# Baby’s First Halloween - 2012 (Mature Content)



## Chesters Daughter (Oct 28, 2018)

This Samhain
was his alone.

The babe was bathed
in a lunar spotlight
made by a moon 
intent on bursting
its full-bodied boundaries.
Unclothed and unswaddled,
he did not cry nor quiver;
the scent of ammonia prevailed
from his never-ending red-tinged river
which strove for the stars 
to mark the universe his own.

Chubby fists and feet beat
the frosty, worn slab of ebony stone,
a makeshift crib as old as time,
while revelers, as naked as he,
locked arms and writhed
in a circle about him.
Petechiae bloomed on infant flesh;
chanting crescendoed. 

Then silence, save for the solemn beat
of a single drum
fashioned from the skin of sacrifice
stretched across a hollow gourd.
Thus uttered the oracle:
"In one score and eight,
all kingdoms will be his, and ours.
Rise he will, until he can climb no further,
and with a vow, He will become."

The babe, yet plagued by an unpracticed tongue,
relied on eyes to accede.
Pupils leaked and absorbed whole orbs
while a hint of hellfire crackled for a second,
then in a blink, brilliant, trustworthy blue
resumed, ready to fool.

Thirteen huddled closer
as tiny fists and feet flailed
chipping stone 
and scoring the flesh of celebrants
who wore their wounds
like badges of honor.
Badly bloodied,
they twirled
and laughed
as ammonia rained upon them,
each relishing the sting
of mock stigmata

until entered the eclipse
freezing all, 
save for the babe,
who gurgled and cooed
as all babies do.

Then whispered the oracle:
"The autumn of 2040
will be aptly named the fall
yet ignored by hordes suffused
with blind adoration,
for on the first Tuesday
of a bleak November
the pinnacle will be promised
and mere weeks later,
the youngest President ever sworn
will take an oath 
without a bible in sight

and thus will begin
perpetual night.

I doubt their God can save them all."


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## ned (Nov 4, 2018)

hello - really like that long last verse - well-worded and fleshed with foreboding -

it could be poem on its own...............Ned


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## Chesters Daughter (Nov 8, 2018)

Dearest Ned,

Thank you so much, that you really liked the last stanza pleases me beyond measure, because you, sir, know your stuff. I’m oft told that portions of my poems could be poems on their own, but being addicted to rambling as I am, I’m reasonably sure I sabotage many of my efforts because “less is more” is certainly not my strong suit. That said, I’m tickled at your use of foreboding, even though it took me forever to get there, that was my foremost intention.

I really appreciate your sharing your precious time with me, dear, I value your opinion highly. 

cheers,
Lisa


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## clark (Nov 8, 2018)

his Samhain...…………………………...disregard crossouts through red text, first two notes below.  Can't get rid of them
was his alone.​
​
The babe was bathed​
in a lunar spotlight​
made by a moon        …...redundant​
intent on bursting​
its full-bodied boundaries.​
Unclothed and unswaddled,​
he did not cry nor quiver;.   ….perhaps 'no cries or quivers'?  Just a thought.​
the scent of ammonia prevailed​
from his never-ending red tinged river....'red-tinged' (compound adj.)​
which strove for the stars ….try 'reached' or 'yearned' or 'longed'.  _Strove _is such an awkward word.  Maybe just me!​
to mark the universe his own.​
​Chubby fists and feet beat​
the frosty, worn slab of ebony stone,​
a makeshift crib as old as time,​
while revelers, as naked as he,​
locked arms and writhed​
in a circle about him.​
*Petechiae* bloomed on infant flesh;..perhaps a more common word? Maybe 'red rashes', something like that?​
chanting crescendoed. ​
​
Then silence, save for the solemn beat​
of a single drum​
fashioned from the skin of sacrifice​
stretched across a hollow gourd.​
Thus uttered the oracle:​
"In one score and eight,​
all kingdoms will be* his,* and ours...…."His". be consistent.  Also, 'He" in next line​
*Rise he will*, until *he* can climb no further...,Inverted verb here is a hiccup for me. Why not normal "He will rise'...……?​
and with a vow, He will become."​
​The babe, yet plagued by an unpracticed tongue,...unnecessary​
relied on eyes to accede.....Imagery re:  the babe is wonderfully concrete throughout.  Here, there is a sag into his 'thoughts'.​
Pupils leaked and absorbed whole orbs​
while a hint of hellfire crackled for a second,​
then in a blink, brilliant, trustworthy blue​
resumed, *ready to fool..**...*this is TELLING.  Strive for a description. 'eyelids narrowing', something like that. Leave interpretation to the reader​
​Thirteen huddled closer​
as tiny fists and feet flailed​
chipping stone ​
and scoring the flesh of celebrants....perhaps 'scouring' is intended?​
who wore their wounds​
like badges of honor.​
Badly bloodied,​
they twirled​
and laughed​
as ammonia rained upon them,​
each relishing the sting​
of mock stigmata​
​until entered the eclipse​
freezing all, ​
save for the babe,​
who gurgled and cooed​
as all babies dr would this be better as an aside that isolated his uniqueness, rather that making him a part of normalcy?​
​Then whispered the oracle:...'whispered' is apt; given the prophetic solemnity, I wonder if 'chanted' or 'intoned' might work better?​
"The autumn of 2040​
will be aptly named the fall​
yet ignored by hordes suffused​
with blind adoration,​
for on the first Tuesday

of a bleak November​
the pinnacle will be promised​
and mere weeks later,​
the youngest President ever sworn​
will take an oath ​
without a bible in sight​
​and thus will begin​
perpetual night.​
​I doubt their God can save them all."

I really like what you've done here.  Political poems so often, if not usually, quickly become strident polemic, but by clothing the principals in mythic garb and using ritual as your vehicle, you've created a broad swath which IN ITSELF is a kind of deception that accords well with your intent.  You might consider PRESENT tense right up to the Oracle's speech, for heightened immediacy.  A solid poem.  Well done.
​


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## Chesters Daughter (Nov 9, 2018)

Wow, clark, much obliged, kind sir. It’s been eons since anyone’s taken such care with one of mine. You’ve made some very astute points and given me much to ponder. Unfortunately, real life has me in its clutches until the end of the weekend, so it will be a few days before I can flesh out the detailed reply this deserves. With such an in depth critique, I wanted to extend my thanks and appreciation immediately. Watch this space, I will return as soon as humanly possible. Yes indeed, much to ponder...can’t thank you enough for that.

best,
Lisa


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## Chesters Daughter (Nov 18, 2018)

Apologies, clark, real life is ever mucking up my intentions. Okay, I am so rusty, this will likely be very awkward, and I apologize in advance. I've always been a toddler when it comes to explaining the methods of my madness. My voice outside of my pieces is weak at best, and the more advanced poets have always been better at explaining my intentions than I am, lol. Here goes.

from his never-ending red tinged river....'red-tinged' (compound adj.)​Edited to correct

which strove for the stars ….try 'reached' or 'yearned' or 'longed'.  _Strove _is such an awkward word.  Maybe just me!​
I chose strove for the aural quality. I'm a sound junkie. I don't find it awkward, alas I'm a weirdo, but that you do suggests that perhaps I should replace it. Still on the fence, and finding a suitable sound may be an exercise in futility.

*Petechiae* bloomed on infant flesh;..perhaps a more common word? Maybe 'red rashes', something like that?​
Petechiae is common for me, a souvenir from much time in the medical community, lol, It also sounds far more ominous than bruises. I oft indulge in uncommon words choices, likely to the annoyance of some who read, but I just can't help myself.

all kingdoms will be* his,* and ours...…."His". be consistent.  Also, 'He" in next line​ 
The use of lower case for the first three pronouns is intentional and supposed to reflect that until he takes the vow, he is still lesser than what he is destined to become. Once the vow is taken, his true self will be revealed in full force, hence the initial cap on the final His. If it's coming across as a grammatical issue, then perhaps my intention is actually sabotaging the lines. If that is the case, I'll have no choice but to be consistent.

*Rise he will*, until *he* can climb no further...,Inverted verb here is a hiccup for me. Why not normal "He will rise'...……?​
I know word inversion is considered archaic and inappropriate these days, but in this instance, given that it's the oracle speaking, I wanted it be archaic to hint that he has been around an impossibly long time. Maybe it's not working as I intended, or maybe I should have peppered more archaic speech throughout for consistency. I also prefer the sound of rise he will to he will rise, but that's just a personal preference and not etched in stone.

The babe, yet plagued by an unpracticed tongue,...unnecessary​
"Yet" was inserted at the very end as an afterthought. It is supposed to indicate that even though he's the antichrist and is strong enough to chip stone with his extremities, he is still enough of a human infant to be denied the ability to speak however advanced his thinking is. If it's not working, I can lose it.

relied on eyes to accede.....Imagery re:  the babe is wonderfully concrete throughout.  Here, there is a sag into his 'thoughts'.​
I agree. I keep coming up empty, but that line needs to be swapped out.

resumed, *ready to fool..**...*this is TELLING.  Strive for a description. 'eyelids narrowing', something like that. Leave interpretation to the reader​
I agree. I actually thought of a perfect replacement in the  middle of the night, but neglected to write it down and then couldn't  recall it. I hate when that happens. Ugh. I'm still trying to  recapture it, I really liked it, but if I can't, I'll just have to come  up with a new one because that can't stay the way it is.

and scoring the flesh of celebrants....perhaps 'scouring' is intended?​
Scoring is intended for its following meaning:

3. 
cut or scratch a notch or line on (a surface).

"score the card until you cut through"


synonyms:
scratch, cut, notch, incise, scrape, nick, chip, gouge; mark 

"score the wood in crisscross patterns"




as all babies dr would this be better as an aside that isolated his uniqueness, rather that making him a part of normalcy? 
Should I isolate the penultimate line as well?​​Then whispered the oracle:...'whispered' is apt; given the prophetic solemnity, I wonder if 'chanted' or 'intoned' might work better?​​
I rather like intoned, but the whispering seems so much more ominous, their dirty little secret. Your thoughts?

I  really like what you've done here.  Political poems so often, if not  usually, quickly become strident polemic, but by clothing the principals  in mythic garb and using ritual as your vehicle, you've created a broad  swath which IN ITSELF is a kind of deception that accords well with  your intent.  You might consider PRESENT tense right up to the Oracle's  speech, for heightened immediacy.  A solid poem.  Well done.

I  appreciate the nod more than you'll ever know, kind sir. You are far  more well-versed than I, pun intended, can I get away with changing it  to present tense with that big old 2012 in the title?  I changed it in  my head, and yes, it does heighten the immediacy quite nicely.


I sincerely hope that wading through all my rambling wasn't nearly as bad as I fear it may have been. Being rusty at something I was never stellar at to begin with has likely left your poor eyes bleeding. My infinite thanks for the time you took with this, clark, rusty as I am, it felt wonderfully comforting to dip a toe back in the water.

cheers,
Lisa






​


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## clark (Nov 19, 2018)

Lisa -- I need to explain my motivation for critiquing.  First--the arrogant part.  I try to avoid detailed critique on poems that strike me as careless, ill-thought out, or just plain not worth the time.  Sounds haughty, but that certainly is not the intent.  Intense detail on a poorly written poem is devastating.  It is simply too much for a young or inexperienced poet to handle.  They are likely to stick their jaws out and vigorously defend the indefensible or turn in on themselves and get nervous about posting at all.  Lose-lose.  So I try to critique poems of merit that, in my opinion, need work to bring the heart of the piece out. Second, what I say is my _opinion _on issues that can be improved.  You did an admirable job of explaining and you demonstrated that you weren't throwing words around, you were thinking and feeling and working all the time, throughout the poem.  One thing: beware exotic or arcane usages or 'backgrounds' that are idiosyncratic to YOUR usage and experience, but may be too singular for your audience.  My father was a country doctor.  He once unthinkingly said to a Ukrainian laborer newly arrived in Canada, "I require a sample of your urine for spectrographic analysis by the laboratory." He handed the man a sample bottle and waved vaguely at the door to the bathroom.  When he saw the complete panic on the man's face he tried the request in different words--still no results. After a couple more tries, the lightbulb went ON.  He handed the man the bottle, took the lid off, pointed at his crotch, pointed at the bathroom door and said, "piss in the bottle."  The man grabbed the bottle and headed for the bathroom.  

We make those linguistic decisions every time we write a poem, and it can be hard work!  A word that may be second-nature to you, a word you use all the time, may whiz over the head of your reader. I'm told I own a big fat vocabulary, but I do not recall ever seeing, certainly never using *Petechiae. *Had to look it up.  But how the hell is the poet to know that might be the case with most of her audience?  Answer:  she can't.  If you need it for da beat and/or other reasons and YOU are comfortable with it. . .go for it. 

A different kind of situation: I did not read sensitively enough when I suggested "scour."  When I saw your explanation, it made sense.  So when a fellow poet makes an edit like that, you should ask yourself, "Hmm, is it clear I mean 'score'?  "So even when your critic is wrong or hasty, look closely yourself.  Make sure. 

I like the way you explained yourself point-by-point.  You knew what you were doing.  Where you accepted my suggestion as a better mousetrap, you explained WHY you were accepting it, and I had the sense that as you went thru the whole critique you were getting closer to your own poem. And I can only jump up and clap my hands to that! that's what workshopping should be all about. 

Hope you decide to do a revision.  Look forward to that.


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## Chesters Daughter (Nov 19, 2018)

Goodness, clark, I’m your dad! Guilty, guilty, guilty, lol, but I’ll  touch on that in more depth in a bit.

I was already honored that you took the time to delve into this, and am even more so given your critique MO. That this work was worthy based on your criteria pleases me greatly. I completely ken the reasoning behind which works you offer detailed critique to. I once critiqued almost every work posted. With the toddlers, I kept to basic technical flaws, and even though many cried foul, I was still blessed to see many others mature. With the advanced folks, I discussed the finer points of everything. So yes, I know exactly what you’re saying. I am super elated that you gave me the ability to explain my methods, and that the fact that I never go the willy-nilly route is apparent. Thank you so much for the opportunity.

Words are our playthings here, and I love me expensive toys. As a child, I read the dictionary for fun. I’ve had a lot of years to collect a lot of words, and to this day, I get excited when I encounter one I have to look up, another gem for the coffer. I agree that my using the lesser known ones sometimes confounds readers. I’ve had people thank me for teaching them a new word, and others complain that having to stop and look up word completely took them out of the work. From a poet’s perspective, that’s a death sentence. I don’t reserve the alphabetic arsenal for writing, I actually think and speak in the same fashion, and I never use a word I don’t already know in a piece. As you said, going uncommon likely alienates some readers, but refraining from doing so would make me untrue to myself, and being true to ourselves, as you already are aware, is of the utmost importance. I am also very fond of double meanings, allusion, and hidden tidbits, a good deal of which are lost in transliteration by many, but the advanced poets who know me never miss them. I love you, guys! I am aware of, and resigned to the fact, that my word choices, as well as my chosen devices, keep a good deal of less advanced folks from completely “getting me” because doing so is a complicated pain in the ass. Reading poetry should not be a chore, but more often than not, I make it one. I will never refute that my adherence to using the uncommon can be construed as foolhardy, but my pen will not allow me to become my own Judas. I consider myself extremely fortunate to be amongst the membership here because within these hallowed halls there are many, many highly intelligent individuals. So many gathered in such concentration is a gift indeed. So yep, I’m hopeless, but I readily accept the consequences of my decisions. Being stubborn is not one of my better qualities, lol, but even if I reach only a few, that’s good enough for me.

A full edit may be awhile in coming. I’m currently sorting some sticky real life situations, and until those are dispensed with, I’ll be denied access to “the zone” and without it, those replacement parts will elude my grasp. You’ve pulled me out of the silence of my self-imposed retirement, it’s been eons since I’ve discussed anything other than moderation out here, and I cannot thank you enough. Your examination of my piece granted me greater insight into my choices, and brought what did not work to my attention. You’re a true peach, and this has been great fun. I hope we get to do it again sometime soon.

cheers,
me


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