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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: La Ruca Cafédots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: comradenessie
    Elite Ratio:    6.5 - 626/539/110
    Words: 231
    Class/Type: Poetry/
    Total Views: 2005
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1469



    Description:
       A big thanks to alteredlife and Icarus for their helpful suggestions and any further ideas are warmly welcome.

    The photograph is of La Ruca. La Ruca is an upstairs cafe above a deli store of the same name. The family are from Chile.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsLa Ruca Cafédots
    -------------------------------------------


    Watching his too slender fingers
    twiddle the stem of a daffodil,
    placed with its friends
    in a clear glass vase,
    - a symbol of Spring
    on a cold March morning,

    she spooned the thick froth
    of her cappuccino, white
    as innocence or death
    and considered the quiet,
    young American opposite
    who sat drinking strawberry milkshake
    dark hair flopped across his eyes.

    She read the polite request
    On his white tee-shirt
    - ‘Troops out of Iraq, please’ -
    and tried to decipher what strange
    birds and beasts patterned the deep
    russet Mexican rug on the wall.


    They had spent the morning browsing
    through second-hand bookshops.
    He bought a sci-fi from Amnesty
    while she flicked through pictures
    of Gothic cathedrals – sitting
    secure with their loose change

    were tickets for the weekend's
    London demo - North of Samara
    1500 Iraqi and American troops
    and 50 aircraft participated in the
    biggest air assault in three years
    as Iraq slid further towards Civil War.

    In the La Ruca Café, South
    American waiters listened to voices
    singing in Spanish as the friends
    discussed the décor and wondered
    which bloodthirsty God
    was sculpted in stone by the stairs.




    Submitted on 2006-03-17 07:38:48     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      my God, what a great ending. I liked this all, the olny thing that ( here I go!) is the break between the two stanzas where the looseschange is secure and the tickets...I thought the boy and gal were secure they still some $ left and then the opening line to the next stanza made no sense.

    once I got bon board , I got it, but the openng is great, the sense of milkshakes and mildness, the "please" on the T shirt while such brutality has bee nthe way of the world from the bloood thirsty Aztecs and Mayans ( do you know what they did with Sting Ray Barbs?) up to women and Children in apartment blocks being blown to smithereens by 'smart' technology and shooting enemies with phosophorus bullets,,,depleted Uranium...Savagery and brutilization...but it lives in everyone of hearts...the stalemates of fear seem a better alernative...like street dogs circling an oil can, i meant bone!

    Steve
    | Posted on 2006-04-06 00:00:00 | by koster | [ Reply to This ]
      hello nessie!

    it's such a small world isn't it? the poem reminds me how fantastically multicultural Britain and how well humans can get on and how badly they don't when they let religion and nationalism divide them selves (sunni and shia, catholic and protestant... it's so very superficial).

    like Jase i think the first two stanzas need reworking slightly, but i'd do it slightly differently from how he has:

    "Watching his too slender fingers
    twiddle the stem of a daffodil
    placed with its friends
    in a clear glass vase
    - a symbol of Spring
    on a cold March morning

    she spooned the thick froth
    of her cappuccino, white
    as innocence or death
    and considered the quiet,
    young American opposite
    - who sat drinking strawberry milkshake,
    dark hair flopped across his eyes."

    just an alternative for you to consider.

    i love how relevant the poem is - how very today right down to the latest news from iraq - because poetry can often forget that it exists in the here and now and not on some immortal plane.

    thanks for sharing.

    Adam.
    | Posted on 2006-03-18 00:00:00 | by Icarus | [ Reply to This ]
      A revision for you to take a look at Ness:

    She watched his slender fingers
    twiddle the stem of a daffodil
    that was placed among its friends
    in a clear glass vase
    – it was a symbol of Spring
    on a cold March morning.

    White as innocence or death
    was the thick froth she spooned
    from a cappuccino; as she considered
    the quiet young American opposite
    – who sat drinking strawberry milkshake,
    dark hair flopped across his eyes.

    She read the polite request
    on his white t-shirt
    – ‘Troops out of Iraq, please’ –
    and tried to decipher what strange
    birds and beasts patterned the deep
    russet Mexican rug on the wall.


    They had spent the morning browsing
    through second-hand bookshops.
    He bought a sci-fi from Amnesty
    while she flicked through pictures
    of Gothic cathedrals – sitting
    secure with their loose change

    were tickets for the weekend's
    London demo - North of Samara
    1500 Iraqi and American troops
    and 50 aircraft participated in the
    biggest air assault in three years,
    as Iraq slid further towards Civil War.

    In the La Ruca Café, South
    American waiters listened to voices
    singing in Spanish, as the friends
    discussed the décor and wondered
    which bloodthirsty God
    was sculpted in stone by the stairs.


    The first strophe bothered me a bit... the syntax was a bit strange - my revision still is really. I think it's the successive commas you had in there that threw the rhythm off... it made it read out awkwardly I suppose.

    In your second strophe I changed some of the syntax around... put the 'white as innocence or death' first then worked the other parts into that after. Does it work for you? Just another angle for you to look at it from.

    I made a double space between your first three and last three strophes. It seems to give just the right amount of pause... totally subjective of course.

    Your fourth strophe that segues into the fifth bothered me a bit too... something in me wants it to be end-stopped as the others are... I tidied up your second one but I don't know how I would change your fourth while still retaining everything, you know?

    Review-wise, I think you paint a vivid picture... I'm right there beside you at this cafe watching everything that you do. And if you manage to do that to a reader, then you've succeeded.

    Once again, your political viewpoint regarding Iraq meshes in with what you write... while Gothic cathedrals (which I remember you writing about before) pops up yet again... these cathedral's must be a defining view of Bristol. Correct me if I'm wrong but that's my overall impression from what snippets I've read that you've written of.

    How many writers/poets have found a cafe to be conducive to inspiration? Quite a few, including myself I've noticed lol. I think it's the atmosphere, the people and the busyness of everyday life's surrounds... look at the French Surrealists... Andre Breton and all those fellas... I can't remember what that avenue with all the cafe's in Paris is called... it's famous for its cafe's and writers anyway... this reminds me of something along those lines, albeit without the surrealism lol. But you get what I mean.

    A wonderful piece Ness. And hopefully you take what suggestions of mine work for you and ditch the rest. I'm only here to throw you my two and a half cents lol.

    Peace,

    Jase
    | Posted on 2006-03-17 00:00:00 | by alteredlife | [ Reply to This ]
      How intriguingly interesting. You've managed to lift me from my chair and catapult me into the cafe scene you have so descriptively written about here.
    I like the inversion of todays news topics, the clothing of the patrons, the walls and ambiance of the cafe. It all blended together so nicely to create this wonderful piece.

    It took me to another place.. a moment in the lives of other people.. without even having to leave my chair.
    | Posted on 2006-03-17 00:00:00 | by Intricate1 | [ Reply to This ]


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