The Edited Editions: Coffee Sonnet 5

5. 

Rosemary and cardamom on my tongue:

Infused in the air and the cold white ice

In my mouth, with undecided thoughts hung

Like my pen, waiting for an inky voice.

Looking for words to fill my empty lips,

As my fingers tread the page for the beat

Matching my heart, and the feet as they skip

Over the distant chatter in the street.

Peter! Time directs its hand to my face;

At least, my friends tell me its time to leave. 

Darkness rising and day ending at pace.

So them to me, and I to my pen cleave.

A napkin with blurred lines held in my hand

The noise of my unheard thoughts, as I stand. 

This poem has been the most difficult to edit so far; I think this is because I am starting to be much more confident and consistent with, I guess, a bastardised form of imagism and so I'm becoming much more aware of devices I'm using. 

Poetically there are some very obvious ones, "hung" being left at the end of the line with no punctuation and "skip/ Over" using the same device and paralleling the image. The volta is probably the strongest I have formed; by taking what originally started the poem and developing it with the imagery of time that I had thrown about the original copy there is a much more emphatic (thanks to the nominalisational exclamative "Peter!") snap into an awareness of the surroundings rather than the self and specifically the mouth. The dual meaning available to the verb "cleave" is very important as I aim to confuse the reader as to who takes either one - to part or to adhere to. 

I am still unsure of the final couplet though it  does tie in with the first two stanzas as well as positioning the persona in a stance to leave; this image I do like as it is as if the persona is leaving the poem as the reader ends this sonnet. It is certainly better than the original ending which at the time obviously shows my inability to understand the word kitsch and also passes a judgement which I don't particularly like. "Alter ego" is a reference to the name of the place we were at ("artelier ego") and is far too removed from the casual reader to make any sense of. 

The "Czech, Polish, Swiss and Dutch my friends, I think/ Wish to leave..." is a fun line and clearly the "I think" begins to question whether the persona fully agrees with the initial statement "my friends" but to why is left unknown. 

In an earlier edit I tried to keep the empty glass line too, especially due to the "empty on my lips" which is an image I have obviously kept for the final edit - but with a much stronger focus, as a persona that is trying to write words that are available to them but not articulated.

Original

Come on, food is your interest Peter!

So here I am in someone's home, loving

The dark, earthy colours. As I'm sat here

We are artists and we are coveting. 

Feet shall tread throughout the day in this place.

Rosemary and cardamom infuse their tastes, 

Harried am I, time staring me in the face

Second hands, arriving filling up plates.

This napkin that I write bleeds out the ink

The glass that I drink empty on my lips

Czech, Polish, Swiss, and Dutch my friends, I think

Wish to leave this place, kind words we go, tips.

Alter ego, taken with a twist, it's

Restaurant day in Helsinki, how kitsch.

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. 

Those Three Words

Three words.
I love you,
But they are not the words I heard.
Yet my heart still beats,
And mind tangles itself,
Over and Over.
Statement? Accusation?
Whatever, I lose
Synchronization.
Just. Don't. Lie.