Hobe Sound

[Truerenigma]

Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around,

the blues don't match the breakers in Hobe Sound,
the ocean's unrealistic. Would you then

return to guide my hand, help paint the sand?
My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground

beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies. Suppose I said

it is impossible to shade these lines!
They dry too fast, and chip away. Instead,

like etched calligraphy, our shapes entwine
while I engrave the stone above your head.













4.

Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around,

the blues don't match the breakers in Hobe Sound,
the ocean's unrealistic. Would you then

return to hold my hand, to paint the sand?
My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground

beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies. Suppose I said

it is impossible to shade these lines!
They dry too fast, and chip away. Instead

I wonder at how yours entwine in mine,
while I engrave the stone above your head.










Third edit

Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around;

the blues don't match the breakers in Hobe Sound,
the ocean's unrealistic.-- would you then

return to hold my hand, to paint the sand?
My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground

beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said

it is impossible to shade these lines!
They dry too fast, and chip away. Instead

I wonder which are yours entwined in mine,
while I engrave the stone above your head.










Second edit:


Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around --
there's too much grey, the way it boils down,
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, and guide these hands that paint the sand?

My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said,
it is impossible to shape these lines!
They dry too fast, and chip away. Instead,
I wonder which are yours, entwined in mine,
while I engrave the stone above your head.










Edit per milo

Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around --
there's too much grey, the way it boils down,
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, and guide these hands that paint the sand?

My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said
to you, this is impossible! The lines
made by the brush just chip away. Instead,
I wonder which are yours, and what are mine,
while I engrave the stone above your head.




Original Post:

Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around --
there's too much grey, the way it boils down,
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, to teach me how to paint the sand?

My fingers shook and bristles scraped the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You who could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said
to you, this is impossible! The lines
left by the brush just chip away. Instead,
I wondered which were yours, and which were mine,
while I engraved the stone above your head.

[milo]

Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around --
there's too much grey, the way it boils down,
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, to teach me how to paint the sand?

the way it boils down feels off somehow. Also, maybe something more collaborative then "teach" but I am not sure. The relationship in the rest of the poem felt more collaborative to me, like a lost lover, not mentor or parent.

My fingers shook and bristles scraped the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

nothing wrong here, but I would switch it to present tense:

My fingers shake as bristles scrape the ground
beyond the palm, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You who could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said
to you, this is impossible! The lines
left by the brush just chip away. Instead,
I wondered which wereare yours, and which were or mine,
while I engraved the stone above your head.

probably the best I have read from you. The sonics are spot on, the line breaks are good, you kept to the meter except the places I noted you maintain a simple metaphor throughout and address it both literally and symbolically with a consistent logic train.

[Truerenigma]

Really? Ihad it in present tense throughout originally, and have been wondering about that, it feels more immediate that way, but there's the suppose i said running through it, i suppose i was using the tense instead of punc.to separate the quotes. Also changed it to soften the sonics in L6 (I feared it was too much guilty pleasure, that the piano would brake into an incredulous song,.

Is it better like this?:



Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around --
there's too much grey, the way it boils down,
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, and guide these hands that paint the sand?

My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You who could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said
to you, this is impossible! The lines
made by the brush just chip away. Instead,
I wonder which are yours, and which are mine,
while I engrave the stone above your head.

As far as boils, I pronounce it with the schwa (quite noticeably, in fact), not the diaphong, and was thinking of whitewater in the wave breaks (very difficult to paint), but I suppose could look for something less unpredictable, and more solid, metrically speaking.

Thank you.

[milo]

Really? Ihad it in present tense throughout originally, and have been wondering about that, it feels more immediate that way, but there's the suppose i said running through it, i suppose i was using the tense instead of punc.to separate the quotes. Also changed it to soften the sonics in L6 (I feared it was too much guilty pleasure, that the piano would brake into an incredulous song,.

Is it better like this?:



Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around --
there's too much grey, the way it boils down,
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, and guide these hands that paint the sand?

My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You who could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said
to you, this is impossible! The lines
left by the brush just chip away. Instead,
I wonder which are yours, and which are mine,
while I engrave the stone above your head.

As far as boils, I pronounce it with the schwa (quite noticeably, in fact), not the diaphong, and was thinking of whitewater in the wave breaks (very difficult to paint), but I suppose could look for something less unpredictable, and more solid, metrically speaking.

this is better. You should still address the double "which" but it isn't imperative. Also, you might want to use either a dash or quotes for "this is impossible" but once again, that is just a nit picky detail.

I have no problem with the meter or sonics of "boils down" I have a problem with the word choice. It, unlike most of your choices, doesn't point to your central metaphor and the voicing just feels wrong to me.

Is it a big deal? No, the tense change was a bigger deal and you addressed that, anything else is just refining.

Honestly, you may wish to just move it to serious and see what others have to offer, you could poetentially have a gem here. (I never tire of that one)

[Truerenigma]

Oh. Ok, It was meant to speak symbolically of hopelessness and loss, but I see your point, it is a bit of a weakness. I had

Which are yours, and what are mine,

in L13 at one point, better or worse? Would the question posed by the break be a good pause, or just distracting?

That is all I think, L3 and the rest will take some thought.

I'm thankful for your help, and appreciate the praise.

I hadn't really intended to workshop this, but your flattery won me over ( I was hoping you'd like it, it was you who got me on this Italian kick, after all.)

---

Really? Ihad it in present tense throughout originally, and have been wondering about that, it feels more immediate that way, but there's the suppose i said running through it, i suppose i was using the tense instead of punc.to separate the quotes. Also changed it to soften the sonics in L6 (I feared it was too much guilty pleasure, that the piano would brake into an incredulous song,.

Is it better like this?:



Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around --
there's too much grey, the way it boils down,
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, and guide these hands that paint the sand?

My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You who could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said
to you, this is impossible! The lines
left by the brush just chip away. Instead,
I wonder which are yours, and which are mine,
while I engrave the stone above your head.

As far as boils, I pronounce it with the schwa (quite noticeably, in fact), not the diaphong, and was thinking of whitewater in the wave breaks (very difficult to paint), but I suppose could look for something less unpredictable, and more solid, metrically speaking.

this is better. You should still address the double "which" but it isn't imperative. Also, you might want to use either a dash or quotes for "this is impossible" but once again, that is just a nit picky detail.

I have no problem with the meter or sonics of "boils down" I have a problem with the word choice. It, unlike most of your choices, doesn't point to your central metaphor and the voicing just feels wrong to me.

Is it a big deal? No, the tense change was a bigger deal and you addressed that, anything else is just refining.

Honestly, you may wish to just move it to serious and see what others have to offer, you could poetentially have a gem here. (I never tire of that one)

Ok, please do.

[milo]

I moved it, you should post an edited version above the original so you don't just get duplicate comments.

[Truerenigma]

Ok. Done, thanks. It's funny that the edit is really the original, and the original was a later edit. Your comment led me back to the original. I'm glad posted it, I was going backwards; further editing on my own would have rendered it completely inaccessible!

[milo]

Edit per milo

Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around --
there's too much grey, the way it boils down,
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, and guide these hands that paint the sand?

My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You who could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said
to you, this is impossible! The lines
made by the brush just chip away. Instead,
I wonder which are yours, and what are mine,
while I engrave the stone above your head.




Original Post:

Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around --
there's too much grey, the way it boils down,
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, to teach me how to paint the sand?

My fingers shook and bristles scraped the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You who could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said
to you, this is impossible! The lines
left by the brush just chip away. Instead,
I wondered which were yours, and which were mine,
while I engraved the stone above your head.

you absolutely need to cut /who/ in "you who"(!)

[Truerenigma]

Done.

[Truerenigma]

Edit per milo

Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around --
there's too much grey, the way it boils down,
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, and guide these hands that paint the sand?

My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You who could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said
to you, this is impossible! The lines
made by the brush just chip away. Instead,
I wonder which are yours, and what are mine,
while I engrave the stone above your head.




Original Post:

Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around --
there's too much grey, the way it boils down,
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, to teach me how to paint the sand?

My fingers shook and bristles scraped the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You who could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said
to you, this is impossible! The lines
left by the brush just chip away. Instead,
I wondered which were yours, and which were mine,
while I engraved the stone above your head.

you absolutely need to cut /who/ in "you who"(!)

I posted a second edit using your notes.

[milo]

Edit per milo

Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around --
there's too much grey, the way it boils down,
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, and guide these hands that paint the sand?

My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You who could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said
to you, this is impossible! The lines
made by the brush just chip away. Instead,
I wonder which are yours, and what are mine,
while I engrave the stone above your head.




Original Post:

Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around --
there's too much grey, the way it boils down,
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, to teach me how to paint the sand?

My fingers shook and bristles scraped the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You who could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said
to you, this is impossible! The lines
left by the brush just chip away. Instead,
I wondered which were yours, and which were mine,
while I engraved the stone above your head.

you absolutely need to cut /who/ in "you who"(!)

I posted a second edit using your notes.

I like it, I hope someone else comments so I can see some other angles on it.

[heslopian]

Second edit:


Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around -- These lines remind me of a short story by Henry S. Whitehead about a painting which changes slightly between viewings.
there's too much grey, the way it boils down, Not sure what you mean by "boils down"; I assume it's painting jargon.
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, and guide these hands that paint the sand? The rhyme here's a bit corny, though it may be inadvertant and necessary. Either way, it's not a major thing, just my observation.

My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town. Excellent use of image-listing here.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said, The two clauses of this line need more concrete seperation, like a semi-colon. Also, I'd end it with either no marks or a colon, to make the transition into dialogue clearer, but I don't know if that's a grammatical point.
it is impossible to shape these lines!
They dry too fast, and chip away. Instead,
I wonder which are yours, entwined in mine,
while I engrave the stone above your head. Excellent close. Unanticipated, almost shocking.

Critique is JMHO, of course. Thank you for the read

[Truerenigma]

Thank you. I've been on the fence about the hand/sand rhyme myself, it's not really intentional, but I know exactly what you mean, and may eliminate it. Boils down isn't Painters jargon and may be a weakness, I was talking about the ocean, Whitewater in the breakers looks like boils, and it's a figure of speech as well. Milo mentioned it too. There seems to be a growing consensus.

[tectak]

Second edit:


Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around --
there's too much grey, the way it boils down,
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, and guide these hands that paint the sand?

My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said,
it is impossible to shape these lines!
They dry too fast, and chip away. Instead,
I wonder which are yours, entwined in mine,
while I engrave the stone above your head.










Edit per milo

Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around --
there's too much grey, the way it boils down,
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, and guide these hands that paint the sand?

My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said
to you, this is impossible! The lines
made by the brush just chip away. Instead,
I wonder which are yours, and what are mine,
while I engrave the stone above your head.




Original Post:

Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around --
there's too much grey, the way it boils down,
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, to teach me how to paint the sand?

My fingers shook and bristles scraped the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You who could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said
to you, this is impossible! The lines
left by the brush just chip away. Instead,
I wondered which were yours, and which were mine,
while I engraved the stone above your head.

Hi true,
I followed the progress of this one with interest and growing pleasure. The imago is beautiful. As an example of workshopping it stands out. Still don't know what an Epitath is but find I don't much care
Just one point that is reinforcing milo's input...how obvious the improvement brought about by pairing away the unnecessary filler words. I fall on the same spines. Note taken.
Very good work.
Best,
tectak

[Truerenigma]

Oh, and epitath is ... I have no idea ... an epitath is what happens when i type. I meant epitaph. I had no idea.

---

And thank you tec.

[Truerenigma]

Third edit posted. Thank you all for your help.

[ellajam]

Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around;

the blues don't match the breakers in Hobe Sound,
the ocean's unrealistic.-- would you then

return to hold my hand, to paint the sand?
My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground

beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said

it is impossible to shade these lines!
They dry too fast, and chip away. Instead

I wonder which are yours entwined in mine,
while I engrave the stone above your head.










Second edit:


Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around --
there's too much grey, the way it boils down,
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, and guide these hands that paint the sand?

My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said,
it is impossible to shape these lines!
They dry too fast, and chip away. Instead,
I wonder which are yours, entwined in mine,
while I engrave the stone above your head.










Edit per milo

Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around --
there's too much grey, the way it boils down,
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, and guide these hands that paint the sand?

My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said
to you, this is impossible! The lines
made by the brush just chip away. Instead,
I wonder which are yours, and what are mine,
while I engrave the stone above your head.




Original Post:

Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around --
there's too much grey, the way it boils down,
this ocean's unrealistic -- would you then
return, to teach me how to paint the sand?

My fingers shook and bristles scraped the ground
beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You who could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said
to you, this is impossible! The lines
left by the brush just chip away. Instead,
I wondered which were yours, and which were mine,
while I engraved the stone above your head.

I love the third edit. For me the slow down was just what I needed. While it got to me in its other forms, this one just whacked me. I think maybe the addition of a location grounded it for me, too. Great job, great editing lesson. Thanks.

[milo]

Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around;

the blues don't match the breakers in Hobe Sound,
the ocean's unrealistic.-- would you then

return to hold my hand, to paint the sand?
My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground

beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said

it is impossible to shade these lines!
They dry too fast, and chip away. Instead

I wonder which are yours entwined in mine,
while I engrave the stone above your head.

I agree with ella that the addition of Hobe sound was inspired. The problem now is your meter in that line is off. It is unfortunate as breakers is nice as well. hmm . . . .

[Truerenigma]

Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around;

the blues don't match the breakers in Hobe Sound,
the ocean's unrealistic.-- would you then

return to hold my hand, to paint the sand?
My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground

beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said

it is impossible to shade these lines!
They dry too fast, and chip away. Instead

I wonder which are yours entwined in mine,
while I engrave the stone above your head.

I agree with ella that the addition of Hobe sound was inspired. The problem now is your meter in that line is off. It is unfortunate as breakers is nice as well. hmm . . . .

huh? what wrong with the meter? misplaced cesura?

[milo]

Suppose I said the colors do not blend
together like they did with you around;

the blues don't match the breakers in Hobe Sound,
the ocean's unrealistic.-- would you then

return to hold my hand, to paint the sand?
My fingers shake and bristles scrape the ground

beyond the palms, the fields, the church, the town.
I cut a jagged scar into the land.

You could paint the music in the pines,
and birdsong in the skies, suppose I said

it is impossible to shade these lines!
They dry too fast, and chip away. Instead

I wonder which are yours entwined in mine,
while I engrave the stone above your head.

I agree with ella that the addition of Hobe sound was inspired. The problem now is your meter in that line is off. It is unfortunate as breakers is nice as well. hmm . . . .

huh? what wrong with the meter? misplaced cesura?

the blues don't match the breakers in Hobe Sound

theBLUES don'tMATCH theBREA kersinHO beSOUND

kersinHO = anapest