# Coveted Quarter



## Chesters Daughter (Aug 26, 2017)

An oldie:

Coveted Quarter

The breeze is scented
by contentment
as it coaxes crinkling leaves
and neighbors' chimes
to compose my autumnal lullaby. 

So sweet a serenade
begs my eyes
to peer past a useless screen
and focus upon the vibrancy
of fall's gently swaying orchestra.
It's finally my time.

Three starving senses revived
abandon 
the two sorely awaiting sustenance,
alas, still neglected,
yet begging for rejuvenation
after being baked 
into annual comas.

One dreams of turkey and cider,
while the other
longs
to know the first snow
by trailing tips
through a pristine coverlet
on a kitchen windowsill
and beckons me to heft scissors
as rolls of happily patterned paper
are fingered 
to hit upon a perfect fit.

Not just yet
drowsy duo,
but soon, so soon.

Loath to be left out,
my mind rewinds
to find the future.
All galas done before
are unceremoniously
shown the door.

Four fall born babies
in need of celebration,
their birth appointed days
staggered with holidays.

Busy, busy, busy,
but in the best of ways,
being fully roused
negates every nay.

January's torpor is lurking,
but wrapped in the warmth
of a newborn October's 
brilliant embrace,
I defiantly deem it
light years away.


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## Pete_C (Aug 27, 2017)

I like this. Then again, I like my mother when she drools but spits up on my sister and not me. It's kind of nice, and if you like kind of nice it'll work, but it didn't work for me.

If you have something to say, you've buried it so deep in a pile of banality that I can't really care to dig for it. There's a nod towards self pity, a hint at something, but nothing smacks me up the head. What's the point...

i know you'll take this the right way, but no! It's old, so let it go. You are better than this!

Be bold; so few are...


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## CrimsonAngel223 (Aug 28, 2017)

Yeah I'm not a fan of this rambling with all the imagery being thrown about, but it has some potential that's for sure.


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## Terry D (Aug 29, 2017)

What is poetry if not a medium to express our feelings, whatever those feelings happen to be when the muse (an evil, inconsistent bitch if ever there was one) decides to slap us upside the head? 

I enjoyed the poem. To me, it is a wonderful blend of contentment and melancholy. It flows well and falls easily on the reader's ear. Does it reach into the reader's chest and rip out their heart? No, but that's okay if that's not the intent of the poem. Sometimes we need to celebrate what makes us feel good as much as we need to express pain and darkness. There are strata of meaning within this poem beyond the surface celebration of fall. There are things left unsaid (fodder for other work?) and things that resonate -- the next to last stanza in particular.


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## midnightpoet (Aug 29, 2017)

Not every poem needs to be a deep-thought treatise on the vicissitudes of the human condition.  I agree with Terry, sometimes you can enjoy simple things (and there is more here than meets the eye) for what they are.
There are a few clichés, and could use some tightening up, but I liked it.  

I'm also reminded of the late Rod McKuen.  He's one of my guilty pleasures.  Come on, people, get a grip.:icon_cheesygrin:


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## sas (Aug 29, 2017)

For what it's worth, I hated Rod McKuen.  That's not to say I hate this poem. But, it is something I came to skim through. Probably because I like more grit, being from Detroit. There is a poem for everyone. Like ice cream favors.


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## Chesters Daughter (Aug 29, 2017)

My sweet Pete, I knew you would not like this, but I was a bit taken aback at the depth of your distaste. A little background on why this was resurrected. My first granddaughter/child will be the fifth "fall born babe" for me. My daughter-in-law miscarried her first child in early February and last Friday she and Haylee, who just achieved the gestational age of 26 weeks, were kept in hospital due to some complications. Both are now fine for the time being, but I freaked out so I dusted this off, tweaked it a little (horribly, I hate what I did, this needs more tightening) and put it front and center again to remind myself that "my time" is almost here so I wouldn't become a trembling mass of useless flesh.

As was already said in this thread, not every poem appeals to everyone, but disliking any particular subject matter does not automatically make a work subpar. When this was initially posted in 2015, it was reasonably well received, and was in fact featured in WiFs16 by invitation. It is a very rare occurrence for me to write anything that is not dark, and I've been chastised more times than I can count because my content steers clear of rainbows and puppies. Cran dubbed me "Dark One" with good reason and it's a nickname I proudly own. This piece is by no means my crowning glory, but for you to say "it's kinda nice" and that I'm "better than this" and should "be bold" stung just a wee bit. I am usually bold, but once in a great while something kinda nice comes, and it's usually personal, and I don't feel that a piece of this type somehow makes me lesser adept, it's just different and sometimes even I need a rainbow. I'm thinking the irony that the only time I come to life is when everything else is either dying or going dormant has gotten lost in all the burying I'm so fond of. I've obviously botched my layers because it's too troublesome to dig, but although some cliche exists, hard to get around that one when it comes to seasonal poems, my incorporation of the five senses is not banal in my opinion, but that does not mean I'm correct, it's just my opinion. Your mention of self pity worries me, that is not supposed to be in there, contentment mixed with melancholy as Terry aptly pointed out, as well as anticipation, were my only goals. Please point me to what is coming across as feeling sorry for myself and I'll rip that evil out from the root.

I'm so sorry this piece does not suit you, in a perfect world, it would suit more folks than it has, but it does have great meaning for me and I stand behind it although I admit that with two years of distance, my eyes now see it still needs work. Truly appreciate your time, love, you know how deeply I value your opinion. I'm sad I didn't cut the mustard.


Dear Crimson, me ramble? Never. Lol. I agree I'm guilty, too much blabbing as usual, need to tighten it further. I beg to differ regarding the imagery being thrown about, it's not haphazard, but if it is coming across as such, the fault lies with me not the reader. I sometimes bury significant points so well, they end up being missed completely. That shovel I so adore oft sabotages my efforts. Appreciate that you feel it has potential. Thanks to both you and Pete for your honesty.


Dearest Terry, Tony, and sas, Bless you all for taking the time to offer your opinions which are all appreciated more than you'll ever know. I was starting to worry this piece was complete crap that I stupidly convinced myself had some merit. Different strokes for different folks I can live with just fine, offering up substandard garbage that is a waste of everyone's time is something I cannot.

Excellent things to all.


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## Firemajic (Aug 29, 2017)

Chester's Daughter said:


> An oldie:
> 
> Coveted Quarter
> 
> ...




I find it very sad, and strange... that a poet of your exceptional skill would need to justify why you wrote a poem... As poets, we express our different emotions, our poetry is an intimate expression of the moments of our lives...so, as such, we write what/how we feel, honest emotion [hopefully] skillfully woven words used instead of paints and brushes... we share..

4th stanza... love the imagery of the snow on the windowsill... and the wrapping paper! I always promise myself I will be patient, take my time and wrap each gift with care....then by the last few presents... hahahaa, you should see the mess.... the last stanza is poignant, time stampedes on... and in the end, we are left with memories... thank you for a fabulous read...


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## Firemajic (Aug 29, 2017)

CrimsonAngel223 said:


> Yeah I'm not a fan of this rambling with all the imagery being thrown about, but it has some potential that's for sure.




I would love to know which imagery was thrown about, and I would love for you to enlighten me on how the poet could "Fix" the imagery, please give me a simple example.... I would love that


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## Pete_C (Aug 29, 2017)

Chester's Daughter said:


> My sweet Pete, I knew you would not like this, but I was a bit taken aback at the depth of your distaste. A little background on why this was resurrected. My first granddaughter/child will be the fifth "fall born babe" for me. My daughter-in-law miscarried her first child in early February and last Friday she and Haylee, who just achieved the gestational age of 26 weeks, were kept in hospital due to some complications. Both are now fine for the time being, but I freaked out so I dusted this off, tweaked it a little (horribly, I hate what I did, this needs more tightening) and put it front and center again to remind myself that "my time" is almost here so I wouldn't become a trembling mass of useless flesh.
> 
> As was already said in this thread, not every poem appeals to everyone, but disliking any particular subject matter does not automatically make a work subpar. When this was initially posted in 2015, it was reasonably well received, and was in fact featured in WiFs16 by invitation. It is a very rare occurrence for me to write anything that is not dark, and I've been chastised more times than I can count because my content steers clear of rainbows and puppies. Cran dubbed me "Dark One" with good reason and it's a nickname I proudly own. This piece is by no means my crowning glory, but for you to say "it's kinda nice" and that I'm "better than this" and should "be bold" stung just a wee bit. I am usually bold, but once in a great while something kinda nice comes, and it's usually personal, and I don't feel that a piece of this type somehow makes me lesser adept, it's just different and sometimes even I need a rainbow. I'm thinking the irony that the only time I come to life is when everything else is either dying or going dormant has gotten lost in all the burying I'm so fond of. I've obviously botched my layers because it's too troublesome to dig, but although some cliche exists, hard to get around that one when it comes to seasonal poems, my incorporation of the five senses is not banal in my opinion, but that does not mean I'm correct, it's just my opinion. Your mention of self pity worries me, that is not supposed to be in there, contentment mixed with melancholy as Terry aptly pointed out, as well as anticipation, were my only goals. Please point me to what is coming across as feeling sorry for myself and I'll rip that evil out from the root.
> 
> I'm so sorry this piece does not suit you, in a perfect world, it would suit more folks than it has, but it does have great meaning for me and I stand behind it although I admit that with two years of distance, my eyes now see it still needs work. Truly appreciate your time, love, you know how deeply I value your opinion. I'm sad I didn't cut the mustard.



First off, Lisa, allow me to apologise. Looking back my response was a little tongue-in-cheek. I did make an assumption that you would know exactly why I didn't like it, because I've badgered you about it in the past. It has nothing to do with the content, but how it is delivered.

Allow me to explain.

When you write well you use exactly the right words, in both number and quality. Many see this approach as stripping the work back to the bone, but it's not. It's getting it exactly right. People think of it as tripping back because the main issue with most poetry is the verbosity. What you do is by cutting out the flab and honing the content you 'concentrate' the message. It's almost distilled.

Many see stripped back, lean and tight writing as a technique for gritty and dark poems, because it makes them seem more gritty and darker. However, this is because the poem is delivering a tightly focuseg essence that enhances the reader's experience and talks them on a raw and powerful journey.

This technique works just as well with light, happy and uplifting poetry. It's about using exactly the right words, cutting out the fat and delivering pure joy, happiness, love, longing or even kittenness! In gritty poems the technique creates rusted barbs and splinters of pain; with uplifting work it is like bright splinters of diamonds of joy. It's delivering an experience that is total, even if it's not extreme. Exactly the right words, neither too few or too many, with the right phrasing, make any subject matter a joy to read.

Some poems have peaks and troughs, but each trough falls away as we ascend the peak. It keeps it exciting. Others merely meander and in that vagueness we lose scraps of the experience, until at the end we remember more what we didn't get that what we did from the poem.  That's what happened to me reading this, and I didn't expect that.

In this case, I felt the poem carried flab, it meandered and it didn't have the purity and distilled emotion I expect from you. Even if was meant to be loose and thoughtful, give me pure loose and thoughtful. I believe you are more than capable, and it's what I want to read from you.

I believe that certain poems exist in the time and space they were created. You revisit them and are surprised at your phrasing, because the poem is of another set of circumstances. I know this because I have many I've decided not to revise. Maybe this is one, maybe it's not. Only you will know that.

So, that's what I thought, and it was probably a little crass to make light of it and assume you'd understand. Sorry for that.


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## Chesters Daughter (Aug 29, 2017)

My dear Jul you are truly a jewel and a true friend. No words exist to relate the depth of my gratitude for your very complimentary words and support. That said, I was going to try to elaborate by stuffing fifty or sixty words that might possibly fit but didn't want the rambling disease to win out for once. I'm ever in your debt, Milady, you've honored me and I hope you know that I feel the same towards you. My eternal thanks and a bunch of big hugs.

Pete, I, too, must apologize. Real life has been flinging excrement of the foulest nature in my direction with remarkable accuracy for what seems like an eternity. In the last few months, its tripled the assault which has left me preoccupied and overly emotional. I'm far too quick to jump these days. I should have remembered my basics and understood your intentions without having to be spoon fed like a child. I failed to do your critique justice by not delving as I should have, and for that I am heartily sorry. That you expect better from me is a compliment of the highest order, thank you. I still struggle with verbosity, and a good deal of this piece is padding. I appreciate the spoon feeding beyond measure, though, what you wrote is perfect and cleared some of the cobwebs plaguing me. It will also clarify many important points for others reading this thread. Thank you so much. I pray you are willing to forgive my misstep and let it turn to dust in some filthy gutter because that's where I feel I should be right now for being so damned vacant headed.


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