The Poets' Graves Workshop

to Hunger Hill. Meet me at Lench holes. Meet me at Cat Moss. I went to Grey Stone Height. I went to Mires Delph. At Joiner Stones Hill, and Whinney Nick and White Scar I was near Butterbowl. Near Schole Carr Moor was grey Stones Edge. Near Clay Clough was Blue Ball Delph. Meet me at Middle Scars. Me...

Theres something that i like in here, but it could be put into fewer words, trimmed and sharpened, and your point would have been better made!

Thanks for the replies, but i was drunk when i was wrote it, and i havn't got a clue what it means either!

neither out nor in,
but bent:
the hammer too heavy,
the wall too hard;

or happenstance
of her
kissing him
before the moment.

Iiked the contrast between the first and second verse

A teaspoon-full of a neutron star
has the same mass as a mountain.

Once every thousand years, a bird
drops a grain of sand

into the same place, more or less.

I retract my statement, I don't want
to go to the place where mummy went.

Overall I thought the piece was powerful but maybe could need a bit of pruning and shaping. You saved the best till last, with the last line though! Maybe rewrite the piece starting with the last line!

Nothing much i can add except I think the original draft seemed a bit more user-friendly, with it's contrast between the atmosphere of the tarn, then panning back a little, the rest of the urban, ugly world -a bit like when Carl Pilkington goes to the pyramids for some enlightening experience, only ...

Thanks for the feedback, Pauline, and Cynwulf, I appreciate your comments a lot!

Thanks Ros for the feedback, glad you liked it. The last verse is a bit awkward I admit.Hmmm....

You take the water with you. Tons of it is portable and unspillable, and if you go around corners too fast you wont keel over like a sack of potatoes. The weather wont kill you, either. A cold front blowing them off-course will focus their minds like nothing else, and after that, a change of season,...

Now theres some lines that made me sit up and spill my Horlicks Mary-Lou reckons you will rape me soon as look at me. Says you are an unmade bed with sheets that never cool The strength of the poem lies in the contrast between the innocence of the narrator and the brutality of what she speaks, then ...

I actually really liked the first four lines he said he’d take you where the sea began and time cried its infant hours where fates make way and palms hush pain where south heated beaches tame your waves especially the second line. But the rest was hard going. The strongest part of the poem is the fi...

I liked the half rhyme halfway through stanza four-

and the Spirit is lightened and finds its calm
at that crossroad of tears where the blood slows down;

Cheers, Ton

I think in this poem you are reaching to express something but haven't got there.. yet. Its a bit abstract and impersonal but liked impressionism of the piece.

Hi, I liked this poem a lot, where two is company and three( the cig) has become a love triangle. She lies beside me every night on the cool beach sand, her lungs intoxicated by the divinity of her beloved; that cigarette she clutches so dearly in her hand. The third line seems a little bit clumsy, ...

Thanks for the responses. Sorry for not replying sooner, ive been on holiday for two weeks(thats my excuse anyway) in Spain. When i was a child my Grandad had a load of books (obviously along with other kinds), but each book was about one year( I cant remember what they call these books anymore), an...

I was born on the day that an American jet
fired a missile
and blew itself up-
Wednedays child.

Thanks for the replies. I get the point that from going from a general point of view to specific viewpoint seems a bit backwards-way-round. The part about living your life separate from the atmosphere just means exactly that, we live our lives unaware/cut off from other parts of life or the world ar...

Normally you can see through air, and though you can feel it, most of the time it isn't there. Take it or leave it, you live your life separate from what ever goes on in the atmosphere. It was just that morning cycling to work, i looked up over the street-lamps, and found the space of night, not qui...

I would reiterate what the previous people have said, but what drew me initially was the title of the poem, which was probably the best part of the poem- synaesthesia is the poets best friend -don't get bogged down with metre or rhyme, its that initial thing that makes us want to write in the first ...

Thanks for the replies. Nae bother Bodkin. Im just a a sucker for rhyme.

Thanks for the replies guys. I take onboard the criticism of end ryhme, which is a bad habit of mine, it seems a bit sledgehammerish. There is a poem somewhere in the idea of the human body being valued in its constituent parts, or its chemical parts, purely on its current market, or black market va...

Mostly oxygen, carbon, and hydrogen
at market prices, going to press-

three pounds more or less.
The dosh is in our skin.

You can dump the rest at the butchers bin-
the gobstopper eyes, the bits they sell

in market pies;
our cauliflower brain.

Nothing of us will remain.

I liked the subversiveness of this poem. Have you thought about playing around with the form a bit, or did you come to this as a final version? Just my two penneth that you could have a stronger poem if you mixed it up a bit, but it is a brilliant poem nonetheless.

You get the feeling of hacking and chopping with the brutal rhythm of the first line, but im not sure what you're getting at towards the end of the poem.