Ink Stained Mindset

[tectak]

Edit 4 *thoughtful edit* (is this better or worse than the original?)

Ink black and pen chosen
to sketch words and scenes
onto coarse sheets
of cheap parchment.Much better but to open with a non-sentence is a little worrying. Your poem

In an alleyway with no shoes,You say you shot an elephant in your pyjamas? This is a school boy howler. Alleyways don't wear shoes.
toes frozen and poking through
socks that frayed last year.Again, the punctuation needs to be "complete". You are using a clipped technique that is not wise. You have two clauses here that are neither complete sentences nor do they bond together with the prit-stick of punctuation. The rewrite of this stanza should be easy and I know you can do it.
A forlorn artist with nothing to say.

An idea lost in translation,I am afraid this is a cliche and you could do better. However, see later.
It's slipping from his feeble grasp."It" is not a definitive word. Drop "it". "An idea lost in translation is slipping from his feeble grasp."
A pen that never stopped moving
in his shaking hands
never wrote anything new.You have good thoughts. This is a good stanza.
The syntax is just this side of bizarre. Am I saying the same thing? Your poem but:
"The pen that never stopped moving
flutters in his shaking hands.
Translated thoughts are old cul de sacs
where meaning slips from his feeble grasp;
he never wrote anything new."

I said I would come back to this. You are making progress steadily. All you need to do now is tell me my suggestions are rubbish but then write your own improvements. I get the feeling you know exactly how to do this.
Best,
tectak







Edit 3: *another posibility*[/b]
Ink black, and pen posed
to etch words and scenes
onto cheap parchment.

In an alleyway with no shoes,
toes frozen and poking through
socks that frayed last year.
A staring artist with nothing to say.

It's slipping away, off the page,
an idea lost in translation.
A pen that never stopped moving
in his benumbed hands
never wrote anything new

Edit 2: (*these are my considered changes*)

Ink black, and pen posed
to etch words and scenes
onto temporary sheets
of cheap parchment.

In an alleyway with no shoes,
toes frozen and poking through
socks that frayed last year.
A staring artist with nothing to say.

It's slipping away, off the page,
an idea lost in translation.
A pen that never stopped moving
in his benumbed hands
never wrote anything new




Edit 1: Reversed s1 and s2

In an alleyway with no shoes,
toes frozen and poking through
socks that frayed last year.
A starving artist with nothing to say.

Ink black and pen posed
to etch words and scenes
onto temporary sheets
of cheap parchment

It's slipping away, off the page,
an idea lost in translation.
A pen that never stopped moving
in his benumbed hands
never wrote anything new.





Original:
Ink black and pen posed
to etch words and scenes
onto temporary sheets
of cheap parchment.

In an alleyway with no shoes,
toes frozen and poking through
socks that frayed last year.
A starving artist with nothing to say.

It's slipping away, off the page,
an idea lost in translation.
A pen that never stopped moving
in his benumbed hands
never wrote anything new....