The Edited Editions: Coffee Sonnet 4

4.

A cafetiere stands on the table. 

Loose leaf tea drifting in ever-greening

Water - as time drifts with it in a lull

For us, sat apart from our surrounding.

Sunk into the two sofas by the window,

Eyes closed but I see from constant voices.

Korvapuusti's cinnamon smell thrown

Across to nostrils, which begin to rejoice.

The air scolded and split like paper torn,

As the beans, ground and tampered compactly

Wait to line my tulip cup. Clasped to warm

Cold hands; steam rising, curling toward me.

And, in that, return to our window seat.

The moment where back to life I retreat.

The Edit

I found this week's edit quite difficult; again on reading back the original I thought it was disjointed and quite specific on either surroundings which couldn't be imagine...but that didn't add anything ("T is flipped here, made in cafetieres" for example) or on themes I'd already looked at (the kinds of people who frequent the cafe). 

  There were however lines that I liked and certainly ideas that I wished to keep - most specifically the sounds of coffee being made, which in the edit are used at the volta to snap back into the reality of life (noted by the cold hands, as before everything is homely and a sense of warmth is attempted). I like this volta largely because it is a definite parallel to the reasons I go to cafes and also works more effectively than the original's attempt at degrading the status of another cafe. This is something I have and will continue in my edits, the omittance of names, as it limits the availability of the poem to a reader; I would like to ensure a liminality to the cafes in these sonnets so that the experiences within them can be shared, rather than confined to the specific space I was in a year ago. Furthermore the constant voices in the second stanza allude to the fullness of the cafe and thus embodies all the people in the original that are omitted in the edit (families, students and lovers). 

  I think, on the whole, I manage to keep the essence of my original poem but create imagery that flows and is accessible - which is where I think the original fails: 'the dark bodies of other nations dear' was clearly something poignant at the time but the inability of my other lines to coalesce around this idea means it is empty of any real meaning. This is also why 'young tyke', something originally associated with the first line 'American retro writing', are both cut from the sonnet as they do not immediately provide that link.

  I am aware that talking of time and it slowing can be quite cliche and to attempt to lessen that I have linked it to the tea leaves, a moment in time that can be fixed upon - something similar to staring into a fire, I guess. 

  There are also reductions in obvious rhyme, something again I will probably continue as I think it can sometimes feel too forced and in some cases has pushed me (at the time) to create a line that doesn't necessarily work. 

  

Original.

American retro writing adorns

Your windows, two, sofas we sit upon.

I can hear your namesake, like paper torn

The sound of constant voices never gone.

T is flipped here, made in cafetiers;

But that is not the smell that pervades here. 

Ground and beaten, scolded, poorly it fairs

The dark bodies of other nations fear.

Beside Roberts' you are beside yourself

Serving better coffee that that top scum.

Bringing in youth let us drink to our health.

Like saunas, steam, lures our bodies to come. 

Families, students and lovers alike

Yet probably treated as the young tyke.

The Edited Editions: Coffee Sonnet 3

Due to the long explanation (which I can't always promise won't happen) I've put the sonnet first, so if you want you can ignore the editing process completely!

3.

Sat with a boy of the white fern, with black

Walls rising on all sides, and at our back

The ever present white seat of Luther.

Though it's here that I'll listen to my preacher

That bitter sable drink; harbouring me

From the blank sky and winds of Baltic sea.

And those who enter speak with low murmur

As we sedately relish in fervour.

From the cavernous street echo the screams

Of the graduates parading - in teems

Candy thrown from the hands of skin so fair,

Though demonic shrieks throttle the whiplashed air.

Interrupting the cramped space of inside,

So too the man with which I confide.

This weeks Coffee Sonnet caused a few issues; this is because when I read it through I thought it was terrible, there was no real focus and the imagery seemed to grasping at...well, not even strings.
  There were aspects that I enjoyed, a saving grace if ever there was one, and so this allowed me to concentrate on these parts and manipulate imagery to fit a different purpose.
  One of the main parts of this sonnet was actually that it was the first time I'd gone to a cafe with someone, I generally like to go alone and watch the world go by from a comfy seat. Whereas my friend Jeremy (a New Zealander, of importance later) in the original is introduced in the second stanza I immediately shifted him to the beginning - what this position allowed me to do was also introduce the consistent theme of black and white.
  To pick out the important parts of this theme also allows me to explain a few other choices made: firstly the little cafe we were in was predominantly black and white in design (HKI+), it also sits very close to the Senate Sq. where the Lutheran Cathedral dominates the skyline. The white cathedral also allows me to bring in a religious aspect to the black and white, though my intention is not to create HKI+ as an evil in comparison it is instead related to the warmth of both coffee and the cafe itself.
  We also seemed to pick a good spot for the end of school parade where students got in the back of trucks and were taken through the streets as they threw sweets. The reason hair is noted in the original is that this truck going by was all female and the stereotypical flowing blonde hair of Scandinavia was present - on reading this back I hated it, it is out of place and seems a bit too absorbed and so their character in the sonnet changes to the volta and they straddle both good/white (high up, fair skin etc) and evil/black (demonic shrieks).

  The third stanza is just s*** so I scrapped it.

Original

Cramped inside but with so much space to spare.

Black and white, screams echoing in the street.

Candy thrown by girls with beautiful hair,

The end of school paraded in a fleet. 

Sitting with a kiwi, men of the black

And white. The colour of HKI+.

The bitter sweet scent is taking me back:

Your soft touch, my senses lost to your musk

I cannot guess your usual clientele

But I am likely to frequent you oft'.

I imagine your summer, pray don't tell,

Under a parasol, loving and soft.

Next to politicians you stand astute,

But your modesty is beyond repute.

The Edited Editions: Coffee Sonnet 2

The second installment of my (hopefully) year long venture continues. I particularly struggled with the 3rd stanza and also what the volta would try and show. I think it is nicely summed up in the final couplet but I would right?
I still have issues with the final line of the second stanza though I like the imagery I'm trying to invoke, it may get reworked if a better line comes to pass. I also quite like the original end line in the second stanza but the perspective change from unreliable first to omniscient third required me to delete it. I also omitted the nominalisation of the brands for two reasons; first, so that all corporations can be seen in this and secondly, so as not to inadvertently mention them and therefore promote them subliminally.

Enjoy!

2.

Whore yourself to all and everyone else.

The cravings of a middle class custom, 

With faux leather seats and mass produced art

Across the city - but lacking in heart.

Chain corporations are one and the same,

Purveyors; of our materialism

Our addiction to their corporate crest.

We're never more than ten feet from this pest.

But even those with a discerning eye,

Who can taste the origins of Jamaica

Need the hit of the bitter morning start,

Even if from independence they depart.

Though soon again they realise their regret,

And the change in their pockets means much less. 

Original.

Whore yourself to all and everyone else.

Your prices seek a middle class custom,

Your abode with leather and song compels,

All over the city they'll err and um.

Do I enter at the door of low lights?

Watch out of your window, let life go past?

Let your thick warmth slip down my throat, tonight's

Not going to let me sleep, not so fast. 

A chain corporation you are to me,

Nothing special, you are far from the best.

People call you Robert's, but don't you see?

You're all the same a necessary pest.

Coffee, from Finland's own Starbucks like vein.

We will always need you, part of the grain.