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Emusing
Moderator
Username: emusing

Post Number: 1966
Registered: 08-2003
Posted on Tuesday, October 11, 2005 - 2:17 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

My weekly challenge entry. Before I do any edits, feedback appreciated.


Second Revision:

This Room

is an artic hour. Walls painted white with amnesia.
The nurses open doors, close them. I hear the starched
sounds of exit and entry.


I pry open the hands of the clock until they twist
counterclockwise, propel time backwards into birth
and death. My lives, dress and undress with alacrity—
like an H.G. Wells novel.

Tick 1897: A dinner on the lawn with Salomé.
I spill my wine, watch memories spread the hand
sewn linens. Her lips are blackberries. I am jealous
of the rosewood pen she rolls between her fingers.

Notice the Dali-like suspension of the white basin. It offers
the occasional dribble, sanctified, as if visitors should make
the sign of the cross—a benediction. The squeal of the tiles
sticks to the nurse’s shoes.


Tock 1875: My male cry is a pitchfork. I’m not the girl
my mother wanted. She smothers me in mauve petticoats.
Paints my cheeks with rouge from a purple clay teapot.

Here is my latest work Screaming to be Heard. It has been three weeks
and you are here to witness my death. The doctor calls --
injects me with the blood of Orpheus. Warns, I must never look back.


This Room

is an arctic hour. Walls painted white with amnesia.
The nurses open doors, close them. I hear the starched
sounds of exit and entry. Water cascades from the fake
pond like a Chilean rain stick.


I scramble up the wall, pry open the hands of the clock
until they twist counterclockwise, propel time backwards
into birth and death. My lives, dress and undress with alacrity
like an H.G. Wells novel. There is a faded ticket in my
pinstripe from a Fall Home & Garden Show.

Tick 1897: A dinner on the lawn with Salomé. I spill
my wine, watch memories spread like stains across the hand
sewn linens. Her lips are blackberries. I am jealous
of the engraved rosewood pen she rolls between her fingers.
Who is “Sydney Hadden”?

The white basin suspends, Dali-like. It offers the occasional
dribble, sanctified, as if visitors should make the sign of the cross.
The squeal of the tiles sticks to the nurse’s shoes.


Tock 1875: My male cry is a pitchfork. I’m not the girl
my mother wanted. She smothers me in mauve petticoats.
Paints my cheeks with rouge from a purple clay teapot.

Quickly before I disappear. Here is my latest work: Screaming
to be Heard.
Take it to my publisher. It has been three weeks
and you are here to witness my death. The doctor calls --
injects me with the blood of Orpheus. Warns, I must never look back.
Gary Blankenship
Senior Member
Username: garyb

Post Number: 5165
Registered: 07-2001
Posted on Wednesday, October 12, 2005 - 10:39 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

E, well written, but let me suggest something...

M gave us a list of items in the room, but would your final poem work better with changes in the list - the name on the pen, the ticket, title of the book.

Please think on where you can go with your own.

Smiles.

Gary


The Eye of the Coming Storm
http://www.mindfirerenew.com/
Emusing
Moderator
Username: emusing

Post Number: 1978
Registered: 08-2003
Posted on Wednesday, October 12, 2005 - 4:43 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Gar agreed. I'll try closer to the original work and see how that goes. Posted a revision above.

Thanks and smiles.

E
Lazarus
New member
Username: lazarus

Post Number: 47
Registered: 10-2005
Posted on Thursday, October 13, 2005 - 7:42 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

I like the new version. Everything goes together like a puzzel.
Bren
Advanced Member
Username: bren

Post Number: 1118
Registered: 12-2001
Posted on Thursday, October 13, 2005 - 12:24 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

My second haunting read of the day. Really E this is spooky and wonderful with sound and emotion!

The squeal of the tiles
sticks to the nurse’s shoes.

I wondered about changing this to what I have below because in my head I'm thinking the tiles squeal because they're stuck to the shoe but I may be thinking too much! haha it happens sometimes. :-)

The squeal from tiles
stuck to the nurse’s shoes.
Bren

PenShells
Penelope
Intermediate Member
Username: penelope

Post Number: 304
Registered: 07-2005
Posted on Thursday, October 13, 2005 - 1:07 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

E, this was superb. I like the revision even more.

(Not sure I understand why you've set apart this phrase "Paints my cheeks with rouge from a purple clay teapot," and treated it as a sentence, though.)



Penelope
Kathy Paupore
Senior Member
Username: kathy

Post Number: 2618
Registered: 12-2003
Posted on Thursday, October 13, 2005 - 7:44 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

E, well-done. I must admit that the "nurse" drew me in, my profession, and the read kept me there. Suspenseful!

:-) K
LJ Cohen
Moderator
Username: ljc

Post Number: 3111
Registered: 07-2002
Posted on Friday, October 14, 2005 - 1:59 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

E--some suggestions for the revision. This is stronger without all of the items from the challenge. I'm not sure about the italics for the hospital stanzas--I would almost set the other stanzas apart. Some suggestions and comments
in-line.


This Room

is an artic hour. Walls painted white with amnesia.
The nurses open doors, close them. I hear the starched
sounds of exit and entry.

<--this whole stanza really rocks. Love the white of amnesia, the starched doors. I think you missed some opportunity for better enjambment with the short ending line of the stanza. Perhaps bring 'I pry open the hands' up to the last line of the provious stanza?

I pry open the hands of the clock until they twist
counterclockwise, propel time backwards into birth
and death. My lives, dress and undress with alacrity—
like an H.G. Wells novel. <--I would end this stanza at 'alacrity'

Tick 1897: A dinner on the lawn with Salomé.
I spill my wine, watch memories spread the hand
sewn linens. Her lips are blackberries. I am jealous
of the rosewood pen she rolls between her fingers.<--I would set this in italics

Notice the Dali-like suspension of the white basin. It offers
the occasional dribble, sanctified, as if visitors should make
the sign of the cross—a benediction. The squeal of the tiles
sticks to the nurse’s shoes. <--this image felt odd,somehow, though it does go with the Dali-eque theme

Tock 1875: My male cry is a pitchfork. I’m not the girl
my mother wanted. She smothers me in mauve petticoats.
Paints my cheeks with rouge from a purple clay teapot. <--again, italics here

Here is my latest work Screaming to be Heard. It has been three weeks
and you are here to witness my death. The doctor calls --
injects me with the blood of Orpheus. Warns, I must never look back.

<--alternate line breaks for this stanza

Here is my latest work Screaming
to be Heard. It has been three weeks
and you are here to witness my death.
The doctor calls -- injects me
with the blood of Orpheus. Warns,
I must never look back.

<--perhaps a twist on this "warns/you must never look back"? is the 'you' the mother in the previous stanza?

An eerie piece, E.

best,
ljc
http://ljcbluemuse.blogspot.com/
Emusing
Moderator
Username: emusing

Post Number: 1985
Registered: 08-2003
Posted on Friday, October 14, 2005 - 10:51 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

Lazarus thanks for coming by! I'm glad it all fit for you.

Bren, yup that line is a bit odd. It was actually intentional. Glad to have spooked you out!


Pen you are absolutely right. A definite oversight on my part. Thanks for catching that!

Hi Kathy! Glad you liked the nurse bit. Hope your move goes well.

Lisa thanks so much for taking time with this. I really love the first stanza. I think the others could unfold in a smoother pattern. Perhaps working with the enjambment will help. I'm going to work on a rewrite based on many of your suggestions. One thing that is not clear is the reference to the italics. Did you mean for only the last lines of those particular stanzas you highlighted to be italicized?

Spook E
LJ Cohen
Moderator
Username: ljc

Post Number: 3119
Registered: 07-2002
Posted on Saturday, October 15, 2005 - 5:39 am:   Edit Post Delete Post View Post/Check IP Print Post

E--(love the 'spook e' LOL!)

No--I mean for those entire stanzas to be italiziced. So you would be setting off the 'fantasy' stanzas rather than the hospital ones.

Good luck with your revision and I look forward to the final.

best,
ljc
http://ljcbluemuse.blogspot.com/

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