March 2nd, 2005 -- a work in progress? finished?

of_the_girl

Cradled in my arms is a shooting star
that I caught one lucky evening
without even a special net
or a careful trap...
just my bare small hands.
He loves my hands.

The sky is green with envy and whirls a whooshing wind --
it is storming because my baby is nestled in my chest
instead of tucked in a corner of her dark smooth depth
shining bright for all the world to see,
a celestial body among her other starchildren.

He is quite the fallen angel sent to make me smile,
sent to warm my cold skin, sent to be the subject
of pretty poems written by my slender hands,
the hands he loves for their fragile softness.

His eyes are closed and he's breathing slowly...
I get a high from every inhale and exhale;
watching him sleep is like seeing the moon and touching it with
my lips, tasting the icy nectar of outer space
on my tongue.
It's unreal. It's fantasy.

Too beautiful for words, and I caught it all in my arms.
I smirk at the jealous sky...

FinsburyParkCarrots

It's getting there, Jessie. here are a couple of suggestions.

I would cut out the phrase "The sky is green with envy". It's a bit cliched and you have enough imagery in the second stanza to show that the sky is jealous of you holding the shooting star without telling the obvious.
I'd also take out the words "fallen angel". Wherever you see a phrase that's over-commonplace, think how you could rephrase it anew in a way that's not too obscure but is still a bit more alive with novelty.

Also,when you use phrases such as "He is" or "His eyes are", you're telling a story and poetry is more about showing through imagery an impression of sight, thought and feeling.

Some such small editions will really improve this work in progress.

Kwyjibo

I come back from a brief absence from internetland and find a poem by the elusive jessie

how I've missed you!!!

drop me a line friend.

ISN

I like teh repetition of your hands being fragile and slender, but I don't think we really need to see you smirk....

Oxford Dictionary of Quotations

smirk: n. an affected, conceited or silly smile

I prefer to think of you smiling without smirking.....after all perfection should be at least attempted.....and your so close with this peom.....

ISN

oops....Oxford Reference Dictionary.....bloody dictionary of quotations has been ingrained into my subcounsciou8s.....

of_the_girl

I am the biggest nerd. I think I get a small high when I read suggestions, especially from people who I think very highly of as far as poetry is concerned. I wish I could edit my original post and make these lovely changes. Oh well, I guess I'll just copy, paste, fix and repost!

Thanks again everyone.

And Pat! HEYY! I'll drop you a line soon. Proooomise.

of_the_girl

Cradled in my arms is a shooting star
that I caught one lucky evening
without even a special net
or a careful trap...
just my bare small hands.
He loves my hands.

The sky is grey and howling as it whirls a whooshing wind --
my baby is nestled in my chest
instead of tucked in a corner of her dark smooth depth
shining bright for all the world to see,
a celestial body among her other starchildren.

He tumbled to earth
from the sky so fair,
to warm my cold skin, to be the subject
of pretty poems written by my slender hands,
the hands he loves for their fragile softness.

I get a high from every inhale and exhale;
watching him sleep is like seeing the moon and touching it with
my lips, tasting the icy nectar of outer space
on my tongue.
It's unreal. It's fantasy.

Too beautiful for words, and I caught it all in my arms.

FinsburyParkCarrots

Try:

The grey sky howls a whirling, whooshing wind --
my baby nestles in my chest

of_the_girl

Cradled in my arms is a shooting star
that I caught one lucky evening
without even a special net
or a careful trap...
just my bare small hands.
He loves my hands.

The grey sky howls a whirling, whoosing wind --
my baby is nestled in my chest
instead of tucked in a corner of her dark smooth depth
shining bright for all the world to see,
a celestial body among her other starchildren.

He tumbled to earth
from the sky so fair,
to warm my cold skin, to be the subject
of pretty poems written by my slender hands,
the hands he loves for their fragile softness.

I get a high from every inhale and exhale;
watching him sleep is like seeing the moon and touching it with
my lips, tasting the icy nectar of outer space
on my tongue.
It's unreal. It's fantasy.

Too beautiful for words, and I caught it all in my arms.

******

Thanks, Fins. You're so smart.

olderman

Fins is truly a master of literature and the written word..

however, your original poems are very beautiful Jessie.. Fins can help you with the literary but your beautiful imagery, in my mind, needs no edit... thanks for sharing your love with the jammers..