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swissterrace's (swissterrace on UKA) UKArchive
39 Archived submissions found.
Title
E-safety (posted on: 07-03-16)
I wrote this for my daughter's homework. She wasn't very impressed.

"E-safety" (to the tune of The Beatles 'Yesterday') E-safety, for all the games you want to play. Because the internet is here to stay. Oh, I believe in E-safety. Suddenly, I'm chatting to a man I'm not meant to be. He said he really likes me. Oh, E-safety can protect me. Where should my searching go, its online, I want to play. I don't want to do anything wrong, I must remember E-safety. E-safety for all the games you want to play. Keeps you safe, don't hide away. Oh, I believe in E-safety. Why would he want to know, where I live, just don't say. Speaking to strangers can be wrong, I must remember E-safety. E-safety for social media and the internet every day. Protect yourself in virtual play. Oh, I believe in E-safety. Mm mm mm mm mm mm mm .
Archived comments for E-safety
Mikeverdi on 07-03-2016
E-safety
Brilliant! With all the stuff out there on this subject, why don't they get it?
Mike

Author's Reply:
thanks Mike. I think most kids are getting the message, they are bombarded this info about the internet and how to use it. Its the people on the other side of the screens that they cant see who normally are the problem. Anyway, if this song breaks into the top 40, I might have to perform it with Paul McCartney somewhere. On that note, is it just me or is he looking more like Ken Dodd.
Cheers.

pdemitchell on 08-03-2016
E-safety
A salutary tickle stick and spot on! Paul

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mr Mitchell. I write this on the day the fifth Beatle himself has sadly passed on - Sir George Martin. Surely a genius. Now all we are left with is Simon Cowell and Louis Walsh. My wife finds it hard to understand why I don't watch tv anymore. There are two great reasons.

Pronto on 09-03-2016
E-safety
Loved this but I can see why your daughter didn't. She will come to see the wisdom when she has kids of her own!

Author's Reply:
Hi Pronto - thanks for the comment. She said she needed to do something creative around online safety. I wrote this for her as she was stuck. She then said it had to be a board game. So that is our thing for the weekend. cheers.


Love Like Amber (posted on: 19-02-16)


We lived in dark, isolated places. Rarely seeing other people. Writing songs to the rhythm of an electricity generator, longing for the deepest days of winter, so that we could sing. Bodies stimulated by spikes and surges, connected by cables and coils. Love was linear, affection measured in amperes. Sometimes I think about relationship revitalistion, but only on my brightest, the meddling of medication talk. Two bodies. lying head to toe, avoided polarisation, for a while. From a lonely loft room window I look outside. A toy rabbit, parades proudly, beating a snare drum. This has been a long life and we live in isolated places.
Archived comments for Love Like Amber
pdemitchell on 20-02-2016
Love Like Amber
A bipolar amalgam of sparky analogy and dystopic relations with surreal ending of the toy rabbit winding down and marching to doom at the edge of the table. I am that third line... Paul

Author's Reply:
thanks for the comments mr mitchell.


Mobile Service Provider (posted on: 25-12-15)


Poems could have been different, if two twentysomethings had made, the fortysomething call we did today. Words are only concious breath control with sound. You are hyperventilating again and I can hear you. People are only millions of molecules. There is movement down below and I am counting. Even before billing and itemisation, thoughts turn back to the intervening years. You missed me, upgrading to android. A memory bank, blank. No face recognition, of you. I am left contemplating, informed decisions.
Archived comments for Mobile Service Provider
Supratik on 28-12-2015
Mobile Service Provider
I like this poem a lot.

Author's Reply:
thanks. I don't think its going to win any awards, it came into my head when I was on my bike and it was written 30 minutes later.

have a great new year.


One Season (posted on: 11-12-15)    


There is a place, somewhere, to the north of here. Common law marriage, perched on a cliff, one season, cohabiting by the sea. Sometimes, we would drive into the country, to laze on high rocks, the Bridestones. These, momentary lapses, a twenty something, escapement. Simplicities, before we knew better. And if you, are ever, there too, sit in rear seat and listen as we drive, home to the coast. Laying out a rug, drinking coffee, a view beyond the cliffs, to a future horizon. Happy memories or the duplicity of distance? And yet still I go there, a place, to the north of here.
Archived comments for One Season
Gee on 11-12-2015
One Season
There's a real longing that comes through here. Memories of good times and a love that didn't last but was wonderful enough to draw you back to that special place.
Very nicely done.

Author's Reply:
Gee - thanks for the great comments and the UKA submission if it was you. Has really made my day to be recognised. thanks again. Carl

franciman on 11-12-2015
One Season
Very visual. I found myself there midst the memories of my own guilt. My favourite:-
Happy memories
or the
duplicity of distance?
And yet still
I go there,
a place,
to the north of here.
Someone beat me to the nomination button.
Thank you,
Jim


Author's Reply:
Jim - many thanks for the great comments. It means a lot to get recognition from others writers, so very much appreciated. Carl

Mikeverdi on 12-12-2015
One Season
Yep,this does it for me. Agree with the others this is really good,, well worth the Nomination.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Hi mike, thanks for your valued comment. I read your story again it has inspired me to have a go at my own. Do u have a story of yours which u like, I will read it for inspiration. I have affected ideas in mind which have been there for a while. I think from reading other work the key is not to over obsess with description I read the first chapter of 1984 the other day and it's amazing how Orwell sets the scene so quickly. I also have been reading the snows.of kilimanjaro by Hemingway, great little stories about life. Thanks again.

e-griff on 12-12-2015
One Season
I like this poem because it has imagery and associations without being too direct. With my own poetry, I fight the directness/practicality that comes out naturally (its the engineer in me πŸ™‚ ). When I occasionally manage to get something to emerge in this kind of style, I'm very pleased. I was pleased to read this, very nice and lingers with you after reading.

Author's Reply:
Thanks for the comments, pleased you like it. We all have our own styles of writing and we all like it when we get it right.

Thanks

Carl

Bozzz on 12-12-2015
One Season
Being a bigoted Southerner, naturally a place up north has no trees and life without flowers. But if it is truly suitable for illicit relationships there must be some wild life around. Much enjoyed. Good fun ...David

Author's Reply:
Thanks David. Its interesting that you read this was an illicit relationship, fascinating interpretation. It did happen a long time ago though. Maybe, its easier to write about things which happened in the distant past.

Living in Hornsea, any place outside Yorkshire to me is down south.

Cheers.


The News Headlines (posted on: 27-11-15)


Some images, freeze frame familiars of a life lived, are always, just, there.                                                     No more than,                                         a frenzied flicker,                                 of eyes                                                     opening and closing,                             they remain.                                                                                        .  I am a young boy. A hairbrush is thrown. Ferocious velocity. Hard wooden handle. I leave the room.                             Not understanding. Screams, punches, behind a door. You think that I am going to say then it all goes quiet. No, there are many more screams. Somehow imprinted,                                these are polarised polaroids. My news headlines, developed in a darkroom whose door is always ajar.
Archived comments for The News Headlines
shadow on 29-11-2015
The News Headlines
Very powerful stuff, the short sharp lines jabbing like fists. Loved the closing image.

Author's Reply:
Thanks for the comments shadow.


A Lady Hangs (posted on: 30-10-15)


This darkness, drains, vitamin D. Post equinox light my enemy. A lady hangs, partially suspended, ligature, love life, breathless, ended.
Archived comments for A Lady Hangs

No comments archives found!
Our Lady of Sorrows (posted on: 14-09-15)


September. Late summer's soliloquy. Life's libertine. Jason's median. In year's past, a votary ushered in the equinox. Some heroines, in libraries, lecture halls and long afternoons spent secretly soujourning, safe in the knowledge. This year though marks the end of something. Early autumn. A passage for the passing. A sword of grief for the lost. Today, I telephoned, Our Lady of Sorrows. I am still. Waiting. For her call.
Archived comments for Our Lady of Sorrows

No comments archives found!
Death of a Damselfly (posted on: 31-08-15)


Of all the places to die you decided on my arms. I'd seen you earlier, flying by the tree. From the corner of my eye, a flash of cobalt blue. An insect intent on immortality, in my mind at least. It could have ended there if my second youngest, hadn't hounded. A damsel in distress. Final flirtations following a fortnight of flight. Blessed beatification, balanced on a sun-ripened wrist. The waning whiz of wings, which once waxed lyrical over ponds and rivers. And if you've never heard a dying damsel the noise will send shivers, a Canaan cacophony. And in the end you fell silent. Summer ended. I placed you by the tree and walked into the house. It was the first dark evening after the longest day.
Archived comments for Death of a Damselfly
Mikeverdi on 01-09-2015
Death of a Damselfly
I like this a lot, something different..beautiful. One line I would think hard to read aloud...line twelve πŸ™‚
Mike

Author's Reply:
Hi Mike, thanks for the kind comments. I tried to write a line which gave the feeling of flight, maybe, as you say it is a but much. But, thanks for the great read. its a nice poem. Carl

sweetwater on 01-09-2015
Death of a Damselfly
So beautiful, the poem and the damselfly. You set the scene so well, I could picture it, such lovely creatures with all too brief a life. Sue.

Author's Reply:
Thanks Sue, lovely comment. Carl

chant_z on 02-09-2015
Death of a Damselfly
Yes. Very beautiful and with an airy tone to it. Much appriciated.

Author's Reply:
Many thanks. That is much appreciated.

Kipper on 07-09-2015
Death of a Damselfly
Yes I like this too. We are all familiar with these pesky little fellows (or fellowes's) on a late summer evening and I think you caught the mood, and the occasional alliteration mirrored the jerkiness of their flight.
Very nice, Michael


Author's Reply:
thanks Kipper for the comment. Nice one.


A Photograph of Amy Johnson (posted on: 27-07-15)


Dear Amy. The start of a letter previously penned. Was wondering whether we, that's you and me, could co-pilot together one day? Knowing that you studied Economics and not English allows me to freely abuse all rules, to fulfill poetic license. I'm not wanting a piece of history or trying to solve a mystery, featuring friendly fire and an Airspeed Oxford. Just want to get to know the girl behind the woman's face. There has been talk recently about a parachute coming down over a strong tide. Walter washed away. Body never recovered. In my mind a letter is better, than a Post Office Telegram. Something for a stopover, somewhere south of the equator. Wednesday, wandered to Wawne, north-east of Hull. Collection of 'An interesting envelope', advert said. Mrs. Mollison, rumours of your jettison, now held in my hand. Deeply regret inform you your daughter Amy missing believed killed. Stop.
Archived comments for A Photograph of Amy Johnson
deadpoet on 27-07-2015
A Photograph of Amy Johnson
I had to look Amy Johnson up in all my ignorance. Brave woman . Good poem- a nice tribute. I also noted that I haven't seen you here on UKA in a long time- so was pleased to read your work !!

Author's Reply:
Yeah, she is local to Holderness. was inspired to write a little poem about her. the poem is true in all elements, I did travel to wawne. thanks again.

Mikeverdi on 28-07-2015
A Photograph of Amy Johnson
I remember her story, your poem brought it alive again. As I remember they made her a bit of a "pin up" girl at the time. You captured her moment well, I enjoyed the read.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks Mike. A really brave woman who was born in our area of Holderness. Would be very hard to compare her to anybody these days, flying alone to Australia. A great role model for my girls.

Bozzz on 29-07-2015
A Photograph of Amy Johnson
Brave ladies they were in the ATA. My mother was a flyer with them. They lost a higher percentage of pilots than fighter command - mainly flying into balloon cables because they had no radio communication and if there was an air raid while en route, they had no warning... Very interesting piece. P.S. I suspect my mother and I were the only mother and son flying in WW2...My best, David

Author's Reply:
many thanks. David. yeah they were amazing.


Once More With Feeling (posted on: 17-04-15)


You loved here temporarily, leaving an empty table, two chairs. Unmistakable outline, reluctant debutante. This time of day on my mind, Genevive turned low. Illness unknown, death, like an afternoon shadow, waiting to strangle life from a passing stranger. Life, a view to the distant end of your garden. Boundary wall, the end of something. Last photograph, film spooling, dark room, loving, once more with feeling.
Archived comments for Once More With Feeling
bo_duke99 on 18-04-2015
Once More With Feeling
at second and third pass this revealed a rhythm and some spring-loaded echoes and rhymes - enjoyed, thanks - Greg

Author's Reply:
thanks Greg for the oomments.

deadpoet on 18-04-2015
Once More With Feeling
I don't claim to be a good critique of poetry but this is mysterious enough to appeal to me. There's beauty,sorrow ,love and nature. All elements of a good poem to my taste. I enjoyed reading it.

Author's Reply:
Many thanks for the kind words, glad that you enjoyed it.

Mikeverdi on 19-04-2015
Once More With Feeling
Got to agree,I found this strangely beautiful.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Thanks again Mike. I wrote this poem after visiting the Kay Kendall museum in Withernsea, East Yorkshire. I had never heard of Kay Kendall, but she was obviously a beautiful woman, both flawless and flawed in equal measure.

Marvo on 21-04-2015
Once More With Feeling
Loved the wording and imagery this conjured up in my mind.

Author's Reply:
Cheers marvo


The lion rampant (posted on: 03-04-15)


Forty-four years, Five months and two days. But no lion rampant. Distant landmark life, less fluttering flag. Reduced to visiting village fetes. Existence bookended by Bank Holidays. Turning out for a tombola, grey tea and church circuit chat. Viyella voices pity you like the Remembrance Sunday walking wounded. An aimless, endless, Napoleonic, Russian, winter, misadventure, Whitsuntide weekend.
Archived comments for The lion rampant
Mikeverdi on 03-04-2015
The lion rampant
I think this is great writing...but I have no reference as to what or where, and I would love to know πŸ™‚
Mike

Author's Reply:
hi Mike, my own view is that this poem needs a 2nd verse as its a bit short. The words have been in my head for a while, but I was made redundant just after New Year and I've had other priorities. I have been lucky to find other employment, so put pen to paper, so to speak.

In terms of your question, its a poem based on the small town where I live and the complex informal and formal networks people establish. One of my new Jobs is working in towns local museum. I said to my wife that its a play waiting to be written about people who volunteer.

The second verse of this poem is in my head at the moment and focuses on the village Anglican Vicar in his kassack before Good Friday service.

Kindest regards.

Carl

Nomenklatura on 05-04-2015
The lion rampant
I'd be very interested to see more of this, so I do hope you post it when you have chiselled the stone away to leave the statue. In the meantime, a splendid assembly of images.
regards
Ewan

Author's Reply:
thanks Ewan. Will keep you posted.

Regards.

Carl


Making Tea for Amanda Knox (posted on: 13-02-15)


You stand five foot four or in America, one metre sixty-three. Today Amanda Knox, I am making you tea. Your hair is combed back, blue sweat, eyes grey, reading the West Seattle Herald, about a play within a play. And if I could see past the newsprint, or if there was a media lull, it could be said, that you are beautiful.
Archived comments for Making Tea for Amanda Knox
Nomenklatura on 13-02-2015
Making Tea for Amanda Knox
Very topical. I hear she's getting married. To you?
I liked this, short and pithy.

Author's Reply:
Many thanks. Amanda Knox is a modern mystery. A beautiful regret. But y wife is more beautiful than Amanda and with her there are no regrets. CD

Mikeverdi on 13-02-2015
Making Tea for Amanda Knox
A Play within a Play...Excellent. Will we ever know?
Mike

Author's Reply:
Mike

Thanks for the comment. She is a real life Macbeth. I suppose only she Amanda knows the truth.
CD


The Problem with Love (posted on: 30-01-15)


We were survivors. Living the last days of fresh cut flowers. Colour, from petals, bleeding. A lover. Revived daily, by a little water. Held togther by cellophane. Never meant to fall apart. Stigma and stamen. A bouquet dismantled. A bloom, I never held.
Archived comments for The Problem with Love
Mikeverdi on 30-01-2015
The Problem with Love
Beautiful.
Mike

Author's Reply:
mike many thanks. great to feedback from you. hope you are well.


The Brighter Months (posted on: 12-12-14)


Opened to Full Fathom Five, remembering you like a good wine. But, death, and you, left a bitter taste. After taste. Running a finger down your spine. Slim. Colossus. Wishing you had stayed around, a few glasses longer. We could have, seen out January. Waited for, the brighter months. But, Spring, brings back, the pungent smell. It fills me with fear. You with happiness and sin. I think aloud. I am the one to keep you going. But, we, will always be, winter trees. Waiting. Wondering. Whether, you and me. Will return.
Archived comments for The Brighter Months
Mikeverdi on 12-12-2014
The Brighter Months
For me this is almost perfect, (I'm sorry about the almost) I just think it needs another look. I still thinks it's a great piece with terrific lines; I love 'We will always be winter trees' I enjoy reading your work. Going into favs.
Thanks for posting.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Hi Mike. Almost perfect, you sound like my mother-in-law. I would be grateful if you would sned me your thoughts on changes and I will amend over xmas. Been very busy at work, so had to put this on backburner last few weeks. Have a great Christmas. Carl

Bozzz on 12-12-2014
The Brighter Months
The pungent smell of spring says silver birch to me - the dying devil incarnate for asthma sufferers in London. Just a wild guess, but a very good piece whatever. Yours aye, David.

Author's Reply:
Hi David, that's an interesting interpretation of the poem. I wrote this poem about 20 years, in my head, after reading an article about Slyvia Plath at University. My wife said something to me the other day, I made a connection and I was able to put pen to paper. Funny how these things happen. Happy Christmas. Carl


Just Wishing (posted on: 28-11-14)


I am sorry today, because I saw your face and experienced maddness. Feeling the saddness, which can only belong to me. Behind your smile, are a thousand lies. I hope your teeth hurt as you keep them all in. And as you talk, I see in your mouth and recognise clearly, everything. I'm sorry today, because i can't make up my mind. I'm sat tonight, just wishing.
Archived comments for Just Wishing
deadpoet on 28-11-2014
Just Wishing
Oh I like this- if I knew what sartorial means I'd use that. Perhpas bitterness fits better. Very expressive that's for certain.

Author's Reply:
hi thanks for your positive comment about the poem. this piece reflects my inability in my younger years to go with my gut instinct and stick with it. Thanks again.

Gothicman on 30-11-2014
Just Wishing
Strange poem, that says a lot, but difficult to define what, which is makes it an intriguing read, perhaps a feelings poem as you say: about regret for not following your better judgement. Gothicman

Author's Reply:
Hi sorry I didn't respond sooner. Sometimes the best way to express yourself is through a poem. you can say things that you wouldn't say in person. I wrote this a number of years ago, thought other people might like to read it. I have to say that its not, in anyway, a poem about my wife, if she ever reads these comments. Cheers.


Letter to an invisible friend (posted on: 27-10-14)


Just woken up. It's the weekend. Thought I would put pen to paper. I'm lying on my bed with the window wide open. Seems life a lifetime since I saw you. Daren't count how many dark mornings. Daren't think how many days. Hope your hair is still shoulder length, beautiful face is no older. Are you still listening to that cassette of songs which I made? Words are easy on paper. Not sure what I would utter. If you came here at Christmas there are some wonderful markets. If Easter, we could watch the local parade. There really is no pressure. Would just be nice to see you. Brushing you hair. Making up your face. I didn't want to tell you. But I've had a few problems lately. This is not a call for help. I have two tablets daily. There are times much harder than others. Episodes, like a Tarentino Play for Today. It would be nice to go back to the beginning. Ok, I know that is the wrong thing to say. Don't want you to stop reading and toss me away. How I loved our time together. You were that constant that the doctor said is missing. Anyway, I suppose it's time to get going. The early morning noise has abated. My window's still open. It look's like a nice day. I'll post this later. Thinking,I will be with you sometime midweek.
Archived comments for Letter to an invisible friend
Mikeverdi on 28-10-2014
Letter to an invisible friend
An interesting post, I wonder how much is 'real life'. I wrote many letters like this...and threw them all away. Then wrote a poem about it.
On the crit side I would change one word...

of songs THAT I made. Which is such a spikey word πŸ™‚ It is just my opinion HaHa!

Nice writing and I liked it a lot.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Hi Mike. As they say in films, based on true story. It's quite a nice process. A letter to somebody from your past. I used to write letters all time and I loved receiving them Probably
a method of writing which I will use in future.
Kind regards.
Carl

Gothicman on 29-10-2014
Letter to an invisible friend
Like this type of poem, a slice of real life with emotional content, and using the beauty of the simplicity of the English language, read very well, and enjoyed. Mike is right about "that" being a single reference...Trevor

Author's Reply:
Hi Trevor, was just looking over my page and noticed your comments. Many thanks.

Nemo on 30-10-2014
Letter to an invisible friend
The feeling that something must be done to lift our spirits, to somehow reverse time, to relive moments when we thought we were happy, the sadness that lurks inside us like a cancer that might spread, that there are markets, parades and sunny days to enjoy, but someone is missing, it's all here in this understated and almost inaudible howl. That's how I 'feel' your poem (wbich or that deserves more notice.)
Regards, Gerald

Author's Reply:
Thanks Gerald. Haven't read this poem since I posted it, but still reads ok. Like the idea of an inaudible howl. Carl


Sometime in Summer (posted on: 24-10-14)


Amusement arcade lights. Constellation of coins and clutching at straws. A girl from the wrong side. Seafront siren. Candy floss caress. In a booth at the back, so not to be seen. This kaleidoscope companion. Her frayed genes more at home, amongst dirty digits and washed up detritus, in this part of town.
Archived comments for Sometime in Summer
Nemo on 26-10-2014
Sometime in Summer
Neat observational piece. Deserves more comments. Not sure how 'A girl from the wrong side' is meant to be taken.
Nemo

Author's Reply:
It's one that's open to interpretation. Thanks for positive comments.

Nemo on 26-10-2014
Sometime in Summer
'A girl from the wrong side' - a lot of credibility hinges on whether the openness to interpretation is intentional or whether the ambiguity is fortuitous.
Nemo

Author's Reply:
Whose credibility. The author or the person making the critique?

Nemo on 26-10-2014
Sometime in Summer
It was just a friendly observation not a criticism that I was makng in an earnest attempt to gain a clearer understanding of your poem. Whoever reads the poem will decide whose credibility ii is and it might also be the credibility of the poem itself, mon ami. Why not come clean and say if the ambiguity was intentional or fortuitous?

Author's Reply:
Mon chaise longue. 'A girl from the wrong side' . All I can say is that it was either intentionally fortuitous or fortuitously intentional. I just can't decide.

sweetwater on 26-10-2014
Sometime in Summer
Reading this made me think of the old fashioned naughty seaside postcards. The arcade really came alive for me too. The last few lines then gave me a view of a more seedy side of
things. I found the whole poem rather fascinating. Sue.

Author's Reply:
Hi sue. I am glad you enjoyed the seediness of it. The seafront in most towns is like that. Kindest regards. Sw

Nemo on 26-10-2014
Sometime in Summer
"intentionally fortuitous or fortuitously intentional" - almost a clever concoction but for the dripping water. I'll just have to settle for reading your poem from one side or the other side of MA chaise longue, but I can't decide which. Bonne nuit.

Author's Reply:


Aquarius (posted on: 03-10-14)


Disappearing breath. Air bubbles say goodbye. Suffocated silence. Slowly, swimming between life and death. A last smile breaks the surface. There is no struggle. No buoyancy. A life ledgered. The only colour down here is red. Hooked and a last, lifeless, initiation oozes from a gaping wound. Dispersing and leaving no trace, at sluice gates, somewhere downstream.
Archived comments for Aquarius
Mikeverdi on 03-10-2014
Aquarius
I seem to remember that this may be a companion to the last post from you; I need to go back and will comment again later. πŸ™‚
Mike

Author's Reply:

stormwolf on 05-10-2014
Aquarius
Hi there,
Very atmospheric. I really liked the line
The only colour down here is red.
Somehow, it came over almost as confessional and also hopeless.
I feel this can be read on different levels, so to me it spoke of relinquishing the struggle, the earth struggle.
deep and thoughtful.

Alison x


Author's Reply:
Alison, thanks for commenting. I am pleased that you think the poem has different meanings. It's not confessional as such, but is about struggle and the meaningless of why some things happen as they do. I love your website, it's great. x


The Day Before Yesterday (posted on: 29-09-14)


You woke up with a breath on your lips. Night time slipped away with the sheets. Bad dreams drifted back to where they belonged. Teddy left safe till your return. Sometimes the sun in September is stronger than the sun in summer and although you don't think like that and why should you because you're not yet sixteen, the sun that day was strong and it lit up your room. Twinkle toes touched the floor. Five first, followed by five more. Sweater, shorts, socks and shoes. iPhone. Off you go alone. Teddy in bed. Bad dreams following through a crack in the door. Night time fighting the sheets. Breath. Lips. The day before yesterday.
Archived comments for The Day Before Yesterday
Slovitt on 29-09-2014
The Day Before Yesterday
if your bad dreams could be confined, left behind, and i guess that is the challenge, to leave it in the past, mark it the Day Before Yesterday, forever PAST. start putting distance between you and then.

very skillful technique, "and although you don't think like that/and why should you because you're not yet sixteen,/the sun that day was strong/and it lit up your room./

good poem. swep

Author's Reply:
Hi there, thanks for the positive feedback. Much appreciated. Its always interesting how other interpret a poem. The technique you refer to is interesting, dont know if it has a formal name or whatever, but I am going to look at how it can be used again.

Pilgermann on 30-09-2014
The Day Before Yesterday
Wonderful creation of atmosphere. The interplay between dark and light works well to build the flow and carry the theme.

Author's Reply:
Hi Pilgermann. I am thinking now of making this poem darker by changing the second reference to the teddy. I dont think it should just be waiting. I think it should, be decapitated or just left as just a mess of filling on the bed. If bad dreams came to life that would probably be the case. Sounds horrific really. Thanks again.

Mikeverdi on 30-09-2014
The Day Before Yesterday
Hello, I agree with most of what has been said; the idea of your poem is good. For me, on the critique side, there are too many spare words that add nothing to the strength and detract from then flow. I think a prune would take a good poem to great. Its only my opinion, others may disagree; including you πŸ™‚ After all, its your work....and I still like it πŸ™‚
Mike

Author's Reply:
mike, thanks for your helpful comments and I have no problem with critique. i would be interested in which words you would remove to improve it. I am thinking about a few changes as i like the poem aswell.

Supratik on 01-10-2014
The Day Before Yesterday
Yes, the poem is talking about the past, but has the consciousness that the past is gone. But even if they had gone to where they belong, I wonder why they are bad here. I like the flow of the poem, where bed, and words around that, seems to be the 'stage' (the place) in the three units of theatre. The style draws you into it, does not drag. For the 'night time' and 'the sheets', it's a wow from me. Great read! Supratik

Author's Reply:
hi there. thanks for great feedback. the poem is trying to get into the mind of another person, if they could go back a couple of days and do something differently. i have written a follow up to this which explains what happens next.


the Pool at La Garengoire (posted on: 26-09-14)


Diving into the pool the coolness of the water washed away the day. His skin once baked and dry, now refreshed. Forty lengths breaststroke, tired limbs and llungs. Vendee tired. At the van she was reading sat on metal grill steps. The first cloud of the day passed over the sun. A bottle of white, local cave. Two glasses, one step. A cave close to them in St. Jean des Monts. Atlantic coast conditions. She started writing letters home lying on cushions inside. Two more glasses and then rum agricole. Her chocolate arms wrapped round his neck. Cheeks kissed and a door left open. He awoke in the morning, beside her still sleeping. Fresh bread for her before she stirred.
Archived comments for the Pool at La Garengoire
Nemo on 27-10-2014
the Pool at La Garengoire
Scandalous that nobody has responded to this. "Vendee tired" is worth whole piscines of praise. I would however say the first line is syntactically incorrect as 'coolness' (subject of the main verb) cannot dive into the pool. A case of 'walking downthe road the sun began to shine.'
Nemo

Author's Reply:
You are right the grimmer is incorrect. Poem based on previous experience.


Pause (posted on: 30-05-14)


Listening to her voice with the volume turned low. He remembers sunnier days. Smiling and crying, whispering how much he loves her, to a monochrome print through tape stuck over his mouth. Now pills are reacting. Stood, knees, floor. Then, auto-reverse and the sun comes out, from behind a two year, six month and five day old cloud.
Archived comments for Pause
Nemo on 27-10-2014
Pause
Again this is adroitly crafted to wring out the sorrow. Esp the counting of the days since. How the sodding hell did no bloody body manage some praise for this?
Nemo

Author's Reply:
Memo, don't worry. I don't write for praise, although it is good when others take the time to comment. Without this site my thoughts would be just words on paper in drawer under the stairs.


Revolution (posted on: 30-05-14)


"Now your head is severed." She screamed, over the pin-striped corpse, of a blood embellished, middle aged, middle management, English male. "I can be everything I want to be." She moved to the table. Unconsciously checking his meal in the oven. Picked up the novel and fingered pages for her next move.
Archived comments for Revolution

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Suicide Note (posted on: 30-05-14)


Turning the page, alone. The decision to try and hold my breath for three minutes whilst underwater, not thinking of you, is difficult, yet automatic. Leaning over the bath with my head beneath the surface. Trying, but not dieing. The paper soaks and floats. Tommorrow, it will be unreadable.
Archived comments for Suicide Note
stormwolf on 01-06-2014
Suicide Note
Hi there,
A brave little poem that has a deep message. I did not think this worked too well if you dont mind me saying πŸ˜‰
The decision to try
and hold my breath
for three minutes
whilst underwater,
not thinking of you,
is difficult,
yet automatic.

Not sure how something can be both difficult and automatic.
Perhaps I am reading it wrongly?
I did get the bit at the end about the paper being unreadable...again, maybe translated it wrongly but to me it spoke of the way today's news is tomorrow's chip paper and highlighted the feeling of hopelessness and loneliness of the would be suicide.
I would have broken up the last line to that effect.

Tommorrow,
it will be unreadable.
or
Tommorrow, it will be
unreadable.

Alison x

Author's Reply:
Thanks for this feedback. I had called this poem originally 'suicide manual, which was a bit of a play on a book explaining how to do it and also just getting on with the act alone. So, the word automatic was in a sense fit in ( automatic/manual). Don't know why but I changed the title and maybe it lost something because of it.

With regard to the end, I was training to put across the ideas that sometimes the things we do today, mean little the next day. Also, if if the suicide in this poem had been a success, there would have been no explanation, which sometimes makes the act harder to understand as those left behind have no context for the decision.

I suppose I was trying to touch on futility in thus poem.

Thanks again.

Carl


Personal Geography (posted on: 23-05-14)
.

Falling asleep, whilst map reading, led to a change in orientation. Her early morning mind embraced the thought that they were like distant landmarks, living, linear, lives. Later, lost and lonely in the living room, led to a retraction. Picking up the phone, compassionate compass, a connection of sorts on contour lines. She slept caressing a cartogram of the past three months. In her mind an accurate depiction. That night, dreaming about the dialogue of distance.
Archived comments for Personal Geography
Mikeverdi on 23-05-2014
Personal Geography
I like this a lot, you have some great lines in here 'her early morning mind' I can relate to that Ha Ha! On the crit side I would loose the words 'That x2' they don't add anything and I think it would read better. Its only an opinion and offered in friendship.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Hi mike thanks for the comment. In terms of your comment do you mean the last line? Kind regards.

Mikeverdi on 23-05-2014
Personal Geography
Hello again, I was thinking of both.

Her early morning mind embraced the thought,
they were distant landmarks;
Living
Linear
Lives

Again it's only my opinion, kick it into the long grass if you want πŸ™‚



Author's Reply:

Elfstone on 24-05-2014
Personal Geography
I think there is a good poem here, but I think it needs 'tweaking'. I believe the layout could be altered to advantage and perhaps, as Mike has already suggested, a word or two dropped. This is definitely worth working on. Elfstone

Author's Reply:
Thanks for taking time to respond and your comments . I will work on it and republish. Kindest regards. Carl

Ionicus on 24-05-2014
Personal Geography
Definitely nice ideas and good alliterations.
Everybody have their own opinion on how a poem should be written. By all means listen to advices but if you are comfortable with your effort don't feel pressurised and stick to your guns.
Best, Luigi.

Author's Reply:
Thanks for your comments. I agree that it's all about opinions and it's good to hear what other writers think. I use alliteration as I think it helps the flow of poems and as mine are generally short, it helps the overall read, but that's my view. Thanks for taking time out to respond. Carl

Savvi on 28-05-2014
Personal Geography
I like the concept you have here, the form takes a few reads out loud (yes I do, do that) and it just sounds a little over cooked on the L's but other than that I enjoyed it very much. Best Keith

Author's Reply:
Thanks Keith, good to hear yesterday there is somebody out there reading our poems out loud. I do use alliteration a fair bit, but I agree with your comment and will bear it in mind in future.


Frascati (posted on: 12-05-14)
.

The first few bottles I enjoyed. Curious carafe. Love at first silhouette. An embrace of enzymes and sometimes, still, sips bring out that summer in me. Cobbled square, tables, chairs, views and air. You are a small town, a winding road from the capital. A striking silhouette. A place I chose not to live.
Archived comments for Frascati
dylan on 12-05-2014
Frascati
Really liked this-great wordplay and alliteration on
"Curious carafe.
Love at first silhouette.
An embrace of enzymes".
Only slight nit for me is the second last line-
"A striking silhouette".
As you`ve already used "silhouette", would maybe something like
" A sunlight shadow" be more effective here?
Anyway, fine poem.
Orrabest,

D.

Author's Reply:
hi Dylan. thanks for your comments. I repeat 'silhouette' as it is a reference point within the poem to a place and a person. i didnt want to lose that. i know writing is totally about personal preference. If used sparingly i dont mind repeating key elements of a poem, sometimes provides focus or a different perspective on something. thanks again for the comments. carl

Mikeverdi on 19-05-2014
Frascati
Been there and drank the wine, it was fun. Venice and Prosecco were better πŸ™‚ Love the poem.
Mike

Author's Reply:
Hi mike , it's just great to be able to put a face to the name. Do you think Italians who like pontefract cakes do the same thing? Thanks again.


This is Pewter (posted on: 26-08-13)


This has been a malleable, sometimes shining life. This has been a metal moulded, shining, but not a defining light. On a plinth, sometimes standing out, a chemical composition that could fool most for while. This is a malleable, sometimes shining life. This is my life. This is pewter.
Archived comments for This is Pewter
Nemo on 27-10-2014
This is Pewter
Or even swap the last two lines round. Pewter gets dull but your poem is good for a drink or two. I know how galling it is that hardly anyone comments on our poems. And it's getting worse.
Nemo

Author's Reply:


Vanessa Atalanta (posted on: 09-08-13)


And you came out of the chrysalis. This girl in crisis, moved to metamorphosis. Magical months measured by a wingspan. An open book, easily read. Admirable, entomology. Yet these words an apology, for stuttering, fluttering, love.
Archived comments for Vanessa Atalanta
amman on 10-08-2013
Vanessa Atalanta
Nicely composed. Particularly like the last 5 lines.
Regards.

Author's Reply:


Judy and Me (posted on: 29-07-13)


Because people come and go so quickly these days, we decided to stay together and walk by the river which flowed lapis lazuli. At some point we realised that our reflections looked different when we described them to each other and that the slightest change in the wind could make a big difference. Eventually we went our seperate ways. She headed on toward to the city and and contemplation means I will miss her for ever.
Archived comments for Judy and Me

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Wednesday (posted on: 29-07-13)


In this still-life there is nothing but saddness. I am a half-life without you, I want to live in you. In still-life there are trees but no breeze. Birds but no song. A sun that shines, but doe not rise or fall. In still-life their does not exist. There is you and there is me. Seperate, individual, unhabitual. Still-life is a half-life. Still-life means half-people and tonight I am half a person. Today I watched the sun rise and listened to birds sing. I watched branches blow in the breeze and felt the early morning sun on my face. I woke up smiling and you were lying beside me. Tonight you are gone. Tonight is still-life. Tommorrow is Wednesday.
Archived comments for Wednesday
Slovitt on 29-07-2013
Wednesday
swissterrace: you have precisely delineated the two states, "still-life" with "no breeze", "no song", a static sun, all part of "half-life". and then with him, waking smiling, all contrasted, all well. as you understand your life, he's necessary to complete you, give meaning. well written, very smart, you positioned with your life to work through. good poem, swep

Author's Reply:

swissterrace on 29-07-2013
Wednesday
thanks your comments. I appreciate your comments and response. kind regads. ST

Author's Reply:

stormwolf on 31-07-2013
Wednesday
Hello there
A couple of mistakes in the presentation that spoiled for me what would have been a really good poem.

In this still-life there is nothing but saddness. (sadness)

A sun that shines,
but doe(s) not rise or fall.

In still-life their does not exist. ?

Seperate, individual, unhabitual. (separate ? un-habitual)

I feel that if you had been a bit more meticulous it would have been really good. Sorry ;-(

Alison x


Author's Reply:

swissterrace on 01-08-2013
Wednesday
Alison, thanks for identifying those mistakes, I will amend the poem. Hopefully you liked it all the same.

Author's Reply:


Beautiful Regret (posted on: 29-07-13)


Sleeping all day and taping memories through the night, stoked up the fire of feelings he called regret. Realising that the scream from across town he heard at this time of the dark, might just be for him, reinforced melancholy. He wrote on paper how living with her was hard and how he would give it another try someday, should he have the chance.
Archived comments for Beautiful Regret
stormwolf on 31-07-2013
Beautiful Regret
Really enjoyed this. The brevity exacerbates the feeling in the poem.

Realising that the scream from across town
he heard at this time of the dark,
might just be for him,
reinforced melancholy.

Brilliant!

Alison x

Author's Reply:

swissterrace on 01-08-2013
Beautiful Regret
Hi Alison, thanks for the comment. i read it at work yesterday and it really cheered me up. Kindest regards. carl

Author's Reply:


Thoughts at a Party (posted on: 29-07-13)


This is the white room here you sit pretty. This is a life, in a world where happiness has disappered. Here comes the darkness and my fears rekindle. I am a uniform, you are a red sash around my waist. We are different. This is the white room and there are four exits. In here is the future, but I open a door and watch my life again. In here is sadness, a paradise lost and here is what happiness means, to be clean from you. I am an unfinished picture, you are the perfect circle. I stand in front of you and see disgust. How I dearly wish I was not here.
Archived comments for Thoughts at a Party
Slovitt on 29-07-2013
Thoughts at a Party
swissterrace: easy to be not there. or easy to say, easy. this is a finely thought, emotional poem, and a good one, the emotion organic to the writing. "unfinished picture/perfect circle", "disgust", and i too wish you weren't there. swep

Author's Reply:

swissterrace on 29-07-2013
Thoughts at a Party
Slovitt, again thanks for your comments.

Author's Reply:


Mrs. Jessop (posted on: 28-06-13)


Hey Mrs Jessop, Where d'ya get that get up? Your son died a hero, you live life at freezing point. And you want to get way from here. And you want to get away from it all. But still the sun shines, so brightly, so brightly on your face And stlll the sun shines, so brightly, so brightly on your face. But I fear rain. But I fear rain. But I fear rain. Hey Mrs Jessop, is that your flowered number? Living on coffee through the night. Spend your days in dreams in slumber, With his photo by your side, With his memories by your side. But still the sun shines, so brightly, so brightly on your face. And stlll the sun shines, so brightly, so brightly on your face. But I fear rain. But I fear rain. But I fear rain. Hey Mrs Jessop, Where d'ya get that get up? Your son died a hero, you live life at freezing point. And you want to get way from here. And you want to get away from it all. But I fear rain. But I fear rain. But I fear rain.
Archived comments for Mrs. Jessop

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Steering into a Slide (posted on: 28-06-13)


You were warned about the consequences of mixing crossply and radial, knowing that she could become detached, losing grip, over compensating, when cornering. Her tendency was to oversteer, she was light, deliciously direct, terrible in the wet. Drifting, sometimes lifting, causing extreme situations from the simplest of journeys. It was all to do with the flexibility of sidewalls, but her skin, a vulcanised valediction to a lost cause, was impenetrable. You were warned.
Archived comments for Steering into a Slide
Nemo on 27-10-2014
Steering into a Slide
but her skin,
a vulcanised valediction
to a lost cause,

Oh what a wonderful phrase!

I'm reading the whole thing as a metaphor, right?
What were the other readers doing?
Nemo

Author's Reply:
Yes it's a metaphor. We always remember our cars for different reasons.


In the Low Country (posted on: 21-06-13)


Six months' rent paid in advance. A white walled, three roomed, salient, dug in, deep in, the Ardennes. At night you would find them outside, drinking Riesling. They often ordered a litre sojourning for around two hours. Although they believed in etiquette, both had elbows on the table with hands holding smiling faces, it was in these places where they were happy. Six months' rent paid in advance caused casualties on both sides. Heavy artillery rolled through in the latter months leaving an armistice empty, white walled, three roomed, silent salient, somewhere south of Couvin.
Archived comments for In the Low Country
japanesewind on 22-06-2013
In the Low Country
Really enjoyed this S.T. compact and just enough to give the reader a way in without bogging the poem down, good imagery in latter half of stanza 2.

Thanks...D

Had to imagine "salient". I have tried to get an image on-screen but have failed up to now.

Author's Reply:
please see my comment on website. thanks

dylan on 23-06-2013
In the Low Country
Evocative, with vivid descriptions-
"A white walled, three roomed,
salient,
dug in,
deep in,
the Ardennes."

Would changing the last line- "somewhere south of Couvin"-to "Deep in the Ardennes " help with the overall flow?
Just a thought-it`s a very well written poem.

D.



Author's Reply:

swissterrace on 23-06-2013
In the Low Country
thanks Japanesewind. i find it hard to write long poems, so try to keep them to a minimum, maybe this is sometimes to the detrimeent of the piece.

with the he word 'salient' i tried to keep some of the imagery around war. my grandad fought in the Caen salient just after d-day and he said it was an awful battle. its a word that has lived with me for a long time.

thanks again.

Author's Reply:

swissterrace on 23-06-2013
In the Low Country
Dylan thanks for your kind comments. I appreciate your comment regarding the the place name. Although there is quite bit of repitation in the poem, I tried to give the reader something more to think about or explore.

The Ardennnes is a wonderful place, when I left university I worked in France for a while and visited some great places. The closest I get now is the Tour De France coverage on Eurosport, although that is great coverage and images are amazing.

Thanks again.

Author's Reply:

japanesewind on 23-06-2013
In the Low Country
"i find it hard to write long poems, so try to keep them to a minimum, maybe this is sometimes to the detrimeent of the piece"

Hi S.T. I think you judge the length of your poems perfectly....

enjoyed the second one in this series....D

Author's Reply:

Andrea on 23-06-2013
In the Low Country
Fabulous, really, really good. I go to the Ardennes quite often (I live in Amsterdam), and know the area quite well. The WW11 history is fascinating and horrible. And every town has it's tank in the main square...

Author's Reply:

Andrea on 28-07-2013
In the Low Country
ST, you need to reply to comments using the 'author reply' facility under each comment, otherwise the commenter won't know you've responded.

Author's Reply:


Dans la salle des bains (posted on: 21-06-13)


While wondering whether six months really is a long time, he washes his face with his hands, in one of three rooms, deep in the Ardennes. Rubbing skin against smooth porcelain, traversing face and thoughts, he realises that she has been running through his fingers, or falling fast, in the air, past his ears. Later a message on an antique mirror appears. Memories condensed. Je vais vous exfolier doucement.
Archived comments for Dans la salle des bains

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Dolores (posted on: 14-06-13)


Tears for the unborn fall without reason, saturate emotions a life effervesced. Tears leave no mark on the floor where they are the fallen, or in the world in which they fell. A tissue lies crumpled and unwanted. A friend who had soaked up sadness in that moment hour. Now discarded. As good as dead. Blue linoleum. Glass lake mausoleum. Where tears fallen, tissue, torn and tarnished. How the broken heart pumps complicated.
Archived comments for Dolores
japanesewind on 14-06-2013
Delores
Hiya Swissterrace, I find parts of this poem confusing.



line 4 verse one: what is a "life effervesced"?

especially in the context of the poem.



line 5 "in that moment hour" I struggled with making sense of this line.



Last line. "How the broken heart pumps complicated"



within the context of the poem the connection of this last line is not easy to decipher.



I would also have to ask Pumps complicated what?



hope this helps...David

One more thought, I like the "blue linoleum" "glass lake" angle, exept for this, if it is the tears that have made the "lake" in verse 3, we were told in verse 1 that they "left no mark"
hope that makes sense to you.





Author's Reply:

swissterrace on 23-06-2013
Delores
Hi David, thanks for the comments. Quite a personal poem and maybe that why I its probably confusing.

The linoeum bit is a way of describing floor coverings in a hospital, cold, clinical etc.

Broken heart pumps complicated meant exactly that really. the complexities of life, sometimes these things stay inside you for months, years; they become part of who you are. what this poem is about is something i think about eveyday.

thanks again, your comments help with future writing.

Author's Reply:

Andrea on 23-06-2013
Delores
ST, as before, JW won't know you've responded. as he won;t get a notification email to that effect (and you will get one saying there's another comment - your own :))

Author's Reply:


Mermaid (posted on: 14-06-13)


Amongst the seaweed and corpse like celebrities of day-time television, from 9.01 till 5.33 when her pearly skin and rapunzillian hair are battered and blood smitten, she is safe, but, immobile. And as the drugs wear off, she feels silica beneath her feet, climbs onto a rock and watches the waves wash against the kitchen door. Later, he returns, anchors her down by the throat and screams in her face, questioning why every room in the house is blue. Then, as he hits her head against the wall, she closes her eyes and dreams of the sea. One day she thinks. One day.
Archived comments for Mermaid
Mikeverdi on 14-06-2013
Mermaid
That hit's as hard as a fist in the face, an impressive write on an emotive subject. Well worth the Nib. Mike

Author's Reply:

Andrea on 14-06-2013
Mermaid
Yes, I agree - extremely good. Congrats on the nib and welcome to UKA (if I didn't say it before :))

Author's Reply:

cooky on 14-06-2013
Mermaid
Ooh I like this, out there with the best of writing.

Author's Reply:

freya on 15-06-2013
Mermaid
An evocative and powerful piece. Highly original in concept. I'm very impressed with the quality of your writing. Shelagh πŸ™‚

Author's Reply:

Weefatfella on 15-06-2013
Mermaid
 photo fd68aa69-bd2a-4057-8056-d78ca32405b1_zps7a968777.jpg
Very Impressive work.
Hard hitting and straight to the point.
Fantastic.
Welcome to UKA swissterrace.
Weefatfella.

Author's Reply:

japanesewind on 15-06-2013
Mermaid
Hello Swissterrace, a few thoughts after multiple readings.
Just a different take you may find interesting.

1st verse.
Line 4, "from 9.01 till 5.33" could be deleted, we all know when "day time telly" is.

Line 5, "pearly skin and rapunzillian hair".
both modifiers (pearly and rapunzillian) could be dropped, why? two reasons. they
are hackneyed and overused, and the poem for me has more power without them.

line 8, this line seems clunky, I think I can see why you have chosen the word "immobile" so that it portrays for the reader the state she has been in due to the "drugs", if i'm right I would consider trying to redo that bit. The last line could also be deleted without detrimental effect to the poem.

"Amongst the seaweed
and corpse like celebrities " Good opening line.

The whole of verse 2 is exellent, very imaginative,
loved the use of "silica" and the waves aginst the kitchen door.....

A slight consideration for this verse, in line 3 she has "feet", but a mermaid has a tail, hahaha.(only joking)

Verse 3, The only thing in this verse that dropped me out of the poem to consider were the lines below.
" questioning why
every room in the house is blue"

I couldn't decide whether she is still under the influence of drugs and is imagining the rooms being blue, but decided against that, as our "woman beater" would have to then be a mindreader.

Then I thought has she painted the rooms whilst he has
been out.
I am still trying to get that line to gel.

Once again, great second verse....David

Author's Reply:

Slovitt on 16-06-2013
Mermaid
swissterrace: a powerful piece of writing. that said, Safe 9:01 until 5:33, at 5:33 the battering takes place? perhaps

She is safe, if paralyzed.

pearly skin with its sea association works for me though rapunzillian is not so much hackneyed as a garbled word waiting to happen come pronuciation time. a distraction at the least and a break in the poems rhythm.

"And as the drugs wear off" and i'm wondering when this is happening, during the day of immobility? after the battering? the latter seeming unlikely as he's returning and i assumed from a day at work but maybe he's come home and been abusive and then gone out, only in your third stanza to return.

I like "every room in the house is blue" as it seems to fit in the suspension of your poem, though i couldn't nail down what you're trying to say.

1st stanza, seaweed and pearly, 2nd, waves wash, 3rd, anchors and dreams of the sea, and overlooking from its height your title, Mermaid. as i said to begin, powerful writing, each stanza with its own pleasures, and a couple of closing lines that have the ring of a promise. swep

Author's Reply:

swissterrace on 23-06-2013
Mermaid
Mike many thanks for the comment.

Author's Reply:

swissterrace on 23-06-2013
Mermaid
Andrea, thanks for the lovely message.

Author's Reply:

swissterrace on 23-06-2013
Mermaid
Freya, many thanks for your kind message. Very inspiring.

Author's Reply:

swissterrace on 23-06-2013
Mermaid
Weetfella, thanks for reading the piece and for the comment. hopefully more to come. cheers

Author's Reply:

swissterrace on 23-06-2013
Mermaid
Japanesewind, many thanks for such a detailed analysis. you are right about the feet/tail comment, although, i think in my mind the mermaid is displacement for what is happening.

With regard to the line about the walls being blue, i wrote this as something she had done and he had no control over. maybe it parts of the way of dealing with abuse.

In my mind this poem is one of hope over adversity, it is possible to survive and move on, but often circumstances mean that getting out the circle of violence is sometimes impossible.

thanks again.

Author's Reply:

swissterrace on 23-06-2013
Mermaid
Slovitt, thanks for your detailed discussion about the poem. I may have answered one comment about why the rooms are pained blue. In my mind she is at home, he is out, she is weary from the use of drugs. he comes home from work and it starts again. i used the exact times more to show how abuse follows patterns and she is aware of the exact times when she is safe. the tv reference and celeb references were an attempt to make the reader consider how these issues are often discussed on tv, but it is also actually happening. like two different types of reality. maybe should have tried harder on this. i am glad that your enjoyed your read.

Author's Reply:

Andrea on 23-06-2013
Mermaid
ST, you need to reply using the 'author reply' facility at the bottom of comments, otherwise the commenters won't know you've responded πŸ™‚

Author's Reply:
thanks, sorry didnt realise

Andrea on 23-06-2013
Mermaid
See? I got that immediately πŸ™‚ No need at all to be sorry, it's just that it's to your advantage. For example, japanesewind and slovitt will have no idea you answered them, unless they deliberately came back to this page.

Author's Reply:

deadpoet on 30-11-2014
Mermaid
Amazing writing Swissterrace. Amazing! I love your alias.

Author's Reply:
that is really kind of you, many thanks. means alot.


Saltpeter (posted on: 07-06-13)


I remember you like distant turmoil in the Caucasus, fuelled by petro-chemicals likely to ignite someone's life, lovingly and luminously, but with no longevity, sometime soon. And as the flames die down and all that is left is a gasp of gasoline in the back of the throat, I am back in the Caucasus and there is distant turmoil. That is how I remember you.
Archived comments for Saltpeter
Nomenklatura on 07-06-2013
Saltpeter
This will do for me. Splendid.

Author's Reply:
many thanks, great comment.

chant_z on 07-06-2013
Saltpeter
Very good. No wonder it has a "Great read" on it.

Author's Reply:
Many thanks for a great comment.

Savvi on 07-06-2013
Saltpeter
Excellent piece very much enjoyed the alliteration and quirky content. S

Author's Reply:
thanks very much for this gret comment.

deadpoet on 08-06-2013
Saltpeter
Liked this very much and can quite understand the Great Read

Author's Reply:

Mikeverdi on 08-06-2013
Saltpeter
This is great and well worth the Nib. If I might offer an opinion...the 'and' word for me is unnecessary; a small thing and only my opinion. It doesn't stop me enjoying your work. :o) Mike

Author's Reply:
mike, thanks for this comment. i have also responded to some of your others comments on my recent poems. i now see the right way to provide feedback. thanks again.

swissterrace on 08-06-2013
Saltpeter
dear all, thanks for this great feedback and I take on the board Mike's comment.

Author's Reply:


listen to the da da (posted on: 31-05-13)
losing something, knowing where it is, but you cant find it

Listen to the da da Phil, Phil, come listen to the da da, quickly come listen to the children There was no reply for downstairs. Phil come on you will miss them Still no response. There was quiet in the house. Footsteps across the landing. Phil are you in the kitchen, please don't ignore me, you can hear them. Heavy feet moved across the hallway to the foot of the stairs. Issy, please don't do this now I'm busy Phil, just come up to the bedroom, listen to what they are saying Issy, I'm marking exam papers, I don't need this right now A few minutes won't make a difference, come listen With a resigned sigh he started to climb the stairs. Phil, listen, they're playing together in the bedroom Issy, please… Phil, isn't this great, they are playing together, so peaceful, just playing Issy, you know that this has to stop What listening to my girls playing in the bedroom on the intercom Yes, the intercom shouldn't be on Phil, you know how important it is Issy… We can hear them whenever we want But… I know that they are safe, listen Phil Issy, I'm going to make a cup of tea Phil, stay a little longer, just listen Issy, no. Phil, listen to their voices, so pretty Issy please. Phil, listen they are laughing. Issy, no more. Beautiful voices Children's voices My children On the da da Issy, stop it The children died three years ago I'm going to make that tea.
Archived comments for listen to the da da
admin on 01-06-2013
listen to the da da
Sad, but very good, I thought. Interesting layout, too. Welcome to UKA!

Author's Reply:
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