, you don't want your poem to be excessive. so i would applaud your decision, no matter what.

you tap into that abandoned feeling so well. such as the reference to the violin, and with lines like "let every sense choke ..." the quote being related to loneliness because when one in focused on his art so much, he forgets about everything else.

nice work, varun. i hope i gave you something to work with. not your best, but good.
 — listen

ah, v. a masterpiece. this is currently printing so that it can go on my wall.
this is the first poem i've ever really really really liked enough to go ahead and do that.

so thank you.

but... i guess i could nitpick a little bit, too:
(a little, little, little, little, bit).

line 9 feels like it needs another word, another adjective, to more clearly express
her patience. i'd suggest: "awed by colors she has waited forever to discover"

the second stanza is my life experience encapsulated into a poem.
although "lasting" in line 13 seems jagged with that comma. but you need the comma
for the consonance.

never mind. that's why the comma is there in the first place. haha.

line 25: sounds? i don't think that's the right word to use... i'd suggest "mouth" or
something similar. you're trying to express the vastness of the sky, yeah?

line 32: tinkles? eghh. try timbres.

other than that... v, i'm wordless.

 — midare

ah, for a title change, maybe copy the last line of your poem:

"because here, they create."

that might be stealing the punchline a little bit so to speak, but
it is a bit more expressive and emotive than the title ya have now.
 — midare

er, semicolon after "briefly" in line 2 instead of a comma.
 — midare

did i mention how much i adore that second stanza? especially the last few lines.
 — midare

thank you both very much for your comments and suggestions.

thanks for the interest. for the first two lines, my experience with pastel has been somewhat similar to what i've written. it gets collected under my nails as if i've been scratching at the crayons. mmm. maybe that's a better line? :)
i had considered making it longer. i also tried making it shorter that it is. and i came out with this. i think i will take your's and midare's suggestion about changing the title instead. a title that confines the poem?
your idea about 'become/becomes' is great. thanks for that.
i'm glad you liked my poem. thank you for reading.

i've read your latest. but just haven't commented. i still have to read it a few more times. first glance, it looks great :) i've learnt much from you. thank you for writing.
i'm glad you liked this and it goes on your wall.
your suggestions are great, as always.
i might chose another word, rather than 'forever', but i know what you're saying.
line 13 has been the most problematic. it feels sort of incomplete. and i knew you'd pick that out if you read this, and you did.
i will exchange 'sounds' for 'mouth'. much better word choice. with 'timbres', it's more of a 'wider, bigger' sound... and 'tinkles' is a short, quick 'note-y' sound... so i'll think on that one.

thank you both again.
 — varun

fucking typos.

 — varun

i was thinking of line 29 as the title.

also, what i noticed was this:
line 34/35, the waiting of autumn leaves is too out of place here...

what do you guys think?

 — varun

fucking stupid fucking poetry site fucking didn't post my comment.
argh this hasn't been my morning.

sigh. lets try this again.

line 29 works for me as a title, v. i only suggested that you use the last line
because i'm rather fond of the duality between beginning/end and i think it'd
work very well in this context.

as far as line 13 goes, how about:
"reminded him that he pens of revolutions,
and convoluted love. and contrived reasons"


tinkles... timbres... tones?

34/35 is only out of context if you examine it as a piece of the whole...
as a piece of a piece (that is to say, as a piece of the last stanza)
it works lovely. hm. but i see what you mean. i never was very good
at looking at the whole picture. i see little tiny details very sharply, though.

you need a transition though, i do agree. you couldn't just jump from:
"without mercy-" to "let every sense choke"
there's too much of a gap there... i think.
but maybe that's just because i'm reading it without the leaves. :L

i mean autumn leaves do choke and then revive. but people aren't
like autumn leaves. all of the time. well. maybe we are. i'd say keep it, v.
i like it. and that means it's good.

 — midare

it's tones. yes. tints and tones sounds so wonderful to me when i speak it loud. yay!
and i've changed the title. but i like your suggestion better, so it's going to change again.
thanks for your time and help, as always it has been invaluable.

i leave the leaves alone. yes.

 — varun

what about line 13? :L
 — midare

This is more a beautiful journey than a poem.  In line 34, you need to change wait to waits, to correspond to 'each one."  

Apart from a bit of missing punctuation (this is a recording!! haha), this is lovely.
 — Isabelle5

line13, done. but without convoluted. i just didn't like the sound it made in the sentence. and i think i found a better way out of it... :P

isabelle, thank you.
other than the caps...? what else?
and in line 34, the tense of 'wait' is correct, according to 'leaves'. no?
though, now i've edited it.
thank you muchly.

 — varun

L34 wait is the action of L30 they
n'est-ce pas?
nifty poem
 — unknown

si, mon ami. merci.
 — varun

nice title. i didn't recognize it at first. but now, i have. i like this change, makes the poem more unified.
 — listen

yay. now it's complete. i have to print another copy.
 — midare

thanks listen.

feels real good to know my poem is on the wall of a very talented writer.
 — varun

one more edit in s1.
 — varun

even better. first stanza is gorgeous now.
third copy.
 — midare

the universe is
in your poem too
i love your words
 — chuckles


yes, your's is beautiful.
 — varun

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