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Phantom Skyclad

a spell on my intention
is a mother of invention
and I now believe the nymphs along the way

while this magic mathematician
wields the slight of her ambition
and my hand is waving on the child's play

the strummer of the lute
and the harlequin's new flute
are serenading that these rules are just a phase

her kind and open heart
says just because we’re worlds apart
it doesn't mean connections won't be made

to cast some wild aspersions
in the bed of her nasturtiums
a dream to drown the middle of the day

so as I lean upon my staff
I think of summoning a draft
to light the fire to brew the tea to make her stay

but I guess it isn't right
that I should hold her through the night
when I know nothing of the secrets in the clay

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 


as to the meaning of this Simon...
So I will just confine my crit to the form :)

Great rhythm and rhyme on the whole, but some verses are a tad long (imo, mind)

Stanza three, suggestion
her kind and open heart
says we may be worlds apart
but doesn't mean connections won't be made

I' d suggest dropping 'wild' from stanza five

And the last verse is way too long, even for a lengthening for effect, I found it spoilt the ending. Do you really need to make the tea from both bark and hay, do you need the fire - do they mean something to this write I confessed that I don't understand ? Lol

Would 'boil water, make a tea from bark and hay' or, if the fire's important... light fires, make a tea with bark and hay', still say what you want?

And 'harlequins' needs an apostrophe for the ownership of the flute - either harlequin's or harlequins'

do please enlighten me, if you will, as to the theme
Love judy

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

it's about receiving the love of a proper skyclad witch and realising the difference between magic tricks and a connection to wisdom. if I read it aloud I could show you how it rolls along without a hitch. can't fit it into a timing grid here but some line start a little before the others.

author comment

if I read it as you want, it sounds fine, but I think you are relying on the reader keeping the rhythm of the first couple of stanzas...
That aside, I still think the last verse is off. If you want to keep to your pattern, I think it needs another couple of syllables between 'tea' and 'from'

'Each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They are.'
(Rudyard Kipling)

I liked the three line structure and rhyme pattern of this poem as also the ongoing discussion with Judyanne,...will be interesting to follow it and see if at all you tweak this up...


raj (sublime_ocean)

in a couple of days I might be able to see if I think this works better (I never know on the day).

author comment

I found it with flying..(Sim games)
and remember driving..
one always had to correct ones path.
or walking portage..the odd stumble..
over all I found it went along well..
but I always write rough drafts..
most of the time...

I watch people...relationships
never fathoming how they work
and how people generaly work
things count I know this.
I never send any..
why I still have anyone is
beyond me...
women generally tire

but I do find them to be
mind magic I like
word wit lasts longer
I find then any flower

but I remember the
tea sessions..the coffee
very well.

Found this to be a mystical

have hashed the form well enough, so I'll talk on the subject that I not only understood, but sensed something else that no one, not even the author, has mentioned. Not everything is always meant to be understood. Sometimes there can be things that are small parts of a larger story.
I loved the poem.
I also agree with Judyanne that some work needs to be done on the format.

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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