hoyskolt

Again with the titles .. I don't think this title does the poem any justice at all .. I wont say anything more than that but I would like to see a title that doesn't take away the power of the word 'breathe and breath in the poem but strengthens it .. if you see what I mean ? I think you summed up the angle of the voice in this poem quite well yourself .. a eulogoy to misguided relationships and delusions of self. .. I think this wraps it up quite nicely .. infact .. I think your words after the poems could be a title .. or at least hint towards something that could do as a good title I really like the underlying melancholy of this piece even though it is also strongly sensual on the surface .. That contradiction and confusion I guess .. is something I think you've done brilliantly here in your imagry .. now onto my tiny nit picks at your poem with some suggested changed line breaks : i breathe in with your out breath. (I think this line has an awesome image but sounds awkward when read my suggestion is to change it in one of two ways .. whichever you like better ) either i in-breathe with your out-breath or i breathe in with your breath out hoping to catch, at the least, some essence of you to hold when this moment fades to oblivion. my life seems at present a series of moments. opportunities taken, then forgotten, words spoken, unspoken, broken. each interposed on the other till they blend into a melody that almost overwhelms me with its intensity ( love this stanza .. but do you mean almost .. as in it actually doesnt overwhelm you ..just close to .. or do you mean that it does overwhelm you at times ? ..) there is only so much i can take only so many challenges i can face per day in this balancing tightrope act that leaves me dry. tired. too brittle for the true life that has eluded me for so long. i turn to you for a breath of fresh air and once again am overwhelmed. our harmony, in truth, hurts me with its honesty. you open me too deep and leave me vulnerable with the need to pinch myself, and the fear that i will wake. and so i hold you a moment longer against the day when the choice to hold you may no longer be mine to make. breathe your breath into me and hold my breath...

Hello again, I'm a bit reluctant to say too much about this one since it has already been translated and all... though I wanted to say ..Something ..since I know one of those translators ..(Olivia is the one that asked me to check out your poetry so you can blame her for my ranting at you) I don't really have much to say anyways..this is a very concentrated and condensed poem it seems .. I have not trained any Capoeira I have done quite a bit of Kung fu and other martial arts and I know enough Capoeira fighters to appreciate its fluent - dancelike grace. The intensity of the idea I think is well expressed by the line : bleeds like honey into my parched tongue I just love this image ..some tiny suggestions of change : Agua De Beber Here is water for my soul to drink given to me from an unknowing cup; ('to me seems unecessary here as you said 'my' soul in the first line) it flows through the pores of my heart, bleeds like honey into my parched tongue, a rolling wave that lifts me past this moment, above all care i feed it as it feeds through me and open my replenished mouth to sing shout, release this energy to fill others as it has filled me once more with life I open myself to the flood as the wellspring which is my soul quickens again ..thanks for this beautiful poem .. kind regards, Christian

Hello there , a friend of mine suggested that I should have a look at some of your poems. After having a browse through some of your posts on this site I am quite impressed, so I decided to put some time into critiquing some of your poems, starting with this one (not just because it's your latest one that I can find but also because I just sort of wrote a big blurb to someone about the muse in regards to the Hay(na)ku form. I'll rant more at you about what a Hay(na)ku is if you're interrested ..but for now .. your poem. First I'd like to make a sort of general comment about your poetry, about your titles. This is something that I think is a crucial part of a poem that allot of writers seem to ignore. I'm on the other extreme of that scale, where I put allot of emphasis on the title and sometimes my titles can be several lines long.. In my opinion a poem is kind of crippled and incomplete until it has a proper and well thought out title to it. An example of a Good title that you have used is your Capoeira poem Agua de Beber. What to me is a big no no when it comes to titles, and kind of puts me off the poem even before I start reading it . .is when either the first couple of words/line or a reoccuring word from the poem .etc is used as the title. In the case of your 'my muse' poem .. it is very clear that you are talking about your muse in the poem from the first couple of words .. in this case the title says absolutely nothing and contributes nothing to the poem. I would like to see a title that says something about your theme and message ..about the elusive playful muse and its scheming ways to get you writing .. or something along those lines .. (if I read it right that is ) without actually mentioning the muse directly. on the poem The voice you chose to use in this poem works really well I think with the message you are presenting here; that sort of confused and lacking in control self trying to look into its own subconscious. I have a feeling that you are hinting towards the counter productivity of 'pulling out' the muse from its elusive and flighty spot. Rather the flow or success with the muse comes when we find a way to come to it .. and sometimes the struggle to capture the muse is the muses own tricky way of getting you into its flow .. if that makes sense I really love your analogies in line 6-7 and 11-12 ..and your later notion of the muse 'surprising' you with things you never taught it .. the creative muse that seems beyond our simple selves .. I have some suggestions to changes with the poems, basicly just some tightening in ..cutting out of unecessary words ..nothing too big. i've put lines through what I think should be cut out and i've made the words I've changed red My muse is flighty today graces me with a few lines Then retreats to behind a bookcase Where she sits, Pelting me with the things she finds there. Spiders, applecores, and the occasional golden line which I scramble to pen (good lines) before it fades in my willing mind. As She scrambles up and down I try to dislodge her with chocolate, ice cream, and when all else fails, a broomstick. But she's content to be where she is. in the topmost corner she crouches between books poking her tongue , and making hideous faces. I’m sure I never taught her those. So I try to trick her tricksy self who thought to vanish pixie(?)-like from my mind and pin her to the page with my pen Where she wriggles Exposed. Then curls up in my lap and grins secret smiles up at me. Mission Accomplished.