And then there were 3 1st draft poems:
This grief
clothes me like a woolen suit
and has it’s own agenda. It does not share
its schedule of highs and lows, or its timing
of angry bites and bitter lashes. I find myself
spread-eagled before its capricious grin
as it mocks and torments and lays me low.
There is no defense. I am at its whim.
I cannot chart its ebb and flow.
It simply is.
copyright 2005 by Cookala
This grief
clothes me like a woolen suit
and has it’s own agenda. It does not share
its schedule of highs and lows, or its timing
of angry bites and bitter lashes. I find myself
spread-eagled before its capricious grin
as it mocks and torments and lays me low.
There is no defense. I am at its whim.
I cannot chart its ebb and flow.
It simply is.
copyright 2005 by Cookala
posted by Unknown at 9:57 AM
4 Comments:
Hey, Cookie.
This one isn't working at all right now, I think because the central image is confuddled.
The other two show promise. I think your pruning shears need to come out in a while and snip some of the dead twigs from the green branches.
Just a first impression comment. Worth what you paid for it!
Julie
Hey, Julie! Thanks - appreciate your thoughts mucho. These have come from me relatively untouched - super raw, and yeah, they will need some definite preening and sprucing up. It's great to get feedback though to point me in the right direction. I think much of this one is very much internal to me and inaccessible to others. But hey, I'll take 2 out of 3 and be real happy with that for now!
Dear Cookala,
I think some tinkering can make this tick; I really like the plainness of emotion in this case, and it is important not to cloud it with too many poetry defences. And still it has to be consistent, etc.
Here's an alternative structure:
This grief
has it’s own agenda. It does not share
my schedule of highs and lows, or my timing
of angry bites and bitter lashes. I find myself
spread-eagled before its weight
as it mocks and torments and lays me low.
There is no defense. I am at its whim.
I cannot chart its ebb and flow.
It simply is, like a woolen suit
I wake in and forget how to remove.
*
Larry (rap)
Heya, Larry! What a nice surprise to see you here, and with a crit no less - thank you! You made my day.
I'm doing better now with handling the grief I think, it's not quite so raw and I'm not crying near as much as I was - though I'm still very sad she's gone and miss her terribly.
I miss you and the crew at PFFA, too, some of whom have been really supportive during this time of hardship for me. That means a lot to me. Just to know there are people out there who care does make things a bit easier to deal with.
I've really felt the need to write lately only nothing is coming right now. I think it's just a matter wanting to write vs being so busy with so many things (too many!). I need stretches of uninterrupted time and quiet to be able to get into the proper focus to write, and I don't have that luxury right now.
That's why the ATC cards are great for me. I can vent my creative urges with the cards instead to keep from getting totally frustrated - they don't require a nanobit of brains to do and they're really fun to make, and I get the much needed benefit of having a diversion to keep me from dwelling on mom and all the ugly strings I have to tie up now.
But I will be back, soon I hope, maybe within a few months is all goes well and hopefully much sooner.
In the meantime, I am trying to read as much poetry as I can. I've just about finished Rik's book and am anxious to get started with Rob's, besides the journals I get. And I do lurk in the forums at PFFA when I have the time, just to try to keep up with current events - things move quick there and I feel like I'm missing out on funny stuff, but that's how it has to be right now.
But please, feel free to comment on what I post here and do come back again! I miss you!
bests,
Cookie
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