SAND BETWEEN MY TOES

Poets post their works-in-progress here for crit and commentary. We want poets who are serious about getting their work published.
Post Reply
Message
Author
SnickleFrittes
Posts: 13
Joined: 02 Jan 2013, 00:38

SAND BETWEEN MY TOES

#1 Post by SnickleFrittes » 04 Feb 2013, 01:06

entering Hell’s Gates
I am stopped
Satan grins
“It is good
to see
you”

I do not
speak
there is nothing
to
say. . .
I stare down
at the red sand
it stares
back

I cannot feel
the dry
wind
as it blows dust
on an
empty
horizon

I see
men
weeping
they do not
see
me

in the distance
there is a mountain
that reaches
into the
endless sky

it is built
of worldly
things
gold,
dollar bills,
and
weapons:

everything
unholy

at the base
is a fire
that burns
white

the only
white
I see

it melts
these things
so precious
to the
world
into The black sludge
from which
they are
made

from my
guilt
I shed
one tear
it drops
down to
the sand
between my
toes

but I cannot
shed
another

I am dead.
my life is
spent

and now
I stand here
speaking
with the devil

FrankDyer
Posts: 227
Joined: 17 May 2011, 06:28

Re: SAND BETWEEN MY TOES

#2 Post by FrankDyer » 11 Mar 2013, 19:20

On entering Hell’s gates I am stopped, Satan grins
“It is good to see you”. I do not speak there is nothing to say. . . I stare down at the red sand, it stares back. I cannot feel the dry wind as it blows dust on an empty horizon. I see men weeping they do not see me. In the distance there is a mountain that reaches into the endless sky. It is built of worldly things gold, dollar bills, and weapons: everything unholy at the base is a fire that burns white. The only white I see it melts these things so precious to the world into the black sludge from which they are made. From my guilt I shed one tear it drops down to the sand between my toes, but I cannot shed another. I am dead, my life is spent and now I stand here speaking with the devil.


I put your poem into prose form so I could look at it without scrolling up and down. At first I had little interest , but as I typed it out and adjuted the punctuation I began to see some thing vaild, valid as a staement, or even as a narrative, hut I know you have not been there... to hell.

I do not reply would be more logical than I do not speak. I do not speak would be more apt if say Satan had not said anything to you, but as he has spoken it would be more refelctive to say: I do not reply. Stating that the sand stares back at you is a poetic device but I wonder if it is needed, we know sand is just sand and is not reactive to the poet or to any other thing unless worked upon such a s brickie mixing it with cement to form a mortar.

You say you cannot feel the dry wind, why can't you feel the dry sand, are there no emotions or feelings in hell? Isn't hell rpepared for a punichment for the wicked, if they cannot feel anything can it be said to be punishment. Surely hell is a place of misery and torment?

You see men weeping, so you have senses, but why don't you say hear mean weeping. It isn possible to see menw eeping and not ehar them especially if they ar ein the distance. I would have thought that you would be surrounded my millions, weeping and groaning in agony, why not say that...it is biblical.

I won't go on although I could say more in critisism.

I found the idea behind the poem interesting. I have not seen this for some time. In that respect it is interesting, at least to me. I think better presentation is required and more vivid imprssions called for, after all, hell is a stiking place and you seem to have dumbed it down somewhat.









Top

SnickleFrittes
Posts: 13
Joined: 02 Jan 2013, 00:38

Re: SAND BETWEEN MY TOES

#3 Post by SnickleFrittes » 12 Mar 2013, 07:53

thank you for the critic. There are quite a few contradictions. I think Ill just throw this one out, even though i do like the feel of it.

Michael (MV)
Posts: 1682
Joined: 18 Apr 2005, 04:57

Re: SAND BETWEEN MY TOES

#4 Post by Michael (MV) » 12 Mar 2013, 19:49

Hi SnickleFrittes,

of course Dante surfaces for this reader-writer.


Formally
I like
howthe poem
descends
down
the page


Workshop:

for this passage as:

I see
men
weeping
they do
not see
me


for this passage as:

it is built
of gold,
dollar bills,
and
weapons:

everything
unholy

^^ echoes the biblical tower - stairway to heaven


here as:

it melts
these things
so precious
to the
world
back into the black
sludge
from which
they came

but did
not conquer


^^ echoes dudt to dust


a vanitas (memento mori) poem

8)

Michael (MV)

 
 
 
 
 

Post Reply

Return to “Writer's Block - Where The Poets Hang”