We blinked like sleep could be denied,
while bedtime surfaced from the ocean floor
and lavendered with dreams the sky we wore.
The traces of our castles could not hide
forever in swimsuits she called inside:
Sophia watched us with each passing chore.
Cold water pulsed in darkness, to restore
our saltsteeped hues that teased a rising tide.
By morning we were gone. The drying air
stirred wind chimes, and the redolent clouds thinned.
The moon dissolved into a backseat daze.
Though lost or passed down colors turn threadbare
as castles are reshaped, this breath of wind
recalled us: an unburdened clothesline sways.
v3. Delicates
We blinked like sleep could be denied,
when bedtime surfaced from the ocean floor
and lavendered with dreams the sky we wore.
As our sand castles crumbled to the tide,
the grit in bathing suits could not abide
beyond the bloodshot vigil of a chore.
A cycle churned in rhythm to restore
the stale and saltsteeped hues returned inside.
Clouds dissipated to the parting air
of chimes. The fading moon, a bleach mark cast,
at dawn was spotted in a backseat daze.
Though raiments lost to oceans turn threadbare
as castles are reshaped, the windswept past
recalled us: an unburdened clothesline sways.
Draft 2: Moment Cycle Wash
We blinked like sleep could be denied
while bedtime surfaced from the ocean floor
and lavendered with dreams the sky you wore,
rinsed sand away, as castles by the tide.
Sidereal then and lunar now collide,
unseen by us; we heard it as the roar
of laundry drowning out a nascent shore,
where vivid shades of blue could not abide.
Clouds dissipated in the gentle song
of chimes, revealing the bleach stain of moon
that you had shown me from your backseat gaze.
And would that I could watch you play along
the seagull's span a little longer, noon
forgets us as an untaut clothesline sways.
Draft 1: Moment Cycle Wash
We blinked like sleep could be denied
while bedtime surfaced from the ocean floor
and lavendered with dreams the sky you wore,
rinsed sand away, as castles by the tide.
Sidereal then and lunar now collide,
unseen by us; we heard it as the roar
of laundry drowning out a nascent shore,
where vivid shades of blue could not abide.
Clouds dissipated in the clement song
of moving chimes, revealing last night's moon
through questions sprouted from your backseat gaze.
And would that I could watch you play along
the seagull's span a little longer, noon
forgets us as an untaut clothesline sways.
We blinked like sleep could be denied
while bedtime surfaced from the ocean floor
While/when are big deals. You chose correctly as far as I can see.
and lavendered with dreams the sky you wore,
rinsed sand away, as castles by the tide.
Sidereal then and lunar now collide,
unseen by us; we heard it as the roar
of laundry drowning out a nascent shore,
The titular subject matter, in this case: laundry related things, are always right on the the cusp of plus and minus in things/poems like this.
where vivid shades of blue could not abide.
Clouds dissipated in the clement song
These two lines, and the space between, are well done. Some things need no explanation.
of moving chimes, revealing last night's moon
The chimes are right. The blue and the clouds. The ocean. No mention of wind or any circulating quality is wise here.
The moon, and I made a space in my critique on purpose, is better left absent here, too, as the wind. The noon in its offrhyme takes the moon's presence here.
through questions sprouted from your backseat gaze.
And maybe I'm the only one who attests that the unmentioned moon is obvious in the halfrhymed noon and the backseat gaze.
And would that I could watch you play along
the seagull's span a little longer, noon
I', not you, but me, d take out the word noon here and leave the last line as it is. The whole stanza, except for that word.
(06-18-2022, 02:43 AM)Velasco Wrote: We blinked like sleep could be denied
while bedtime surfaced from the ocean floor
and lavendered with dreams the sky you wore,
rinsed sand away, as castles by the tide.
Sidereal then and lunar now collide,
unseen by us; we heard it as the roar
of laundry drowning out a nascent shore,
where vivid shades of blue could not abide.
Clouds dissipated in the clement song
of moving chimes, revealing last night's moon
through questions sprouted from your backseat gaze.
And would that I could watch you play along
the seagull's span a little longer, noon
forgets us as an untaut clothesline sways.
How can a song be “clement”?
“Moving chimes” seems redundant, like “breathing leopard”
The moon is revealed from a sprouted question from a gaze? The metaphor is quite confused there
I can make sense of the individual lines - I think - and that’s about it
My suggestion would be to tell the story first, and worry about how to make it rhyme, later
Thank you for the feedback. Rowens, I wasn't too sure about what your comments on the noon/moon rhyme meant and how noon implies the moon through its rhyme, so I kept those rhymes for this draft at least. I can make changes in future rewrites if you clarify and I happen to agree with you.
I don't often "live tweet" a poem but damn, those first three lines are very convincing, I'm in
the internal rhyme of "lavenDERED with DREAMS" is so smooth and justifies, for me (along with the precision of image) the lofty tone
aw mannnn the rest of S1 is markedly less awesome
"sand castles crumbled to the tide" is a cliche invoked without enough obvious subversion for my taste
"could not abide beyond, bloodshit vigil"... I'm now annoyed with the speaker, who sounds pretentious and opaque
"a cycle... returned inside" I gots no clue what we are on about but it feels laborious and hyperromantic in a way I resist
the clothesline is a cool image, I like the gesture at the end - though I still mostly just can't vibe with the tone/language
dissipating clouds, fading moons, dawn, raiments, oceans... this is "wake me when it's over" lexicon, for me. I'll need a lot of convincing for such a vocabulary to come alive.
"the windswept past recalled us" is the kind of line that only lands if you've just shot the fucking moon. bravo for ambition. it's a strong line floating in a lot of weak gestural cruft.
I think you're just following the associative impulse too faithfully. A good problem to have.
What if after the first three lines, instead of drilling down on unmoored vagueness only remotely intelligible to themselves, the speaker sets some concrete context?
We blinked like sleep could be denied,
when bedtime surfaced from the ocean floor
and lavendered with dreams the sky we wore.
You fold yourself into the tide as if the grit
in bathing suits is never enough. How many times
I looked at you and wanted to say anything.
--
idk I'm just blabbing but you know what I mean? Instead of just launching us into this stream of context-free symbolism and generalized action ("a cycle... clouds dissipated..." which cycle? which clouds? where what when why how?)
(08-27-2026, 01:47 AM)matsunosuperfan Wrote: I don't often "live tweet" a poem but damn, those first three lines are very convincing, I'm in
the internal rhyme of "lavenDERED with DREAMS" is so smooth and justifies, for me (along with the precision of image) the lofty tone
aw mannnn the rest of S1 is markedly less awesome
"sand castles crumbled to the tide" is a cliche invoked without enough obvious subversion for my taste
"could not abide beyond, bloodshit vigil"... I'm now annoyed with the speaker, who sounds pretentious and opaque
"a cycle... returned inside" I gots no clue what we are on about but it feels laborious and hyperromantic in a way I resist
the clothesline is a cool image, I like the gesture at the end - though I still mostly just can't vibe with the tone/language
dissipating clouds, fading moons, dawn, raiments, oceans... this is "wake me when it's over" lexicon, for me. I'll need a lot of convincing for such a vocabulary to come alive.
"the windswept past recalled us" is the kind of line that only lands if you've just shot the fucking moon. bravo for ambition. it's a strong line floating in a lot of weak gestural cruft.
I think you're just following the associative impulse too faithfully. A good problem to have.
What if after the first three lines, instead of drilling down on unmoored vagueness only remotely intelligible to themselves, the speaker sets some concrete context?
We blinked like sleep could be denied,
when bedtime surfaced from the ocean floor
and lavendered with dreams the sky we wore.
You fold yourself into the tide as if the grit
in bathing suits is never enough. How many times
I looked at you and wanted to say anything.
--
idk I'm just blabbing but you know what I mean? Instead of just launching us into this stream of context-free symbolism and generalized action ("a cycle... clouds dissipated..." which cycle? which clouds? where what when why how?)
Hey matsuno,
As awesome as bloodshit vigil sounds, it didn't make this cut. I hope the speaker sounds more grounded in this draft. There is a dream logic I'm aiming for, and with the constraints of form, it's been difficult trying not to fall into pretension and that sort of hyperromanticism you mentioned. Hope I'm steering in the right direction with this draft.
Right direction IMO for sure. Overwhelmingly, to be candid, my impression is that the effort to rhyme is massively holding this poem back:
We blinked like sleep could be denied,
while bedtime surfaced from the ocean floor
and lavendered with dreams the sky we wore.
The traces of our castles could not hide already the syntax is clearly beholden to form
forever in swimsuits she called inside: and it gets worse with this line. this is classic "trying to rhyme" sentence building: The ___ of our ____ could not ___ in ___ she ___. Not a natural sentence structure...
Sophia watched us with each passing chore.
Cold water pulsed in darkness, to restore more poemy syntax
our saltsteeped hues that teased a rising tide. ...and the syntax makes parsing effortful, so that I lose the impact of these lines
By morning we were gone. The drying air lovely. here the language is fully in control of itself.
stirred wind chimes, and the redolent clouds thinned. better without "and"
The moon dissolved into a backseat daze. very nice
Though lost or passed down colors turn threadbare booooo @ this syntax
as castles are reshaped, this breath of wind
recalled us: an unburdened clothesline sways. ostentatiously poemy :/
--
Still just can't read the poem without being consciously aware of its trying to be a poem. Individual gestures and images have a lot to offer. Whole is not cohering to more than sum of parts. Craft is noticeably still developing in many places.
Feels more or less like "poet has some admirable skill but should not be trying to do rhymed metered verse"
my fault, stuff like that just goes over my head sometimes
