Neopoet.com

was good both ways it was delivered here..your choice.
eerie,nail biting fun…enjoyed the read. I like your dark side.

Right now I am trying to get a book of poetry published, that is of my dark side, so I sure do hope others will like my dark art too. I asked Chrys to do a read through of it for me (Book of Styx) and she said that she couldn’t read it after dark, LOL.

I am going to have to give this (Ripper’s Lament”) poem/story a few days leave of absence from my mind before I figure out what to do with it. Thanks for your input, it is always welcome and respected.

Always, Cat

You should be proud of this piece, it has power.

So many lines struck me in this dense work, but this one I adored:

to the cold velvet fingers of the evening,

I also loved the density of the work, no breaks, an exhausting, unrelenting tale, building, unpaused to the final stroke, the final line. Fine work.

Thank you. I worked on this piece for over two years. It is good to read that my effort has paid off. Ever since I can remember, I’ve been fascinated with Jack the Ripper. Thanks for your always welcome input.

Always, Cat

….I shivered.

Nicely done, Cat, styx! Other than separating it into logical verses or break points, it seems quite well done. Thanks for asking me to read! Good luck with the final touches. :)))

Patrick/AO

She is the Venus I’m watching from a distance
making merry with her soiled sisters,
buying rounds of mulled wine in the shabby brothel,
fortifying their resolve against the dangers of the chilly night.

Cat/Styx

The opening lines grabbed me and drew me in. I loved reading this.

You have a brilliant story telling technique. You took me there. Stunning poetry.

Kaz

It’s impossible to smile on the outside without feeling better on the inside.

Awesome. The only real things I could put forward would be perhaps to quicken the pace of the ending a little more, perhaps shorter lines or something, i’m not exactly sure. I was just thinking that your writing about a very emotional, raw powerful energiezed moment, and the pace in the lines seems slightly too slow.

On nother point I’d actually disagreed with both Patrick and Kaz, I like the one block form, seems more like a story, kind of like Keats’ Hyperion or Homer’s Illiad. You know what I mean!

Kieran

“Mind, how you go!”
- Roger McGough’s poem for LSD Awareness Week

Don’t change a thing.Add to it ,maybe but don’t change a thing and by add I mean more of the story,I didn’t want it to end.Kaz is right ,your story telling is exceptional.Keep it up.
Lacy,

Where power corrupts,poetry cleanses.

For telling me. I was afraid that the poem was too long and I might not be able to hold an audience. Glad to hear from you!

Styx/cat

This was such an amazingly told and atmospheric story Cat. I am a little torn as to what to suggest in terms of improving it because as a poetic story it is almost perfect although as a poem it lacks the structure which introduces and stronger rhythm and flow which takes it completely out of the realms of prose. In short it is, for me, a half-way house between poetry and prose which to be honest i really like. I guess the question for you is how do you want it to be? Small typo by the way, should be “alley”. You are in a real purple patch period Cat, thanks for letting us all take the ride with you. Keith

I find myself in unfamiliar waters, here. I guess I would like to go with a poetic story, but I don’t know how to restructure it. I would be grateful for any help/advice you can give me.

Always, Cat

I’m not for a moment suggesting that this form, or some other permutation of it, is in any way better but it is different. I had to take out a number of linking words etc to try and maintain a more poetic flow. You will probably hate it like this but who knows? Not even sure if I like it, but you did ask. lol. Always Keith

She is Venus
watched from a distance,
making merry
with her soiled sisters,
buying rounds of mulled wine
in the shabby brothel,
fortifying resolve
against the dangers
of chilly night.

Finishing my tot of gin,
as the soft smile
of a refined gentleman
plays at the corners of my lips.
Placing the empty vessel
on the scarred,
wooden bar top.

Anticipating departure
I cross the room to the door.
Down the street in shadows,
my carriage sits
awaiting my return.

From this vantage
sits darkened comfort,
sexual appetite whetted
by the keenness of wanting.
Expectation of night’s events to come
rewarded by her exodus
from the rundown tavern’s
dingy light.

She bids her friends farewell,
going their separate ways.
Pulling her shawl closer
about her shoulders,
she surrenders herself
to the cold, velvet fingers
of evening,
slowly slipping
into the firm grasp of night.
The veins running through
her soft pale throat and neck,
fluttering like tiny white birds
anxious to take flight.

All her many charms
highlighted in the dim glow
of a gas streetlamp.
The hard line of her jawbone
softened by the thinning,
yellow light
and shadows cast
upon the cruel,
cobbled street.

She saunters slow,
unsteady down the avenue,
an attitude
of intoxicated affability.
At my instruction,
the driver follows
down the street.

Almost upon her,
taking up my kit,
deftly exiting the cab
pursuit from behind
overtakes with my stride…
exuding good nature,
a firmly taken arm
guides her to the alley
with its present
of a generous coin
where she grins,
drunkenly pleased,
raising her skirts,
exposing invitingly,
drawing me in.

From the folds of my cloak,
my tool is presented,
a glinting flash
at her throat,
bathing in her life’s fire.
Her scream drowns in a gurgle,
as I dispatch her protest.
My scalpel become manhood,
quickly plundering
her tainted treasures.

I am gripped
by raging hands of desire
seized and firmly held
by my needs.
Still echoing in my ears,
her death rattle
reminiscent
of a harsh laugh.

Once again
I’m completely alive,
and revived
(and she is immortalized).
The true “prince of darkness”
holding court with my whores!