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Post by Sherry Thrasher on Jan 25, 2009 16:16:35 GMT -5
(Another draft)
Aunt Laurel smokes weed--
Aunt Laurel lives in Phoenix sells nickel bags full of stems and seeds; says life is smooth as velvet. Her fingers ride the table top, glide across the white Formica, tap ashes into the amber tray.
When she was a child she rode a teal-green bike, ate crisp Granny Smiths plucked from a neighbor's tree. Today, Grandma prays to the Lord,
seeks divine illumination, pays three hundred fifty to spring Auntie Laurel from jail. Grandma shakes her head, spits on the Birmingham Times.
(Edited Draft)
Aunt Laurel smokes weed--
Aunt Laurel lives in Phoenix and sells dime bags full of stems and seeds; says life is smooth as velvet. Her fingers ride the table top, glide across the white Formica, tap ashes into the amber tray.
When she was a child she rode a teal-green bike, ate crisp Granny Smiths plucked from a neighbor's tree. Today, Grandma prays to the Lord,
for illumination and pays three fifty to spring Auntie Laurel from jail. Grandma shakes her head, spits on the Birmingham Times.
Draft
Aunt Laurel smokes weed--
Aunt Laurel lives in Phoenix and sells nickel bags of weed; says life is smooth like velvet. Her fingers ride the table top, glide across the white Formica, tap ashes into the amber tray.
When she was a child she rode a teal-green bike, ate crisp Granny Smiths plucked from a neighbor's tree. Today, Grandma prays to the Lord,
she prays for illumination and pays three hundred and fifty to spring Auntie Laurel from jail. Grandma shakes her head and spits on the Birmingham Times.
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Post by mfwilkie on Jan 25, 2009 17:32:52 GMT -5
Some thoughts, Sher. Like the V in this.
Aunt Laurel smokes weed.
Aunt Laurel lives in Phoenix and sells bags of weed; she says life is as smooth as velvet when she smokes. Her fingers ride the table top, glide across its white Formica face, dropping what is spent an amber ash tray.
Aunt Laurel rode a teal-green bike when she was a child and plucked her favorite apples from a neighbors tree. Today, Grandma prays to the Lord,
she prays for illumination and pays three hundred fifty to spring Laurel from jail.
Grandma shakes her head and spits on today's fortune in the Birmingham Times that says the year will bring her much happiness.
Lynn sent us both the points on stanzas.
Did you get yours?
Magpie
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Post by Sherry Thrasher on Jan 25, 2009 17:39:33 GMT -5
Did she send it to my Clearwire account? I actually closed that one a couple of weeks ago.
Can you forward it to: sherrythrasher@earthlink.net.
This was a workshop poem from my Sunday workshop. Needs work but your suggestions are good. I fiddle with it some more.
Many thanks, Sherry
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Post by mfwilkie on Jan 26, 2009 1:17:08 GMT -5
It's on its way. Think you'll find it interesting in its application to the whole poem.
Magpie
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Post by Sherry Thrasher on Jan 26, 2009 8:58:11 GMT -5
Thanks, Maggie.
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Post by Timothy Juhl on Jan 27, 2009 2:01:28 GMT -5
Hey Sherry,
I'm really liking the rewrite of this, but I wholly agree with Maggie's suggest breaks, especially the first line. And don't change that last line for anything.
Tim
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Post by Tina (Firefly) on Jan 27, 2009 9:58:45 GMT -5
Hi Sher! This is really indicative of how much progress you are making in the world of poetry. It has the quality of a short story with a whole lot of engaging features, not to mention some really good metaphor. I do continue to wonder why it is necessary to mention Aunt Laurel's name in both the first and second line, rather than stating 'she' to begin line two. It throws me off each time I read it, but perhaps there's a big something I am unaware of. Anyway, its got alot of substance and I LOVE that you are back in the writing groove. I sent my phone # and hope we can talk sooon. Tina
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Post by Sherry Thrasher on Jan 27, 2009 15:36:57 GMT -5
Very good point. Don't know why I am in such a repetition phase right now...? Seems like I have to say things twice. How odd, huh? This still needs work but I'm juggling and today brings Spanish test one. Where is Leo when I really need him? I'll call you later in the week. Two papers are due before Tuesday.
Sherry
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Post by Timothy Juhl on Jan 27, 2009 20:49:33 GMT -5
Hey Sherry,
I like the repetition of her name in the first two lines...it's very quirky and sets the poem apart from other narratives. For me, it works because it's a proper name and an unusually poetic one at that.
Tim
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Post by Sherry Thrasher on Jan 27, 2009 23:13:13 GMT -5
Quirky is my middle name. You know like Julia Roberts in Runaway Bride Quirky. Must be the lack of sleep. OK. Thanks to all. I'm gonna let this baby rest a bit.
Many thanks, Sherry
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Post by Jonathan Morey Weiss-Namaste47 on Jan 28, 2009 10:40:31 GMT -5
I like the title, and what emanates afterwards. This paints a believable picture, Sher............like the use of the color green, too. Agree with Tina as to the evolving of your craft..........Peace, Jon.
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Post by Sherry Thrasher on Jan 28, 2009 12:26:53 GMT -5
Last semester I had an intermediate poetry workshop and this semester I am in the advanced class. The whole tone of the workshop magically changed for me when bumping up to the next level.
I've also been very fortunate to study with Dorianne Laux (you should Google her work). She is an amazing poet and certainly an inspiration to reach higher in poetry. She worked with Michael and Matthew Dickman as well as with Michelle Bitting on their first books. Michelle's book First Friday Kiss is the book that I will be studying over the semester and will make a broadside of and recite the poem called Sex, Love and Robert De Niro .
Matthew Dickman won first book awards and his work has been in the New Yorker. While in class the other day the New Yorker called Dorianne about an article on the Dickman twins. Amazing. I have each book except for Michael's which has just been released by Canyon Press.
My poetry life is so good.
Sherry
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Post by Sherry Thrasher on Jan 29, 2009 15:06:31 GMT -5
Dorianne's thoughts.
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Post by Timothy Juhl on Jan 29, 2009 16:36:35 GMT -5
I don't like that line that's drifting way out there, it makes the line very cumbersome.
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Post by Tina (Firefly) on Jan 29, 2009 22:20:19 GMT -5
I REALLY like this version the best, except I kinda agree with Tim about that first line hanging all by itself. Still, if you are going to repeat Aunt Laurel's name in the first two lines, then I like it best the way it is now. Guess my opinion is not as au currant as some, but I still have a bit of trouble with using her name in both lines of the opening. Nontheless, Sherry, this is a super piece. Tina
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Post by Sherry Thrasher on Jan 30, 2009 10:52:05 GMT -5
Thanks, Tina. Tim, I tried to make an adjustment to the length of that one line. What do you think about all those s's at the beginning of L 2-4?
Thanks.
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Post by LeoVictorBriones (poetremains) on Jan 30, 2009 13:56:42 GMT -5
At first, I wasn’t sold on the repetition to open the poem. However, I read the poem out loud and really liked it as a dramatic tool. I do think it should be three Aunt laurel (verb/direct object) pattern lines. I would end with repetition. Then I think this poem works in quatrains:
Aunt Laurel smokes weed-- Aunt Laurel lives in Phoenix Aunt Laurel sells nickel bags full of stems and seeds;
says life is smooth as velvet. Her fingers ride the table top, glide across the white Formica, tap ashes into the amber tray.
When she was a child she rode a teal-green bike, ate crisp Granny Smiths plucked from a neighbor's tree.
Today, Grandma prays to the Lord, seeks divine illumination, pays three hundred fifty to spring Auntie Laurel from jail.
Aunt Laurel makes Grandma shake her head, Aunt Laurel makes Grandma spit on the Birmingham Times.
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Post by Sherry Thrasher on Jan 30, 2009 16:25:41 GMT -5
From Dorianne:
I have to say Sherry that this is your best poem yet: clear, compressed, active, well structured, the language precise, the images perfect, the last line deft and clever, packs a subtle punch. I love it. Great work. It came from a COW exercise, right? What were the words you used?
(Another draft)
Aunt Laurel smokes weed--
Aunt Laurel lives in Phoenix sells nickel bags full of stems and seeds; says life is smooth as velvet. Her fingers ride the table top, glide across the white Formica, tap ashes into the amber tray.
When she was a child she rode a teal-green bike, ate crisp Granny Smiths plucked from a neighbor's tree. Today, Grandma prays to the Lord,
seeks divine illumination, pays three hundred fifty to spring Auntie Laurel from jail. Grandma shakes her head, spits on the Birmingham Times.
* COW: Church of Whitman, my Sunday writing group.
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Post by Jo Lynn Ehnes on Jan 30, 2009 17:03:24 GMT -5
Makes me smile to see how much fun you are having with poetry. You just keep going girl.
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Post by Timothy Juhl on Jan 30, 2009 20:28:08 GMT -5
Sherry,
Those s's work as another unifying thread to make the poem a cohesive whole. Remember the 'colored pencil' trick I told you and Maggie about? You use it for both consonants and vowel sounds.
Tim
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antman
EP Gold 750 Posts Plus
Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.
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Post by antman on Jan 30, 2009 23:49:58 GMT -5
Yes'm, grabbed me a fistful of green gummy worms and ate it all up : )
peace, anthony
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Post by mfwilkie on Jan 31, 2009 2:39:30 GMT -5
I really like this latest revision, Sher-bear!!!!
Magpie
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Post by purplejacket on Jan 31, 2009 15:01:06 GMT -5
I noticed here a lot of conceptual repetition, and I tended to think the second instance of each repeated thing was stronger. For instance, ride across the table vs. glide across white Formica. I like all the green in this.
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