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The Electric Bordeaux Acid Test
The stemmed glass slowly rotates
Held up to the sun
Its contents swirl in easy motion
Carmines plum and ruby
Subtle rainbows tease
My imagination already
Tantalized by too much wine.
How many times
Have momentous thoughts
Random as these
As blurred of focus
Been so confidently
Brought to life
While looking through a
Glass of half gone
Bordeaux
Too many
I'll wager
Too many
Review Request (Intensity):
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction):
What did you think of my title?
How does this theme appeal to you?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage:
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Comments
Seren
Sat, 2013-04-06 07:48
Josephus
Hi I noticed your a new member to Neopoet, so welcome, I really liked this one
it has a sense of intimacy, sitting there watching the rainbows that flash off the glass, as I said I really liked this I look forward to reading more from you
If you ever need a hand dont hesitate to ask
sincerely Jayne-Chloe
“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats
Josephus
Sat, 2013-04-06 08:25
Thank you Jane-Chloe. I'm
Thank you Jane-Chloe. I'm glad you enjoyed my poem. I am new to this site but I am looking forward to both posting and receiving critiques from the folks here. Thanks for your offer to help. Much appreciated.Once again thanks for your interest in my work. I look forward to reading yours.
With my best regards,
Joe
My mind's writing cheques my body can't cash.
godshouldnthave
Sat, 2013-04-06 12:17
Oh the Rich Chalky Terroir
How many times?
Not enough
I'll wager
Not enough
:)
This poem feels like my buzzing subconscious wrote it and expressed it to me within a momentary thought. Then I dismissed it as a fleeting smirk. Yet here many years later you have surprisingly returned it to me with grace as your own thought. It was never mine after all. That is to say....your poem has a comfortable home in my dome. Mi casa es su casa. Welcome to the classroom.
The title made me tingle on the back of my neck, thus earning myself the full read. This logic is full of honesty.
I would perhaps change the shape a bit...as the right side seems a bit jagged and a few moments of the poem could use a little space for us to pause and reflect.
The stemmed glass slowly rotates
Held up to the sun
Its contents swirl in easy motion
Carmines plum and ruby (allows us to sink our teeth into ruby)
Subtle rainbows tease (bringing tease up actually teases the brain as it relates to the next line)
My imagination already
Tantalized by too much wine.
How many times
Have momentous thoughts
Random as these
As blurred of focus
Been so confidently
Brought to life
While looking through a
Glass of half gone (I am always a pessimist about wine too)
Bordeaux
Too many
I'll wager
Too many
Just some suggestive cheese to go with your wine. Great write and I hope you get plenty of readers before this one turns to vinegar.
_Danny
Josephus
Sat, 2013-04-06 13:00
Danny, thanks. I like your
Danny, thanks. I like your recommendations and will incorporate them into the poem shortly.
Thanks again for the help in this.
Joe
My mind's writing cheques my body can't cash.
Frenchf
Sat, 2013-04-06 14:20
The images are great
I admire people who express images so well
my favourite
Carmines plum and ruby
Josephus
Sat, 2013-04-06 18:14
Thank you, French. Much
Thank you, French. Much appreciated.
Joe
My mind's writing cheques my body can't cash.
Blue_Halcyon
Sun, 2013-04-07 07:37
Excellent work!
It's not often a poem snags my attention long enough for me finish it. Your words managed to lure me in and keep my attention to the end. It's one of those poems that you have to read multiple times to savor the thought being pondered. Keep up the good work!
It is such a secret place, the land of tears. ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Josephus
Sun, 2013-04-07 12:53
Thank you so much for your
Thank you so much for your encouraging comments!
Joe
My mind's writing cheques my body can't cash.
wesley snow
Sun, 2013-04-07 17:47
I don't get around here as much as I used,
so it does my heart good to say... welcome.
A subtle poem and I agree with the sentiment.
W. H. Snow
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley
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