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PostPosted: 23 Apr 2018, 21:38 
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Joined: 24 Mar 2018, 16:53
Posts: 55
Final Revision-

I lecture from notes:
the deep southern roots
of Flannery O’Connor,
religious suppression,
unforgivable sin.

Halfway through class
a Nigerian girl,
bold as Grace Jones,
glosses her lips
sign painter’s red,
engages in discussion
and insists that we all
have free will.

I find her attractive,
an unexpected idea
embracing the freedom
to choose for yourself.

Class comes to an end,
I shutdown my laptop,
she scoots between desks,
waves bye with her pinkie.
A Malcom X t-shirt,
she wears as a dress,
clings to her tights.

I greet my fiancé
who waits in the hall.
Properly Catholic she is dressed
in a businesslike pencil-tube skirt,
sips a small cup of coffee,
gone cold in her hand.

2nd Revision-

My achievements, deserving
of a tenure track, only net
one section of American Lit.

Inexperienced
I lecture from notes:
Flannery O’Connor,
religious suppression,
deep southern roots.

A Nigerian, bold as Grace Jones,
lips glossed sign painter’s red,
engages conversation,
asks about Baptist free will.

Class ends too quickly,
she waves with her pinkie.
The gentleman’s shirt
she wears for a dress
clings to her tights.

My fiancé, thin lipped
and properly Catholic,
waits in the hall. She is dressed
in a pencil-tube skirt, holds coffee
that cools her hand.


1st Revision-

Achievements deserving
of a tenure track but I end up
with one section of American Lit
and a job shelving book
in the stacks.

I am nervous
and lecture from notes,
Flannery O’Connor,
religious suppression,
deep southern roots.

A striking Nigerian, bold
as Grace Jones, glosses her lips
in sign painter’s red, is familiar
with Baptist free will
and unafraid
to speak out in class.

I shutdown my laptop
and point to the clock.
Tall and curvaceous
she slides between desks,
wears a long shirt for a dress,
waves a goodbye with her pinkie.

My fiancé, a freckled Irish lass,
waits by the door. She is properly
Catholic, dressed in a businesslike
pencil-tube skirt, has practical pumps
set firm on the ground.


Original-
Her lips, sign painter’s red,
African hair, pulled back
with her fingers then freed
to go wild like Beyoncé.

He lectures from notes,
Flannery O’Connor,
religious suppression
and deep southern roots.

His fiancé waits by the library.
Properly Catholic, she is dressed
in a pencil-tube skirt,
wears practical pumps
set firm on the grass.

He finishes early, closes his laptop.
She turns on her cell,
scoots between desks,
her Malcom X t-shirt
worn as a dress.


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 Post subject: Re: American Lit Adjunct
PostPosted: 24 Apr 2018, 06:33 
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Joined: 30 Jul 2015, 11:14
Posts: 709
Dale---


enjoyed the originality of theme, the descriptions.

pondered the pronouns.


is a contrast projected in the poem the traditional, older woman vs the woman in the final image:

She turns on her cell,
scoots between desks,
her Malcom X t-shirt
worn as a dress.


excellent poem.


bernie


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 Post subject: Re: American Lit Adjunct
PostPosted: 25 Apr 2018, 15:15 
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Joined: 24 Mar 2018, 16:53
Posts: 55
Thanks Bernie, I’m working to close the gaps between stanzas so the reader can make shorter leaps.


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 Post subject: Re: Adjunct (revision)
PostPosted: 04 May 2018, 03:15 
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Joined: 24 Mar 2018, 16:53
Posts: 55
Ok, closing in on this one.


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 Post subject: Re: Adjunct (revision)
PostPosted: 04 May 2018, 09:23 
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Joined: 03 Jun 2016, 21:03
Posts: 654
I like this....but I'm not convinced you need the first stanza. Why not just jump in? Bob


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 Post subject: Re: Adjunct (revision)
PostPosted: 04 May 2018, 09:26 
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Joined: 02 Mar 2016, 18:07
Posts: 1060
Location: Between the mountains and the sea
Engages [in] conversation.

The 'gentleman's shirt' is somewhat incongruous,
were would she meet a gentleman, the hussy. :)

Maybe a man's shirt. I actually much prefer this:
Quote:
her Malcom X t-shirt worn as a dress.


Waves [a] pinkie.

It's not Baptist to believe in Free-Will,
it's Arminian after Jacobus Arminius (1560–1609)
a supposed Calvinist. Bad theologian. :)

Maybe Arminian free-will.

Her ruby red lips are pure Berniesque. Well done. :)


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 Post subject: Re: Adjunct (revision)
PostPosted: 05 May 2018, 00:24 
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Joined: 01 Jun 2008, 09:17
Posts: 517
This is such an expandable poem it could be revised infinitely. I think the greater the contrast between the two women, the better.I like Catholic and I like Malcom X t shirt


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PostPosted: 05 May 2018, 20:40 
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Joined: 24 Mar 2018, 16:53
Posts: 55
Thanks to all for your input. I have included many of your suggestions in the final revision.


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PostPosted: 06 May 2018, 04:36 
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Joined: 03 Jun 2016, 21:03
Posts: 654
I like what you have done with this revision, especially with the last line... “gone cold in her hand”. That subtle change makes a big difference... polished, enjoyable poem


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PostPosted: 07 May 2018, 19:56 
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Joined: 18 Apr 2005, 04:57
Posts: 1293
 
Hi Dale.


Although I like the latest incarnation, I miss details/phrasings from earlier:


"Class ends too quickly"


"She turns on her cell"


" . . practical pumps
set firm on the ground"


^^^ perhaps these can be blended in



Also, I bring to your attention Fiancé vs. Fiancée:

http://www.dictionary.com/e/fiance-vs-fiancee/


re the current opening; workshop consider as:

With script-notes,
I nervously lecture from
the deep southern roots
of Flannery O’Connor,
religious suppression,
unpardonable sin.



a prufrock poem - "Do I dare to eat a peach/"


Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me



8)

Michael (MV)

  

 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 


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PostPosted: 10 May 2018, 07:59 
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Joined: 30 Jul 2015, 11:14
Posts: 709
The Woman at the Washington Zoo


Randall Jarrell

The saris go by me from the embassies.

Cloth from the moon. Cloth from another planet.
They look back at the leopard like the leopard.

And I. . . .
This print of mine, that has kept its color
Alive through so many cleanings; this dull null
Navy I wear to work, and wear from work, and so
To my bed, so to my grave, with no
Complaints, no comment: neither from my chief,
The Deputy Chief Assistant, nor his chief—

Only I complain. . . . this serviceable
Body that no sunlight dyes, no hand suffuses
But, dome-shadowed, withering among columns,
Wavy beneath fountains—small, far-off, shining
In the eyes of animals, these beings trapped
As I am trapped but not, themselves, the trap,
Aging, but without knowledge of their age,
Kept safe here, knowing not of death, for death—
Oh, bars of my own body, open, open!

The world goes by my cage and never sees me.
And there come not to me, as come to these,
The wild beasts, sparrows pecking the llamas' grain,
Pigeons settling on the bears' bread, buzzards
Tearing the meat the flies have clouded. . . .
Vulture,
When you come for the white rat that the foxes left,
Take off the red helmet of your head, the black
Wings that have shadowed me, and step to me as a man:
The wild brother at whose feet the white wolves fawn,
To whose hand of power the great lioness
Stalks, purring. . . .
You know what I was,
You see what I am: change me, change me!


interesting the contrast, the quixotic young woman in a T-shirt dress, the poets girlfriend---cold coffee, drab but functional appearance. the poet, stands at a demarcation line---the forbidden, the iconoclastic and non-European hawking over the poet like an approaching storm...

rich ruby of her glossy skin,
the eyes a dozen midnights,
her smacking confidence,
the impatience barely
kept out of sight,

my girlfriend, her tepid coffee
denuded with tan cream,
her feet carefully socked
and kept out of view....
her eyes in early retirement.


Randall Jarrell says,

You see what I am: change me, change me!



love this poem that defies easy rendering....

bernie


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PostPosted: 18 May 2018, 22:30 
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Joined: 02 Mar 2016, 18:07
Posts: 1060
Location: Between the mountains and the sea
I think its ready Dale
lots of work paid off.
Very nice.


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PostPosted: 19 May 2018, 03:13 
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Joined: 30 Jul 2015, 11:14
Posts: 709
I----


sure like the revised version.

descriptive lines like this fly by and grab me almost without my noticing:
,
Halfway through class
a Nigerian girl,
bold as Grace Jones,
glosses her lips
sign painter’s red,


just a grea job.


bernie


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