Feathers: Edit number 3!

[Stephanie]

Another Edit

I am beginning to struggle with this poem. I left it for a bit but coming back to it still feels like pulling teeth! Does there come a point when you abandon a poem I wonder? Anyway for now here is another edit. And I don't know what to call it anymore!


She believed the echo
of her mother’s song
ringing in the chambers of her heart.

She believed the story
of a pearl held in wide-eyed hands,
a charm to wrap around her neck.

She believed each page,
fading to the sketch of a girl
remembered from old bedtime books.

She believed as her spine cracked,
let pages fall
until he left her in the sand

an empty ending
her tongue left searching
for the familiar taste of salt.

Next edit. I wanted to try and make it clearer but without clinging too much to the narrative.


The girls gathered on the shore like glassy pebbles
dreaming to skim across sheets of fairy-tale blue,
unaware that once the skipping ends
they will plunge into the murk.

In youthful sunlight they curve into the sand
bodies pressing like shells laced with hope,
longing only to be collected
as shiny pennies in a jar.

Their treasure, packed beneath uncut skin
remains unseen, lost to them
in the dazzle of siren songs at bedtime;
lies of shining knights and true love’s kiss.

When he arrived he promised her a tale
just for her, a story.
She curled it like a pearl,
a secret treasure in wide-eyed hands.

The story surrounded her like a protective blanket,
each word a honeyed charm inside her ear.
Fluttering lightly as a bird she played her part
knew her lines, each chapter a familiar friend.

A light ruffle against her neck
the air sweet candy floss and apple blossom,
with the delicate brush of each page turn
she began disappear.

In a caravan of roses,
flesh bleeding for the first time, he pressed
heavy on her spine she kept on smiling;
it was the only face she knew.

He did not bother to throw far
chipped glass against the rocky shore
marsh marking stains on her summer frock,
bleeding into skin, bone and blood.

Her tongue, stilled, in need a new language,
words not found in bedtime books or princess towers.
Over the water she listened to the lullabies of mothers
singing to their daughters of once upon a time.



OK here is my first edit on this piece. I have left the original below.


Girls gathered on the shore


Glassy pebbles dreaming to skim
across sheets of fairy-tale blue
unaware that once the skipping ends
they will plunge into the murk.

In youthful sunlight they comb the beach
as petals on a summer breeze
fingers dusted with yellow hope
longing only to be discovered.

Treasure packed beneath uncut skin
remains unclaimed, squinted away in the dazzle
of myths peddled like drugs at bedtime;
lies of shining knights and true love’s kiss.

Taught to seek white feathers,
this one captivated with slight of hand.
she curled it like a pearl,
a secret treasure in wide-eyed hands.

Smoke deceived like a protective blanket,
laughter round the fire a honeyed charm inside her ear.
Fluttering lightly as a bird
the grass beneath her feet never felt more deliciously like spring.

His boyish eyes betrayed no menace
spoke only of belonging,
of being a queen among the many bees.
A smile made her believe she was in her story.

The birds in the trees panicked,
screeched warnings she couldn’t comprehend
ears too choked with swarms of crippling lies
their songs sang out words she’d never even heard.

A light ruffle against her neck
the air sweet candy floss and apple blossom,
a delicate brush against her cheek,
with each step back she began disappear.

In a caravan of roses, brambles cutting
at her feet, he pressed down heavy on her toes.
She kept on smiling;
it was the only face she knew.

He did not bother to throw far,
chipped glass against the rocky shore
marsh marking stains on summer frock,
bleeding into skin, bone and blood.

The taste of rot rough against her tongue,
it demanded a new language.
The feather in her hand gritty ash
she covered her mouth, felt it scratch against her lips.


Original:



Thanks in advance for taking the time to read.

Feathers


Girls gathered on the shore,
glassy pebbles dreaming to skim across sheets of blue
unaware that once the skipping ends
they will plunge into the murk.
Shaped to seek white feathers,
this one captivated with slight of hand.
Faithful to the myth of spring time heart
she curled it like a secret pearl in wide-eyed hands.

The smoke deceived
spoke of warmth, of homeliness
the laughter round the fire a honeyed charm inside her ear.
She danced. Slow then fluttering lightly as a bird,
the grass between her feet had never felt more deliciously like skin.

His eyes betrayed no menace
spoke only of belonging,
of being a queen among the many bees.
A light ruffle against her neck
the air around her sweet candy floss and apple blossom,
a delicate brush against her cheek, she began disappear.

In a caravan of roses, brambles cutting at her feet
she kept on smiling;
there were embers in the fire yet.
The red flags came but her ears were stopped,
choked with lessons full of lies.

Flames blazed once more but for dishes not for dancing
her fingers scorched against the pot
dirty water marking stains on summer frock.
The feather on the ground,
smokey black with gritty ash
lifting it to cheek she felt it scratch against her skin.

[Todd]

Hi Stephanie,

I like some of the images you're working with. Welcome to the site! Here are some comments for you:

Thanks in advance for taking the time to read.

Feathers--I know you end with this but I wonder if it's your best title. I'd be tempted to pull up your first line to make it a title.


Girls gathered on the shore,--The reason I suggest pulling it up, is it's a flat opening but as a title Line 2 might lend imagery to it and make it interesting (does that make sense)
glassy pebbles dreaming to skim across sheets of blue--pebbles feels wrong here. You skip stones not pebbles (possibly replace). It's pretty language though. Back to the title because it's really important. You could also go: "Girls Are Glass Stones" with your first line being "dreaming to skim across sheets of blue"
unaware that once the skipping ends
they will plunge into the murk.--I like this entire sequence content wise
Shaped to seek white feathers,--Here are the feathers, but why have we left the stones already?
this one captivated with slight of hand.
Faithful to the myth of spring time heart
she curled it like a secret pearl in wide-eyed hands.--Interesting images but I'm not sure how they hook together. I'm probably missing something obvious

The smoke deceived--maybe with its warmth and hominess instead of spoke
spoke of warmth, of homelinesshomeliness means drab, plain, ugly. Do you mean hominess?
the laughter round the fire a honeyed charm inside her ear.--like honey to her ear, may be a better way to condense and simplify. Is charm needed
She danced. Slow then fluttering lightly as a bird,--Do you need slow then
the grass between her feet had never felt more deliciously like skin.--This actually seems like an odd comparison to me. Silk on skin maybe. Skin itself...not sure

His eyes betrayed no menace
spoke only of belonging,
of being a queen among the many bees.--I think there are some words missing here maybe a her before being. Try to condense this into something tighter
A light ruffle against her neck
the air around her sweet candy floss and apple blossom,--cut around her, nice sensory description
a delicate brush against her cheek, she began disappear.

In a caravan of roses, brambles cutting at her feet
she kept on smiling;
there were embers in the fire yet.
The red flags came but her ears were stopped,
choked with lessons full of lies.--You could probably cut all of this down to the bare images and do better with it

Flames blazed once more but for dishes not for dancing
her fingers scorched against the pot
dirty water marking stains on summer frock.
The feather on the ground,
smokey black with gritty ash
lifting it to cheek she felt it scratch against her skin.--Now we have romantic inclinations snuffed by domestic drudgery. I don't know if the beginning fully leads me to the end.

There are things I like here. I'm just not sure its all pulled together yet. I hope some of the comments help.

Best,

Todd

[Stephanie]

Amazing feedback thank you! You are totally right. I was stuck with it having done several edits and I just needed an outside eye at this stage. It's amazing how that instantly gives you new perspective.

Interesting about the homliness - that always meant home warm and welcoming round these parts, things you don't expect get lost in translation! Lots for me to work with here thank you!

[SirBrendan]

Some of the images and words are far more advanced then your scheme.

"Girls gathered on the shore,
glassy pebbles dreaming to skim across sheets of blue
unaware that once the skipping ends
they will plunge into the murk. "

for example, this image is outstanding. However, there's no metre, structure, rhyme or otherwise measure. I get freeform poetry is a thing, but if you can conjure something like this, it shouldn't be a thing for you. It's very hard to critique when you didn't set down any boundaries . I'd really like to see you chew on something heavier, but naturally, that's just my opinion

[Stephanie]

Thanks Brendan. I never intended it to have a particular metre, metre is new to me. I am working on something else with rhyme so I can start to practice but this piece wasn't about that.

[billy]

it has a cinderella feel to it but needs to be less in order for it to be more.
the main thing for me that needs working on are the transitions from one part of the poem to the next and they all need to tie together.

good effort.

Thanks in advance for taking the time to read.

Feathers


Girls gathered on the shore,
glassy pebbles dreaming to skim across sheets of blue not sure sheets works well enough without a modifier, also; would dream work better or as well? i do like the metaphor
unaware that once the skipping ends
they will plunge into the murk.
Shaped to seek white feathers, not sure how you got to this point as there seems to be no transition from the previous line
this one captivated with slight of hand.
Faithful to the myth of spring time heart
she curled it like a secret pearl in wide-eyed hands. because of the lack of feather transition i'm struggle a bit with the last 3 lines of the stanza.

The smoke deceived
spoke of warmth, of homeliness
the laughter round the fire a honeyed charm inside her ear. like this line a lot there's a much warmth and friendship in it.
She danced. Slow then fluttering lightly as a bird, why a period after danced, would a comma work better, fluttered is past tense, slow and fluttered sort feel very similar
the grass between her feet had never felt more deliciously like skin. between feet or toes? the last part of the line doesn't quite gel, a suggestion would be [like decadent skin]

His eyes betrayed no menace should they have betrayed menace? why not [his (word/s of choice here to create an image; something like; rhinestone) eyes
spoke only of belonging,
of being a queen among the many bees.
A light ruffle against her neck
the air around her sweet candy floss and apple blossom,
a delicate brush against her cheek, she began disappear.

In a caravan of roses, brambles cutting at her feet
she kept on smiling;
there were embers in the fire yet.
The red flags came but her ears were stopped,
choked with lessons full of lies.

Flames blazed once more but for dishes not for dancing
her fingers scorched against the pot
dirty water marking stains on summer frock.
The feather on the ground,
smokey black with gritty ash
lifting it to cheek she felt it scratch against her skin.

[Stephanie]

Thanks Billy! It was meant to be beneath not between in that line, maybe an autocorrect there or just me being an ejit.

This has been really good. I was too close to it to move forward. I felt really muddled which is interesting because now that I re-read it with your comments I can see how muddled the piece also is. Muddled mind, muddled poem. Perhaps I posted it too soon but it's been really helpful to get this feedback to move me forward.

---

I should add Brendan that I do want to learn about metre, I just don't have any clue about it at this stage. On the list of things to do, thank you!

[billy]

great way to take the feedback stephanioe, i wish all poets had the capacity to see it in such a kind light. thanks.

it's good you put it up, you can do edits and get feedback till you think it done, it's what workshopping is all about. for the serious crit forum the poetry is expected to be almost there, it's something no one can expect from those just starting out whatever you do, stick with it, poetry will love you for it

[Stephanie]

I have had a go at editing it. Think I still have a long way to go but would appreciate some guidance at this stage.

[Todd]

Hi Stephanie, I think this is much improved. There are moments where I think you hold too tightly to the narrative, but I'll give comments on that below.

OK here is my first edit on this piece. I have left the original below.


Girls gathered on the shore


Glassy pebbles dreaming to skim
across sheets of fairy-tale blue--I like the addition of fairy-tale blue. Glassy makes the girls seem like reflective surfaces. They don't have much on the inside. They are more influenced by what they come into contact with.
unaware that once the skipping ends
they will plunge into the murk.

In youthful sunlight they comb the beach--Youthful sunlight is nice.
as petals on a summer breeze--Nice simile.
fingers dusted with yellow hope--Not sure what yellow hope is
longing only to be discovered.--If they are combing the beach aren't they the ones doing the discovering? You may want them more passive at this point. They may be like delicate shells washed up on the shore perhaps that would be better than the petals, or something to that effect.

Treasure packed beneath uncut skin--uncut like a diamond? Is that what you are going for?
remains unclaimed, squinted away in the dazzle--squinted away seems a bit awkward
of myths peddled like drugs at bedtime;--drugs may be a little strong, and a bit of a mixed image. Like breadcrumbs leading to a gingerbread house--something more like one of those myths.
lies of shining knights and true love’s kiss.--This is perfectly good. Maybe the myth needs to be a princess myth above

Taught to seek white feathers,
this one captivated with slight of hand. --maybe, "as one captivated by sleight (note the typo) of hand"
she curled it like a pearl,--Like this quite a bit
a secret treasure in wide-eyed hands.--wide-eyed hands is an odd but pleasing phrase

Smoke deceived like a protective blanket,--Here you go off a little bit with your symbols, and lose your focus in my opinion
laughter round the fire a honeyed charm inside her ear.--I like the honeyed charm being laughter still. And I realized you introduced smoke, but fire and smoke still seem out of place. You can destroy the feather with them later, but they feel intrusive here
Fluttering lightly as a bird
the grass beneath her feet never felt more deliciously like spring.--You might want a line break after felt.

His boyish eyes betrayed no menace
spoke only of belonging,
of being a queen among the many bees.
A smile made her believe she was in her story.

--This transition is rough. I would probably kill this strophe and the next one, and move right into "a light ruffle". This is sort of what I meant earlier by holding the narrative too tightly. You are making the story move forward at the expense of the story when all you need to do is imply the contact.

The birds in the trees panicked,
screeched warnings she couldn’t comprehend
ears too choked with swarms of crippling lies
their songs sang out words she’d never even heard.

A light ruffle against her neck--If you wanted to salvage anything from the above strophes you could blend his boyish eyes in here somewhere. That said, leave out the comment about menace (too forced).
the air sweet candy floss and apple blossom,
a delicate brush against her cheek, --Alternatively, you could easily just add His fingers brushed against her cheek. It really doesn't need to be more than that
with each step back she began disappear.--step is wrong here in any event. Touch is probably the word you want. You need a "to" before disappear

In a caravan of roses, brambles cutting
at her feet, he pressed down heavy on her toes.
She kept on smiling;
it was the only face she knew. --good line

He did not bother to throw far,--If you eliminate far and the comma you can move into the next line better, and have the same effect
chipped glass against the rocky shore
marsh marking stains on summer frock,--"a" before summer
bleeding into skin, bone and blood. --like this

The taste of rot rough against her tongue, --cut this
it demanded a new language.--great line
The feather in her hand gritty ash--Make this perhaps the first line of this strophe
she covered her mouth, felt it scratch against her lips.--Like the ending.

Great edit. I hope some of this is helpful.

Best,

Todd

[Stephanie]

Very, very helpful! I already love this place, so helpful. Once again totally right, the first time I was just rambling it all out this time I went too far the other way. Third time lucky for a happy medium!

[milo]

This poem has some huge potential and also a lot of opportunity for improvement. I am going to move it to mild for now.

[Stephanie]

Thank you for the move, that is very encouraging. Edit two at the top!

[Todd]

Hi Stephanie, here are some comments on your new edit:

First (just asking not a criticism), did you revert to Feather's as the title?

Next edit. I wanted to try and make it clearer but without clinging too much to the narrative.


The girls gathered on the shore like glassy pebbles
dreaming to skim across sheets of fairy-tale blue,
unaware that once the skipping ends
they will plunge into the murk.

In youthful sunlight they curve into the sand--Curve is a wonderful word, and much better than the previous comb for your purposes.
bodies pressing like shells laced with hope,--I would consider cutting laced with hope. It weighs the line down and longing only below does its work anyway.
longing only to be collected
as shiny pennies in a jar.--You already have them as shells don't mix the metaphor with pennies. Probably just move in a jar up after collected

Their treasure, packed beneath uncut skin
remains unseen, lost to them
in the dazzle of siren songs at bedtime;--dazzle is the wrong word. You want something auditory and compelling not visual
lies of shining knights and true love’s kiss.--For me, and it could just be me, I think this line makes the point too obviously. If you went up a line and went either with "...of siren songs and bedtime stories" or "the siren song of bedtime stories" it may get you there. Just thoughts

When he arrived he promised her a tale--Maybe simplify to "When he arrived with a tale"
just for her, a story.
She curled it like a pearl,
a secret treasure in wide-eyed hands.

The story surrounded her like a protective blanket,
each word a honeyed charm inside her ear.
Fluttering lightly as a bird she played her part
knew her lines, each chapter a familiar friend.

A light ruffle against her neck
the air sweet candy floss and apple blossom,
with the delicate brush of each page turn
she began disappear. --This all feels smoother. There are other points I could make in the last two strophes, but it's mostly style at this point, and I still like what I liked before

In a caravan of roses,
flesh bleeding for the first time, he pressed
heavy on her spine she kept on smiling;--I keep feeling like I want a comma after spine and an "and"
it was the only face she knew.

He did not bother to throw far
chipped glass against the rocky shore--Maybe instead of the use "his"
marsh marking stains on her summer frock,
bleeding into skin, bone and blood.

Her tongue, stilled, in need a new language,
words not found in bedtime books or princess towers.
Over the water she listened to the lullabies of mothers
singing to their daughters of once upon a time.

Much stronger. I really like where you've taken this. The ideas seem to be snapping into focus more.

Best,

Todd

[Stephanie]

No I forgot to put the title in from the last one. There are no more feathers in it now weirdly, it's changed so much! Thank you so much for all your input, it's been brilliant.

[Todd]

No I forgot to put the title in from the last one. There are no more feathers in it now weirdly, it's changed so much! Thank you so much for all your input, it's been brilliant.

You're most welcome.

If that is the case about the title, I would respectfully suggest that you revert to your title and opening from the last revision. I think it's stronger, but that's just an opinion of course.

Best,

Todd

[Stephanie]

Another edit in the first post.