TEACH ME - SHOW ME HOW

It disappoints me. Kitty. People can't take any existing poem and add five minutes marking down a couple of words about a few techniques they used? Kitty, it was a great Idea. I'll. PM some buds today and see is there's they can save this. If not ,I sure don't want to win a trophy this way. Let me see what I can do. Try extending it a week to give a little more chance. Rachel and Indie expressed support. Jack, Eamon, Pierre, Lightbaron, Dennis, Jesta, DP, redTbird, Betty, Gi Gi..? would anyone like to make the two of us feel less like Baxters?)

We the Person                                    (Little Wing)

I tend to try a little word play with the title when ever possible and since this write was about a person with multi persona's I figured a play on 'we the people would do the trick.

Sometimes, not all the time, it's like quicksand, sucking me into an abyss, and the more I struggle the less I can break free.

I guess this is a simple enough simile implying that the feeling of despair might get worse whenever one would try think about it or analyze it.  
 
"In there... well we try our best not to go in there.it's dark and i swear that in that space, there is no mark or trace of the lost one.

 
we watched him go in when the storm raged outside.we called out his name but he never returned.


 
we think he was tortured, his body was quartered then dumped in the corner and ceremoniously burned.
 
We do our best now to try stay afloat."

The preceding lines are a running metaphor depicting how the main personality was overcome thus giving free reign to the others.
 
sometimes, not all the time, we run aground and it's then we don't dare to make a sound. in case we wake the dark one because he's the one who'll  be the death of us all.

again here Iv'e used internal rhyme to support the meter and used
a running metaphor to describe how when the times are bad there's a danger of the 'dark one' to come to the surface and destroy the good that remains.
   
"We try. god knows we try to keep our feet on the ground
because we tried to live in the sky, and though the times were good the cost was high.
 
We've now found another mouth to feed."

again a metaphor here implying yet another personality has became
apparent
   
Sometimes, not all the time, the silence between tick and tock can last an eternity.

an easy enough one here saying that time can go exceptionally slow sometimes.


As far as technique goes I really don't try too hard to include specifics other than the basic meter and some metaphor and maybe some simile. A lot of the time things just come together for me I spell check constantly now and sometimes ask people to go through poems before I post them. It helps.  

Christian, I'll PM a brief breakdown to you tonight... for what it's worth to you... or as a basis for editing your post.


And what a day. I see Eamon representing with a head of hair, a sign of affirmation, and pint!

Deleted by author

More are hiding! Everyone has a couple... Let's have Miss Kitty grade a whole stack of homework!

Writhed

What is it like to hold      
in your bare hands              
my very existence?  

here the existence is personified as a thing that is able to be grasped. In addition to this, existence is personified with a humanly form as it has hands to grasp my existence as if it were a human heart. By asking what is it like to hold my existence I wish to point out how my existence depends upon words. By using 'very' shortly before 'existence' suggests the fact that is a precious element as well as
to point out its singularity and how that affects the second stanza.  

A living and breathing    
word with its own heartbeat.

In the final stanza I finalise and complete the poem in a cyclical way; by answering the question previously mentioned. Even though I don't actually answer the question of what is it like, i nevertheless answer what existence means to me. Existence is nothing but a concept that cannot be fully grasped,touched, felt, thus is merely a word. I've used once again personification as i personified 'words' to be living and breathing things. aren't they?

Bhava
       
I lie dead still on the padded altar   ('dead' foreshadowing uneasy nerves, emphasized by lying on an altar)    
of this naturally goggle-eyed        
pseu-do-sci-en-ti-fic        
psychoanalyst        (trying to set the scene in as few words as possible, as well as adding some, what i thought was interesting, color by spreading out the word 'pseudoscientific')
       
finally, after having fidgeted like a speed addict  ('like a speed addict' is a simile, implying a general dislike for being cooped up)  
for an hour in the waiting room                        
while that vile fly took free reign of the place     (tried to get some more intimate ticks of the main character here)  
       
I just want the 46 dollars they said they'd pay        
to hypnotize me        
try to get to my mental recesses, current processes   (internal rhyme, rhythmic, adds movement to a static-feeling stanza to my mind)
maybe find out why I am the way I am        
not that I'm any weird way        
a profile study kind of thing, I guess    
Should take a while      (letting you in on the regular, apathetic type of person this is, almost talking to himself a bit)
       
So I start to relax with small talk    
flicking back and forth     ('flicking' used to reflect what's being talked about: light subject matter.)
easy stuff: where I'm from        
what my favourite colour is        
but not a tick of the clock goes   (minutely less cliche than 'not a second goes by before')        
between "bone white" and my being blinded     (bone white being his favourite colour is supposed to provide some link to what we're about to see)  
by sun[I think] quickly adjusting itself  (i've come to use brackets like this semi-regularly, to add something that probably doesn't belong there technically, but that i think adds to the write)      
to steamy, patchy green canopy   (establishing new setting as quickly, accurately, comfortably as possible)    
       
I'm low, breathing shallow with a heavy chest      
behind a fungus-oozing log      
God, I can hear everything        
every bird every shuffle every creak every step  
[breathe]  (i also use them for internal dialogue or action)      
water close by        
[scent]        
an animal above me      (character feeling sensations and creating them for the reader to experience in a fast paced way)    
a grounded gibbon locked in my sight        
lauch muscles ready to leap and sprint        
       
I knead loose earth, feeling        
the gentle prodding pressures        
mold it to my feet        
paws?        
[claws]        
forelegs steady, balancing the bodyweight     (building on this new setting, becoming comfortable in this new body, new character)
       
It's not just the greedy pit in my stomach now        
automatic calculations        
I note        
the meshing        
of energy into every molecule        
syncing to the forest patterns   (trying to pace the reader's realizations with the character's)    
this is all - us - this dance          
of intimate synergy     (trying to imply the climax, the awakening, his inner self learning something from touching earth)
     
rise  
fall        
[breathe]      

lunge        
       
jaw grip        
monkey neck crack is        
suddenly insufficient        
teeth plunge        (stripped down the wording for impact and to complement the message)
through sinew coated protoplasm      
then squeeze and wet sweep of lips        
while its pieces settle like silt    (skirting the gore, but sating a carnivore's delight in such things)  
       
I lie still, growing with the quiet canopy      (recapping to where he entered this experience...)
as Indian evening sun trickles down my chin    (as well as linking to the title, showing, again, that the character we started with has become a new, or renewed, character)    
       
       
       
[snap]   (signalling the hypnotization is over, and i hoped the reader would assume he carries this experience back with him to his everyday)



and i do hope i did that right... thanks for the PM, braggman, this was a good idea.

braggman said:It disappoints me. Kitty. People can't take any existing poem and add five minutes marking down a couple of words about a few techniques they used? Kitty, it was a great Idea. I'll. PM some buds today and see is there's they can save this. If not ,I sure don't want to win a trophy this way. Let me see what I can do. Try extending it a week to give a little more chance. Rachel and Indie expressed support. Jack, Eamon, Pierre, Lightbaron, Dennis, Jesta, DP, redTbird, Betty, Gi Gi..? would anyone like to make the two of us feel less like Baxters?)

Hi Braggman
Thank you for supporting this competition
It is not about a trophy
It is about showing me how you write your poems
Some people can explain what they are doing
Others...like people who play the piano without being
able to read music...cannnot
It can be a short poem with three items...
I know this is the MEMORIAL day weekend in the USA
but not in Canada...
So those who can  explain are invited to write
and explain ....briefly
Thanks
Kitty

Anonymous said:<< post removed >>

Chris
You are like the piano player who is excellent but cannot read music....or explain where they got their talent.
Thank you for submitting it
You are being a good sport and I appreciate it
Kitty

lepperochan said:We the Person                                    (Little Wing)

I tend to try a little word play with the title when ever possible and since this write was about a person with multi persona's I figured a play on 'we the people would do the trick.

Sometimes, not all the time, it's like quicksand, sucking me into an abyss, and the more I struggle the less I can break free.

I guess this is a simple enough simile implying that the feeling of despair might get worse whenever one would try think about it or analyze it.  
 
"In there... well we try our best not to go in there.it's dark and i swear that in that space, there is no mark or trace of the lost one.

 
we watched him go in when the storm raged outside.we called out his name but he never returned.


 
we think he was tortured, his body was quartered then dumped in the corner and ceremoniously burned.
 
We do our best now to try stay afloat."

The preceding lines are a running metaphor depicting how the main personality was overcome thus giving free reign to the others.
 
sometimes, not all the time, we run aground and it's then we don't dare to make a sound. in case we wake the dark one because he's the one who'll  be the death of us all.

again here Iv'e used internal rhyme to support the meter and used
a running metaphor to describe how when the times are bad there's a danger of the 'dark one' to come to the surface and destroy the good that remains.
   
"We try. god knows we try to keep our feet on the ground
because we tried to live in the sky, and though the times were good the cost was high.
 
We've now found another mouth to feed."

again a metaphor here implying yet another personality has became
apparent
   
Sometimes, not all the time, the silence between tick and tock can last an eternity.

an easy enough one here saying that time can go exceptionally slow sometimes.


As far as technique goes I really don't try too hard to include specifics other than the basic meter and some metaphor and maybe some simile. A lot of the time things just come together for me I spell check constantly now and sometimes ask people to go through poems before I post them. It helps.  


This was just fine
Thank you for participating
Kitty

braggman said:Christian, I'll PM a brief breakdown to you tonight... for what it's worth to you... or as a basis for editing your post.


And what a day. I see Eamon representing with a head of hair, a sign of affirmation, and pint!

Braggman...that is a nice gesture....showing us that we can work with each other.....and it makes Chris's poem explainable...
Thanks
Kitty

opheliac said:Writhed

What is it like to hold      
in your bare hands              
my very existence?  

here the existence is personified as a thing that is able to be grasped. In addition to this, existence is personified with a humanly form as it has hands to grasp my existence as if it were a human heart. By asking what is it like to hold my existence I wish to point out how my existence depends upon words. By using 'very' shortly before 'existence' suggests the fact that is a precious element as well as
to point out its singularity and how that affects the second stanza.  

A living and breathing    
word with its own heartbeat.

In the final stanza I finalise and complete the poem in a cyclical way; by answering the question previously mentioned. Even though I don't actually answer the question of what is it like, i nevertheless answer what existence means to me. Existence is nothing but a concept that cannot be fully grasped,touched, felt, thus is merely a word. I've used once again personification as i personified 'words' to be living and breathing things. aren't they?

you got what I wanted...a short poem and a short explanation
Thank you
oh thank you

Jestalessa said:Bhava
       
I lie dead still on the padded altar   ('dead' foreshadowing uneasy nerves, emphasized by lying on an altar)    
of this naturally goggle-eyed        
pseu-do-sci-en-ti-fic        
psychoanalyst        (trying to set the scene in as few words as possible, as well as adding some, what i thought was interesting, color by spreading out the word 'pseudoscientific')
       
finally, after having fidgeted like a speed addict  ('like a speed addict' is a simile, implying a general dislike for being cooped up)  
for an hour in the waiting room                        
while that vile fly took free reign of the place     (tried to get some more intimate ticks of the main character here)  
       
I just want the 46 dollars they said they'd pay        
to hypnotize me        
try to get to my mental recesses, current processes   (internal rhyme, rhythmic, adds movement to a static-feeling stanza to my mind)
maybe find out why I am the way I am        
not that I'm any weird way        
a profile study kind of thing, I guess    
Should take a while      (letting you in on the regular, apathetic type of person this is, almost talking to himself a bit)
       
So I start to relax with small talk    
flicking back and forth     ('flicking' used to reflect what's being talked about: light subject matter.)
easy stuff: where I'm from        
what my favourite colour is        
but not a tick of the clock goes   (minutely less cliche than 'not a second goes by before')        
between "bone white" and my being blinded     (bone white being his favourite colour is supposed to provide some link to what we're about to see)  
by sun[I think] quickly adjusting itself  (i've come to use brackets like this semi-regularly, to add something that probably doesn't belong there technically, but that i think adds to the write)      
to steamy, patchy green canopy   (establishing new setting as quickly, accurately, comfortably as possible)    
       
I'm low, breathing shallow with a heavy chest      
behind a fungus-oozing log      
God, I can hear everything        
every bird every shuffle every creak every step  
[breathe]  (i also use them for internal dialogue or action)      
water close by        
[scent]        
an animal above me      (character feeling sensations and creating them for the reader to experience in a fast paced way)    
a grounded gibbon locked in my sight        
lauch muscles ready to leap and sprint        
       
I knead loose earth, feeling        
the gentle prodding pressures        
mold it to my feet        
paws?        
[claws]        
forelegs steady, balancing the bodyweight     (building on this new setting, becoming comfortable in this new body, new character)
       
It's not just the greedy pit in my stomach now        
automatic calculations        
I note        
the meshing        
of energy into every molecule        
syncing to the forest patterns   (trying to pace the reader's realizations with the character's)    
this is all - us - this dance          
of intimate synergy     (trying to imply the climax, the awakening, his inner self learning something from touching earth)
     
rise  
fall        
[breathe]      

lunge        
       
jaw grip        
monkey neck crack is        
suddenly insufficient        
teeth plunge        (stripped down the wording for impact and to complement the message)
through sinew coated protoplasm      
then squeeze and wet sweep of lips        
while its pieces settle like silt    (skirting the gore, but sating a carnivore's delight in such things)  
       
I lie still, growing with the quiet canopy      (recapping to where he entered this experience...)
as Indian evening sun trickles down my chin    (as well as linking to the title, showing, again, that the character we started with has become a new, or renewed, character)    
       
       
       
[snap]   (signalling the hypnotization is over, and i hoped the reader would assume he carries this experience back with him to his everyday)



and i do hope i did that right... thanks for the PM, braggman, this was a good idea.

yes this is what I wanted
thank you very much
Kitty