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Badger11, the poem is a mirror of a very physical moment in a persona. The war film is just a shadow of the idea.

Jesus leaves a wilderness with thoughts like fires in the sun, he is a parasol that prevents the devil's tears from tearing fibres out of God's eye-patch the sun. The tears start to mingle, weeping fire,beatific bawls, blood falls from a man on a cross, a stone is rolled from a cave entrance,a sun flails against the vision of a father whose throne created for a son cannot be attained. To preempt God,Jesus whispers into a womb and the kick inside cannot be contained for him and the earth. A father's hands loom over a planet and an unborn child they are shaken by a lone

Hi JJ I feel the war film would give context: obviously, in the history, but also in the narrative and characterisation. This connected with you and 'unlocked' the poem. As it stands, the poem is disconnected from context and therefore does not resonate. The poem's violence is random. Perhaps subtitle the poem - While watching the film...; or a more oblique key, ' Tucking into my bucket of popcorn'. I think this would provoke interesting questions on the interaction between the art form and the viewer...empathy? catharsis? corruption? cheers Phil

I am still working on a future revision of this piece. It's a WIP.

This was inspired by a scene in war movie, badger11 🙂

I used to scribble English verses during my college days, way back in the early 1970s. Since I admired Wordsworth, I chose the pen name Verseworth. Here is a poem I wrote then, taking a dig at some of our Tamil poets who coveted fame, tropies and titles. Please bear with me for any naiveté in thought and expression. The Poet of the World! (gurunAthan ramaNi) I mean to think, and not just blink-- So I sit down with Fancy's crown And try to swear in my Muses fair; But what to say amidst such bray? To write with ease I need some peace. Yet I sit down (really like a clown)

random embers glow cones tremble open with heat sequoia seeds rain

Graphic violence JJ, but what is the purpose?

Thank you, AbsentShadow. The poem is based on Tinker's explanation of the Chant form here:

Oh! I didn't realize you actually were proposing Or ICE / SHELVES STRETCH, / arREST / -ed STARE / unTHAWED or Or ICE / SHELVES STRETCH / on, pro / -LONGED WINK / unTHAWED I have to admit that it took me several readings of each just now before I realized how each could make sense. They're a bit convoluted syntactically, don't you think? In both cases, the plural subject is followed by a verbal adjective modifying a singular noun, with only an unstated, implicit possessive pronoun introducing this construction, followed by another verbal adjective that creates an inversion;

Hi Phil, I like the way you respond to the poem very much. Your diction has a nice way of participating in the scene and movement, invoking 'liquidity' and 'anchors' in your expositions. Nice observation about those "buried clocks". Indeed! Thanks, - David

Well, have to admit, I am pretty good at not acting on such urges. Luckily I don't encounter very many exploiters or bullies in my every-day life! 😉😁

So nice of you, Lexi, to take time to respond, given all that seems to be going on in your environs. Right you are, it is the entire closing couplet that works so well. There is a note of generosity and wholeness of heart that so disarmingly couches the narrator's acute desire. Lovers everywhere would gratefully resonate. Regarding meter. I scan that important third line (I suppose they are all important in a sonnet) as: Or ICE / SHELVES STRETCH / on, WINK / -lessLY / unTHAWED iamb / spondee / iamb / iamb / iamb That is an inta

Hi David, thanks so much for checking in on this one. Awhile back, I finally submitted enough comments on Eratosphere to qualify for full membership and thus post something of my own (which I've been fitfully striving toward for years), so the former version of this was the first thing I posted there, and the revised version is thanks to feedback I got there. Someone there also expressed reservations about "winklessly unthawed"--in his case, it was simply because he didn't know what it meant. Your alternatives have a nice flavor and might be worked with, but would require an overhaul of the wh

Tinker's Poetic Forms: Envelope Quatrain (gurunAthan ramaNi) 01. Duckling! (iambic pentameter) The duckling rides the ripples in the lake A jumping cockerel watches on the shore A hen is walking as her chicks explore The diving fish finds it too hard to take! 02. Heavy Heart! (iambic tetrameter) She walks alone with a heavy heart Along the road beside the beach The crimson sky was no solace She lost her job in the downtowan mart! *****

😮 🙃 the last time I punched someone I was in primary school!

I agree with Lexi's appreciation for that "thin oxygen of dreams." Also, "Spring demands fingerprints as Winter walks on its hands," though I recommend completing the personification with gender designation here. And Tink's right: this kind of packs a wallop. I would turn the last observation into something more speculative in keeping with the tone and diction at the sentence's beginning. Nice, - David

Thank you for that kind thought, Joel. I still like the possibilities of this piece very much! Enjoyed the Revisit, - David

Judi, Made me remember the way I felt the first time, as a child, when I encountered the Island of Misfit Toys: desolation. Thanks (I Think!), - Dave

Hi Lexi, sure glad I stepped back to find this little gem. And what a conversation has been occasioned by this Conversation! Not much to add, like Tink, I really found the progression beguiling. And that final line is a wake-up call rarely matched by any poem I have read, had this reader standing at attention! One thing, though - I agree with Phil: 'winklessly' seems to disturb the line for me. It isn't the syllable count; it's the sonics and an awkwardness of diction. I want to like the original turn of phrase, but it doesn't quite come off for this reader. Might you consider somet

Yeah, I felt a distinct urge to punch that cigar right down the smug narrator's throat... lol. Good one, Phil. - Dave

Thanks, David. That is exactly the intent, for the reader to supply their own details for their own personal experience of the poem.

The first few times I read this, Tony, I was actually reluctant to intrude. Very moving, maybe one of your best. I especially resonated with what Phil says and don't know how to add anything more of value. (I don't even have an adequate salutation!) - Dave

Hi Barry, I like the possibilities of this piece, but it feels unfinished. A different take on the recurring theme of a Second Coming, a la WBY. Might I suggest the "waves" simile opening the last paragraph would move the poem with truer force if it were made a personification? Thanks, - David

Joel, I like the playful, flirty feel of this piece. It tantalizes me with missing details: where did this sleight-of-hand occur? Was there a look exchanged? Did you know at the time? What kind of light prefigured fireworks in the other's gaze? etc. - David