Critique this poem, please

Cafe Society
1

Just something I wrote this afternoon … your comments are welcome.

Otohime

Let me worship at your shore
in coral and sea shell white
lying naked on your beach
enraptured in the musky wine dark
richness of your private coves.

Let me plow your oceans
my sails unfurling inside you
billowing in your sea foam thighs
surrendering and surrounding me.

Let me ride your currents
tack within your tides
and move with the rhythm
of your white waters rushing.

Let me crest your waves.

Then capsize me and take me under
plunging me to your depths
and drowning me in you.

Let your waters hold me there forever
A sacred treasure in your secret sea.

2

Would you be offended if I nominated you for this literary award ???

(In all fairness - and candor - a medal for courage would also be in order. I would never have the guts to post my own poetry, if I wrote any.)

3

:slight_smile:

I loved it. I wish someone would write a poem like that to me. You must be such a sweetheart.

::sigh::
Honey

4

Just my two cents -

I like the line that goes - “Then capsize me and take me under”…the whole drowning/dying for love thing holds special meaning for me.

5

It’s got a bit of that early Pablo Neruda flair, don’t it?

For your sweetheart, I think it’s a lovely poem. As a public poem, well, the imagery is a bit obvious and not terribly inventive. Every line seems to be a straight metaphor for a sexual action. It’s a poem that could have been written for anyone anywhere. That’s not necessarily a bad thing in and of itself, but the poem itself doesn’t offer anything surprising.

The language flows, though, and the final line is quite pretty.
Overall, work on the imagery and get away from the straight sailing on the ocean = sex metaphor.

I’m banned, aren’t I? :slight_smile:

6

Euty, it made me think of Ruth. It is some of the most evocative metaphor that I’ve seen in a long time.

Let me worship at your shore
in coral and sea shell white
lying naked on your beach
enraptured in the musky wine dark
richness of your private coves.

Right away, you present the reader with an image, not of intrusion or encroachment, but of something that belongs where it is. You titillate our imagination from the opening line, and then immediately wrap it in innocence and purity with the second.

Let me plow your oceans
my sails unfurling inside you
billowing in your sea foam thighs
surrendering and surrounding me.

That verse is positively sumptuous. With the ethereal image of billowing sails, the words leap out and dangle around us like objects in a mobil handing over our heads.

Let me ride your currents
tack within your tides
and move with the rhythm
of your white waters rushing.

You’re almost Shelley-esque with your imagery and Poe-ish with your meter. “White waters rushing” causes an impedant break, followed by the breathless tappiness of words that have long since been left behind by thought that moved on.

Let me crest your waves.

This single-line verse captures the reader and pulls him into your fantasy, as he basks in the disequilibrium of being elevated suddenly. It is the heart — the essence — of what is hoped for when a surfer approaches a wave, and when a man approaches a woman.

Then capsize me and take me under
plunging me to your depths
and drowning me in you.

You capture the agony-ecstasy of total immersion. You evoke the feeling that preceeds a decision to commit, a decision to let go and trust. You capture the essence of faith and hope that resurrection will follow death.

Let your waters hold me there forever
A sacred treasure in your secret sea.

Euty, I just have to say that this is one of the most beautiful poems I’ve ever read. This final twist, abandoning us as you settle in to her secret sea, leaves us wishing you farewell as we contemplate our envy of your adventure.

Wonderful! Simply wonderful.

7

Hanging, not handing. Why do I always do that? […slinking toward exit with head bowed low…]

8

It reminds me of some of Hopkins’ early work - a poem called The Mermaids IIRC that he wrote at school. Considered a little “over-blown” by today’s standards but still a minor masterpiece in its own way. Strong Keatsian influence. It was also quite intensely erotic, stuff about a full blown rose.

Let me see if I can find a link…

Some of it’s here…

9

The rhythm of the piece lends itself beautifully to the imagery of the sea. The wording is delicious. I totally agree with everything Libertarian listed. A feeling of motion, a sense of natural ease, and a definate expression of pure emotion- all in one piece! Kudos on a striking presentation!
P.S. SIGH!!!

10

You know, as I think about it, and about how much like Ruth it is, the poem could just as well be about his love for God as for a woman. I love it.

11

I am the walrus. Goo goo ga joob.

12

Euty, sometimes I feel a theme in a work, and sometimes I feel a 2X4 hitting me over the head. Powerful imagery, but IMNSHO it is, well, overdone. the symbolism is just too direct, IMO. Maybe that was the effect you were shooting for, but it just isn’t my style personally so there you go.

That isn’t to say I don’t like it, or that it doesn’t express itself well, etc., (gosh I hate critiquing works, I always feel so mean!) it is just that I feel it is, well, as I said above. There is no real work done on the reader’s part, no real imagination necessary. “I am Euty, and this is my poem.” You know?

Gosh, I hope I am not sounding too mean here. I really don’t mean to be!! :frowning:

But then, I often feel similar things about Robert Frost (my nemesis poet), so what the hell do I know.

13

Eris, all is not always so obvious as it first seems:

Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest
is my lover among the young men.
I delight to sit in his shade,
and his fruit is sweet to my taste.
He has taken me to the banquet hall,
and his banner over me is love.
Strengthen me with raisins,
refresh me with apples,
for I am faint with love.
His left arm is under my head,
and his right arm embraces me.
*

It’s from the Bible. It’s about God.

14

Critique a friend’s poem? Not a chance, pal-o-mine! Not since totally blowing it with the most beautiful woman I knew in college (“How could I possibly consider marrying someone who wrote such crap?” is NOT how you get laid!) have I even READ a poem by somebody I like. The most chilling words I know are “Mike, you’re a poetry editor. What do you think of this?”

15

Sometimes the face-smacking imagery works, though, erislover, especially for the average non-poet, like me.

I don’t think I could top what Lib said (but I will add a “Hi Lib! Nice to see you!”), but I will say that I rather like that poem, and I hope it ends up in Teemings as well. :slight_smile:

16

Jetsam
Get some
Flotsam
Got some

Or, for the 12" remix…
Shipwrecked on your littoral
I saw myself as jetsam
I thought of matters clitoral
And hoped that I might get some.

17

Well, my poetry (AFAIK) isn’t exactly award winning material, I’m just saying what I feel.

Granted, there are places for 2X4s, and I’ve used them (yes, I mean in the metaphoric sense). I’ve just never felt satisfied with it, s’all. :slight_smile:

18

I do know what you mean there, eris. I write a lot of poetry, but I refer to myself as a non-poet because about 99% of what I write is garbage. I myself am okay with reading metaphors, but I don’t write them well at all.

19

I’m very reluctant to do this. As others have said, “I wouldn’t have the balls to post an original poem in a public forum.” I paraphrased, but it’s still true.

I have only one comment:

The “unfurling inside you” part is a bit inconsistant. Maybe “above you?”

[sub]why did I do this?[/sub]

20

No, no, no, no, no! Inside. Inside for sure. :slight_smile: She (or God) is not the oceans, but that which holds them.

And “plowing oceans” is a wonderful metaphor, evoking a desperate consumption that other phrases would leave dry.