poetry critical

online poetry workshop

times like today

i wonder how you are
rioja coursing or boots hung
simple things
i sorted out the garden
planted 320 sunflowers
never sure I did understand
garden full of wood pigeon
foot on feet hand on head
pull twist gently
scoop breast
feed carcass to ferret
the look
the fucking look on faces
garden faces north-east
        i swear
   i can touch orion
   i wonder how
                 you are
      sun in my eyes

21 Aug 10

Rated 9.3 (8.8) by 3 users.
Active (3): 1, 10
Inactive (25): 1, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 9, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10

(define the words in this poem)

(11 users consider this poem a favorite)

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Cool poem.  Consider omitting 'that' from line 7 and 'is' from line 18 ?  Otherwise, enjoyed reading.  Thankx.
 — JKWeb

Thanks jkweb, wrote off the cuff.
 — Quen

Yes, this is nice quen.
16-18, fav.
 — mandolyn

Like it better 2nd time 'round.
 — JKWeb

Great job
 — psychofemale

 — stout

Unk, you must be a very special person to write this. As a fellow struggler when it comes to writing, I've tried to sensitize myself to what I like about poetry. I'm always trying, it never seems to end.

Your thread is what I like about poetry.

Your poem is written from the heart. Oh, how I wish I could capture the sincerity in the same way you have, the love, but in truth I would have to be young again, and that is so far away it's dream-like.

On a technical level we both have much to learn, but on a sensitive level we are there already. Somehow though, we need to pass this on to other readers. We have to learn to trust them, and give them some room to grow inside the poem. We both must learn their language. I'm still trying too.

As a poem, your's is still at the start of its journey, but don't worry, I've never managed to write one good finished poem yet.

Here is my ownership of your poem. This, for me, was and is, inside your writing, and inside your very special poetic thoughts that really are the poetry between one friend and another. These are the words I took from you after I unpicked the wrappers and layers. I got here by just looking for your signposts and deleting until I revealed them to myself.

If I could offer some fellow struggler's advice, just give them signposts to where you really want them to go as a reader, then let them stand on their own two feet. Food for thought I hope. May not be how you see it of course, but it's my workshop response to your lovely thoughts. Thanks for letting me read your work. Keep the magic.

Time’s like today

    I swear
I can touch Orion
I wonder how
          you are

Sun in my eyes

Good luck poet warrior.
Sincere best wishes
 — unknown

um, a poet worrier hey.

interesting crit.

wot me worry

alfred e newman
 — unknown

this is great, particularly lines 16 to 20.

he says while removing his polaroid sunglasses.

i hope your blisters are healing marisol.

rioja logrono

 — zigzag

cool poem, really nice relaxed collection of thoughts and images.
 — manuka

 — unknown

Your knowledge is creative, but there’re a lot of points to order the custom essay writing from essay writers. That will present students a possibility to have A+!
 — unknown

thought i had read this earlier without the second "i wonder how you are" - i love it so much more without it, "i swear i could touch orion" is just so beautiful, with the odd and brilliant hanger "sun in my eyes" to follow and complete it piece.  very cool work
 — peace

 — 13fatstacks


 — unknown

thanks M

may I now borrow your cool shades
to get the sun out my eyes
before I develop a cataract?

 — unknown

^ that M was not me. i do sign M when i am logged out though. looks like there are two of us.
 — mandolyn

its ok,
the p wasn't me.

 — unknown

the G wasn't me either

 — unknown

someone 's messing around here

 — unknown


 — unknown

just ignore them

stupid friggin unks

that's the one thing in i hate about PC

 — unknown

 — Empty

Dearest Fanny,

I was so pleased to receive a letter from you. I nearly spilled some jam off my scone and knocked the teacup over my lap with excitement when I smelled your tell-tale perfume on the envelope.

I am keeping very well. Though mother has taken ill again with her consumption. The weather in Italy is very mild at present, and almost like the Lake District in spring. Oh, and I do so miss the daffodils and the serene late afternoon walks we used to partake in on Saturday's.

Oh Fanny, what became of us. At a stage it seemed certain that we would see our final days through in each others companionship. Now, I'm bedridden, in the final grasp of my disease, with nothing but vague recollections of nightingales singing their throaty applause to the dark.

I'm glad to here you are still in the best of spirits, and all the others are well too.

Yours sincerely,

 — unknown

this is awesome.
 — unknown

nice poem. you did a lovely job creating this image-- i feel it.
it hurts.

i have a couple suggestions but you may not want them, it is number 1
after all. ;)
 — jenakajoffer

I find this difficult to understand completely. Apparently I'm the only one. Third paragraph specifically.
 — rocket

Hi Jen, if they have anything to do with your prawns and fanny, fire at will.
(i liked your mike rowe poem ;-o)

Rocket, I have tried to change the third around but the poem was for a friend and I'm sure he doesn't even really get it. I have a tendency to write for myself.
 — Quen

deserves top rated.
 — unknown

beautiful. lovely poem. thanks. Eugene
 — unknown

no offence m8 but SHUT UP its preety awsome ...but its not what im lookin for anyway lol
 — unknown

i thought i made a comment on this, guess not,
you had me at 320 sunflowers
 — ghost

lovely thang!! love it. im having probs with this expression "i sorted out" . .. . to my ear/mind . . . it compromises the following line to its detriment i think (sort of "thuggish" overtone to it, no? unless I googled wrong) . .. other than that. . . love it thanks !!
 — funes

"i sorted out "=  it was a shit tip unfit for weeds.

ghost, packet said 320 (which i thought was kinda cool)
they all spouted, Gave lots away in tiny pots.

thanks for reading.
 — Quen

it gave me heart murmurs and ants in my pants still my stomach feels so full i want to puke every time i hear about this fucking poem
 — 13fatstacks

^^ hu hu.
can write a thousand times of these when the heart falters. what's new?
 — unknown

Fuck a, "Rioja," and fuck a,"ferret."  Own your audience.
 — percocet