You know that I know that you know that I…

[SleepyWitch]

just jotted down a new poem. comments? please be cruel! THANKS





You know that I know that you know that I…

Your hands expound to the air
like naked chicks just in from the cold
just hatched and stuck on to your body,
an afterthought to beauty.

With round-eyed precision you wield
the scalpel of your helplessness
and I secretly count the freckles on your arm
so out of place but half-expected.

Gaping curiosity paints your face innocent,
life-long recycling of virgin heart-soil,
man to boy to man,
which will it be?
Forever the future lover.

Stealth-cloaked brain-sparkles start to travel
but get jammed halfway down
and collide with lurches from the groin
to swirl in the unsuspecting stomach
and you shout "Happy New Year!"
ten days late.
What is this prancing queasiness?
Could it be the elusive third
between love and lust?

Every dream, daydream, nightdream,
nightmare, fantasy
jolts me awake just short of a kiss
and leaves a dusty sleeve
to linger on my cheek.
For a moment I thought
I could smell you.

[blp]

A bit overwritten for my taste, Sleepy. Like the last two lines though.

[SleepyWitch]

what do you mean by overwritten? I think it's a bit overwritten for my own taste, too, but could you explain? :)

[jon1jt]

as if love and lust aren't elusive enough. bleh! :p

i like the first three stanzas, the sensuality is not overdone and ebbs and flows some. "...i secretely count the freckles on your arm" and "leaves a dusty sleeve to linger on my cheek." do you mean secretly? or maybe you're just playing with words, i dunno. actually, i think i would have liked this poem better in the 3rd person.

it starts unraveling for me after S4.
--

Every dream, daydream, nightdream,
nightmare, fantasy

i was wondering why you wrote "every dream" since you spelled out such dreams for the reader in the same line. oh, you forgot pipe dream and hallucination. :p

nice work o poet.

[SleepyWitch]

thanks jon, of course I meant secretly :)
yeah, I'm not too happy with the last stanza either. should I just chop it off and end the poem after S4 or write a new ending?

[Yashad Kirtane]

good work..... i just joined in......
i will post..... then please reply...

[SleepyWitch]

Hi Yashad, how are you? welcome to LitNet. where are you from?

[Yashad Kirtane]

India.
Please reply on my poem.

Stare into the sky
Now on the road
Amid a chaos of souls,
Look into your own.

[SleepyWitch]

Stare into the sky
Now on the road
Amid a chaos of souls,
Look into your own.

that's good advice :) I like "chaos of souls", I think I know what kind of feeling you mean. like when you're in a crowd of strangers and you feel there are too many people in the world and you find it hard to concentrate on who you are???
why don't you post it here (http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?t=29414) to get feedback from more members?

[Yashad Kirtane]

Thanks...... glad you like it..... wrote that a few days ago..... sat down and penned it.... also thanks for that thread.... hopefully many more people will like it....

[white camellia]

You know that I know that you know that I…


S knows that H knows that S knows that H knows that S has this particular intention.

If I read this title in Grician sense, then it's about communication with the intended meaning (like the expectation of love from both?) being recognized. It might well be much better to me too if the communication came with a simpler look in the way the title does.

Enjoyed the work.

[PrinceMyshkin]

just jotted down a new poem. comments? please be cruel! THANKS

The invitation to be cruel might be more appropriate if you allowed us more reason to be. As a couple of previous posters have noted, it may be somewhat overwritten - as if you feared that this would be the only poem you'd ever get the chance to write - but there are some superb lines in it, e.g.




Your hands expound to the air
like naked chicks just in from the cold
just hatched and stuck on to your body,
an afterthought to beauty.

and


What is this prancing queasiness?
Could it be the elusive third
between love and lust?

and


Every dream, daydream, nightdream,
nightmare, fantasy
jolts me awake just short of a kiss
and leaves a dusty sleeve
to linger on my cheek.
For a moment I thought
I could smell you.

Have attempted to instant message with you but it doesn't work.

[SleepyWitch]

As a couple of previous posters have noted, it may be somewhat overwritten - as if you feared that this would be the only poem you'd ever get the chance to write - but there are some superb lines in it,
thanks for your feedback :) yeah, well, maybe I'll keep the good lines, throw away the overwritten ones and think of some new lines to go with the good ones...


Have attempted to instant message with you but it doesn't work.

i got your PM. will think of a reply :)

[SleepyWitch]

You know that I know that you know that I…



If I read this title in Grician sense, then it's about communication with the intended meaning (like the expectation of love from both?) being recognized. It might well be much better to me too if the communication came with a simpler look in the way the title does.

Enjoyed the work.
yep you got it right :)

[Virgil]

just jotted down a new poem. comments? please be cruel! THANKS





You know that I know that you know that I…

Your hands expound to the air
like naked chicks just in from the cold
just hatched and stuck on to your body,
an afterthought to beauty.

With round-eyed precision you wield
the scalpel of your helplessness
and I secretly count the freckles on your arm
so out of place but half-expected.

Gaping curiosity paints your face innocent,
life-long recycling of virgin heart-soil,
man to boy to man,
which will it be?
Forever the future lover.

Stealth-cloaked brain-sparkles start to travel
but get jammed halfway down
and collide with lurches from the groin
to swirl in the unsuspecting stomach
and you shout "Happy New Year!"
ten days late.
What is this prancing queasiness?
Could it be the elusive third
between love and lust?

Every dream, daydream, nightdream,
nightmare, fantasy
jolts me awake just short of a kiss
and leaves a dusty sleeve
to linger on my cheek.
For a moment I thought
I could smell you.

Two halves to this poem. The first half I will say is lousy. "Like naked chicks coming in from the cold?" How do naked chicks expound in the air? I can't see it and the image is so offputting that it better have a point, and i don't see it. It comes off as an unnatural analogy, even though by your title there is supposed to have an elemnet of humor in there. Next is "scalpel of your helplessness." Those kind of metaphors (an abstract notion characterized by a noun and linked with "of") are cheap and somewhat amateuristic. I pointed this out to someone else, but look at how silly they can be: "door of faith," "tiger of passion," "sword of vengence."

The other half is not bad.

Stealth-cloaked brain-sparkles start to travel
but get jammed halfway down
and collide with lurches from the groin
to swirl in the unsuspecting stomach
and you shout "Happy New Year!"
ten days late.
What is this prancing queasiness?
Could it be the elusive third
between love and lust?
Perhaps too many adjectives, but I like that in its core. I really like that question at the end.


Every dream, daydream, nightdream,
nightmare, fantasy
jolts me awake just short of a kiss
and leaves a dusty sleeve
to linger on my cheek.
For a moment I thought
I could smell you
A kiss leaving a dusty sleeve on a cheek is a very interesting image. I like that, and the ending where she can almost smell him.

Needs work Sleepy but there is some good stuff in there.

[SleepyWitch]

Two halves to this poem. The first half I will say is lousy. "Like naked chicks coming in from the cold?" How do naked chicks expound in the air? I can't see it and the image is so offputting that it better have a point, and i don't see it. It comes off as an unnatural analogy, even though by your title there is supposed to have an elemnet of humor in there. Next is "scalpel of your helplessness." Those kind of metaphors (an abstract notion characterized by a noun and linked with "of") are cheap and somewhat amateuristic. I pointed this out to someone else, but look at how silly they can be: "door of faith," "tiger of passion," "sword of vengence."

The other half is not bad.

Perhaps too many adjectives, but I like that in its core. I really like that question at the end.


A kiss leaving a dusty sleeve on a cheek is a very interesting image. I like that, and the ending where she can almost smell him.

Needs work Sleepy but there is some good stuff in there.

thanks Uncle Virg, well, the guy's hands aren't particularly beautiful in real life, so I don't mind if the image is offputting. the point is that those hands are kinda ugly, but who cares as long as the rest of the guy is beautiful? plus, I know that naked chicks are ugly, but don't little baby birds normally arouse people's mother-hen gene? :)
hahahahah "tiger of passion" :lol: you crack me up :) I suppose you're right about this line, but it didn't work the other way round rhythm-wise.

er, nope, the title wasn't intended to contain an element of humour :confused: does it sound funny? :blush:

[blp]

Overwritten? Just stuff like...




Your hands expound to the air

Whatever that means.

and




Gaping curiosity paints your face innocent,


but, I don't know. I just mean the whole thing really. The language feels overstrained.

[SleepyWitch]

Overwritten? Just stuff like...



Whatever that means.

and



but, I don't know. I just mean the whole thing really. The language feels overstrained.

ok, I see what you mean

[blp]

Sorry. You did say 'be cruel'!

[SleepyWitch]

Sorry. You did say 'be cruel'!

yeah, it's OK with me :) I prefer that to "very nice, I like it FULLSTOP"

[jon1jt]

thanks jon, of course I meant secretly :)
yeah, I'm not too happy with the last stanza either. should I just chop it off and end the poem after S4 or write a new ending?

the last stanza needs work, definitely. i've been following the dialogue about it being overdone. i see what they are saying---my issue is that the poem is bland in that sense there's a weak, nagging attempt to create a loftiness. it's repetitive as well. when i read a poem i want to be drawn along the corridor and ride the rails into the unknown. that repetitiveness is halting, predictable, some. you can easily consolidate some lines and tighten it up. i think that's where it breaks down, for me, anyway.

as far as writing a new ending, my rule of thumb is, salvage what you can, throw the rest in the bottomless pit of bad poetry writing. :p nice work overall, sleepy. keep it up.