The Group Grows of Contributing Poets…

By ladynyo

And that’s the good news. I have asked some poets I really admire, besides Dr. RK Singh to post their work here and we then all make comments.  This will take a bit of time,  and that’s fine.  Meanwhile, Dr. Singh and I will post our own work, and make comments about each other!

This is a very exciting time for me because it’s rare that you can get insight into poetry issues outside of a classroom…and it’s also rare that you can pick those poems you actually want to read.

Dr. Singh mentioned something about freeverse yesterday, and rhythmic issues (which aren’t free) in freeverse.  I hope he will be able to clarify this , and I know he will , because I am up against a wall on some of these issues with poetry.

There will be many more issues of such, but this is the way we learn.

I write some poetry based on different mythologies, mostly Celtic and Greek, so I’ll post one that really needs rewrite.

As Dr. Singh has mentioned in his letter yesterday:  “Writing means rewriting.”  I don’ think it really ever ends because there is always room for improvement in poetry.

Lady Nyo

MYSTIC MARRIAGE

Minos begs a gift of Poseidon and
from the sea comes a white bull.

Glorious Bull! With hooves of gold,
eyes of fire and sweet of breath.
Pasiphae, Mino’s wife
besotted with the sight of him
begs Mino to spare his sword
and offers her handmaidens
for the sacrifice.

Tender-hearted Mino allows his wife
to rule his judgement
all sense is pushed aside,
havoc soon overturns the throne.

Pasiphae builds a wooden cow
and besotted with lust
climbs into the decoy
Seduces the golden hooved Bull.

The Minotaur is born, suckled from
Pasiphae’s paps,
grew wild –the labyrinth
built to imprison him.

Unnatural love- making produces
unnatural monster Minotaur
half man and half bull,
given freedom only in a maze,
fed on virgins of both sexes.

But Poseidon has the last laugh.
He was the gift, the snow white bull
and cuckolds Mino
for his greed.

Mystic marriage overturns a throne and kingdom,
reveals the deception of woman
produces monster offspring.

In his maze all paths lead to the grave.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2009

In the spirit of “Writing MEANS Rewriting”….I welcome all crits and comments about HOW this poem, very rough, can be rewritten, for clarity, rhythm and any other issue that strikes your fancy.  I already see  layers here that can be addressed, perhaps extending this short poem (this issue at the end…”In his maze all paths lead to the grave”…) and there are others….But as I write here…there is no ego involved….I am here to learn!

Lady Nyo

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One Response to “The Group Grows of Contributing Poets…”

  1. Kathleen Says:

    I am in love with this idea of poetry and sharing! I will post some of mine now-and hope the crits will help me make them more refined.
    Katie

    MY SISTER

    She brushes her hair
    catches it in a shiny clasp
    smiles toward the mirror

    secure in its curl and shine
    she ignores her body
    draped in shapeless clothes

    We can’t see inside her,
    Will never know the stories
    of her beautiful youth.

    This woman, alone,
    lives in silent memories
    of eternal adoration

    ————————————–
    NURSING ASSISTANT

    I watch her face
    as she tries to form words
    soft jaw trembling
    over once familiar motions

    When I concentrate
    her former self surfaces
    through sagging skin
    subtle straightening of shoulders

    There are suddenly
    faint sparks in her eyes
    her hands lift gracefully
    as she reaches towards me

    How much longer? She whispers
    I hold her hand, shake my head
    I don’t know if she’s asking
    about dinner
    or death

    WHAT YOU LEFT NEHIND

    The dusty books are stacked
    unevenly
    holding up the corner
    of an end table

    wire hangers crowd the bar
    in the closet
    others thrown carelessly on the floor

    threadbare carpet
    meets worn linoleum
    where the living room
    moves into the kitchen
    Brown lumps on the counter could be washcloths

    dull silver filigree
    edges the bathroom mirror
    In it, I search for some sign
    some reason
    that will bring you back
    but there is no color
    or sound
    or welcome back
    in anything
    you left behind

    ———————————
    UNIVERSE

    There is no flight
    that takes you farther
    than your own mind

    there is no place
    more lonely
    than your own heart

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