The sun above

[brianedwards]

Foro Romano weaves mazes, penumbral nets,
a labyrinth of time; each particle of sand an eye
watching history ---- where loops
and whorls first-kissed and hips
bumped down slopes,
past columns, mosaic-paved cella
erected in memory of youth, quenching
thirsts at springs. Temples built for empresses
shaded us; a flask passed from
lips to lips tracing our intentions. Thighs
touched on the way to Ceasar's pyre,
footfalls soft on scabrous steps. Creeping noonday
shadow tongues tasting more of man
than man; your essence mixed
with mine. Venus' collonaded chambers
harboured our invention. We were born
entwined on whitened sand
in moonlight's nightly restoration.

[brianedwards]

OK, I don't start EVERY poem with the sun . . . . I promise!

B.

[LynnDoiron]

Are you sure? [just kidding!] After one read my initial response goes like this: Stunner of a line where each particle of sand is an eye -- What a cool way to have history look through us. Pretty fantastic and new approach [for this reader] for very old idea of the sands of time.

Wondered what you'd think about keeping in present tense?

The sun above Foro Romano weaves
mazes, penumbral nets, a labyrinth
of time. Each particle of sand like an eye[omit ,]
squint(s) up through sandalled feet[perhaps a dash here]
watch history, [omit Echoes
of these grains still stir between my toes,
tickling me back there to where] where loops
and whorls first-kissed and hips
bumped[omit (,) or move bumped up to line with hips?]

Will leave you with these thoughts and read again a bit later. I like where this one ends, with moonlight's restoration [after sun beginning] -- furthers that sense of Time.

lynn

[mfwilkie]

The sun above Foro Romano weaves
mazes, penumbral nets, a labyrinth
of time. Each particle of sand like an eye,
squinting up through sandalled feet,
watching accumulating histories.

Echoes of these grains still stir* between my toes,
tickling me back there ----
where loops and whorls first-kissed and
hips bumped, down slopes, past columns,
mosaic-paved cella erected in memory of youth,
quenching thirsts at springs.

* I like stir, but i think tickling is the wrong word here.

And I was wondering if you you couldn't come uo with something more activeor tactile for 'Echoes of these grains still stir'.

Temples built for empresses shaded us; a flask
passed from lips to lips tracing our shared
intentions. Thighs touched

on the way to Ceasar's pyre, footfalls
soft on scabrous steps. Creeping noonday
shadow tongues tasting more of man
than man, and now your essence mixed
with mine. Venus' collonaded chambers
harboured our invention.

I messed with your ending, brian.

We were born under the cover(s) of night,
entwined on whitened sand.

Maggie

[brianedwards]

Maggie, Lynn, lots of things to think about here. Gonna come back to this a little later.

Thanks for the looks.

B.

[mfwilkie]

brian,

forgot to strike out the 'and' in this line.

shadow tongues tasting more of man
than man, and now your essence mixed

Maggie

[LeoVictorBriones (poetremains)]

This is a really good poem and its theme is superior. It has great pace and this is really good assonance to alliteration to really speed the pace of the poem:

Thighs touched on the way to Caesar’s pyre,
footfalls soft on scabrous steps.

I do however think it relies a bit on almost clichés, not so fresh language and too obvious phrases. That issue can be easily fixed by just removing the phrases and weaving your existing language into a more surprising poem. To me, the changes start with the title. I would use the first the words as the title and lead into the poem like this…

The sun above

Foro Romano weaves
mazes, penumbral nets, a labyrinth
of sand particle, an eye
squinting up through sandaled feet
and peeking at history. The echo
of these grains stir my toes —
tingles me back there ---- where loops
and whorls first-kissed and hips
bumped, down slopes,
past columns, mosaic-paved cella
erected in memory of youth, quenching
thirsts at springs. Temples built for the empresses
shade us; a flask passed from
lips-to-lips traced our intentions.
Thighs touched on the way to Caesar’s pyre,
footfalls soft on scabrous steps.
Creeping noonday shadow tongues
tasting more of man than man,
and now your essence mixed
with mine. Venus' collonaded chambers
harboured our invention. We were born
entwined on whitened sand
in this moonlit nightly restoration.

[mfwilkie]

I like the way the opening works as leo suggested, but I'd enjamb it a bit differently.

Maggie

The sun above

Foro Romano weaves mazes, penumbral nets,
a labyrinth of time; each particle of sand an eye
accumulating histories.

Maggie

[brianedwards]

Leo, maggie

Thanks for looking in on this. Leo, I think you're right about the title and the cliche - previous drafts did overstep that line, and I think the current version is still teetering on the brink.
I've been a bit side-tracked by the villanelle "assignment", but will get back onto this in a couple of days.
Thanks again.

B.

[brianedwards]

Made some changes in light of comments - retitled too.

Not fully caffeinated yet, so may change again . . . later.

B.