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Post by Sherry Thrasher on May 23, 2008 9:27:22 GMT -5
Five more minutes,
chapter 10,
lost without my syllabus.
Pushing forward,
reading back,
four weeks until
Shakespeare class.
I'm looking in nooks,
cubbies and dog-eared
books for poems.
Brush, brush, brush-
the hair
looks good painted
brown sugar.
My Secret,
violets and sweet peas;
a dab of Eternity
between the breasts.
I roll down the band,
sliding into
his khaki shorts.
Five more minutes
before racing towards
the next big thing.
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Post by LynnDoiron on May 23, 2008 10:52:47 GMT -5
I like the eagerness in this, Sherry. It holds and delivers the great expections of and for the next big thing; and something very sexy [to this reader] in penultimate stanza. I like the poem. [Are those Avon perfumes you be dabbing about?] me
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Post by Sherry Thrasher on May 23, 2008 11:09:30 GMT -5
Deodorant (not placed between the breasts) and Eternity perfume. Not as fun as what might be expected. Michael leaves work way before me but I like to wear his shorts around and must roll the band down to keep them up. Your version is better. Maybe I should work on an edit.  |
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Post by LynnDoiron on May 23, 2008 14:47:38 GMT -5
Don't edit away that sexiness; even your explanation has a comfortable sexiness to it, the way couples get, each wearing the other's skin almost, that kind of nearness. And I think I confused Eternity with Timeless [an old avon scent]. I like the poem. Don't edit on account of anything I wrote earlier, please.
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Post by Sherry Thrasher on May 24, 2008 10:09:00 GMT -5
I gave up the stanza about Mississipi. Seemed misunderstood and unnecessary.
Thanks.
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Ken_Nye
EP 500 Posts Plus
EP Word Master and Published Member
Posts: 646
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Post by Ken_Nye on May 31, 2008 21:20:37 GMT -5
I liked this, Sherry. It has the frenetic feel that most mornings evoke for people (who are not retired, likeI am). But I remember the feeling. You nailed it here. The confusion in the "My Secret" stanza, mixing secrets with peas and vioiets and eternitiy between the breasts enhances the frenetic pace of getting your day started. The capital "S" on Secret is a hint of what you're talking about. And I agree with Lynn that the business about sliding into his khaki shorts sends up flags of interest in the possibilitiy of something sexy going on here -- but the reader is so caught up in the "gotta go, gotta go" pace of the poem that he doesn't have time to figure it out.
Great little poem.
Ken
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Post by brianedwards on Jun 3, 2008 0:09:59 GMT -5
Hi Sherry
I liked this one and good to come back to it. Call me crazy, but I want to read a little rhyme in S3.
I'm looking for poems
in cubbies, nooks
and favourite books
or
well-thumbed books
Ignore me if I'm being silly - but I know how you love to rhyme.
B.
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Post by Sherry Thrasher on Jun 3, 2008 5:58:52 GMT -5
Thanks so much to you both. Ken, for you to call my work a great little poem is an honor, thank you and Brian, I am guilty as charged. Funny that you should pick that particular paragraph out as I am musing a spinoff poem beginning with I am looking in nooks, etc. Thanks to you as well.
Sherry
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Post by LynnDoiron on Jun 3, 2008 20:05:37 GMT -5
I like B's suggestion for a wee bit of rhyme, and it fits the light voice to this piece which is, like Ken mentioned, a great little poem. In the stanza below, I would lower case Four to four
Pushing forward,
reading back,
four weeks until
Shakespeare class
*when crap hits
the fan.
And then I'd either omit the *clause, OR alter just slightly to maybe something like "when bigger crap hits / the fan." I think, if mine, I'd omit that phrase and just let the looming spectre of Shakespear loom there.
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Post by Sherry Thrasher on Jun 4, 2008 6:23:59 GMT -5
Seems a bit cliche doesn't it? Changes made. Better?
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