very rough--don't really know about a title, but its something that i've been toying with. thanks!
hours fill the uneven
spaces that separate
each tick
of the second hand
afternoons sunk deep
in summer, when dust
motes sway, achingly
slow, in thier snake-charm
dance
even sunlight just brushes
skin, too lazy,
really,
to burn
the words spill out, organizing
themselves, serene
and undisturbed,
for once, by the skitter-scrape
of the pen
not captured
merely settled
into endless
moments, caught
between pages.
5 comments:
I really like this, though the more I read it the more I think that maybe you could trim it down somewhat. Some parts seem a little wordy to me. If that makes any sense.
'hours fill the uneven
spaces that separate
each tick
of the second hand'
I am thinking that the word 'uneven' above doesn't seem to work. Uneven sounds a lot like separate to me and the fact that the tick of the second hand isn't uneven. Maybe you are referring somehow to uneven numbers. I think by removing it, it would help the cadence of the poem. I could be wrong though.
So it would read:
'hours fill the
spaces that separate
each tick
of the second hand'
'even sunlight just brushes
skin, too lazy,
really,
to burn'
I think the above stanza would benefit from removing 'really'. I think it sounds much better without it.
Perhaps you need fullstops after certain stanzas. Like after the words 'dance' 'second hand' 'to burn'. While I see that you have separated each stanza to relate to the reader a certain pause for some reason I stumbled a few times when reading it, thinking that it continued on in the next stanza.
There was some wonderful use of sound and imagery there. I really liked the swaying motion here:
'when dust
motes sway, achingly
slow, in thier snake-charm
dance'
Of course the obvious word is 'sway' but the imagery of the snake charm heightens movement, the snake charmers' song and the movement of the snake. This balances well with the word 'dance' which gets me thinking about belly dancers as well (don't ask).
The ending was nice and it ended like a flame burning quickly out. I liked that. Thanks for the read ;)
I hate blogger deleting my comments when I press the backspace button. Ok try again.
A few more things I noticed.
'hours fill the
spaces that separate
each tick
of the second hand'
The word 'second' stunts the pace of the poem (in my opinion), adding more weight and length.
Secondly -
'even sunlight just brushes'
What's the need for the word 'just'? The word 'just really doesn't add meaning to the poem. If you were to say, 'he just ran, or just walked' it wouldn't sound right. He walked or ran. Of course poetry is about bending the rules a lot of times.
Maybe my love for short sentences adds a different dimension to the sound or my understanding of sound. Perhaps it is also my Irish ear that is at times used to a different word structure.
Once again cheers for this. Now fingers crossed you'll see this post.
I really like this stanza:
afternoons sunk deep
in summer, when dust
motes sway, achingly
slow, in thier snake-charm
dance
This part is really nice, on its own, but I’m not sure if you need it. It seemed to interrupt the flow for me. I wouldn’t scrap it though; I think you could write another piece around this stanza…I would.
even sunlight just brushes
skin, too lazy,
really,
to burn
What about combining these two into one stanza?
the words spill out, organizing
themselves, serene
and undisturbed,
for once, by the skitter-scrape
of the pen
Good ending too…I would probably leave that part alone.
Thanks for posting.
-Steve
Time has always been a favorite topic of mine so this one intrigued me from the first stanza. First, I'd like to suggest you consider "Ticking" as a title because of the obvious and also because ticking is another word for stuffing as in what you put in a mattress. :D If it doesn's suit you, no worries. Just seemed apt to me.
Rather than talk a lot about it, I thought I'd just show you what I would probably do with it. For what it's worth:
hours fill uneven
spaces, separate
each tick of second
hands down
afternoons sunk deep
in summer where dust
motes sway, achingly
slow, in this
snake-charm dance
even sunlight brushes
skin, too lazy
to burn
the words spill out,
serene
for once unmoved,
by skitter-scrape
of this pen
not captured
merely settled
into endless
moments, resting
on pages.
I agree with Tiger and Steve. There's wonderful stuff in this. I'd like to see the finished version. Outstanding, LO! Cheers!
oh and another thing, you really need a title. You might make us readers think that you were just being lazy without having a proper title. Most of the times having a proper title adds to the poetry and gives it more substance and meaning.
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