Forgiven

[Sherry Thrasher]

Most days I can’t remember my name,
her absence replays on the dusty screen
like a bad seventies sitcom.
Outside cars pass, such incessant banter.
There’s an artist that lives near by,
calls himself Picasso,
oil paints pressed beneath rugged nails,
brushstrokes blend swirls of color
red marries blue to green.
A grove of cherry trees blossom in spring,
monochrome blends of black and white.
I frighten myself when I wonder, the silence
played in sepia hues.

[mfwilkie]

Her absence replays on the dusty screen
like a bad seventies sitcom. Outside, cars
create an incessant banter. An artist lives
near by, calls himself Picasso—his reds
marry blue to green * ( maybe say something else about him/his technique to finish the terrific image of the wedded reds.

Who is she, where's the screen?

The second half of the draft's a little disjointd for me, Sher.

I'll call you when I get into town tomorrow.

Mags

[Marion Poirier]

Sherry, this is another one that I like a lot; also I
think it could benefit from stanza breaks and
from some additional punctuation. Marion

Most days I can’t remember my name; semi-colon
her absence replays on the dusty screen
like a bad seventies sitcom.
Break (change of scene)

Outside cars pass, such incessant banter.
There’s an artist that lives near by,
calls himself Picasso,

oil paints pressed beneath rugged nails. period
His brushstrokes blend swirls of color,
red marries blue to green.
.
A grove of cherry trees
blossom in spring,
monochrome blends of black and white.

I frighten myself when I wonder
the silence played in sepia hues.

[purplejacket]

Warning, this is classifiable as a merciless crit.[/i]

Most days I can’t remember my name,
This opening is weak. It's a cliche and since I don't know anything about you yet, this isn't a very impacting introduction.

her absence replays on the dusty screen
like a bad seventies sitcom.
Where'd this dusty screen come from? Am I in a house watching TV or am I at the drive-in? The replaying of an absence is something I have no connection to. The first thing I can connect to in this poem is a bad 70s sitcom, which isn't something I really want to connect to. Ya know? I need a better reason to read this poem. I'm willing to not know who is absent yet, assuming some connection will be revealed.

Outside cars pass, such incessant banter.
It's starting to feel like a stream of consciousness piece. I like the incessant banter as a description for cars passing, but I am still lacking glue.

There’s an artist that lives near by,
calls himself Picasso,
oil paints pressed beneath rugged nails,
brushstrokes blend swirls of color
red marries blue to green.
As a reader, I feel like giving up. There's just no connection for me between this and what came before. The images are interesting - I like the oil paints under his nails. The few named colors don't do anything - they aren't used to describe anything; I don't think marriage works here.

A grove of cherry trees blossom in spring,
monochrome blends of black and white.
Monochrome means one color. Which works fine for just black and white, but you were just talking about red, blue and green, and you're about to mention sepia. A grove of blossoming cherries is a pretty thing, but I don't know what it's doing in this poem, on a dusty screen, with argumentative cars outside.

I frighten myself when I wonder, the silence
played in sepia hues.
Aha, so it is a stream of cons. piece. Is it written for you or for your reader?

I don't think this piece is a total loss. It might be fun to start with the vibrant colors and then move a little more slowly into a colorless world. There seems to be some mention of loss - the absent person, and that could correlate well with losing colors. Van Gogh first, then Monet, then the monochrome Picasso pieces. There is something kind of sepia-like about a TV screen with dust on it - the reflective surface might almost let you see something in there when off, especially if this missing person resembled you at all. Don't tell me you frighten yourself.

[Sherry Thrasher]

I didn't consider that this might ever turn into Prufrock but looks like someone needs a happy pill. Vibrant or monochrome, your choice.