Those Hands That do Dishes

[billy]

edit 1: thanks to lysander, tamara, AJ, kieth, 71 degrees, stanlyz, wjames, and ellajam. (next time i'll just thanks to all who helped ) tried mainly to rework the last stanza as most comments i read felt like they had a point.

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Those Hands That do Dishes

Old pots and pans never die,
they reside forever in limbo;
swimming in soapy water
or on a rusty drying rack.
They may disappear as you would
expect Houdini's would
but like bad copper coins, they return.

Marigold gloves
on the other hand
live for three washes,
and melt skin pasty white
before their waste-bin burial.

Those Hands That do Dishes

Old pots and pans never die,
they reside forever in the limbo
of soapy water and drying rack.
They may disappear as you would
expect Houdini's plates to depart
but like bad copper coins, they return.

Marigold gloves
on the other hand
live for three washes.
Their decayed insides
smell with the stink of old palm
sweat expelled inside rubber souls
melting the skin into pasty white.

[Tamara]

The last line did not work for me. Compared with the rest of the poem, I felt it was weak. And personally I feel the use of gerunds make the lines in a poem weaker.

[billy]

thanks for the feedback and i agree i'll use melt instead when i do an edit.

[cidermaid]

HI Billy,  this one had a simple charm that then took my thoughts on a slightly odd path.   The last line I found myself thinking of overworked pastry as an image and had a whole story going about the life person behind the hands.  This was the thing with this poem...I want more.  It feels a bit empty and that I am missing out on a great story that has not been told.

Those Hands That do Dishes

Old pots and pans never die,
they reside forever in the limbo. In limbo sounds a bit lacking and at odds with the life of a saucepan...more like in seasons of soapy water.
of soapy water and drying rack.  Should that read racks.
They may disappear as you would
expect Houdini's plates to depart
but like bad copper coins, they return.  These last three lines tell a story but they feel a bit flat and dull.   Perhaps this was the image you wanted - to connect to a tedious and dull existence, but without a connect to a character I could not find.much sparkle in these lines.

Marigold gloves
on the other hand
live for three washes.
Their decayed insides
smell with the stink of old palm
sweat expelled inside rubber souls
melting the skin into pasty white.    I actually think you could just make this stanza you opening poem and see where it takes you.  (The three week line made me think of the life of a bug...so detested and easily squished....and the decayed makes me think of a terminal illness, trotting from the inside out....and then the last line has me on the pastry thing!   The thing is this is a interesting opener that gets the imagination going.

Alternatively it has been a long day and it is nearly time for me to turn into a pumpkin so disregard most of what I have just said
AJ

[Keith]

Those Hands That do Dishes

Old pots and pans never die,  I'm in the drawer
they reside forever in the limbo 
of soapy water and drying rack. should rack be plural as general statement not specific  
They may disappear as you would
expect Houdini's plates to depart didn't houdini escape ?
but like bad copper coins, they return. I like the copper link with pans

Marigold gloves
on the other hand funny no pun intended ?
live for three washes.
Their decayed insides
smell with the stink of old palm old palm doesn't sound right I don't know what it smells of, sorry not much help, would rotting flesh be cliche or a gimps mask
sweat expelled inside rubber souls
melting the skin into pasty white. They do don't they nasty things, I like melting, I prefer my skin to be cracked and bleeding.

I like the simplicity Billy and the observation behind  old palm rubber soul ? I could be missing something, sorry if too much comment in Mild. Best Keith

 

[JPB]

I believe if you removed the word "the" in the second line it would read much better. You could use the "the" in the third line between "and drying." I didn't really understand the line about "Houdini's plates depart. "but like bad copper coins, they return." I have never heard that line before, so I assume it is yours. This is just me, but I would have said, "Like wayward children they return." I'm sorry, but the last stanza just doesn't work for me. "Marigold gloves?" No, I'm sorry, but I'm not impressed with the third stanza. This is my first critique. Everything I questioned was just me. I'm certainty no professional reviewer.http://www.pigpenpoetry.com/images/smilies/huh.gif

[71degrees]

Those Hands That do Dishes

Old pots and pans never die,
they reside forever in the limbo
of soapy water and drying rack.
They may disappear as you would
expect Houdini's plates to depart
but like bad copper coins, they return.

Marigold gloves
on the other hand
live for three washes.
Their decayed insides
smell with the stink of old palm
sweat expelled inside rubber souls
melting the skin into pasty white.

I find it odd that the poem is about everything but the hands.  The title makes no sense.  This is a poem about pots, pans, rubber gloves, and melted skin.  Where are the hands?

[billy]

Thanks to everyone who left feedback.
i guess it's mainly wrong if most people don't get i but that's what feedback is for.
the title is a meme from a fairy dish-washing ad in the uk. marigolds are gloves often worn when doing the pots, after a while they really stink due to sweaty hands.
the line, on the other hand
was meant to have another level to it, (i think Kieth was the only one who saw it)it probably needs reworking.

the hands are in the marigolds doing the washing up.

the above is not a rebuttal of any kind just an explanation of what i was failing to aim for. i'm happy that people took the time to give me honest feedback :J:

while houdini made things disappear, he invariably made them reappear.

[billy]

any questioning the reader does is valid so a big thanks for stopping by.

in the uk we have a phrase 'turns up like a bad penny' i was trying to rework the cliche and use an image for copper pans at the same time. (i guess it needed to be better said)
houdini made things go and come back, the magic isn't in the disappearance, it's in the reappearance. (it's why we say 'how did he do that) but again it seems i needed more clarity and less ambiguity.

it's always refreshing to see newbs giving feedback, keep up the good work.

I believe if you removed the word "the" in the second line it would read much better. You could use the "the" in the third line between "and drying." I didn't really understand the line about "Houdini's plates depart. "but like bad copper coins, they return." I have never heard that line before, so I assume it is yours. This is just me, but I would have said, "Like wayward children they return." I'm sorry, but the last stanza just doesn't work for me. "Marigold gloves?" No, I'm sorry, but I'm not impressed with the third stanza. This is my first critique. Everything I questioned was just me. I'm certainty no professional reviewer.http://www.pigpenpoetry.com/images/smilies/huh.gif

[cidermaid]

the title is a meme from a fairy dish-washing ad in the uk. marigolds are gloves often worn when doing the pots, after a while they really stink due to sweaty hands.

Oh I see it now ...yes i had forgotten that add. guilty of not taking the title into consideration.   It makes a lot more sense now.  eww!
[url=http://uk.pinterest.com/pin/create/extension/][/url]

[billy]

those hands that do dishes can be soft as your face with mild green fairy liquid..... before then marigolds were the name of the game for hand protection. that said if it's not a universal memory people won't get it anyway

[StanleyZ]

Those Hands That do Dishes

Old pots and pans never die,
they reside forever in the limbo
of soapy water and drying rack.
They may disappear as you would
expect Houdini's plates to depart
but like bad copper coins, they return.

Marigold gloves
on the other hand
live for three washes.
Their decayed insides
smell with the stink of old palm
sweat expelled inside rubber souls


melting the skin into pasty white.

I think I sense a conflict here, but not that of washing and repeating.
The pot and pans are a universal metaphor for those thing in life
We can't ignore. They are ever repeating, like those bad ole copper coins,
I thought that was a nice touch by the way, but those pesky dishes
Have a weakness, in the form of the gloves. Now there is a metaphorical
Cure to fight the metaphorical disease o.o the power this piece suggests
Is that the problem out lives the solution. The dishes come back, but the gloves
Don't. Life and death become central to this piece, and in the midst of this
Battle of good and evil, there is a person who makes it all happen by wearing
The gloves, but again the gloves don't fix everything. They only prolong
The inevitable return of the dishes, and then they are gone to the vicious cycle.
Kind of like one step forward two steps back. But hey that is life, I should know...
I wash dishes for a living! really great writing.

[ellajam]

Thanks, Stanley, that really helped me read the poem in a different light, I couldn't quite put it together.

Welcome, glad to have you here.

Those Hands That do Dishes

Old pots and pans never die,
they reside forever in the limbo
of soapy water and drying rack.
They may disappear as you would
expect Houdini's plates to depart
but like bad copper coins, they return.

Marigold gloves
on the other hand
live for three washes.
Their decayed insides
smell with the stink of old palm
sweat expelled inside rubber souls


melting the skin into pasty white.

I think I sense a conflict here, but not that of washing and repeating.
The pot and pans are a universal metaphor for those thing in life
We can't ignore. They are ever repeating, like those bad ole copper coins,
I thought that was a nice touch by the way, but those  pesky dishes
Have a weakness, in the form of the gloves. Now there is a metaphorical
Cure to fight the metaphorical disease o.o the power this piece  suggests
Is that the problem out lives the solution. The dishes come back, but the gloves
Don't. Life and death become central to this piece, and in the midst of this
Battle of good and evil, there is a person who makes it all happen by wearing
The gloves, but again the gloves don't fix everything. They only prolong
The inevitable return of the dishes, and then they are gone to the vicious cycle.
Kind of like one step forward two steps back. But hey that is life, I should know...
I wash dishes for a living! really great writing.

[billy]

thanks for the extensive POV you gave, hand on heart while i like what you say and see that it's a perfect fit. it wasn't intended to be that way. i just wrote it. that you took what you did from it gives me a lot of pleasure. maybe there was something going on at the subconscious level. some background, i'm in the uk staying at my daughters house and spend a lot of time washing dishes. there's always more, the marigolds were a memory of my past. the crazy, crazy thing about your feedback is that it's a perfect fit. i'm also waiting on a having a pacemaker fitted which sort of reinforces the life death metaphor.

anyway, thanks for the feedback and welcome to the site.

Those Hands That do Dishes

Old pots and pans never die,
they reside forever in the limbo
of soapy water and drying rack.
They may disappear as you would
expect Houdini's plates to depart
but like bad copper coins, they return.

Marigold gloves
on the other hand
live for three washes.
Their decayed insides
smell with the stink of old palm
sweat expelled inside rubber souls


melting the skin into pasty white.

I think I sense a conflict here, but not that of washing and repeating.
The pot and pans are a universal metaphor for those thing in life
We can't ignore. They are ever repeating, like those bad ole copper coins,
I thought that was a nice touch by the way, but those  pesky dishes
Have a weakness, in the form of the gloves. Now there is a metaphorical
Cure to fight the metaphorical disease o.o the power this piece  suggests
Is that the problem out lives the solution. The dishes come back, but the gloves
Don't. Life and death become central to this piece, and in the midst of this
Battle of good and evil, there is a person who makes it all happen by wearing
The gloves, but again the gloves don't fix everything. They only prolong
The inevitable return of the dishes, and then they are gone to the vicious cycle.
Kind of like one step forward two steps back. But hey that is life, I should know...
I wash dishes for a living! really great writing.

[Wjames]

Those Hands That do Dishes

Old pots and pans never die,
they reside forever in the limbo
of soapy water and drying rack.
They may disappear as you would
expect Houdini's plates to depart
but like bad copper coins, they return. I like this better without depart, I think it's already taken care of with "disappear". I would just put a comma after "to" instead. i.e:

They may disappear as you would
expect Houdini's plates to,
but like bad copper coins, they return.

Marigold gloves
on the other hand I like the little contrast between copper and gold.
live for three washes.
Their decayed insides
smell with the stink of old palm 
sweat expelled inside rubber souls
melting the skin into pasty white. I really like the ending, there's a brand of dish soap called "palmolive", so I smiled at a double meaning of "palm" here that might not have been intentional.

I liked the poem, we're always doing the same tasks over and over again, and to me this was a metaphor for someone worn down by the monotony of it all (like the gloves).

[billy]

thanks wjames. the palm was unintentional but i'm saying nowt good shout at the [depart] will change it when i do an edit in a short over the next few days.

[Lysander Gray]

Those Hands That do Dishes

Old pots and pans never die,
they reside forever in the limbo < get rid of 'the' theres no point to it here, plus it sounds wierd
of soapy water and drying rack. < put a 'the' before drying rack to make it stronger
They may disappear as you would
expect Houdini's plates to depart < for some reason I really dislike this metaphor, its too obvious. try stopping at just ''expect Houdini's'' it leaves more to the imagination
but like bad copper coins, they return.

Marigold gloves
on the other hand
live for three washes. < great line!
Their decayed insides
smell with the stink of old palm
sweat expelled inside rubber souls
melting the skin into pasty white. < love the marigold and death imagery, but these last 4 lines need to be reworked. They feel like they've been tacked on

Really dug this poem man, especially the marigold and death imagery at the end. I just think it needs some polishing at the end where it doesnt seem consistant, or flowy.

[billy]

that for the good feedback, [i agree with much of it] will use a lot of it in the edit. in retrospect i think i can do without the three penultimate lines. great to see you giving feedback on the site.