Adimurti
To be honest, I like this poem. I don't think you need any help with finding ideas that work well and learning how to recognise good ideas from weak ideas, but I think that working on following an idea to the end would be something to work on. I think I can see some transitions that you might have found without realising and that maybe led you from one idea to another (for example - turn a fish bowl upside-down and it looks pretty similar to a bulb).
I don't think there was much I could be terribly helpful with in this poem. It feels like this style is pretty much something you're in your comfort zone with and know your way around well enough to be able to produce a solid poem with some feedback and critique to tidy things up and maybe keep your ideas/transitions from feeling slightly choppy.
Would you like to post some edits on this piece and I'll re-crit those and give you some prompts to see if we can work on some of the things you mentioned in your form? I'm going away on Saturday (I'll be on my laptop while travelling, but then I won't be as active as usual until mid-week). So if you like I could post some prompts before then and that'll give you a few days to work on them before I'm back?
Hope you found this helpful. =]
Oh, very helpful. I definitely do need some practice with consistency, since I tend to switch metaphors whenever it's convenient rather than whenever it makes sense.
With the "clothy carapace" line I was really just trying to come up with a better way of saying "when I take off my clothes" and I'm a sucker for alliteration, but it is a little awkward, now that you mention it. I did feel like I needed the line to set up a sort of pun with "naked uncertainty," but I'm not quite sure if it gets there.
With this part
Quote:
but press a point too hard
and they send only testy nerve-missives in reply
I was really just riffing on the fact that they're boobz, hur hur, and honestly the whole situation is kind of absurd so I wanted to keep humor in there. But we'll see if I can't make it funny and have a consistent metaphor.
And I would loooove prompts. Break me out of my comfort zone.
3nodding I just don't promise great results.
xp
Anyway, so I've redone the first 3 lines (which turned into... 10. That's another thing, my writing tends to expand with editing) but "clothy carapace" is killing me.
gonk I should get another draft up today or tomorrow, though.
EDIT: Here's the next draft
It's the little cracks in my fishbowl mind
that leave my self-assurance gasping on dry land
and the little static shocks that send it belly-up.
So when this author ground impish feet into the rug
and tapped his finger on my water-home
it went off like a bomb.
One [Asian] writer's depth charge line about
how pink nipples must be more sensitive than brown
[which colors correspond to race, a thing I hate
for fish have no legs with which to run, haha]
and, shoving off my daily newsprint wrappings,
I find my little fish is stranded
for what once were the familiar rolling hills
supporting the dome of my sky-blue shirt
are now mountains of naked uncertainty.
I ask the tannish snowcaps if they can't reach some consensus
with the blushed pink peaks, but call too loudly among the crags
and you may invite a testy pebble
or an avalanche, the mountain's stern rejoinder
(they're sensitive, you know).
Perhaps I should be grateful for my quantum nipples,
but in my experience with milk and caramel parents
"both" is really "neither."
Color is subjective, but pink and brown aren't rainbow-neighbors
and the real question is "How yellow does that make me?"
A petulant mewl of "I don't know" may keep the world at bay
until your inner scientist dissects that forbidden portion of your heart.
[or, you know, other parts of your chest]
But stall too long and the impatient world will tick a box for you
and mark your mountains with unfamiliar monuments
and hand you a fish skin that crawls against your spine.
But really, if he hadn't gone and shackled my pink/brown breasts
to my epicanthic folds and amber skin
maybe I wouldn't still be tethered,
swimming my angsty circles when it's time to dry off
and put on a goddamn shirt.