I've been reading Paradise Lost at the moment, and your description of Eve fits the character in that poem exactly. It makes me want to read that part of the bible, so I can see what they have to say about it all. I hope their god didn't seriously want us women to be mindless and subservient.
Your ideas here are just lovely: like a wooden bowl falling to the floor, the rib being replaced with a knife, Adam giving in. I've noticed you have a knack for quirky metaphors, startling in their intensity and strangeness.
I also especially like how your metaphors are juxtaposed with very simple phrases, like your ending, or he is told to love. It makes your deftness with using imagery all the bolder, a sort of starkness between the two. Like how light makes the night blacker, though yours is not a night/day thing, I know. But it's that kind of opposition.
Have you ever read Katharine Kilalea? She's a quirky writer, too, though her style is very different to yours.
I love what you've done with the story. It really gets me pondering.
I like the start of this, but overall it feels in no way complete just now.
After the part about the knife for rib, this seems to fall away. The knife is metallic and so the wooden bowl doesn't seem the right fit. I smashed my elbow against a metal beam at work, that felt new and interesting, it reverberated through the whole of me but was also sectioned off and alien to me. And that kind of experience is the kind of place/realization i'd like to see happening here. 'mindless woman-child' = throw away for me because I don't believe it. I don't spend much time in books or bibles but didn't she convince him to take the apple? wasn't she a woman? and as such alluring?
The last lines are entirely unsatisfying, didn't Adam have a mind of his own and as such wasn't he responsible for his actions. No, for me this poem is unsuccessful if it wants to paint Adam as a victim of circumstance, if it wants to paint Eve as a shell. If that's your intention then you'll have to work harder to make the point.
Constantly dissatisfied. Even from the very beginning.
I like the (almost-) selfish, self-mourning attitude. The mindless woman-child. And what is Adam, if not a mindless man-child?
I like it... I dunno what to tell you. It's an interesting twist from the story my dad's preached.
I like that he woke hollowly. Hollow... Empty... Constantly dissatisfied.
I think you've captured something that's kind of eternal.
Like, like, like.
I should have been born in the valley
There's a lot inside my head, but I don't have the time or patience to sort through the muddle of knots to give you something useful.
Short pieces are usually glazed over, more or less... Details are generalized (etc), because there's not much room. Mistakes are ignored. But this is concise and exact, and it says more than a lot of epics. Or it leaves room for unsaid things to circle and breathe.
sheesh, there are many things i could take from this piece.
just some thoughts from the mind of...
i really like the idea of adam being lonely (sans rib). like he's missing a piece of himself and now this knife is there to remind him in painful little digs. and what for? a mindless woman-child? (which is interesting again, because eve ate the apple... which always leads me to say, well adam didn't have to...).
not sure where i am going here.
i do love - like a wooden bowl falling to the floor
it is a hollow sound the way it hits and rumbles and then finally settles into noiselessness.
this really is very resigned.
[censored] depressing, actually. haha.
i know, i shouldn't laugh, but i think it's a nervous giggle. one of those giggles where i really shouldn't have said anything anyway, but it's too late, so here i am, forging along and making a fool of myself.
why would eve be a mindless woman-child? rhetorical question, i guess, but one i asked internally. it's an interesting predicament you've placed my head in; i'm not sure what to think. perhaps because you turn this notion of god giving adam a wife to share this garden of eden with a totally different angle, one that speaks of sorrow and loss, when i figured it was the other way around. perhaps i'm too indoctrinated, even though i'm a lapsed catholic. perhaps i just can't get my head around it, this way of thinking.
part of me says this is completely outside of yourself; part of me says no, this is what you believe, and this is what comes out: that honesty that one doesn't want to confront, yet it all comes out in one way or another.
perhaps this is about predestination, that belief that one has to find the other, that other half, and that one doesn't really have a choice in the matter. perhaps that's what you say, that this adam of yours has had the gift of free will taken away. hence the resignation to what will come. hence the thrown away wooden bowl, perhaps filled with uneaten food.