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i once knew a willow tree
| Critical Analysis #2 |
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i once knew a willow tree |
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Streen Member
since 2001-11-28
Posts 169
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the moon sparkles like a star tonight, willow tree. as i sit here, watching it making its way down down your boughs thin little slivers of leaves alit i think i see white silky bowery moonlit again. it was long ago, i recall, when the leaves so silky caught my eyes -for first the time- i, a lad, watched the sun (sparkling like a moon) as it sought the serenity in your swaying arms i was better than light then, as i brushed past a sunny field to your side i think i even caressed your draping verdure with fingers like the stars maybe that's why your boughs parted, and i entered. o fond willow tree, i remember whispering my secrets into the loft of your airy branches- sometimes the breeze would rustle likewise in return, breathing through the leaves murmurs of yours. and when the world outside would rumble i would tremble to your surface. in that way, i think i grew a part-a root- with you. then one day i left. so foolish, i uprooted a part of me a part of you, dear willow tree. the sun outside was shining like never before, but you still shined like silver silk. but i left for a time, and when day by day i came back a part of you had cracked, and no longer could i dance in your leaves or whisper into your branches. ah, o willow tree, maybe now i know why you wept. for day by day, night by night, i have sat here, rivulet weepings of my own. the loss, the root of my soul, i may never regain, the loss for to a part of me, nothing has ever shined like you, my willow tree. and to have split such a wonder, i weep, day by day, i weep staring off as the moonlight reflects like the ocean off your boughs. i only want to press my rough face against your silky leaves. whisper what i can dance what you will i know it may not be. but, at least i can say to others, "i once knew a willow tree, and none there was more beautiful, than my friend like a moon that was she." |
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| © Copyright 2002 Derek Benz - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Raz Member
since 2002-04-30
Posts 51Quebec, Canada |
Streen, I did pick (and pick on) your poem because I saw something there (and room for improvement)… the moon and willow trees are two of my favourite things. This critique as apology (fear I may again offend, but I am abrasive at best… take all of this with a sprinkle of salt and slice of lemon, not unlike tequila). You alluded to a particular form you were using that I was not familiar with. If you could explain it to me, I’m sure it would clear a few things up. The use of rhyme appears to me intermittent, and as to line length, I again am missing the form inherent within. When rhyme and meter are not used uniformly they at times become distracting, causing the reader to focus on the lines that rhyme or are metrically similar. This can be quite effective, but only when done to specific ends. Internal rhyme can be beautiful as well. For example: ‘alit, moonlit’, ‘me tree’, ‘back cracked’ (half-rhymes) are not consistent as not difficult rhymes in themselves. I may be a ‘newschool’ poet, but am somewhat critical of rhyme for no immediately discernible purpose. Rhyming is easy, rhyming well is what separates the boy from the men (and I do not pretend to rhyme well myself). I most enjoy your personification of the willow tree, the interlocutor of the poem, but feel it could be more complete. I want to get to know this particular willow tree. I want it’s branches and peculiarities described, so as to differentiate it from any other willow. I like the moon metaphors and imagery in conjunction with the tree, but am a bit sceptical about all of the similes… the moon sparkling like a star, the sun sparkling like a moon, fingers like stars, willow tree like silver silk, the speaker not shining like the willow, moonlight like the ocean off the willow’s boughs, the willow again finally like the moon. I would pick one or two of the most vivid/important similes/images and explore them further. Unless both the willow tree and the moon are directly allegorical, I would explain the images a bit more… give the somewhat abstract images more flesh. Though the moon sparkling like a star is conceivable, it requires more work on my part as a reader than is evident (or appears) in the poem on the part of the poet. If the moon can sparkle like a star, describe how. The potential for beautiful and memorable language is yours for the taking. Don’t be afraid of concretising your images. Rather than weighing them down, for the reader you make them tangible. The senses are the most immediate access we have to the world, and they are as effective in poetry as in life. I look forward to seeing this poem revised. Thanks. -Raz [This message has been edited by Raz (05-02-2002 10:17 PM).] |
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Streen Member
since 2001-11-28
Posts 169 |
There is a valid difference between valid constructive criticism, sir, and outright truculent behavior. If you have any real criticism, you needn't be smart-alec about them. I'm sure that some of your critiques might be valid, but I think it's somewhat obvious that you're not very familiar with this form. And then some of your comments just aren't correct, such as: "as i sit here, watching it (you are now referring to the willow tree... like electrons or something...)" No, it was not in reference to the willow tree, but to the moon. Not all poets use capitalization or parentheses in the same way as you are used to. One of the greatest American poets ever, E.E. Cummings, was a true pioneer in poetry, and he was very untraditional in his approaches. |
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Raz Member
since 2002-04-30
Posts 51Quebec, Canada |
Very sorry, sir. I do admit to unacceptable behavior and apologize for it. Was in a highly emotive state when I reponded to your poem, and lashed out unprovoked. This will not happen again. I may use a stronger detergent than you.... Will switch to Palmolive.  -Raz |
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Streen Member
since 2001-11-28
Posts 169 |
The moon sparkles like a star tonight, willow tree. As i sit here watching it making its way down your dry boughs, thin little slivers of leaves alit, i think i see maybe a chance for moonlit waters again. It was long ago, i recall, when the leaves so silky caught my eyes ,for first the time, wondering i watched the sun ,sparkling like a moon, as it ran across you. i was better than light then. Sunmoonstars shined, but i gleamed with the rivers that caressed your sides and the droplets that streamed along the fingers of your boughs. Maybe that's why your boughs parted, for i nourished the soil. O fond willow tree, i remember whispering my secrets into the loft of your airy branches- with a pit-pat of drops. Sometimes the breeze would rustle and i could hear through the leaves your murmurs. And when the world outside rumbled ,lightning that clefted hunks, i would tremble to your surface, stream down your face (were they tears or me?). In that way, i think i grew a part ,a root, with you. Then the seasons whirled past and so did i. And a part of you cracked with the dry light of the sunmoonstars. Ah, o willow tree, maybe now i know why you wept dust, for day by day, night by night, i have drifted here, rivulets over others. But to you, i may never regain the unity we shared. Light was in our waters, but i took it with me. i only want to press my rough face against your silky leaves-- whisper what i can shine like i did. And then maybe you could glisten with life again. ---------------- This is my first revision. Any comments? |
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