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Poem rewrite of Soapstone.
| Critical Analysis #1 |
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Poem rewrite of Soapstone. |
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Forrest Cain Member
since 2000-04-21
Posts 306Chas.,W.V. USA |
Soapstone The space is slung low, barely enough room to stoop beneath weathered poles that underpin and hold our rough built home aloft. I help my father dig our basement, shoveling rock and hardpan clay, Arms streaked sweat and terra cotta, seepage mud between our toes. Our basement feels of empty cellars, black and blighted potato fields, coalminers dying and families divided... stories my father tells. I rouse to see him brushing something away from an unearthed stone, sun starved weeds under his footsteps, a bit of the green in his hand. He slips the soapstone in my pocket, explaining what properties lie within. Below our house an oak tree shades us, grey squirrel peeks from a limb. Years later he finds the soapstone neatly labled and displayed in my room, in the basement by a bluejay feather, and a turtle shell bleached white by the sun. He holds it up like something fragile, like a tadpole cupped in his hands. His eyes are clear mornings, and wild geese returning, switching their wings toward the sun. There's something fey and hills in his eyes, something like deenee shee, something of memories of Eire pipes playing "Mathair mo croi" and the open sea. forrest 2-01 [This message has been edited by Forrest Cain (edited 02-10-2001).] |
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| © Copyright 2001 O. Forrest Cain - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Potvaliant_Pen New Member
since 2001-02-09
Posts 3 |
Buried Treasure [/b] A horrendously trite title. I'm sure you agree. The space is slung low, barely enough room, to stoop beneath, weathered poles that underpin, and hold our rough built home aloft. Decent beginning, all said. The introduction is scene-setting and may induce the reader to continue with the read. I have no idea why you insist on separating the subject from the object of the final lines by using awkward and unwieldly line breaks. Your abuse of commas is inhumane. Underneath we dig our basement, Pray tell where else you would dig your basement? Above? shoveling rock and hardpan clay. Arms streaked sweat and terra cotta, seepage mud between our toes. More line breaks cry out for assistance. Please use line breaks to set out specific reading rhythms or to define important words or phrases. At nights i dream of empty cellars, black and blighted potato fields. Coalminers crying, and families divided, luck of the irish gone bad. And here the poem takes a turn for the worse. In the first two strophes, you set a scene in a very present-tense voice. You placed objects and actions...but with this strophe you depart on a wild fancy filled with esoteric dreams and it JUST GETS WORSE. And i look to see my father brushing, something away from an unearthed stone. Sun starved weeds under his footsteps, a bit of the green in his hand. Lessee, you started with "And" and then didn't capitalize that "I." Unnecessary descriptions and a total loss of the earlier subject. Slipping the soapstone in my pocket, he explains what wonders within. What does wonder within? I will assume you mean it as "what wonders dwell within" but you wouldn't use something that terribly cliche, now would you? Below our house an oak tree swishs, "swishes" although that's a pretty pathetic descriptive. leprachaun peeks from a limb. No, no dear poet, no! And sometime years later, Why do you keep beginning a strophe with the word "And." They don't flow at all or meld together remotely, so this must be the only way you have to tie them to one another??? Am I right? This line could have been "Years later" and sufficed. he finds the soapstone. Neatly labled and displayed, in my room, in the basement, by a bluejay feather, and a turtle shell bleached, white by the sun. Notice how this last "sentence" is actually a fragment with no predicate. Also confused as to why we need descriptions of all the other junk lying in your room. What does that have to do with soapstone, cellars, the Potato Famine, or a rough-hewed house? And he holds it up like something fragile, like a tadpole cupped in his hands, and his eyes are clear mornings, and wild geese returning, switching their wings toward the sun. Alas the gerunds run amok. This strophe is a fine one, but most readers wouldn't stay to see it. Here your descriptives have both clarity and generosity. A decent poetic attempt although the "And" thing is now literally driving me mad. And their's something fey, "there's" There's is a contraction of the phrase "There is." "Theirs" indicates a state of plural possession. and elves in his eyes, Wow. Elves. That's like nailing in the coffin. What's next? Rainbows? Oh wait...yes...down below I see rainbows. No, no, I won't read further. To do so would be cruel to you and me alike. something like coming home, something of memories of holding his mama, as she holds him in her arms. These memories i claim, from the leprachauns treasure, fair caught by my father and me, soapstones and basements, things that connect us, aeire pipes, and the open sea. And hidden behind his eyes and mine. Rainbows. Gold at either end. What happened to the earthy tone set at the beginning? Where did the concrete go? Why pile abstraction upon cliche upon nostalgia and pretend its poetry? This is a flight of fancy and a rambling one at that. With considerable attention to detail and an application of your wits, you could extract from this mammoth diatribe some worthy moments, I feel. [b] forrest 2-01 [This message has been edited by Forrest Cain (edited 02-09-2001).] |
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Forrest Cain Member
since 2000-04-21
Posts 306Chas.,W.V. USA |
Postvaliant Poet thanks for your analysis. Ealier version reviewed by Brad and a sample revision by him (alas not me). Still learning and have corrected what I understand. Will await further comment before revision. (you wasn't a proctologist in your former life by any chance) Just kidding forrest |
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Not A Poet Member Elite
since 1999-11-03
Posts 3885Oklahoma, USA |
Potvaliant_Pen, Welcome to CA. I see this is your first post. We encourage everyone to read the guidelines for this forum. You can do so, if you haven't, by returning to the main forums page and clicking the question mark to the right of the Critical Analysis line. Our goal is to improve our personal writing skills by posting our efforts and receiving constructive criticism from others. Critique, of course refers to the posted poem and never the poet. Check you email for a welcome message. Pete Imagination is more important than knowledge Albert Einstein |
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Brad Member Ascendant
since 1999-08-20
Posts 5705Jejudo, South Korea |
Forrest, Are you blaming me now?  PP, esoteric dreams? Your argument seems to be saying just the opposite -- that the references are too common, too well known. Are you sure you don't mean ecstatic? That 'sentence' lacks a predicate? The subject and the predicate are in the first sentence. The second 'sentence' modifies the first -- this is called a misplaced period or if you want, the subject AND the predicate are assumed. Gerunds? What gerunds? Brad |
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Forrest Cain Member
since 2000-04-21
Posts 306Chas.,W.V. USA |
Brad I would never foist my bad verse off on you. I was just making the point that I had seen a revision (yours) that created better structure and flow. This poem has been a learning tool for me, though I'll admit I'm still in grade school. But learning is half the fun. Blame you, never it was Elyses fault. Thanks again for your input then and now. thanks your friend forrest |
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mere enigma Junior Member
since 2001-01-29
Posts 18 |
Potvaliant, This style of critiquing is not generally used on this forum. How bout a gentler, more guiding look at other works in the future? Mere [This message has been edited by mere enigma (edited 02-10-2001).] |
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Not A Poet Member Elite
since 1999-11-03
Posts 3885Oklahoma, USA |
Hi Forrest, You've been away for a while. Good to see you back. I do remember the original but not very well. I confess I haven't had tiome to find it and compare. But, my impression is that this one is much more interestingly told. You managed to discribe a scene which I can almost see. I enjoyed the conversational tone you set. It helped me to sort of settle in and just absorb the content. Now that I've given you my impressions, I'll try to critique a bit. First off though, I am probably one of the world's worst at deciding where and how to break lines in FV so I won't go there at all. Yes, there are some grammatical mistakes but I think those are pretty natural in conversation and, this being a conversational piece, I wouldn't worry about them. In fact, it probably complements the story. I would work on the punctuation though. I see you have edited after PP posted. You have changed some line breaks and taken out some commas. I still think you have a few too many commas and for sure too many periods. It's true that poetry does take some liberties with grammar and particularly punctuation, but this should be done carefully, and when the missuse adds to the feel and it still appears that the poet really knew the proper usage. Rather than try to pick it apart, line-by-line, I think I'll take some liberties with your poem and just cut-and-paste and change the punctuation to my liking. I'll indicate my changes as: () = removed, [] = added, {} = my comments. ------------------------------------------- Soapstone The space is slung low, barely enough room to stoop beneath(,) {comma between preposition and its object} weathered poles that underpin and hold our rough built home aloft. I help my father dig our basement, shoveling rock and hardpan clay(.)[,] {period here creates sentence frag and breaks thought this is just a series of objects} Arms streaked sweat and terra cotta, seepage mud between our toes. Our basement feels of empty cellars(.)[,] Black and blighted potato fields(.)[,] {series separated by commas not periods} Coalminers dying and families divided(,)[...] {felt like a longer pause better here but not a period a period would again make a sentence fragment this is one of those tech liberties} stories my father tells. I rouse to see him brushing(,) {separates verb and object} something away from an unearthed stone(.)[,] {series again} Sun starved weeds under his footsteps, a bit of the green in his hand. He slips the soapstone in my pocket, explaining what properties [lie] within. {not punctuation but I agree with PP here} Below our house an oak tree shades us, grey squirrel peeks from a limb. Years later he finds the soapstone(.) {not the end of the sentence} Neatly labled and displayed(.) {same} In my room, in the basement by a bluejay feather, and a turtle shell bleached(,) {all one thought, bleached and white go together} white by the sun. He holds it up like something fragile, like a tadpole cupped in his hands. His eyes are clear mornings, and wild geese returning, switching their wings toward the sun. There's something fey and hills in his eyes(.)[,] {being conversational, the period may be acceptable here although technically wrong but I still prefer the comma} Something like deenee shee(.)[,] {same} Something of memories of Eire pipes playing(,) {I'm unsure of the meaning here so may be wrong} "Mathair mo croi"(,) {same} and the open sea. -------------------------------------------- Of course, you know this is all JMHO and may be entirely wrong. In any event, it is your poem so do as you see fit. Thanks, Pete Imagination is more important than knowledge Albert Einstein [This message has been edited by Not A Poet (edited 02-10-2001).] |
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pasqually Junior Member
since 2000-06-12
Posts 23West Virginia |
If one could look beyond the sentence structure, the excessive use of "And" or a misplaced coma they might feel what the heart's saying. Not always does something that flows from the heart make perfect sense to everyone, but you can be assured it does to someone. I've read many poems here, and not always are the grammatically correct, but my heart felt their pain, anger, loneliness, heartache, joy and happiness. As for me I choose that poem over any other. In the lives of many there are few things that hold such fond memories. This sandstone had great meaning. Being displayed among other items years later indicates that this sandstone was more than an object, but a symbol of life past, present and future. We must hold tight to this fragile life, lest it should crumble in our very hands. Ask a mother that's just buried her son how it feels to have that precious sandstone crumble and fall through her fingers. Ask an uncle that buried a nephew way before his time, ask an Aunt that still cries each day if they see the meaning of the sandstone. Yes, you to will then see that a sandstone place gently on a shelf, and lovingly labeled is more than what appears to the eye of one that's unwilling to see beyond what always appears to be properly written. Although we feel lost when we no longer can hold that sandstone ever so gentle in our hand we have hope, and we have the promise that one day we won't need the memory of the sandstone anymore, for we will dwell in the presence of the Solid Rock, and together again we will all stand. |
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Forrest Cain Member
since 2000-04-21
Posts 306Chas.,W.V. USA |
Pete thanks for your input. I'm grammatically challenged but am beginning to understand what an important tool it is. Very helpful. forrest |
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Forrest Cain Member
since 2000-04-21
Posts 306Chas.,W.V. USA |
Dolly thanks for your kind and loving words. My insurance has approved and come monday I can be reached at the Tired Cliche Home For Battered Poets. I'll be the one sitting in the corner going "faires and gold faires..." Thanks again for remembering. love butch |
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pasqually Junior Member
since 2000-06-12
Posts 23West Virginia |
Butch, I'm come visit ya at the home and bring ya a dictonary :-) Love, Dolly |
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Not A Poet Member Elite
since 1999-11-03
Posts 3885Oklahoma, USA |
Forrest, sorry to step on your thread for this but I think it's time to climb up on the soapbox for a couple of words. Maybe it has been a while since this was said. quote: This is at least partially right. The content is the poem. A grammatically and structurally perfect poem without content is pretty much worthless. But, on the other hand, what might be earth moving content straight from the heart but filled with mechanical errors still loses much of its impact because of the distraction of the errors. Although content often comes from the heart, and it surely does in this example, poetry is still words and language. These play as important a part in the end result as the content. The only way to express that emotion is through the language. If we are attempting to communicate our emotions through our writing, doesn't it just make sense to try to do it a clearly as possible? Producing the content is the difficult part to learn about poetry. Grammar and punctuation are just sets of rules and guidelines. It only takes a bit of study and practice to perfect these skills. But the ability to tell the story or express the emotion is a talent much harder to come by. Forrest shows a lot of this talent. I think his work will only become better by applying more attention to the mechanical details. I know he is working on that now. One more point to make. This forum is Critical Analysis. Our expressed purpose is to improve our skills, to learn to write by sharing our efforts with others and discussing our attempts at poetry. This includes both the good and the bad points. Unfortunately I am afraid that until we eventually become experts, if that ever happens, there will continue to be more wrong than right. That is the nature of the learning process. If we were writing perfect poetry, we wouldn't be posting it here for the purpose of improving. We would probably be publishing it in great books instead. If we only wanted to hear just the good stuff, how moving or heart-rending our poem is, then the place to post it would be Open. If, instead, we want to learn how to make it better (read that as what might be wrong with it) then this, Critical Analysis, is the perfect platform. Ok, with that, I'll get off the soapbox and let someone else have a go at it. Thanks, Pete [This message has been edited by Not A Poet (edited 02-11-2001).] |
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pasqually Junior Member
since 2000-06-12
Posts 23West Virginia |
Pete, I agree with everything you've said, my post was directed toward moPotvaliant_Pen. I agree this is a great place to have your poems critiqued. I for one really don't know the correct usage of all the commas, periods and breaks (all that stuff I read about), but I was somewhat angered by the distasteful criticism displayed by moPotvaliant_Pen. I've read many poems here, and never have I been made to feel that way, because I could always tell everyone's main concern was to help the person being critiqued learn the proper form of poetry writing. Shucks, I don't even know the proper way to write letters, much less to try and write a poem, and I'm notorious for slaughtering the English language. I said all of that of course so nobody would get out their red pen and correct my mistakes. With all that being said I will now HUSH!! |
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Pearls_Of_Wisdom Member
since 2000-09-02
Posts 175 |
My, this Critical Analysis discussion has become even more intense than usual! Oh well. I read to the end and it seems everyone's got what they needed to say off his or her chest, so I guess it all worked out in the end. Not that it's really my business. Um, anyway, about the poem.... I found it interesting and thought it seemed like a collage of two different themes and styles. What I mean is that it starts off being very literal, just describing a scene between father and son, and I thought it might be about their relationship. Then the soapstone is unearthed, and all that changes. The style becomes anything but literal. That's fine, though. I actually preferred the more ambiguous and descriptive section. My one suggestion, however, is this. Would you consider giving us, your readers, some sort of indication that now we've left the literal and are into the fantastical? I found it hard to mentally make the transition just all of a sudden because I had gotten used to the literal style at the beginning. Then, when I hit the second section, I had to read the lines a few times to understand them. Maybe this is where more accurate (for lack of a better word) punctuation might have helped me out. Anyway, I clued in after a few of the fantastical stanzas that you had shifted your tone and meaning. Plus, I have no clue what you could do to give your readers the kind of signal I'm talking about. And I don't know if I would suggest trying to use the same fantastical style throughout, because maybe what you have here adds to the meaning i.e. showing the contrast between the real and the imagined might mean that what's contained in the soapstone is more than what we experience in everyday life. I liked what you were getting at in the second section about all the meaning and depth that this simple stone had in it for the speaker, but I got a little confused by the references to Ireland and all that. Maybe I'm just not knowledgeable about history or geology, but there you go. I still liked the idea, though, despite this. And maybe this is one of those poems that must be read a few times before the meaning becomes clear. Anyway, this showed talent and I'm glad you're confident enough to take suggestions and try to learn from them. Good for you on both counts. I'll look forward to seeing you progress as you keep at it. Take care, Ashely |
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Forrest Cain Member
since 2000-04-21
Posts 306Chas.,W.V. USA |
Pete, thanks for your words. Poetry for me is a fun thing. I agree with all that you've said. Critique from this forum has been excellent and a vehicle to growth. P.V.s critique, though somewhat flip, was well taken and I hope to improve from it. My reference regarding the battered poets shelter was only for fun. I hope I didn't offend anyone. Hopefully my next efforts will be an improvement. thanks forrest Ashley, thanks for your encouragement. What I didn't communicate very well in this poem was the interconnection of our families roots. From the Irish potato famine through the coalmines of W.V. How my father was orphaned and as a child struggled for basic survival. No magic. Potato famine, bit of green etc. = Irish connection. The gaelic phrases mean fairy folk and My loved mother(an early century Irish ballad.) I hope to improve my future efforts. thanks forrest [This message has been edited by Forrest Cain (edited 02-13-2001).] |
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Potvaliant_Pen New Member
since 2001-02-09
Posts 3 |
I'm so sorry. I was confused. This is a wonderful poem, one of the best I have ever read. |
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Severn Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-17
Posts 7704 |
Your sarcasm isn't appreciated Pot. I'll keep what I think very short: Critique is very welcome here - it is after all the Critical Analysis forum. However to put it into one sentence - it is possible to critique without sarcasm. Perhaps you could try it? Many of your suggestions for this poem I agree with myself - I just happen to know that sarcasm doesn't ususally give you a receptive audience. Thanks [This message has been edited by Severn (edited 02-16-2001).] |
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Not A Poet Member Elite
since 1999-11-03
Posts 3885Oklahoma, USA |
Hi Kamla, Nice of you to visit our place. Actually though, I would like to elaborate a bit on your comment. Just as it is important to describe why one does not like a particular poem, it is also useful to explain why one does like it, if that is, in fact, the case. I would very much enjoy hearing just what it is that Mr. P_Pen finds so enthalling about this piece. Personally, I found it rather enjoyable for the emotion of the story it told although a bit rough around the edges, as I tried to explain in my comments above. I would, however, stop short of describing it as one of the best I have every read. But that is, of course, just my opinion. Now I must admit that I am not particularly well educated in the ways of poetry so perhaps I am missing something that Mr. Pen is able to glean from this piece. I would definately be interested in hearing. |
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