Description: I recall having to stop at a certain Ladies Wear store in Windsor, Ontario after the movies some Saturdays to buy my mother stockings of a certain gauge and denier. The lower the denier, the more sheer the stocking, the higher the gauge, the more silky in appearance. Other than that distant memory, I have no idea where this came from.
Goodness, I don't know what more I could add to the array of comments you have collected. Except that this is by far, one of the best poems here I've ever read at Elite. Your talent is enviable, for sure. Please...keep writing, collect it all and bind it. Amazing hardly does this justice. :) ~kim~
Wow, I went to this one 'cause it had a cute little picture, but it is a beautiful use of many words that I have never even thought about using. I liked the way you stepped the lines like a run in a stocking.
I love this poem, and hope I'm giving it the understanding it derserves. You let someone get close to you, break through your barriers, symbolised by the tearing of the stockings. Now, awakened (sexually? I'm drawing on the eroticism of the stocking image), you're free to 'dance on silver-dewed clover, run through the rose-scented breeze'... but you walk alone. Rendered untrusting? I can't work out whether the narrator is glad to be rid of the stockings or not.
As you can see, this is a thought-provoking piece. I loved reading all the different interpretations people have posted. I'd like to give you some constructive criticism, but this is such a tidy, well drafted piece that I don't think I can. So I'll just say good work.
I'm glad you commented. Otherwise I wouldn't have made my way to your page and I wouldn't have found this.
The piece itself was powerful but coated in a very geisha-like philosophy that it affects without having to drill through perception. It was comfortable yet fulfilling.
The ending felt like you were implying the best kind of loneliness. Picture a New Year street party... no you don't have a date and no there is no one waiting for you at home... tragically, you got mud on your Manolos... and you smell like a hotdog stand. But then the fireworks show up. No, it hasn't been the best year... but there will be a tomorrow waiting for you at the end of the noise barrage. And you'll always have yourself.
Sorry for rambling.
No. I don't know what it's like to wear girdles or corsets or flowing white gowns... but we are required to wear suits in class... and I've been taught that you should use utensils for eating crab. So, in a way, I can relate.
Very good melding of your sometimes olde tyme sound with a modern piece so many will be able to relate to. Your diction is wonderful. So many words that aren't in common use, yet carry such weight. The meaning comes through loud and clear. I hope if this is autobiographical, that you are dancing on with a spring in your bare feet.
Oh my, I can see why this has a golden ribbon. The form itself resembles a snag.. The deception of someone that sneaks up on you, like you never knew until it ripped. Nothing to critique here, lady. This is silky smooth.. kind of like that deception that you don't even see coming. A new fave for me. +Jo
im new to the site and have just discovered this one and my its exquisite,beautifully laid out and teases the imagination whilst giving a glimpse into deeper emotions felt by the writer.As with a lot of coments i think this is flawless and the last stanza does it for me,thanks for a beautiful piece of writing graham
The body of the poem has a great visual appearance as the poem really walks you through it, and the end is climatic as that was your intention. The whole poem freedom to me well done.
run through the rose-scented breeze
and walk alone.
cool, very concise..sweet fragrance mixed with the happiness of being able to walk alone now.
Everything else I think has been pretty much touched, I don't usually read others comments because I don't like being subconsiously influenced one way or another. Great post though and I being new look forward to reading more of your pieces.
Wow this is really detailed and written very well..I can understand why you received so many comments on this. Though short, out of the other works of yours I have read, this definitely has to be my favorite. The metaphors were very impressive indeed, and I think the poem has a greater, more deeper meaning to it.
This kind of tells the reader how you escape the bindings of deceit and are finally free. I think it is interesting that you used stockings as the metaphor, something very original indeed. It seems as though your works are held to a high standard, and you never disappoint the reader by throwing out cheap garbage. All of your works are very deep, thoughtful, and impressive to say the least, and this poem definitely fits into that.
Wow. -It's so...detailed, and touching... like i can escape into a world that I've never seen before, almost as if im running through someone elses mind and thinking of ways to make it better, i really love this one, keep up the amazing work, i love your writings.
Exhillarating to read. Almost as exhillarating as that moment when the stockings come off and we can run free and unencumbered. I am humbled by your writing style. There is so much to be learned from you. I am so new to all this and I don't know where to begin. Your imagery was like a fairy tale;" gossamer"," sheerness", "silver-dewed clover" , What a feast to the eyes and senses. I love the way the entire piece rolls off the tongue and your choices of the words "dichotomy" and "pallid" intrigue me. Makes me yearn to be more original and unexpected in my own work. There are so many words out there to describe something, sometimes we need to be reminded to find them. This poem is one of my absolute favorites.
It's called serendipity isn't it? A fortunate accident that from which is penned a memoir of trust and how it can be lost. That you chose to anchor it to the image of spoiled stockings simply reinforces that feeling that he really didn't know what he was disposing of; that one sensuous and true was his. Always a beginning middle and end Ag and always satisfaction as a consequence. And all the other commentatators' words on scheme and construction notwithstanding, this is simply of remark because of its gentle allegory; its nod to how it can be if... Lip, cup, slip... I know. Hasta, K
Ah well, I've read the poem, so I'll make the comment (even though two hundred and seventy nine people are ahead of me in the queue. I liked this poem Sally for its coherence, the careful choice of all those special lingerie words I've gleaned over the years from women's underwear ads. There's a delicate line somewhere between the allure of the naked, cellulite free fremale leg and the horror of gussets and rubber corsets. Silk stockings just manage to stay on the alluring side of the great divide. Thank God you stopped writing hosiery poetry before the advent of pantyhose. Women have over the ages confined themselves in clothing supposedly to please men, but apart from the odd high court judge, most of us, I'm sure, would prefer to see you wriggling your bare toes in the wet grass. A neat, elegant enfranchising poem, Sally. Well done. Arthur.
So many have already commented on the elegance of this piece I almost feel redundant commenting at all.
I will say that the idea of using this run in a stocking to symbolise the breaking of a relationship (or thats how I percieved it) is really innovative and unique. It is complex and requires a few reads to catch all the symbolism involved, but well worth the time spent reading.
Excellent clever writing here. Also I have to wonder, is there some manner of symbolism in the structure of the piece or was that just for a neat kind of effect?
I don't know that I can top the comments that you have already recieved. I love this and plan to add it to my favorites. I personally always hated to wear stockings and I love the line of "bare legged and barefoot" Sometimes it seems that the things that we view as tragedy when they happen turn out to be the best things that ever could have happened.
I love it, the silk stocking as reality and it's tear (a unique observation) a ladder, by all means climb out of that mess. Clever! The second stanza is stunning, though all of it reads just right to me.
Then we enter the dance of joy upon having recognized the inconsistency being offered...
Now ungartered, bare legged and barefoot I dance on silver-dewed clover run through the rose scented breeze
and walk alone.
Just one idea, "silver-laced clover" it's the only thing I can find to even consider changing. Great write, Sally, thanks for this one, long live free spirits,
Brilliant! Definitely a FAV! There was a time when silk stockings were a treasured gift, usually given by a man to the woman in his life. Your poem plays off of this image. "Deceit" becomes a "snag" and "cleaves" the relationship into a "dichotomy". You are set free "ungartered, / barelegged, and barefoot"
I think your enhancing picture helps to set the tone for your poem. You should adjust the spacing on Stanza 2.
Just a well crafted, form (like a stocking run), language, and images of a relationship being torn apart by deceit. The ending is a glorius expression of freedom from both deceit and stockings. A modern ending to a otherwise classic tale. I loved it!
Well Sally. As something of a lingerie fetishist (but don't tell anyone! ), I was SO drawn to this!
And what do I like? That it's not so much about Lingerie as it is based on lingerie... how I love when a writer hoodwinks me with their artful application of a fine metaphor!
I would have liked to see more references to stockings and tights to strengthen the metaphor, though. Small touches? In one part, you described "silver-dewed"... there is a colour of stocking called "pewter" and that is such an unusual word... I would prefer you'd used that. In others... perhaps something using "opaque", "darning" (I tend to darn my "boring" tights when they snag, so that I dont have to buy another pair if I can mend them without it looking obvious!)
But then I feel bad saying that because if I look at it on a different level, there are already so many good threads that knit the stocking metaphor together.
I think that it would read more fluidly if you added some punctuation?
The first two lines of the second stanza are excellent, I love the word "cleaved" and also "taupe"...
What I like about this is that it begins as if when you are held to this person, they are as close, with their negative influence, as the second skin of nylon... and when you saw their sheerness and transparency, it's like you saw that you could be the same thing, the same legs (!) without them... and stripped free, unhindered of their cloying proximity, you were able to spring free, unfettered by their restraint. My brain hasn't been working very well this week and even now I am only just beginning to get myself together, I should probably continue to examine this piece but think I've done the best I can in the circumstances... I wanted to be a tad more critical of your pieces where I can because when I re-read my comments I sometimes get the feeling that I must look like SUCH a lick-arse... that's just the way your talent renders me helpless, though :P Huggies! Lea :)
i love how there's always so much of your own soul sewn into the lining of your writings, every word of each piece unmistakeably you. to me this is beautiful in the way well kept momentos of yesteryear are, sitting in their carefully recreated element of a museum display. i once had the pleasure of seeing a traveling exhibit from the Smithsonian museum, entitled "Americana" with the loveliest 1920s Tiffany lampshades and this is like that - in its element. okay, enough of my tangent.
the theme of these silk stockings throughout makes this the epitome of "poetry" in my mind, taking human emotion and dressing it with inanimate objects - all of my favorite poetry has a teacup or an hourglass embedded into it. and how wonderful that there is a happy ending, though not the traditional one i sort of expected, finding strength and support from the inside rather than from what one had so long depended on. to live life unfettered by someone else's inky blackness is lonely but worth it to attempt, if not always succeeding. great one, sally. so a fave. thanks for sharing. =]
Hmm yes I have read a short stroy about a pair of silk stockings, of course from early American literature. (For some reason can't remember for the life of me who wrote it but I guess that doesn't matter) Anyway, this was a newly styled piece for me, just how you wrote it and the actual visual image each stanza has was really great.
This seems to me as well to be something rather autobiography like. Maybe it isn't but it just appears that way. But this was a really nice piece I have to say I enjoyed it to a certain degree...
Somehow I sensed this about you, is this autobiographical? The only thing I would do is add two more words at the end, "and free" Good job on the layout, bet it took several tries and a lot of time! Dave
um, first i must say that this is reminiscent of that style oscar wilde once used, who is by the way, one of my favorite poets (go oscar! woohoo!)
there was nothing i could find to correct in this piece, because it was carefully crafted, carryin its nostalgic tracings throughout for the reader to breathe and exhale.
i had to read this piece aloud actually to catch, and let linger, those words.
you have no idea of where this came from do you? heh heh, happens to me sometimes, but some of our greatest works come from this 'void' of space and time. they come to us, and we know not why.
this poem seemed set in stone, that is, eternal, stoic in impression and outward appearance, something that could, and will be read by others for years to come. a truly, brilliant piece. i look forward to reading more from you soon. do take care.
This is cool cause I hate deceit and I hate snags in my hose! I hardly wear hose anymore...nice that it's acceptable to go without these days. I like the feeling in this that the run in your hose may have set the truth free, thus setting you free to
"dance on silver-dewed clover, run through the rose-scented breeze"
That image is tremendous! I wanna dance on a silver-dewed clover too!
Very nice write...freedom from hose and deceit is a good thing!
A carefully crafted, brilliantly written piece. Having done some research on the history and development of nylon, I brushed up against the silk it replaced fifty or sixty years ago. Yes, nylons run, but not like silk stockings. I think the old-time illustration fits perfectly. And I loved reading this piece. Thanks for sharing it.
My only question is about the first word, "Your". If "your" deceit was a snag, it should have put a run in "your" stockings, not mine. I infer all this from the third stanza. If it's "my" stockings that run, it should have been "my" deceit that was the undoing. That's my logic. Am I missing something here? Could it be "your" stockings that ran, and then I removed "my" stockings as well? Now you can see my mind running in circles here. I'm sure I'll do better tomorrow... :-) bent
Sheesh. pretty soon I'll get goose bumps just by reading your name. Genius again. You have this thing down to a science. What great presentation too. From your choice in illustration to the form you've selected, the choice of words, theme...man. Just when I feel I'm getting somewhere I want to throw it all away and start over!
You play the stockings thing to perfection, bringing the images to life while filling the mind with allusions. Your words jump off the page. My wee mind is running out of ways to say "you're brilliant".
yes. this is quite intriguing. this is a novel analogy and i like the way you made the comparisons between the concept and the feelings of deceit and such. you move well through your piece and it works well on an organisational level. i am not sure of the layout of the piece and the relevance conceptually. i could half see the running down being likened to the running of a ladder in a pair of tights, though it did not seem to work completely. perhaps if this is the case you may want to run it down further? im not sure, but it just seems a little random to me. this is written very well and it is not too long wided or laboured, but to the point in an eloquent manner. i have a slight problem with your picture for this piece because it makes me think in very old fashioned terms when reading it and this clouds my own imagination of the situation. i think that the way you have written this is in no way a reference to the past but of the present, and so it seems a little irrelevant and misleading to me. just a very minor point to a novel piece, take care on1eday.co.uk
See, I don't think this piece is about Stockings, I think it is using it to represent something else. What that something else is, I dunno. You want ideas? Keep on writing original poems like this one, so many people write about passion and love and longing, no one writes about anything else anymore(well they do, just rarely) and this was something I had NEVER read before, and thus, I enjoyed the change very much. Thanks for that.
This is really interesting. I really think this is clever. I never thought of writing about stockings before, so that is very cool.
Your deceit was a snag, imperceptible at first then arrow quick slithering through a close-knit mesh of
I like that image. Deceit does spread "arrow quick" (like the old cliché of lies being ripples on a pond.
you cleaved pale taupe illusions in two and through that narrow gossamer ladder of shredded elegance exposed the pallid truth of an irreparable dichotomy.
"Gossamer ladder" is the best possible way of describing a run in silk stockings. I like how the split revealed the truth while the deceit was a snag.
Now ungartered, bare legged and barefoot I dance on silver-dewed clover, run through the rose-scented breeze
That's such a great image of freedom. It reminds me of women's liberation. Women gained rights as their clothing got less restirctive. We're free from garter belts, corsets, and girdles (but that was replaced with the pressure to be unaturally thin).
Sally, congratulations on winning the Gold for this delightful little poem. You've captured lightning in a bottle! This piece celebrates a tragic, if educational, (even if fictional!), event and meshes with a subtle eroticism to create a long lingering effect.
"Now ungartered, bare legged and barefoot I dance on silver-dewed clover, run through the rose-scented breeze
and walk alone."
I especially liked this last stanza and the images associated with being set free through the action of something destructive or hurtful. I had a little snag with the last line, as it seemed to clash with the images preceeding it (dancing and running), but maybe this was the effect you were after?
i dont know what half the words you used mean because i am not that smart yet, lol jk...but the whole poem sounds lovely and its like home made bread...ya know? you feel comfortable with it and its like i dunna...its very nice...i loved the way you put the stanzas its a nice touch