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Critical Analysis #1
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Social Gatherings With My Close Friends
| Critical Analysis #1 |
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Social Gatherings With My Close Friends |
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Trevor Senior Member
since 1999-08-12
Posts 700Canada |
Emmersed in room of familiar faces; like a dyslexic child nose deep in stacks of comic books, I stand shoulder to shoulder, ear open to redundancy, as if being there was not enough, as if being the story was less a tale. The smiles, a mere embelishment to match words, is cracking; a pillar which won't hold forever. I am not a man of excercise so why must I run from the seclusion of company and the isolation of groups. The struggle isn't feeling like I don't belong, it is feeling like everyone belongs but me. |
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| © Copyright 2000 Trevor Davis - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Poertree Senior Member
since 1999-11-05
Posts 1359UK |
Hi Trev ...just passing through quickly ... guess you must have been in a hurry to press send, a few typos: Emmersed embelishment excercise as a vignette telling of feelings which are distressingly familiar to me (lol) it was very effective ... liked the resonance of "story" and "tale" with the refs. in the first stanza ... gotta run philip |
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wordancer Senior Member
since 2000-07-30
Posts 809VA |
"The struggle isn't feeling like I don't belong,it is feeling like everyone belongs but me." Wonderfully said, a fine distinction. I well know the feeling, but never was able to verbalized it like that. Lady Nogs |
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Marq Member
since 1999-10-18
Posts 222 |
I like the message you present, but judging the presentation in and of itself, I think this is far from your best work! Of course you know I'm still a fan!  ) |
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Tim Gouldthorp Member
since 2000-01-03
Posts 170 |
Trevor, If its not a typo I'd add an 'a' between 'in' and 'room' in the first line. I'd also join the 9th line 'I am not a man..' to stanza below. Overall I thought the poem was quite clear. It might just be my own taste, but I would prefer more in the way of images or descriptions external to the narrators mind to convey that emotion might be better. You convey what the narrator feels well. But its hard to feel much sympathy for the character unless we objectively 'see' that which has this impact upon him. -Tim |
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Not A Poet Member Elite
since 1999-11-03
Posts 3885Oklahoma, USA |
Hi Trevor, I had a critique ready but then read Tim's. I think he expressed my impression better than I can. I certainly empathise with the emotion, I think most of us have experienced that feeling more that we would like to remember. And you expressed it quite well. But maybe more description of the cause would help the reader. Still, I think this is a very strong poem which must be read more than once to grasp the full impact. Thanks, Pete |
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warmhrt Senior Member
since 1999-12-18
Posts 1563 |
Hey Trev! I'll be nice, and won't point out your spelling or punctuation errors. ~smile~ I liked the concept...I know the feeling well, but I think that the last two lines essentially say the same thing, with no distinction. The only difference is moving words around, which can at times change the meaning, but I don't think that happens here. If you said, "I feel I'm not part of that group", or "I feel that they are all part of that group; I'm not", you are conveying the same feeling either way. Perhaps working with those words, and others, you could devise a way to accurately state your feelings. It was a good read, Trev...thought provoking, Kris the poet's pen...gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name ~ Shakespeare |
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Forrest Cain Member
since 2000-04-21
Posts 306Chas.,W.V. USA |
In a word excellent. forrest |
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Brad Member Ascendant
since 1999-08-20
Posts 5705Jejudo, South Korea |
Trev, You've got some great lines (first and last stanzas) here but as a whole I felt something was missing. Recently, I've been reading a lot of Whitman and since his stance is almost the exact opposite - almost a fight, a stand against alienation, I wonder if I just was't in the right mood for this one. I thought I'd post some Whitman to see if you can see what I mean: From Crossing Brooklyn Ferry 3 It avails not, time nor place -distance avails not, I am with you, you men and women of a generation, or ever so many generations hence, Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt, Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd, Just as you are refreshed by the gladness of the river and the bright flow, I was refreshed, Just as you stand and lean on the rail, yet hurry with the swift current, I stood yet was hurried, Just as you look on the numberless masts of ships and the thick-stemmed pipes of steamboats, I looked. I too many and many a time crossed the river of old, Watched the Twelfth-month seagulls, saw them high in the air floating with motionless wings, oscillating their bodies, Saw how the glistening yellow lit up parts of their bodies and left the rest in strong shadow, Saw the slow-wheeling circles and the gradual edging toward the south, Saw the reflection of the summer sky in the water, Had my eyes dazzled by the shimmering track of beams, Looked at the fine centrifugal spokes of light round the the shape of my head in the sunlit water, Looked on the haze on the hills southward and south-westward, Looked on the vapour as it flew in fleeces tinged with violet, Looked toward the lower bay to notice the vessels arriving, Saw their approach, saw aboard those that were near me, Saw the white sails of schooners and sloops, saw the ships at anchor, The sailors at work in the rigging or out astride the spars, The round masts, the swinging motion of the hulls, the slender serpentine pennants, The large and small steamers in motion, the pilots in their pilot-houses, The white wake left by the passage, the quick tremulous whirl of the wheels, The flags of all nations, the falling of them at sunset, The scallop-edged waves in the twilight, the ladled cups, the frolicsome crests and glistening, The stretch afar growing dimmer and dimmer, the gray walls of the granite storehouses by the docks, On the river the shadowy group, the big steam-tug closely flanked on each side by the barges, the hay-boat, the belated lighter, On the neighboring shore the fires from the foundry chimneys burning high and glaringly into the night, Casting their flicker of black contrasted with wild red and yellow light over the tops of houses, and down into the clefts of streets. 4 These and all else were to me the same as they are to you, I loved well those cities, loved well the stately and rapid river, The men and women I saw were all near to me, Others the same -others who look back on me because I looked forward to them, (The time will come, though I stop here today, and tonight.) 5 What is it then between us? What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us? Whatever it is, it avails not -distance avails not, and place avails not, I too lived, Brooklyn of ample hills was mine, I too walked the streets of Manhattan island, and bathed in the waters around it, I too felt the curious abrupt questionings stir within me, In the day among crowds of people sometimes they came upon me, In my walks home late at night or as I lay in my bed they came upon me, I too had been struck from the float forever held in solution, I too had received identity by my body, That I was I knew was of my body, and what I should be I knew I should be of my body. 6 It is not upon you alone the dark patches fall, The dark threw its patches down upon me also, The best I had done seemed to me blank and suspicious, My great thoughts as I supposed them, were they not in reality meagre? Nor is it you alone who know what it is to be evil, I am he who knew what it was to be evil, I too knitted the old knot of contrariety, Blabbed, blushed, resented, lied, stole, grudged, Had guile, anger, lust, hot wishes I dared not speak, Was wayward, vain, greedy, shallow, sly, cowardly, malignant, The wolf, the snake, the hog, not wanting in me, The cheating look, the frivolous word, the adulterous wish, not wanting, Refusals, hates, postponements, meanness, laziness, none of these wanting, Was one with the rest, the days and haps of the rest, Was called by my nighest name by clear loud voices of young men as they saw me approaching or passing, Felt their arms on my neck as I stood, or the negligent leaning of their flesh against me as I sat, Saw many I loved in the street or ferry-boat or public assembly, yet never told them a word, Lived the same life with the rest, the same old laughing, gnawing, sleeping, Played the part that still looks back on the actor or actress, The same old role, the role that is what we make it, as great as we like, Or as small as we like, or both great and small. Oh well, maybe next time. Brad |
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jbouder Member Elite
since 1999-09-18
Posts 2534Whole Sort Of Genl Mish Mash |
Trev: You have some great lines here ... especially the last two. One comment: I only got a good hint about the feelings of isolation after Line 8 and, because of this, you are left with only five lines to develop and illustrate those feelings. The last stanza was great but I think it would be better with more development. This, I think, would soften the transition from annoyed feelings to feelings of exclusion/isolation. Just an opinion. Like Philip, I found the feelings that you described "distressingly familiar to me". And all these years I thought I was the only one.   Very good work, Trev. Jim |
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pegasus111 Member Elite
since 2000-07-27
Posts 2219ocala, fl, usa |
Trevor..I liked the poem. so much has already been said, there is little else to say except I would use the word"smile" rather than the word "Smiles". also, I think it is important that the reader know what the author is thinking. If you have ever been in a situation like the author describes, you already know what the flavor of the situation is. they aren't all that different from one to another. at least you're getting feedback.. |
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Trevor Senior Member
since 1999-08-12
Posts 700Canada |
Hello and thank you to everyone who took the time to read this poem and comment on it. PHILLIP: Thanks for catching the typos. I did rush this poem a little bit, trying to stir the creative juices, been awhile since I was steadily writing. LADY NOG's: I think a lot of us have or occasionally have had this feeling. MARQ: I agree with what you said, it's not one of my better pieces and needs a lot of work. TIM: Thanks for catching the typo. I agree with you that the poem could use more indepth descriptions to better portray the feeling of isolation and to add depth to the main character. PETE: I think I, like you, feel the message is stronger than the actual poem itself. I kinda built the poem around the last two lines. Thanks for your input. KRIS: Same as I said for Pete. I will try a rewrite to bring it up to Kris'ian standards FORREST: Thanks for the compliment. BRAD: Yeah something is definitly missing in this one, needs more meat. I haven't read to much Whitman, he has some great lines. Can't blame you for not being in the mood for this poem after reading Whitman. He really captures the opposite of what I was expressing. Thanks. JIM: Good advice about developing the idea, I'm going to give this piece a rest and then I'll snap out a Trevoristic rewrite. "Like Philip, I found the feelings that you described "distressingly familiar to me". And all these years I thought I was the only one." What???? You mean I'M not the only one who has felt this way????? PEGASUS: The smiles are from the people around the character and not the character himself. I think I need to expand on the whole poem and try and make the scene more clear. Thanks. Thanks again to all who read and commented. Trevor |
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jbouder Member Elite
since 1999-09-18
Posts 2534Whole Sort Of Genl Mish Mash |
No, Trev. We're not alone ... only a couple hundred miles away from each other. Looking forward to the re-write.Jim |
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