11-06-2013, 01:39 AM
Another Edit
I am beginning to struggle with this poem. I left it for a bit but coming back to it still feels like pulling teeth! Does there come a point when you abandon a poem I wonder? Anyway for now here is another edit. And I don't know what to call it anymore!
She believed the echo
of her mother’s song
ringing in the chambers of her heart.
She believed the story
of a pearl held in wide-eyed hands,
a charm to wrap around her neck.
She believed each page,
fading to the sketch of a girl
remembered from old bedtime books.
She believed as her spine cracked,
let pages fall
until he left her in the sand
an empty ending
her tongue left searching
for the familiar taste of salt.
Next edit. I wanted to try and make it clearer but without clinging too much to the narrative.
The girls gathered on the shore like glassy pebbles
dreaming to skim across sheets of fairy-tale blue,
unaware that once the skipping ends
they will plunge into the murk.
In youthful sunlight they curve into the sand
bodies pressing like shells laced with hope,
longing only to be collected
as shiny pennies in a jar.
Their treasure, packed beneath uncut skin
remains unseen, lost to them
in the dazzle of siren songs at bedtime;
lies of shining knights and true love’s kiss.
When he arrived he promised her a tale
just for her, a story.
She curled it like a pearl,
a secret treasure in wide-eyed hands.
The story surrounded her like a protective blanket,
each word a honeyed charm inside her ear.
Fluttering lightly as a bird she played her part
knew her lines, each chapter a familiar friend.
A light ruffle against her neck
the air sweet candy floss and apple blossom,
with the delicate brush of each page turn
she began disappear.
In a caravan of roses,
flesh bleeding for the first time, he pressed
heavy on her spine she kept on smiling;
it was the only face she knew.
He did not bother to throw far
chipped glass against the rocky shore
marsh marking stains on her summer frock,
bleeding into skin, bone and blood.
Her tongue, stilled, in need a new language,
words not found in bedtime books or princess towers.
Over the water she listened to the lullabies of mothers
singing to their daughters of once upon a time.
OK here is my first edit on this piece. I have left the original below.
Girls gathered on the shore
Glassy pebbles dreaming to skim
across sheets of fairy-tale blue
unaware that once the skipping ends
they will plunge into the murk.
In youthful sunlight they comb the beach
as petals on a summer breeze
fingers dusted with yellow hope
longing only to be discovered.
Treasure packed beneath uncut skin
remains unclaimed, squinted away in the dazzle
of myths peddled like drugs at bedtime;
lies of shining knights and true love’s kiss.
Taught to seek white feathers,
this one captivated with slight of hand.
she curled it like a pearl,
a secret treasure in wide-eyed hands.
Smoke deceived like a protective blanket,
laughter round the fire a honeyed charm inside her ear.
Fluttering lightly as a bird
the grass beneath her feet never felt more deliciously like spring.
His boyish eyes betrayed no menace
spoke only of belonging,
of being a queen among the many bees.
A smile made her believe she was in her story.
The birds in the trees panicked,
screeched warnings she couldn’t comprehend
ears too choked with swarms of crippling lies
their songs sang out words she’d never even heard.
A light ruffle against her neck
the air sweet candy floss and apple blossom,
a delicate brush against her cheek,
with each step back she began disappear.
In a caravan of roses, brambles cutting
at her feet, he pressed down heavy on her toes.
She kept on smiling;
it was the only face she knew.
He did not bother to throw far,
chipped glass against the rocky shore
marsh marking stains on summer frock,
bleeding into skin, bone and blood.
The taste of rot rough against her tongue,
it demanded a new language.
The feather in her hand gritty ash
she covered her mouth, felt it scratch against her lips.
Original:
Thanks in advance for taking the time to read.
Feathers
Girls gathered on the shore,
glassy pebbles dreaming to skim across sheets of blue
unaware that once the skipping ends
they will plunge into the murk.
Shaped to seek white feathers,
this one captivated with slight of hand.
Faithful to the myth of spring time heart
she curled it like a secret pearl in wide-eyed hands.
The smoke deceived
spoke of warmth, of homeliness
the laughter round the fire a honeyed charm inside her ear.
She danced. Slow then fluttering lightly as a bird,
the grass between her feet had never felt more deliciously like skin.
His eyes betrayed no menace
spoke only of belonging,
of being a queen among the many bees.
A light ruffle against her neck
the air around her sweet candy floss and apple blossom,
a delicate brush against her cheek, she began disappear.
In a caravan of roses, brambles cutting at her feet
she kept on smiling;
there were embers in the fire yet.
The red flags came but her ears were stopped,
choked with lessons full of lies.
Flames blazed once more but for dishes not for dancing
her fingers scorched against the pot
dirty water marking stains on summer frock.
The feather on the ground,
smokey black with gritty ash
lifting it to cheek she felt it scratch against her skin.
I am beginning to struggle with this poem. I left it for a bit but coming back to it still feels like pulling teeth! Does there come a point when you abandon a poem I wonder? Anyway for now here is another edit. And I don't know what to call it anymore!
She believed the echo
of her mother’s song
ringing in the chambers of her heart.
She believed the story
of a pearl held in wide-eyed hands,
a charm to wrap around her neck.
She believed each page,
fading to the sketch of a girl
remembered from old bedtime books.
She believed as her spine cracked,
let pages fall
until he left her in the sand
an empty ending
her tongue left searching
for the familiar taste of salt.
Next edit. I wanted to try and make it clearer but without clinging too much to the narrative.
The girls gathered on the shore like glassy pebbles
dreaming to skim across sheets of fairy-tale blue,
unaware that once the skipping ends
they will plunge into the murk.
In youthful sunlight they curve into the sand
bodies pressing like shells laced with hope,
longing only to be collected
as shiny pennies in a jar.
Their treasure, packed beneath uncut skin
remains unseen, lost to them
in the dazzle of siren songs at bedtime;
lies of shining knights and true love’s kiss.
When he arrived he promised her a tale
just for her, a story.
She curled it like a pearl,
a secret treasure in wide-eyed hands.
The story surrounded her like a protective blanket,
each word a honeyed charm inside her ear.
Fluttering lightly as a bird she played her part
knew her lines, each chapter a familiar friend.
A light ruffle against her neck
the air sweet candy floss and apple blossom,
with the delicate brush of each page turn
she began disappear.
In a caravan of roses,
flesh bleeding for the first time, he pressed
heavy on her spine she kept on smiling;
it was the only face she knew.
He did not bother to throw far
chipped glass against the rocky shore
marsh marking stains on her summer frock,
bleeding into skin, bone and blood.
Her tongue, stilled, in need a new language,
words not found in bedtime books or princess towers.
Over the water she listened to the lullabies of mothers
singing to their daughters of once upon a time.
OK here is my first edit on this piece. I have left the original below.
Girls gathered on the shore
Glassy pebbles dreaming to skim
across sheets of fairy-tale blue
unaware that once the skipping ends
they will plunge into the murk.
In youthful sunlight they comb the beach
as petals on a summer breeze
fingers dusted with yellow hope
longing only to be discovered.
Treasure packed beneath uncut skin
remains unclaimed, squinted away in the dazzle
of myths peddled like drugs at bedtime;
lies of shining knights and true love’s kiss.
Taught to seek white feathers,
this one captivated with slight of hand.
she curled it like a pearl,
a secret treasure in wide-eyed hands.
Smoke deceived like a protective blanket,
laughter round the fire a honeyed charm inside her ear.
Fluttering lightly as a bird
the grass beneath her feet never felt more deliciously like spring.
His boyish eyes betrayed no menace
spoke only of belonging,
of being a queen among the many bees.
A smile made her believe she was in her story.
The birds in the trees panicked,
screeched warnings she couldn’t comprehend
ears too choked with swarms of crippling lies
their songs sang out words she’d never even heard.
A light ruffle against her neck
the air sweet candy floss and apple blossom,
a delicate brush against her cheek,
with each step back she began disappear.
In a caravan of roses, brambles cutting
at her feet, he pressed down heavy on her toes.
She kept on smiling;
it was the only face she knew.
He did not bother to throw far,
chipped glass against the rocky shore
marsh marking stains on summer frock,
bleeding into skin, bone and blood.
The taste of rot rough against her tongue,
it demanded a new language.
The feather in her hand gritty ash
she covered her mouth, felt it scratch against her lips.
Original:
Thanks in advance for taking the time to read.
Feathers
Girls gathered on the shore,
glassy pebbles dreaming to skim across sheets of blue
unaware that once the skipping ends
they will plunge into the murk.
Shaped to seek white feathers,
this one captivated with slight of hand.
Faithful to the myth of spring time heart
she curled it like a secret pearl in wide-eyed hands.
The smoke deceived
spoke of warmth, of homeliness
the laughter round the fire a honeyed charm inside her ear.
She danced. Slow then fluttering lightly as a bird,
the grass between her feet had never felt more deliciously like skin.
His eyes betrayed no menace
spoke only of belonging,
of being a queen among the many bees.
A light ruffle against her neck
the air around her sweet candy floss and apple blossom,
a delicate brush against her cheek, she began disappear.
In a caravan of roses, brambles cutting at her feet
she kept on smiling;
there were embers in the fire yet.
The red flags came but her ears were stopped,
choked with lessons full of lies.
Flames blazed once more but for dishes not for dancing
her fingers scorched against the pot
dirty water marking stains on summer frock.
The feather on the ground,
smokey black with gritty ash
lifting it to cheek she felt it scratch against her skin.