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R A Y N E . . . . . .
slickfest
from the dark heavens
coiling on nights arms
juicy dream while my
pulse waits on trigger finger
I think of you home
and swallow all the pain
Editing stage:
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Comments
BlueDemon77
Mon, 2012-06-11 20:27
RAYNE
Hi Esker,
I do believe you've put a great deal of feeling inside this, it paints a definite picture. I would have preferred for more length in this one to tell the rest of the story. Who is at home? Are you a soldier abroad? Are you a vigilante. I think some of the greatest poetry is a slice of something caught perfectly. With this work, when I was pulled out of the story, I didn't have enough enformati on to have the necessary emotional connection to go with the obviously dangerous noir imagery. All this is super easy to fix. Just give it some thought, try to detach yourself so you don't know the non-stated. Good read!
Blue Demon77
Blue Demon77
"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."
The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath
BlueDemon77
Mon, 2012-06-11 20:37
RAYNE by Eskere
This poem paints a thoroughly noir picture, it paints a world around itself. There is also a dramatic tension of danger that is undeniable. I wanted more there to complete my emotional investment in the character(s). Who awaits at home? Are you a soldier abroad? are you a vigilante? Who's after you? I think if these few adjustments were made, you would be fully accomplishing what you've set out to do with this poem.
I feel that a lot of poetry is a perfect slice of something. Starts and stops at just the right time for its' intent. With RAYNE, I thought you pulled us out too quickly to the detriment of the impact. There is great potential here, only a few additions are required in my opinion.
Blue Demon77
"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."
The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath
Esker
Mon, 2012-06-11 20:44
aha moment
I get this too when watching the new videos
the new commercial snips
enough and not enough
they are not the drawn out dramas of the past
fifteen seconds a commercial now
and less
This is more like a sideswipe
but I see the want for more connection
with no more emotional connection
the physical is this
"One can feel the pulse of ones finger
in the finger on the trigger Pulled so
to the point of just there
the beat to slow breath carefully
focus focus.."
with more writing it is not the actual
gun-in-hand but an emotion in
that hyper charged state
Rain is slick Memories are too
sometimes rain consumes them
and feeds them to waking
coiling on nights arms
hanging useless at the sides
or reaching to the heavens
leaning at the wall the fence
looking toward the darkness
just looking
"I think of you home"
where one is safe
not out and about
and the poet the voice
of this poem is in the rain
Where
Why
How
When
I like your mention of NON-STATE
I think the best poetry is in this state
for it is not so time locked by reference
I am glad you gave me good critique on
this one
Thank You
BlueDemon77
Tue, 2012-06-12 01:19
Thqnk you ESKER
I have a feeling that you were doing exactly what you wanted in the original state after reading your letter. I can see your point also. I hope I helped in some way.
Blue Demon77
"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."
The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath
Esker
Tue, 2012-06-12 01:51
the greatest is the PEEPSHOW of the mind
im so cheap
but I love the quick wit flips from the hip
from women vaulted mind set and
angular degreed
like a secret whispered fast enough\
to still be a secret
that nickel and dime show that never
slows
BlueDemon77
Thu, 2012-06-14 12:55
LOVE IT!
Great work Esker, love the tinkling, playful rhyme. Sensual!
BlueDemon77
Blue Demon77
"What I want is to be what I was before the knife,
before the brooch pin, before the salve, fixed me in this parenthesis:
Horses fluent in the wind. A place, a time gone out of mind."
The Eye Mote-Sylvia Plath