Ripper's Lament (Edge)

was good both ways it was delivered here..your choice. eerie,nail biting fun...enjoyed the read. I like your dark side.

You should be proud of this piece, it has power. So many lines struck me in this dense work, but this one I adored: to the cold velvet fingers of the evening, I also loved the density of the work, no breaks, an exhausting, unrelenting tale, building, unpaused to the final stroke, the final line. Fine work.

....I shivered.

Nicely done, Cat, styx! Other than separating it into logical verses or break points, it seems quite well done. Thanks for asking me to read! Good luck with the final touches. :))) Patrick/AO

She is the Venus I’m watching from a distance making merry with her soiled sisters, buying rounds of mulled wine in the shabby brothel, fortifying their resolve against the dangers of the chilly night. Cat/Styx The opening lines grabbed me and drew me in. I loved reading this. You have a brilliant story telling technique. You took me there. Stunning poetry. Kaz It's impossible to smile on the outside without feeling better on the inside.

Awesome. The only real things I could put forward would be perhaps to quicken the pace of the ending a little more, perhaps shorter lines or something, i'm not exactly sure. I was just thinking that your writing about a very emotional, raw powerful energiezed moment, and the pace in the lines seems slightly too slow. On nother point I'd actually disagreed with both Patrick and Kaz, I like the one block form, seems more like a story, kind of like Keats' Hyperion or Homer's Illiad. You know what I mean! Kieran "Mind, how you go!" - Roger McGough's poem for LSD Awareness Week

Don't change a thing.Add to it ,maybe but don't change a thing and by add I mean more of the story,I didn't want it to end.Kaz is right ,your story telling is exceptional.Keep it up. Lacy, Where power corrupts,poetry cleanses.

This was such an amazingly told and atmospheric story Cat. I am a little torn as to what to suggest in terms of improving it because as a poetic story it is almost perfect although as a poem it lacks the structure which introduces and stronger rhythm and flow which takes it completely out of the realms of prose. In short it is, for me, a half-way house between poetry and prose which to be honest i really like. I guess the question for you is how do you want it to be? Small typo by the way, should be "alley". You are in a real purple patch period Cat, thanks for letting us all take the ride with you. Keith

I'm not for a moment suggesting that this form, or some other permutation of it, is in any way better but it is different. I had to take out a number of linking words etc to try and maintain a more poetic flow. You will probably hate it like this but who knows? Not even sure if I like it, but you did ask. lol. Always Keith She is Venus watched from a distance, making merry with her soiled sisters, buying rounds of mulled wine in the shabby brothel, fortifying resolve against the dangers of chilly night. Finishing my tot of gin, as the soft smile of a refined gentleman plays at the corners of my lips. Placing the empty vessel on the scarred, wooden bar top. Anticipating departure I cross the room to the door. Down the street in shadows, my carriage sits awaiting my return. From this vantage sits darkened comfort, sexual appetite whetted by the keenness of wanting. Expectation of night’s events to come rewarded by her exodus from the rundown tavern’s dingy light. She bids her friends farewell, going their separate ways. Pulling her shawl closer about her shoulders, she surrenders herself to the cold, velvet fingers of evening, slowly slipping into the firm grasp of night. The veins running through her soft pale throat and neck, fluttering like tiny white birds anxious to take flight. All her many charms highlighted in the dim glow of a gas streetlamp. The hard line of her jawbone softened by the thinning, yellow light and shadows cast upon the cruel, cobbled street. She saunters slow, unsteady down the avenue, an attitude of intoxicated affability. At my instruction, the driver follows down the street. Almost upon her, taking up my kit, deftly exiting the cab pursuit from behind overtakes with my stride... exuding good nature, a firmly taken arm guides her to the alley with its present of a generous coin where she grins, drunkenly pleased, raising her skirts, exposing invitingly, drawing me in. From the folds of my cloak, my tool is presented, a glinting flash at her throat, bathing in her life’s fire. Her scream drowns in a gurgle, as I dispatch her protest. My scalpel become manhood, quickly plundering her tainted treasures. I am gripped by raging hands of desire seized and firmly held by my needs. Still echoing in my ears, her death rattle reminiscent of a harsh laugh. Once again I'm completely alive, and revived (and she is immortalized). The true "prince of darkness" holding court with my whores!

I am still trolling about .... And here An early Edge poem ... I love the story of Jack the Ripper he really instilled fear into a whole city and that sort of story lingers as will this poem , I loved it its a raw telling and those are usually the best ... much love Jayne ... Loved this one Cat spoke to me while i was reading its amazing writing .. (hug)

I am long in answering you and I am sorry hun I dont think I got the email or if I did I may have missed it sorry (hug) but yes I have seen In Hell, I own it I am a huge fan of Johnny Depp hes a really exceptional actor ... another thing we have in common lol much love and hugz Jayne x x x We did not change as we grew older; we just became more clearly ourselves. Lynn Hall ...