01-13-2016, 02:49 AM
Hey , nice poem.
Having said that I am going to make a number a stylistic to grammatical suggestion/edits, which of course you can take or leave. Many are to help the pace of the poem. I'm not saying mine are better, just trying to give you a different viewpoint and something to think about. Once again a lot of this is purely stylistic in nature.
Best,
dale
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A faucet drips.
Dominos smack tables,
voices of bass notes
hold (sound) aggressive tones. (can't hold a tone in this sense, could be bass notes hold aggression)
Masters of calisthenics, card games,
fisticuffs and commissary
recipes call for cautionary
measures in every endeavor.
(Masters of calisthenics,
card games, fisticuffs
and commissary recipes
call for cautionary
measures in every endeavor.)
A faucet drip's
echo brings order
to chaos, or composition
in improvisation.
(Echo of a dripping faucet
brings order to chaos
and composition
in improvisation.)
Puddles of blood,
because a "hello"
is more than "hello"
to those who didn't know. (tense? was-didn't or is-don't)
A faucet's drip (it's plural, not just one drip)
distracts me, or us.
Or them, I must refer
due to color of skin.
(The dripping distracts:
me; us; them
a division based
on the color of skin)
Pen to paper,
eyes to paper,
heart to paper
keeps me living. (I like this way of saying mind your own business and you will stay alive)
A faucet drips.
Possibly "A faucet drips..."
_______________________________________________________________________________
Dominoes was one of the few games of that type which my strict Southern Baptist upbringing allowed me to play (touching a deck of cards was shacking hands with the devil), but it was always a quite affair, no one ever talked except to note the scoring or to tally up the total. The difference between how I learned to play and how the black guys played was not all that different from the "White Baptist Church" I went to, and the "Black Baptist Church" that I got to go to once a year. Once a year there would be an exchange of preacher's between the two churches. None of today's rappers had anything on Brother Longmire, the Black preacher. I don't know if there is such a thing as a "Holy Spirit" or not, but if there is he had it in him. He was a beauty to behold. Had I been allowed to attend his church growing up, I might still be going to church, but I wasn't. I was forced to worship (be) in that tomb of a church that had the huge Roman colonnades at the front where no sound was heard except the drone of the preacher's voice or the off tune singing of the same hymns Sunday after Sunday. No Skinnerian conditioning could have been any better to make sure I would never be able to play with the black guys talking loud, slamming the bones, slapping hands and not ev'n a nickle for me, let alone quarter spoon!
Having said that I am going to make a number a stylistic to grammatical suggestion/edits, which of course you can take or leave. Many are to help the pace of the poem. I'm not saying mine are better, just trying to give you a different viewpoint and something to think about. Once again a lot of this is purely stylistic in nature.
Best,
dale
_________________________________________________________________________________________
A faucet drips.
Dominos smack tables,
voices of bass notes
hold (sound) aggressive tones. (can't hold a tone in this sense, could be bass notes hold aggression)
Masters of calisthenics, card games,
fisticuffs and commissary
recipes call for cautionary
measures in every endeavor.
(Masters of calisthenics,
card games, fisticuffs
and commissary recipes
call for cautionary
measures in every endeavor.)
A faucet drip's
echo brings order
to chaos, or composition
in improvisation.
(Echo of a dripping faucet
brings order to chaos
and composition
in improvisation.)
Puddles of blood,
because a "hello"
is more than "hello"
to those who didn't know. (tense? was-didn't or is-don't)
A faucet's drip (it's plural, not just one drip)
distracts me, or us.
Or them, I must refer
due to color of skin.
(The dripping distracts:
me; us; them
a division based
on the color of skin)
Pen to paper,
eyes to paper,
heart to paper
keeps me living. (I like this way of saying mind your own business and you will stay alive)
A faucet drips.
Possibly "A faucet drips..."
_______________________________________________________________________________
Dominoes was one of the few games of that type which my strict Southern Baptist upbringing allowed me to play (touching a deck of cards was shacking hands with the devil), but it was always a quite affair, no one ever talked except to note the scoring or to tally up the total. The difference between how I learned to play and how the black guys played was not all that different from the "White Baptist Church" I went to, and the "Black Baptist Church" that I got to go to once a year. Once a year there would be an exchange of preacher's between the two churches. None of today's rappers had anything on Brother Longmire, the Black preacher. I don't know if there is such a thing as a "Holy Spirit" or not, but if there is he had it in him. He was a beauty to behold. Had I been allowed to attend his church growing up, I might still be going to church, but I wasn't. I was forced to worship (be) in that tomb of a church that had the huge Roman colonnades at the front where no sound was heard except the drone of the preacher's voice or the off tune singing of the same hymns Sunday after Sunday. No Skinnerian conditioning could have been any better to make sure I would never be able to play with the black guys talking loud, slamming the bones, slapping hands and not ev'n a nickle for me, let alone quarter spoon!
How long after picking up the brush, the first masterpiece?
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.
The goal is not to obfuscate that which is clear, but make clear that which isn't.