Babbling Drops

Rain plunks babbling drops on the skylight glass above…
                 Xylophonic riffs
                         ( jazzy counterpoints of
                         clustered rhythms)
                ebb and roll
                singing a sweet, wet, tinkling blues.

Shiny, chartreuse oak leaves
born just days ago
                joyfully jiggling under the gurgling drizzle.

Spring froths forth, foaming green.
My eyes limp across this languid scene.
The dripping tunes, tipping drooping leaves
become my only need.

I’m a little late with this poem, which was written in late Spring. I tried to imitate the rhythms of the dripping drops in the poem.

6 thoughts on “Babbling Drops

  1. I’ve read this poem out loud several times on different nights. I adore the opening line “Rain plunks babbling drops on the skylight glass above…”. Your ending is not nearly as strong, although it is still so creative. I like the thought behind the ending. I think it needs rephrasing, though with more “oomph.” You’re so talented that I don’t want to suggest any words. My word choices would pale in comparison and not be from your heart.

    Other lines that sing to me are
    “Shiny, chartreuse oak leaves”- ” My eyes limp across this languid scene.”

    The following is hard for me to write; please bear in mind that I only offer a critique this detailed for writing that is extraordinary. I’m sure most of your readers will love this poem as it stands. However, I’m only one woman and no expert! I’m taking a risk since you have said you do want feedback, so I’m offering a bit more, but it’s my opinion only so if you’re happy with this poem the way it is, don’t change anything.

    I’m wrting like we are in a writer’s group together, but it would be easier to ask you and show you how you’d come up with the fine-tuning, I bet right on the spot!

    When you read this outloud to yourself, perhaps you can hear where you might want to consider less words so the poem will ebb and flow effortlessly, like a piece of well-crafted music. This poem doesn’t feel or sound liquid. It feels a bit clogged, as if the words did not roll off your pen unlike most other pieces I’ve read of yours.

    In some areas, I think the alliteration, or description takes away from nature’s rhythmic quality you’re trying to express. Please listen to yourself read “Spring froths forth, foaming green.” That’s vibrant description, but if you’re aiming for smooth rhythms, reading that sentence emerges a bit like a tongue twister.

    I smile hearing that “gurgling drizzle”. Wonderful phrase: musical, visual, and kinesthetic. Again, though, perhaps less alliteration with the “g” for the preceding g- words?

    Ex. “singing a sweet, wet, tinkling blues” might work better with fewer adjectives. (I love the sound and imagery of “tinkling blues.”

    You write so beautifully, I think if you tweak this poem in places, it will emerge as another stunner in sound as well as word choice.

  2. Silvermoon, thank you for the thoughtful comment. I appreciate your trust, and your willingness to take time to critique. You are a kind and gentle advisor. I will certainly think about what you’ve written to me.

    Here are a few of my explanations for writing what I did. The alliterations are intented, though not as consciously as I would like. The poem is inspired by the “xylophonic riffs” of rain dripping on glass. The rhythms are meant to be halting, jagged, like the irregular drips.

    “Singing a sweet, wet, tinkling blues”
    joyfully jiggling under the gurgling drizzle.”
    “The dripping tunes, tipping drooping leaves.”
    These words are meant to be percussive, a muted “tinking”. Alliteration is the whole point.

    And the “sound” of Spring burgeoning seemed to me aptly described by a “fizzing” sentence. “Spring froths forth, foaming green”

    I think the main problem with the poem is it tries to do two separate things: describe alliteratively the sounds of plunking rain; and assign a “sound” to the emergence of Spring. But that’s what I was hearing and feeling when I wrote it.

  3. Hi Garnet,
    The percussive feel of the poem most definitely came across! When I read your poem the first time, I understood the reasoning for alliteration and agree. I still feel other words choices for some of that alliteration would work better, but that is only in very minor places. I quoted the whole lines to try to explain and I failed. I did not feel your entire lines should be changed. I tried, but couldn’t adequately express the very slight places that I felt could be tweaked. I’m retreating again to the silence of not becoming involved.

    Before I hush, I’m very pleased to read further feelings for the production of this poem. You easily create music with words. I can only imagine the incredible music you create sans words…….. You’re lucky to be gifted in so many ways. Perhaps, someday, I’ll be lucky enough for you to read something I’ve written, but until then, I shall continue reading, but I’ve muted myself.

  4. GEL

    I’m not sure why you are “retreating to the silence of not becoming involved”. I gave only support of your critique of my poem. I merely defended the choppy rhythms as somewhat intended. If I have the energy, I may change a few things.

    I’m finding I’m not enjoying writing for the blog now. (not because of you) I just don’t feel natural when I write.

    It’s funny, a few weeks ago I wrote that I wanted to hone my writing skills on the blog. What I REALLY want to do is hone my self concept, to answer the question “Who am I?” I think if I come back to writing for this blog, it will be more free, less structured, like it was when I started. I’ve actually been very intimidated by some of the professional writers whose blogs I found.

    Anyway, please come back and comment when you wish. I enjoy our electronic conversations.

  5. Dear Garnet,
    If you feel I wish to be silent because of your reply, that is not the reason at all! In a nutshell, my reasons are very similar to “honing one’s self-concept” plus I dearly do not want to ever drive anyone away from expression. (Yes, I hear you that it’s not me.) Maybe I feel too much. Artistic persona.

    Wherever you write, I entreat you to continue to do so, if it’s still bringing you enjoyment. As I’ve said since I first landed here, you have a rare gift with words. I wanted to encourage you, not dissuade you. I endure vacillations in self-esteem for areas I’m supposedly talented in. It’s easier for me to say the following than listen to my own words: write for yourself and don’t compare yourself to anyone. It’s fulfillment for *your* soul and to hell with anyone else! From freeing yourself of those expectations, you’ll create what you need and want to produce. As for your own internal expectations, well for me, that would be a thick book, so I will refrain from any advice in that area.

    Best to you,
    From my teal tinged eyes to the callouses on my feet, you’re always be a glittering muse, to me. Your words dance inside of me akin to the freeing ways I feel when I’m move into another world on the dance floor or when I’ve painted a piece of art that insists upon remaining on my walls, never to be sold.

  6. Fragile. Tender. Playful. Deliberate. Gorgeous. I’m thirsty now.

    P.S. I understand what you mean by feeling intimidated, but please do continue to write. I genuinely enjoy and find inspiration in your pieces.

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