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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354
Listening to every heart

0 posted 2002-10-04 12:41 PM


This has been met with various responses, one of which struck me very hard.  I now offer it to those who would tear it apart, show me how to make it better.

Excerpt from “To a Poet” - 1

I am very envious of young people,
such as yourself,
who make it seem so easy!  
Readers, mind you,
never really understand what it is
that makes us [poets] WANT to write...
as you very well know,
to shut a writer up is to take
their very air away.  

No wonder at times
we feel as if we carry
the lead weight of the
world upon our shoulders...
nothing gives us more FREEDOM
than spilling our soul
onto the parched white...

The camaraderie of writers is akin
to that of mothers having gone through
childbirth.  
No mother needs to tell another
mother what it's all about ...
a wink will suffice in the sisterhood
of knowledge gone unspoken.  

It is the same for writers.  

I don't need to tell you
the desire that is within me
to bring some "thing" to birth!  
Because you have that same desire,
sometimes intangible, sometimes painful,
and we wonder,

"Are we holding on to something miraculous?"

or is it just heartburn?  

We only know that we feel this unnamed
hidden
desire
to bring it to the forefront...
whether it fails, or merely fulfills
the desire to scribble...
it HAS to come out.  

BUT...what if it IS successful?  

Do we write for the masses,
or some inner desire
to just create?  
Do we share it with one
and hope they appreciate it
as much as we do,
or do we share it
with anyone and all,
hoping that some
one
person
finds in our words
our deepest secret?  

Do we dare take that chance?

~*~

Excerpt from “To a Poet” – 2

You asked, “What is the secret?”
and truth be told,

for me,

it lies in the fact that I unwillingly
call myself “Poet”

because I hold Poets in such
high regard,

such as yourself.

It comes down to self-critique,
to get past the shy
of holding out to this world,
and beyond,
my barest thoughts

naked for all to see.

Why, for some of us would-be writers,
that in itself
is the greatest leap of faith
for one’s character…

So I unwillingly call myself a poet,
as I would rather say,

would be…
could be…

knowing that the mantle of named
honor
looks far better on you,

no matter your age,
or creed,
or faith,
or bleed…

but should you want to take me within
your fine circle,

then I can not think of any place
I would rather be.

~*~

Excerpt from “To a Poet” – 3

…and now you ask,

“Why write?” and  “By what instrument?”

I will address why,
later…but for now, let us talk
   instrumentally…

Oh my friend, my Poet,
given the time and thus, to be given
    a form of romanticism to wrap around my shoulders
I would write with a candle by my side,
    a dip pen and the blackest of blue inks,
         the finest of papers
             or the coarsest of paper bags
                  and the stubbiest of pencils
                       by whatever light available…

but in constant fear of not capturing all of my elusive
thoughts because and by way of interrupted life…

and given the nuance of the day
my fingers tap tap tap my thoughts



the strangest thing, though…
here before me
are beautiful journals that are waiting
for some thing from me,
some bit of proof that I touched them,
     read their inner thoughts,
         and even though inspired by their glossiness of blankness
             which awaits my inward spire
                  I cannot come to press the nub
                       to leak the soul

for perhaps they would only be
tired dribblings from a cracked pen
and I would not damage their beauty so…

Dare I conjure
the jinja of the netted works
into an electrical dither of non-compose
forcing

Forcing!

Me to pick up my treasured pen
   To reveal by leak

My soul.

I fear my hesitate
   would blotch the paper
         and there is no delete key
              

only flame.

~*~

Excerpt from “To a Poet” – 4

You continue to ask “why”
a poet writes,
and yes, yes, I will get to that,
as one fine poet says, “soon”,

but for now,
   now we will discuss,

When.

For when to write is almost
as precariously precious as our reasons why
we write,
   oftentimes going hand in hand,
        certainly one not existing without
             the other,
                    when, why, why, when…

and the when of times will come
upon us
at the most inconvenient of times,
when we are without
pad
pen
napkins
backs of envelopes
pencils
and we fall short of drawing
our own blood
to write upon our own skin,

except in unbalanced thought,

but our hands are too full
of what we are doing
[or we would have found the accoutrements
so required]
so with
the beating of that very blood
banging in our eardrums
over the tense of Now! Now! Write me Now!

Oh!  We grasp at that elusive word, just the
one word that will bring it all
back once we reach our
destination, if not
our destiny,

holding on to it and milking it,
tasting it in our mouth, rolling it over and over
like a mantra, that one word that will
bring forth from the depths
of the well of us
all that would pour forth and nourish
any reader who is desiccated
and waiting,

like a sponge thrown from the sea
and beached,
dried brittle by the harsh sun and
sucked dry from the sands below,

and then like the mighty return
of the wave in the dark of night,
having snuck back up the shoreline
toward the pier,
we crash upon the sponge/paper
and let it drink in all that it waited
for…

for this is the when that comes upon us,
the when of our write,

and like the sponge we swell
with relief
as the words pour forth, and we ebb
and flow with the tide of words
in this when of now!

Now comes elusively,
and our muses are named, graciously,
that we bid them, good eve,
come sit beside me,
stroke my brow
and knead my shoulders,
and lend to my fingertips that taste
of salt,
and sand,
and sea air…

that the gull should fly, now,
that the fog should come in, now,
that this should be the when,
now,
and bid me

write.

~*~

Excerpt from “To a Poet” – 5

My dear Poet,

We have spoken of birthing,
as naturally to come to you, a man,
as to me, a woman, and please,
believe,
it will be as painful for you,
as I…

    we have discussed faith, nakedness
         and secrets

all of the heart…

we have spoken of instruments,
     how akin they are to any stylus
           of other days, any papyrus of eras
                 past, all bound by leathered thoughts
                       and silken cord…

and we have thrust about
     timing
         knowing that it always seems,
             too little, too late, clichéd remarks
                 easier to say, than our ability to do…

so now, to truth.

It goes farther than the mirror,
     farther than your thoughts, rippling
          just as a monarch’s beat of wing, the
                hurricane on the other side of the world
                      coming full bore as a result…

and this is why you write.

Someone must scribe what was, what is, what
will be.

You and I choose a form,
     something that stands out a little,
         not too loud, perhaps, certainly at times
              a bit soft, a deliquesce whisper that captures

souls…

and is not the dry, factual, pragmatic, writings
    of any historian…

no…

we ask that our words
    breathe, a breath to be caught up
         by the reader, so much so that they
              might know our restaurant of choice this
                   very day…

then we ask that our lexis live,
     a palpable beating of heart beneath
          the thumb on its pulse, warm to the
               touch, the scent of lavender on skin,
                     a lace glove enclosing fingers stained

by ink…

and we center on our truths…
     this is where we face the mirror
           and see beyond…

so do not lie to me, and say, “I write
for others,” as this is not true;

do not say, “I only write so politicos
know a voice speaks,”
for neither is this truth;

do not whisper, “I only write
to pass the time,”
as we both see past that mirror…

Poet, bleed me your tears,
    and pass the sentiments,
          speak your truths, even if
                you do not feel you know that
                     much, they are still your truths…

garland me with your dreams,
      rope me in with your deeds,
             thrill me with your heart skips
                   when love’s light comes near…

rant your rage against injustices,
      scream your miseries, please God!,
            and whimper in your lost, for you are
                   only lost once in your life,
                            

and in your found…
cry…

and weep me a Poet of truth…

and this, my Poet,
is the why
of your write…

and If, if you have read this
word by word,
and If you feel a bit empty,
and your throat is a bit sore,
a sting lays behind your eye,

If, all of this, is with you now…

Then, perhaps, by serendipity or
Kismet,

I, too, shall one day
Be your poet.
                      


© Copyright 2002 Karilea Rilling Jungel - All Rights Reserved
caterina
Member
since 2002-07-25
Posts 188
Canada
1 posted 2002-10-04 03:43 PM



Sunshine, that was beautiful, I really enjoyed the passion with which you wrote this because it moved me, a lot of good things going on.

It's really long, so to do an indepth crit would take forever, but as it stands now, I feel there is really nothing that is outstanding in my mind that you would need to change.  I do love the colloquial voice that you used.  Over what period of time did you do these poems?  This is wonderful.

Thankyou for sharing especially since I am not in the 'Open' forum very often.

I will read it again to get the full appreciation of it, but my first impression, and usually that is the best...I enjoyed so much.

caterina

Severn
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-17
Posts 7704

2 posted 2002-10-04 08:57 PM


Kari - I promise to critique this indepth sometime in the next few days. This is deserving of time and attention that I just can't give right now...you know, I'm proud of you for putting it here - just thought you should know that....

so...see you soon mama-k (bwahaha...)

K

Not A Poet
Member Elite
since 1999-11-03
Posts 3885
Oklahoma, USA
3 posted 2002-10-07 12:53 PM


Hi Kari,

As usual, I am short on time and this is a pretty long offering. I'll try to tackle them one at a time.

First, #1, logically. I thought you got the emotional part, the love for writing, across nicely. In place it did seem a little wordy perhaps. In the first line, for instance, is it necessary to be "very envious?" And I don't see the real importance of referring specifically to young people. It just seems like some of this and similar wording could be condensed to better effect. I did particularly like you analogy of writing to child birth. It is, of course, a little strong but that's part of what makes a poem poetic.

As you know, I'm not much of a free verse critic so I would rather wait for Kamla or someone else to work it over more rigorously. One final thing though. I have never been a fan of capitalizing words for emphasis. It just seems to internetish (what a word) or something. Of course, that is jus a personal hangup. All-in-all, I found it interesting, accurate and well executed. A pleasure to read.

Be back again later,
Pete

bsquirrel
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855

4 posted 2002-10-07 04:25 PM


Since you placed this'un in here, I'll critique one excerpt a day. Well, not as much a critique as my observations. Not that I'm any more qualified to critique than anyone else in this forum (maybe less).

I'm just doing this as one writer to another, as an avid reader of yr work,
and, bestest (heh heh), as a friend.

quote:

I am very envious of young people,
such as yourself,
who make it seem so easy!  



I agree that "very" doesn't add anything, and that "young" is unneeded. Actually, even "so" is unneeded, when you think of it. The poem itself is the emphasis, so emphatic words -- and also vague ones -- like so, very, etc. can be excised anywhere you see them.

quote:

Readers, mind you,
never really understand what it is
that makes us [poets] WANT to write...
as you very well know,
to shut a writer up is to take
their very air away.  



Again. Don't need "really." And I'd change makes us [poets] to makes [poets]
Also, change you very well know ... to well know.
I'm undecided on the very in The very air.

I like the conversational tone this excerpt is heading toward. And that poets is bracketed, almost as if, you're not sure you are capable of that mantle. (y' are)

quote:

No wonder at times
we feel as if we carry
the lead weight of the
world upon our shoulders...
nothing gives us more FREEDOM
than spilling our soul
onto the parched white...



Weight of the world upon our shoulders
is a cliche. And, with the thoughts
behind your writing so plentiful,
distracting to the TRUTH of this piece.

The other problem is you went from I, to you, to [poets], to we. So there's a change of POV that seems a bit uncontrolled. It could be, though, that you mean this to be?

I would drop the first few lines and change this to:
Nothing gives us more freedom
than spilling our soul
onto parched white.

Meter considerations; plus, again, FREEDOM for emphasis is unneeded, since this whole poem is an emphatic ode to that exact freedom (and sometime wariness/hope) of writing.

quote:

The camaraderie of writers is akin
to that of mothers having gone through
childbirth.  



I like that thought, but again, the POV has switched...

quote:

No mother needs to tell another
mother what it's all about ...
a wink will suffice in the sisterhood
of knowledge gone unspoken.  



I was going to say that "gone" was redundant, but I realize it offsets nicely the hard accent of knowl-EDGE and un-SPO-KEN.

quote:

It is the same for writers.  



This can be cut, as you said these words above already (implied).

quote:

I don't need to tell you
the desire that is within me



I don't need to tell you
the desire within me

quote:

to bring some "thing" to birth!  



   I love that.

quote:

Because you have that same desire,
sometimes intangible, sometimes painful,
and we wonder,



Beautiful lines here, Karilea. The only thing, again, is you and we. Who are these people? I'm assuming you is a specific poet, and we is poets at large? Or the readers? Not sure...

quote:

"Are we holding on to something miraculous?"

or is it just heartburn?  



Ha ha ha! Some might pick this apart; but those people don't enjoy or have humor.  

quote:

We only know that we feel this unnamed
hidden
desire
to bring it to the forefront...
whether it fails, or merely fulfills
the desire to scribble...
it HAS to come out.  



Again, POV. Who is we? And ... a few phrases seem unnecessary. What do you think of the following?

We only know that we feel this unnamed
hidden
desire
whether it fails, or merely fulfills;
A scribble...
It HAS to come out.  

By the way, I love "merely fulfills."

quote:

BUT...what if it IS successful?  



I advise cuttin' this line, because you already asked a question in the previous line. Actually, this whole excerpt is a search for some answer. And I dunno, after that nice bit of meter, it stalls the poem to ask the other question. I'm not doing well at articulating myself. My apologies.

quote:

Do we write for the masses,
or some inner desire
to just create?  



I'd drop "just."

quote:

Do we share it with one
and hope they appreciate it
as much as we do,
or do we share it
with anyone and all,
hoping that some
one
person
finds in our words
our deepest secret?  



Instead of that first comma,
I'd use a dash --
really set off
what yr sayin'.

And, again, with meter,
I would go...

Do we share it with one
and hope they appreciate it
as much as we do --
or do we share it
with anyone,
hoping one person
finds in words
our deepest secret?  

quote:

Do we dare take that chance?



I love that you've set writing up as a dare.
And I love that you've posted this here...

What I really love, though;
it's but the beginning...

[This message has been edited by bsquirrel (10-07-2002 04:27 PM).]

bsquirrel
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855

5 posted 2002-10-08 12:50 PM


Awright, let's break some hearts. (I'd crack my knuckles here, if I did that sort of thing)

quote:

Excerpt from “To a Poet” – 2

You asked, “What is the secret?”
and truth be told,

for me,

it lies in the fact that I unwillingly
call myself “Poet”



I think You asked, is a comma splice. You don't need the comma there. And I wouldn't use the word "unwillingly." It jumps the rhythm a bit, and also, how do you unwillingly call yourself a poet? I think it was set up in the first excerpt that you're not sure whether or not you are a poet, so you don't need to ask it again here.

I love how you set off "for me."

quote:

because I hold Poets in such
high regard,

such as yourself.



Hmm ... I wonder if this little section is needed at all? We know you hold poets in high regard, and I'm still confused on the differentiation between I, you, we (not that you've mentioned we yet in this excerpt)... I'm assuming at this point that you is one poet, and we is all poets? Still not sure.

quote:

It comes down to self-critique,
to get past the shy
of holding out to this world,
and beyond,
my barest thoughts

naked for all to see.



I think you should drop "It comes down to self-critique." That doesn't mean much to the non-writer. But the rest of that stanza ... most definitely does.

Also, I'd drop "and beyond." It again jumps the metre a bit, and, I think the idea of transcendance is painted clearly enough. And I cannot spell. Transcendance? Transcendence? Hmm...

quote:

Why, for some of us would-be writers,
that in itself
is the greatest leap of faith
for one’s character…



I like the intent of this stanza -- to show humility and a bit of fascination at the written craft -- but I think you need to rewrite it.

"That in itself." What is That? What is itself? Pronouns can be an enemy, when, rather than talking of a person, they talk of an intangibility. I'm sure you know what "That" and "itself" refer to. But maybe not all the readers do? I know I'm not sure. They could be a number of things.

"Leap of faith" is a cliche. I think a writer's job, or calling or whatever else, is to paint the world in fresh sight and new ideas. And that cannot be brought about using words that have lost their power. Get inside what it really means by "leap of faith." (heck, those could be spools of poems in themselves)

And again, "for one's character." What does that MEAN? Get beyond the surface of these phrases, and you will start plumbing depths you didn't realize were there to write about.

Let me pause from this critique for a minute to remind you that I heartily and readily enjoy your writing. On a slow, leisurely read where I am not looking in-depth at every line and piece of meter, these excerpts stand well. But when you shine it under the light, and really want to come back and read this poem two, three, 100 times, then it's good to get the ideas and structure supporting those ideas as sturdy and sharp as you can.

You'll also notice that I hardly do in-depth critiques for anybody. So I must really like you. Not that me critiquing anybody's work is some huge advantage or anything.

Onward:

quote:

So I unwillingly call myself a poet,
as I would rather say,

would be…
could be…

knowing that the mantle of named
honor
looks far better on you,



I would shorten this to simply:
So I call myself a poet
knowing that the mantle

(would be,
could be)

looks far better on you.

Mantle sort of IS named honor already, so does mantle of named honor add anything to the poem?

quote:

no matter your age,
or creed,
or faith,
or bleed…



I just want to say how much I love "or bleed." So much more powerful than "or blood," I think...

quote:

but should you want to take me within
your fine circle,

then I can not think of any place
I would rather be.



Some might quibble on "fine," but I have no problem with it. I like it because it could mean fine as in "how nice," or it could be fine as in "wafer-thin."

Well, that's it for part two. Hope these are helping. If not, kindly tell me to get lost, and I will.


Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354
Listening to every heart
6 posted 2002-10-09 10:31 AM


BSQ, there IS no telling you to get lost...not when your remarks mean so much.  I'm holding back on responding to your comments as I am also waiting to see what
Severn has to say... and then I'll gang up, all by myself, on all of you at once!

[This message has been edited by Sunshine (10-09-2002 10:31 AM).]

bsquirrel
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855

7 posted 2002-10-09 04:01 PM


Aw, no fair, Severn's just gonna piggyback on my comments! Just kiddin', Kamla.   I'm sure you have things of greater import to add, better than my writing-class-grade ramblings.

Day 3, Excerpt 3.

quote:

…and now you ask,

“Why write?” and  “By what instrument?”



   Love the opening.

quote:

I will address why,
later…but for now, let us talk
   instrumentally…



For greater emphasis (and flow), I'd cut this whole stanza and proceed to the next, as it doesn't add much to the poem (in my opinion).

quote:

Oh my friend, my Poet,
given the time and thus, to be given



Y' said "given" once. So I'd drop "to be given."

Oh my friend, my Poet,
given the time and thus

quote:

    a form of romanticism to wrap around my shoulders



Looky all the prepositions! of, to, around. Does romanticism add anything, or is it a vague concept, an intangibility? I'd just say

a form to wrap around my shoulders.

See the beat that gives it?
Er, hear it, I mean. :p

quote:

I would write with a candle by my side,



If you want to retain the beat from the previous line, you could go

I would write by candle's side.

But, it's up to you.

quote:

    a dip pen and the blackest of blue inks,



   You like of's, I see. I would just say a dip pen (love that term!) and the blackest blue inks. Here's one thing, though. Whenever I hear black and blue together, I think of a bruise (even though a bruise in neither color). Or perhaps the night sky? What is the reason you want to use "the blackest of blue inks"?

quote:

         the finest of papers
             or the coarsest of paper bags



Generally, it's wise to avoid repeating the same word (unless it's a main theme or structure to the poem). I would drop the second mention of "paper," thusly:

the finest of papers
or the coarsest of bags

(By the way, I love how you're cataloguing the "tools" nearby -- whatever's near will do ... perfect writing passion!)

quote:

                  and the stubbiest of pencils



I just plain like that line.         

quote:

                by whatever light available…



Ah, but see, Karilea, you opened this stanza by saying you were writing by the light of a candle. So wouldn't it be better to drop this line, or find a new one?

quote:

but in constant fear of not capturing all of my elusive
thoughts because and by way of interrupted life…



"because and by way of" -- a lot of prepositional matter in here! Perhaps ...

but in constant fear of not capturing
elusive thoughts, by way of interrupted life

(or something -- I also excised certain words for meter consideration, even though this is free verse, so I will now shut up and continue...)

quote:

and given the nuance of the day
my fingers tap tap tap my thoughts



I love the phrase "nuance of the day."

quote:



the strangest thing, though…



Unneeded.

quote:

here before me
are beautiful journals that are waiting
for some thing from me,



I like how you say some thing, not something.   You can drop "that are" without sacrificing anything, I believe.

quote:

some bit of proof that I touched them,
     read their inner thoughts,
         and even though inspired by their glossiness of blankness
             which awaits my inward spire
                  I cannot come to press the nub
                       to leak the soul

for perhaps they would only be
tired dribblings from a cracked pen
and I would not damage their beauty so…



YES! Poetry!

quote:

Dare I conjure
the jinja of the netted works



I love your word choice! Perhaps drop the second "the"?

quote:

into an electrical dither of non-compose
forcing

Forcing!



Ooo ... like the emphasis!

quote:

Me to pick up my treasured pen
   To reveal by leak

My soul.



Is there a reason why these lines all start with caps?

quote:

I fear my hesitate
   would blotch the paper



Excellent thoughts!

quote:

         and there is no delete key
              

only flame.



I love it! However, I'd put "and there is no delete key as the start of a new stanza" ... more emphasis.

[This message has been edited by bsquirrel (10-09-2002 04:05 PM).]

Robtm1965
Member
since 2002-08-20
Posts 263

8 posted 2002-10-09 04:45 PM


Sunshine

Before I presume to dive in and say anything about this I wonder if you might explain a bit about what you were trying to do.  For instance you head these "Excerpts from "To A Poet".  Does that mean that these are literally small parts of a bigger piece?  If so, are we able to appreciate the context with just these fragments?

And what was your overall aim when you sat down to write this?  Against what background?  

I'm asking these questions so that I can more narrowly focus my comments, otherwise, as Caterina said, I'll be here all year!

Regards

Rob  

Severn
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-17
Posts 7704

9 posted 2002-10-10 08:42 AM


Hokay...sorry I'm so late...have Nan's to do too, but yours was first lol...what was it you said - priorities ~smile~

I've chosen not to read any of the critiques below until after I've posted, just so I can approach this with a virgin perspective.

Oh, and as this is very long (admirably so, I can never seem to write so long) I'm just going to start now, see how far I get - and likely come back tomorrow or something to finish...hope that works for you mama-k..

*****

I'll start with an overall kinda thing...I like it a lot...it's something I can relate to, I like your tone in most places though I think you walk the fine line between emphasis and repetition sometimes. The overall feel is of matter-of-fact expressions intermingling with a great passion. I think the passion needs to stay hot and gritty - veering away from an occasional sentimentality that risks banality...you have some gorgeous language here, but sometimes it's too wordy...which can either read pompous or ill-thought out.

I can see the love in this, I can see the flame and it was a nice fire to warm my hands beside...

Section one - my least favourite part.

Why?

I suppose because it's seems lacklustre compared to the others? Which isn't inherently wrong by any means, and in fact emphasises its position as a separate part of a greater whole...it's only that I prefer the four other pieces...

Looking at the piece indepth...

Excerpt from “To a Poet” - 1

I am very envious of young people,
such as yourself,
who make it seem so easy!  
Readers, mind you,
never really understand what it is
that makes us [poets] WANT to write...
as you very well know,
to shut a writer up is to take
their very air away.  

** The entire first stanza needs a lot of sharpening here, even reshaping. It's wiffly waffly - vague and un-imagic (made-up word heh). You have used the word 'very' three times here, which immediately detracts from the impact. Each one is completely unnecessary I think. The last one in the last line makes for a cliche anyway.

After some thought about this opening stanza I've come up with what you might think of as a brutal suggestion - I recommend cutting out the first three lines and starting off with the 'Reader never really knows' etc. The notion of young people - this is your opening line, yet it is barely followed through in the entire poem, if at all. It's really quite unnecessary and detracts from a strong start. However, having said that I wouldn't start it with 'never really knows' - very clumsy language, grammatically - and it's also vague. Although I favour brackets I'd also get rid of the 'us' and just have poets without brackets...and I would most definitely omit the full cap word of WANT. It glares out like white legs on a beach in high summer heh. (Same with freedom, has and but later on).  Maybe you could think of a less well-known image than a comparison to airlessness when a reader can't write?

Yup - I truly think you need to redo the entire first part...

No wonder at times
we feel as if we carry
the lead weight of the
world upon our shoulders...
nothing gives us more FREEDOM
than spilling our soul
onto the parched white...

** Onto the parched white. Ah, the Kari freeverse language that I love starts to kick in. Spilling our soul - cliche and wouldn't it have to be souls? lead weight of the world - also cliche. Now, cliches in themselves aren't bad, I must stress this. Everything has been said before in one way or another, I just think it's imperative to avoid the out and out common phrasing - even if you're giving a cliched image new life by using slight twists, or different word ordering etc. I suggest you play with those two images...for example if you removed weight from lead weight and merely had 'the lead of the world' - that's a slight twist.

The camaraderie of writers is akin
to that of mothers having gone through
childbirth.  
No mother needs to tell another
mother what it's all about ...
a wink will suffice in the sisterhood
of knowledge gone unspoken.  

It is the same for writers.

** The single line 'it is the same for writers' is repetitious, and really unnecessary given that you introduced this part with 'the camaraderie of writers is akin...' This line 'to that of mothers having gone through' is very awkward in terms of sentence structure...'having gone' is particularly jarring. 'Sisterhood' hm. Speaking as you are to a brethen of poets, perhaps a image that includes both genders might be more appropriate in creating a place where all readers/poets can relate? Just a thought. Oh, I think you should omit the word 'gone' and simply have knowledge unspoken.

I don't need to tell you
the desire that is within me
to bring some "thing" to birth!  
Because you have that same desire,
sometimes intangible, sometimes painful,
and we wonder,

"Are we holding on to something miraculous?"

or is it just heartburn?  

** You have achieved two things that are very rare in this section. Firstly, you have an exclamation mark I actually like and secondly - you made me laugh. I don't usually laugh in poetry I like. But this allusion to heartburn is good. It brings the reader close to the writer, to the message. The exclamation mark reads neither cheap nor tawdry as many do - it has the right amount of pathos. Don't like the miraculous line in speechmarks - think it would read better without them...if it's a general thought, it doesn't require them - and also, by rights, the heartburn line should have them too if it's linked to the miraculous line. I feel the 'we wonder' conflicts with the tense. The speaker initiates with 'I don't need to tell you' and this is followed with 'because you have that same desire' and then suddenly it's a 'we wonder' - total tense muddle lol. I'd get rid of the we wonder completely. That not only resolves the tense problem but leaves the succeeding lines to make their own impact.

Note - I'd review your tenses carefully. You're speaking in a personal pronoun 'to' a poet. You use 'we' regularly - so therefore speak on behalf of poets. Which is fine, but you need to ensure that the regular switching doesn't create situations like the above - I'll point them out if I see them as I go along, but I could miss some.

Suggestion for overall tightening for this part:

I don't need to tell you
of the desire within me
to bring some "thing" to birth!  
You have the same desire,
sometimes intangible
or painful.

Are we holding on to something miraculous?

or is it just heartburn?  


We only know that we feel this unnamed
hidden
desire
to bring it to the forefront...
whether it fails, or merely fulfills
the desire to scribble...
it HAS to come out.  

BUT...what if it IS successful?

** Ok, huge problems with this lol. The ellipses, the capital letters...brrrrr. That last line standing alone - I think you should remove this. It's just...too much, let the reader get to that question on their own perhaps. Perhaps the question is unnecessary. It's too wide open also - what is success here? How do you determine success? I also think the line before is unnecessary - 'it has to come out' - well, that's what this whole poem is about really. You don't need to state that so baldly...         Hidden is tautological with unnamed, I don't think you need it. You've used desire twice here - you need to watch that, it comes across sloppy.


Do we write for the masses,
or some inner desire
to just create?  
Do we share it with one
and hope they appreciate it
as much as we do,
or do we share it
with anyone and all,
hoping that some
one
person
finds in our words
our deepest secret?  

Do we dare take that chance?

** Another unnecessary last line I think. I know how it feels to write. You're in that place, that writing place - and the little sum up lines swoop in and feel so right - like little gongs going off inside yes? Often - it's best to ignore the urge to 'sum up'. Avoiding that urge usually leaves a stanza/verse/poem tight, strong, secure. Your poem doesn't need this line, or most of the one line parts you have above. Look at this whole section without any of the stand alone lines bar the heartburn line. If the heartburn line is the sole standalone it gains added emphasis due to its spacial position, also - it's not a summing up line. You're writing a poem about poetry, about the fire, the need...part of poetry is the utilisation of space - you really need to pay close attention to it in this piece for that very reason...

I'm aware that in many places you're obviously creating a conversational tone, but this is still a poetical work and in the first section I think it might be a little too conversational overall.

Now, I'm really tired so I'm not going to move onto the next part. Please don't be discouraged - I know I haven't sounded particularly encouraging with this first part...but I think the poem definitely improves in the following segments..I'll be back soon to do more...

hugs you...hope I'm making sense so far

K



[This message has been edited by Severn (10-10-2002 09:13 AM).]

bsquirrel
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855

10 posted 2002-10-10 12:24 PM


Awright, let's do it! Part Four! Hup hup.

Hmm...

(wipes sleep out of eyes)

Here we go!!! (huff, huff)

quote:

Excerpt from “To a Poet” – 4

You continue to ask “why”
a poet writes,
and yes, yes, I will get to that,
as one fine poet says, “soon”,

but for now,
   now we will discuss,

When.



I've noticed with your excerpts, Karilea, that mainly, the first stanza is a breathing space for you to build up steam and start throwing out some incredible verse. Good. I'm glad you have a starting block. But you can easily erase the starting blocks after you've finished writing, as they've served their purpose (and detract from the rest of the poem's stength) distract, strength I mean. Can you tell I'm a bit tired?

quote:

For when to write is almost
as precariously precious as our reasons why
we write,
   oftentimes going hand in hand,
        certainly one not existing without
             the other,
                    when, why, why, when…



This, too, I would wholely excise. It doesn't add anything to what preceded it. And there's a lot of playful alliteration going on, but it's essentially rudderless, and traces circles in the waves. WHOA, thanks for the poem idea!

quote:

and the when of times will come
upon us
at the most inconvenient of times,



I advise dropping "and" and starting the poem here. And, I love "when of times." However, you repeat times, and in the same "of times" prepositional phrase, too!

The when of times will come
upon us
(drop third line)

And who is us, now?

quote:

when we are without
pad
pen
napkins
backs of envelopes
pencils



Yes.
I love the list.

quote:

and we fall short of drawing
our own blood
to write upon our own skin,



Set this off in a new stanza,
and bask in its glory.....

quote:

except in unbalanced thought,



I like the idea here, but I'm not exactly sure what you're trying to say. And you just love those prepositions, don'cha?

quote:

but our hands are too full



Drop but!

quote:

of what we are doing



I don't understand what that means. It's vague and without image. Please say buh-bye to i'?

quote:

[or we would have found the accoutrements
so required]



WHAT accoutrements? See what I mean? Tell me what lurks WITHIN the idea, not just its surface word.

quote:

so with
the beating of that very blood
banging in our eardrums
over the tense of Now! Now! Write me Now!



Quite excellent, really. (and the last part of it reminds me of Elizabeth Bishop's masterful villanelle of loss, One Art -- seek it out in a search engine, and see for yrself)

quote:

Oh!  We grasp at that elusive word, just the
one word that will bring it all
back once we reach our
destination, if not
our destiny,



You see what happens here? By setting off Oh!, we think the elusive word is Oh. When really, it's Now, isn't it? Here's what I'd do, with considerations for metre you know me all to well for:

Now!
We grasp at that elusive word,
one that will bring it back
once we reach our
destination, if not
our destiny,

Now, the other question is, what does "it" refer to. Stop using its, God love ya!

quote:

holding on to it and milking it,
tasting it in our mouth, rolling it over and over
like a mantra, that one word that will
bring forth from the depths
of the well of us



Sensual writing here! Which I like, because isn't that what creativity and passion produce? "from the depths" is cliche. I'd say "bring forth from the well of us."

quote:

all that would pour forth and nourish
any reader who is desiccated
and waiting,



I just like the idea of a reader being desiccated. Is that how it's spelled?

quote:

like a sponge thrown from the sea
and beached,
dried brittle by the harsh sun and
sucked dry from the sands below,



Excellent. Though I don't think sands can suck. Perhaps a different word? And don't we already know that the sand is below the sponge? I'm not sure what to do for a re-write, here.

quote:

and then like the mighty return
of the wave in the dark of night,



WAY too wordy and preposition-lovin'!

then, as with the return
of the mighty wave at night,

(is night really needed at all here?)

quote:

having snuck back up the shoreline
toward the pier,



Snuck isn't a word, believe it or not. It's really sneaked. And I don't think waves sneak. I like the idea of shoreline and pier, though. Incorporate that somehow, just not sure how...

quote:

we crash upon the sponge/paper
and let it drink in all that it waited
for…



I would just say sponge. Sponge/paper is giving away the metaphor to readily, as if you're afraid people won't get it. Frankly, those people shouldn't be reading your layered work.

And can a sponge wait? Can paper wait? Oooh, I like that idea, actually! Paper waiting. (sorry)

quote:

for this is the when that comes upon us,
the when of our write,



Hmm.... not sure about this... Again, you're drawing out the metaphor and spoonfeeding it, to make sure no one is lost. That's nice of you, but also, I think, unneeded of you. Your writing is gracious and sharing enough without giving the readers a map, too.

quote:

and like the sponge we swell
with relief



Swell with relief?
Can a sponge even feel relief?
Can paper?

quote:

as the words pour forth, and we ebb
and flow with the tide of words
in this when of now!



Oh yes, I can feel this one flowing out.

Drop the and before "we ebb." Perfect.

quote:

Now comes elusively,



Stop using elusive or else!

quote:

and our muses are named, graciously,
that we bid them, good eve,
come sit beside me,
stroke my brow
and knead my shoulders,



Where did these muses suddenly come from? Now I'm entering the Pronoun Headache all over again...

quote:

and lend to my fingertips that taste
of salt,
and sand,
and sea air…



God, I love how latent that is!

quote:

that the gull should fly, now,
that the fog should come in, now,
that this should be the when,
now,
and bid me

write.



I love these lines.

Robtm1965
Member
since 2002-08-20
Posts 263

11 posted 2002-10-10 04:00 PM


Severn said:

"Spilling our soul - cliche and wouldn't it have to be souls? lead weight of the world - also cliche. Now, cliches in themselves aren't bad, I must stress this. Everything has been said before in one way or another, I just think it's imperative to avoid the out and out common phrasing"

I'm pretty sure she didn't mean what she said, but as I have a total "thing" about this and as we are no doubt in the presence of novice writers I feel the irresistible urge to clarify:

The fact is clichés ARE in themselves bad.  (There are however circumstances where they can be used for a particular effect in a poem see my comments on CrazyEddie’s recent poem).  But basically they are a bad idea.

However the above suggests that if something has been said before then it becomes cliché.  I’m sure Severn didn’t actually mean this.  Still it’s worth pointing out that something only really becomes cliché if it overused to the point where it starts to lose its original meaning and image creating ability.  “Lead weight” is a good example.  On the other hand if I was to write “The yacht laid down a ruled wake on the flat sea” I would know that both “ruled wake” and “flat sea” had been used before, but perhaps not so often that they lose their force.  As opposed to “straight as a die” which certainly has.  Or even worse “the die was cast”, where the phrase has taken on a completely new metaphoric meaning.  

I also find the following passage useful:

"Cliches- stale, timeworn too familiar words and phrases- are best avoided in favor of freshness. The language of poetry pays attention, and it is the nature of a cliche not to pay attention. Recently a newspaper carried this sentence: "I think we are enjoying the backlash of the moral decline that peaked in Watergate,' Dr. Weber said." Enjoying a lash of any kind seems unlikely; and the peak of a decline is language that isn't listening to itself at all.
You can test for a cliche by asking yourself whether the word, phrase, or image you're using is particular or generic. If you say, "She's always there for me," where is there? When you need support and companionship, wouldn't you rather have her here than there? If you're writing about a rainbow, do you see a real rainbow with all its translucence, transience, and tenuousness? No rainbow looks exactly like another. Or do you see the graphic artist's generic sentimental symbol: neat little arches lined up according to the spectrum, violet to blue, flat colors? If you're thinking of the latter, you have a cliche; drop it.
Another test is to ask yourself if you really know what you're talking about when you use the word, phrase, or image. What's a doornail? Is it dumber than a roofing nail? Quieter? Smarter than a finishing nail? A final test: do you get a sensation when you use the phrase, or are you only transmitting general impressions? Hard as nails doesn't trigger a feeling of hardness and durability. Cold as ice doesn't make you want to shiver. Does light as a feather make you feel ticklish, wispy barbs?

(From: "Writing Poems: Fourth Edition" Wallace & Boisseau, Eds.)

bsquirrel
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855

12 posted 2002-10-10 04:56 PM


Ah, but Robtm, even the phrase "become a cliche" has become a cliche (see?). There are no new ideas to be had from it.

That said, let's completely deconstruct what remaining ideas there are by slamming straight into Excerpt 5, de Last.

quote:

Excerpt from “To a Poet” – 5

My dear Poet,



Have you thought of calling this series
Letter to a Poet, instead?

quote:

We have spoken of birthing,
as naturally to come to you, a man,
as to me, a woman, and please,
believe,
it will be as painful for you,
as I…



A little bit of sorting and comma reduction yields:

We have spoken of birthing,
as naturally to come to you, a man,
as to me.
Please believe
it will be as painful for you
as I.

(actually, technically, "I" is incorrect -- "Me" is always the object form)

In other words, yes, for example, "You and me should go out" is wrong. Because me is part of a subject, not a object. (e-mail me if this is confusing)

You and I should go out. YES.
You and me should go out. NO.
YOu should go out with me. YES.
You should go out with I. NO!

Hence ...
It will be as painful for you as (it is for) me. YES!
It will be as painful for you as (it is for) I. NOOOOOO.

As you can see, that leaves the phrase a bit awkward. So perhaps, something different?

quote:

    we have discussed faith, nakedness
         and secrets

all of the heart…



Drop "all of the heart." Leave what's before. Powerful, and exquisite.

quote:

we have spoken of instruments,
     how akin they are to any stylus
           of other days, any papyrus of eras
                 past, all bound by leathered thoughts
                       and silken cord…



Excellent! I would drop "past." Papyrus of eras sounds mind-blowing (and past is implied).

quote:

and we have thrust about
     timing
         knowing that it always seems,
             too little, too late, clichéd remarks
                 easier to say, than our ability to do…



Now this, I would leave. You show a bit of self-aware playfulness by saying "too little, too late, cliched".

quote:

so now, to truth.



Why do you feel you need this? Guide me to where you're going without erecting neon signposts to the destination. Please...

quote:

It goes farther than the mirror,



What is it?
I love the phrase you have here.

Words go farther than the mirror.
Verse goes farther than the mirror.
What?

(I like words, myself --
a bit of classic verse from you!)

quote:

     farther than your thoughts, rippling
          just as a monarch’s beat of wing,



Does a monarch's beat of wing actually ripple? I love this verse. I'd just advise replacing rippling with something closer to the correct term, whatever it may be.

quote:

the
                hurricane on the other side of the world
                      coming full bore as a result…



I like this both for its Isidore/That Other One topicality, and also, for just equating writing to chaos theory!

quote:

and this is why you write.



Please remove. At best, poetry should leave you the trail a writer has followed, with some bits of compass rose and maybe a shred of map, but not the whole path laid out. And thank you, yet again, for a poem idea!

quote:

Someone must scribe what was, what is, what
will be.



It's a nice thought, but again, i don't see it moving the poem anywhere.

quote:

You and I choose a form,
     something that stands out a little,



Take out "a little." How can you stand out but a little? Y' either do or you don't.

quote:

         not too loud, perhaps, certainly at times
              a bit soft, a deliquesce whisper that captures

souls…



Mmm... Crackling, cracking verse. (drop "perhaps"; change the comma after too loud to a semicolon)

quote:

and is not the dry, factual, pragmatic, writings
    of any historian…



Any or a?

quote:

no…



Drop.

quote:

we ask that our words
    breathe, a breath to be caught up
         by the reader, so much so that they
              might know our restaurant of choice this
                   very day…



Two things here. First, I'd drop "We ask that our words breath," and start immediately with "A breath to be caught up (etc)."

Second, Where did this restaurant metaphor suddenly come from? Especially when part four considered itself with sponges, part three with tools, part two and one with the mind and heart? Restaurants have no business here...

quote:

then we ask that our lexis live,
     a palpable beating of heart beneath
          the thumb on its pulse, warm to the
               touch, the scent of lavender on skin,
                     a lace glove enclosing fingers stained

by ink…



...........majestic beauty......

quote:

and we center on our truths…
     this is where we face the mirror
           and see beyond…

so do not lie to me, and say, “I write
for others,” as this is not true;

do not say, “I only write so politicos
know a voice speaks,”
for neither is this truth;

do not whisper, “I only write
to pass the time,”
as we both see past that mirror…

Poet, bleed me your tears,
    and pass the sentiments,
          speak your truths, even if
                you do not feel you know that
                     much, they are still your truths…

garland me with your dreams,
      rope me in with your deeds,
             thrill me with your heart skips
                   when love’s light comes near…

rant your rage against injustices,
      scream your miseries, please God!,
            and whimper in your lost, for you are
                   only lost once in your life,
                            

and in your found…
cry…

and weep me a Poet of truth…



This, my friend, is a perfect, uninterrupted line of crystal and sunlight. This, Karilea, should be the poem's end...

(and drop "that much" from the fifth stanza above -- and add "for" before "they are still")

quote:

Then I,
too,
shall be your poet.



And this ... is the finale (edited so you can see).

God yes.

[This message has been edited by bsquirrel (10-10-2002 05:00 PM).]

Robtm1965
Member
since 2002-08-20
Posts 263

13 posted 2002-10-10 05:01 PM


"Ah, but Robtm, even the phrase "become a cliche" has become a cliche (see?). There are no new ideas to be had from it."

Perhaps that is why so many new poets (and certain old ones) regrettably so often ignore it.

bsquirrel
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855

14 posted 2002-10-10 05:07 PM


It's a strange paradox
how it's hard to write
about writing.

And yet, within what's read
is a world
of waiting to be writtens.

Now THERE'S some confuzzlement.

I enjoy yr thoughts.

Mikey

Severn
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-17
Posts 7704

15 posted 2002-10-10 07:32 PM


Launch ships sirrar! Pirate attack imminent! Get out the grapples, we'll get 'em first!

Heh - I see I have been swooped upon by a pedantic critic, caught at my own game as it were...

I see also that clarification is in order...

Well Rob, hm. Firstly two things to immediately clarify - no I'm not suggesting that every line becomes a cliche once it has been written - I chose not to state the literal, or widely understood, definition of a cliche as I didn't feel it was necessary at the time. Secondly, I don't endorse the idea of either new authors (which Kari is not btw), or practiced, using cliches willy nilly - as we commonly understand them - in their poetry.

You said: 'Still it’s worth pointing out that something only really becomes cliché if it's overused to the point where it starts to lose its original meaning and image creating ability.'

Which does, yes, comprise my own understanding of a cliche - for the most part. However, that is a narrow literal definition pertaining to phrase/word usage only.

~smile~ I went through a period of cliche paranoia not so long ago. I saw prose poetry, or even the inclusion of poetic-lines-as-statement (a technique Kari has used in the section I critiqued) as nothing more than an expression of cliched writing, following the forms of the Western literary canon without any true originality or even worth. (Let me state I only write freeverse but if I were to expand my definition of old I would consider form poetry such as sonnets, villanelles and whatnot as cliched poetical expressions also). I made a point of playing with verb/noun integrity, grammar and form simply to avoid the canon cliche. Then of course I whiplashed anyone for poetic phrases/words that were even remotely cliched - and if someone pointed out a cliche in my own work - well, a day of mourning ensued I assure you heh.

Now, after study, writing and reflection I've rethought my position just a little.

Cliche - in the sense of convention through both form and phrase - can be useful in a poem if used wisely. Then of course one would have to determine exactly what wise use is...which of course becomes a matter of subjectivity. I find that the norm today is to avoid cliche. Is it not then a cliche to avoid the norm? This thought links to Mikey's flippant comment, but it's a thought I take seriously.

Here's a comment from Charles's Bernstein that I find particularly inspiring.

'When poetry averts conformity it enters into the contemporary: speaking to the pressures and conflicts of the moment with the means just then at hand. By which I mean I care most about the poetry that disrupts business as usual, including literary business: I care most for poetry as dissent, including formal dissent; poetry that makes sounds possible to be heard that are not otherwise articulated.
  It is particularly amusing that those who protest loudest about the fraudulence or aridness or sameness of contemporary poetry that insists on being contemporary, dissident, different, and who profess, in contrast, the primacy of the individual voice, fanned by a gentle inspiration, produce work largely indistinguishable from dozens of their peers and, moreover, tend to recognize the value only of poetry that fits into the narrow horizon of their particular style and subject matter. As if poetry were a craft that there is a right way or wrong way to do: in which case, i prefer the wrong way - anything better than the well-wrought epiphany of predictable measure - for at least the craks and flaws and awkwardness show signs of life...
  What interests me is a poetry and a poetics that do not edit out so much as edit in: that include multiple conflicting perspectives and types of languages and styles in the same poetic work or, as here, in the same collection of essays. A poetry-a poetic-that expresses the states of art as it moves beyond the twentieth century, beyond the modern and the postmodern."

The poetry of the twentieth has been characterised by an excess of finding new form, deliverance from the 'old' and a belief that any overused phrase should be put firmly to rest.

I've since discovered that sometimes an overused phrase can still work - although I confess I prefer the remoulding of such phrases as I mentioned to Kari. It's all in the application, and the art.

Everything has been said before Rob, in essence - not necessarily in exact phrase. That I firmly ascribe to. You mentioned the cliche 'she'll always be there for me' and implied that it was impossible to use that effectively. One could put that line into a poem and, via context, put across exactly where she always is...

End of rant for now...

K  


[This message has been edited by Severn (10-10-2002 07:55 PM).]

Robtm1965
Member
since 2002-08-20
Posts 263

16 posted 2002-10-11 03:20 PM


Severn

I don’t disagree with much although I think categorizing whole forms or genres as cliche is unproductive.  Cliche is really at its most destructive at a micro level imo, at a level where meaning and intention are distorted or destroyed.   I also mostly agree with Bernstein except that that argument can be used to excuse writing that is maverick simply for the sake of being maverick and attention seeking via shock value alone.  As I’ve said myself, I think twice in the last few days, cliche can and does work sometimes - as you say it’s all in the application.

And actually “she’ll always be there for me” wasn’t my example.  And I agree with what you say to some extent but nevertheless the phrase itself carries so much weight of meaning now that I doubt that it could ever be used literally without the metaphoric/cliched meaning creeping in.  Which is exactly the reason not to used cliche!

Rob

Severn
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-07-17
Posts 7704

17 posted 2002-10-12 08:14 AM


Severn

* Rob

I don’t disagree with much although I think categorizing whole forms or genres as cliche is unproductive.

* Yes, for the most part, which is precisely why I have rethought my position. While it may be unproductive for an individual - or perhaps even a body of authors, or the wider canon - there is still truth in the assertion that there is cliche within a form or genre - quite aside from the concomitant level of productivity that recognition produces.

Cliche is really at its most destructive at a micro level imo, at a level where meaning and intention are distorted or destroyed.

* Again true for the most part - quite aside from the dangerous territory one walks on when discussing meaning in any case. Simplistically - my philosophy is that meaning is a fluid thing, as dynamic as language. Perhaps, on occasion, the wise use of cliche (as I mentioned) can create new meaning of the old - which is, I'm well aware, an ironic thought and not one I've seen enacted often. I'm not, believe or not, a proponent of cliche in any great way - I just think it's limiting for any author to say 'you must never do this or never do that - most limiting.

  I also mostly agree with Bernstein except that that argument can be used to excuse writing that is maverick simply for the sake of being maverick and attention seeking via shock value alone.  

* Perhaps, but I don't think that's the point of his argument, especially when also taken in context with the rest of the article that it came from, which you obviously don't have access to here (it's from the article 'State of the Art' published in A Poetics, 1992 if ever you're interested) - and I didn't use the example for the sake of any such point. I think that that interpretation of his argument in this narrow context concerning cliche is irrelevant.

As I’ve said myself, I think twice in the last few days, cliche can and does work sometimes - as you say it’s all in the application.

* Amen (now there's a cliche heh).

And actually “she’ll always be there for me” wasn’t my example.  

* I amend: 'She's always there for me' by Unknown in a text edited by Wallace and Boisseau. Better? ~grinning~

And I agree with what you say to some extent but nevertheless the phrase itself carries so much weight of meaning now that I doubt that it could ever be used literally without the metaphoric/cliched meaning creeping in.  Which is exactly the reason not to used cliche!

* Which is why an author could successfully shape the context around a cliche - if skilled enough of course - to lessen the cliche-damage. And like I said - never say never heh (sorry, couldn't resist...)

K

Robtm1965
Member
since 2002-08-20
Posts 263

18 posted 2002-10-12 08:44 AM


Severn

You are embarking on dialogue that seems to me little more than sophistry.  Moreover I won't say that you are being deliberately eristic but you sure seem determined to pick an argument!

For the record:

"I just think it's limiting for any author to say 'you must never do this or never do that - most limiting.  "

I don't believe I have ever said that, quite the reverse in fact.

" Perhaps, but I don't think that's the point of his argument,"

Again, I didn't say it was.  I merely pointed out as an aside that his approach often gives mavericks encouragement they could well do without.

I really think we are in agreement over the central issue, however disappointing that may be for you!

Rob

Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354
Listening to every heart
19 posted 2002-10-14 09:24 AM


Okay, folks, listen up.  I'm going to be taking all of this input [indicating that I believe you are done critiquing AS well as hijacking my attempt] and bring it to my writers group where we will go through your comments with a fine-toothed comb and hopefully combined most of your input into a new and improved version [without losing me in the process.]

Thank you for ALL of your thoughts, suggestions, and ideas.  You've given me about two years worth of work, as I somehow slip-stream it into my current schedule.

Hugs to all...K

Midnitesun
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Empyrean
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647
Gaia
20 posted 2003-09-06 10:46 AM


WOW! I never knew about this thread until this morning, and greatly appreciate the depth. I'll be back again later, and read the entire thread when my 'normal person' daytime activites don't gobble all my reading time.

savin this'un, as Mikey might say

iliana
Member Patricius
since 2003-12-05
Posts 13434
USA
21 posted 2004-08-01 12:19 PM


"No mother needs to tell another
mother what it's all about ...
a wink will suffice in the sisterhood
of knowledge gone unspoken.  

It is the same for writers."

OMG, Karilea!  There are just too many absolutely stunning lines in this to requote them all.  I pulled this one for the *wink* and the *sisterhood* just because it's you and me.  This is absolutely awesome and did bring tears to my eyes.  You are my poet, sis!  love you, jo   (clicking my library, too)

cynicsRus
Senior Member
since 2003-06-06
Posts 591
So Cal So Cool!
22 posted 2004-08-05 08:45 PM



I am very envious of young people,
such as yourself, (This line could be deleted without disrupting the preceding. )
who make it seem so easy!
Readers, mind you,
never really understand what it is
that makes us [poets] WANT to write... (use either “us” or “poets,” )
as you very well know, (This line adds nothing. )
to shut a writer up is to take
their very air away.

No wonder at times
we feel as if we carry
the lead weight of the
world upon our shoulders...
(This is quite a clichéd term.)
nothing gives us more FREEDOM
than spilling our soul (Another cliché.)
onto the parched white...
The camaraderie of writers is akin
to that of mothers having gone through
childbirth.
No mother needs to tell another
mother what it's all about ... (This line isn’t needed, given the previous line.)
a wink will suffice

in the sisterhood
of knowledge gone unspoken.
(This phrase is redundant, given the previous phrase. )

It is the same for writers.

I don't need to tell you   (The line would do just fine without this attached at the beginning.)
the desire
that is within me (These words could be redundant, in my opinion. )
to bring some "thing" to birth! (“thing” speaks, to me, more of an inanimate object, as opposed to at least, a concept with certain qualities—important when speaking of birth.)
Because you have that same desire,
sometimes intangible, sometimes painful, (”sometimes,” unnecessary. )
and we wonder, unnecessary “and”

"Are we holding on to something miraculous?"

or is it just heartburn?
(This point, I felt, was pretty well made.)

We only know that we feel this unnamed
hidden
desire
to bring it to the forefront...
whether it fails, or merely fulfills
the desire to scribble...
it HAS to come out.

BUT...what if it IS successful?

Do we write for the masses,
or some inner desire
to just create?
Do we share it with one
and hope they appreciate it
as much as we do,
(These lines sound a bit more prosaic than I’m sure you were intending.)

or do we share it
with anyone and all,
hoping that some  
one
person
Redundant, (“some, one, person”: Pick one.)
finds in our words
our deepest secret?
(This, I felt, is actually the strongest line in the whole piece. A compelling question. Otherwise however, excerpt 1 begins to wax redundant towards the end.)

Do we dare take that chance?


~*~

Excerpt from “To a Poet” – 2

You asked, “What is the secret?”
and truth be told,

for me,

it lies in the fact that I unwillingly
call myself “Poet”

because I hold Poets in such
high regard,

such as yourself. (unnecessary line)

It comes down to self-critique,
to get past the shy
of holding out to this world,
and beyond,
my barest thoughts
naked for all to see.
(cliché)

Why, (unnecessary word)
for some of us would-be writers,
that in itself
is the greatest leap of faith
for one’s character…

So I unwillingly call myself a poet, (This point was made previously without having to repeat. )
as I would rather say,

would be…
could be…
(This clichéd term does nothing to reinforce your point. )

knowing that the mantle of named
honor
looks far better on you,

no matter your age,
or creed,
or faith,
or bleed… (This line is out of place due to vague meaning. )

but should you want to take me within
your fine circle,

then I can not think of any place
I would rather be.
(This sounds too much like some old love song—a former hit. )

~*~

Excerpt from “To a Poet” – 3

…and now you ask,

“Why write?” and  “By what instrument?”

I will address why,
later…but for now, let us talk
   instrumentally…
(This just struck me as superfluous.)

Oh my friend, my Poet,
given the time and thus, to be given
    a form of romanticism to wrap around my shoulders
I would write with a candle by my side,
    a dip pen and the blackest of blue inks,
         the finest of papers
             or the coarsest of paper bags
                  and the stubbiest of pencils
                       by whatever light available…

but in constant fear of not capturing all of my elusive
thoughts because and by way of interrupted life…

and given the nuance of the day
my fingers tap tap tap my thoughts (Repetition adds nothing to this line. )



the strangest thing, though…  ”though” is unnecessary here.)
here before me
are beautiful journals that are waiting
for some thing from me,
some bit of proof that I touched them,
     read their inner thoughts,
         and even though inspired by their glossiness of blankness (These words do nothing for me—rather convey redundancy. )
             which awaits my inward spire
                  I cannot come to press the nub (I assume you’re referring to a writing instrument, in which case the term is “nib.” )
                      to leak the soul (I don’t think the word, “leak” conveys the right picture—too informal.)

for perhaps they would only be
tired dribblings from a cracked pen (Pretty sure this should be simply, “dribbling.” )
and I would not damage their beauty so…

Dare I conjure
the]jinja of the netted works I have no idea what “jinja” is. I figure if it’s not in a standard Collegiate, it’s likely too esoteric for the average reader. Typo?
into an electrical dither of non-compose (“non-compose”…not a noun)
forcing

Forcing!

Me to pick up my treasured pen
   To reveal by leak Same problem, as with the previous “leak.” )

My soul.

I fear my hesitate (“Hesitation”, a better word.)
   would blotch the paper
         and there is no delete key (Now, you’ve suddenly gone to a keyboard. This is inconsistent with your previous concept of using a classic writing instrument such as a pen.
              

only flame.

~*~

Excerpt from “To a Poet” – 4

You continue to ask “why”
a poet writes,
and yes, yes, I will get to that,
as one fine poet says, “soon”,

but for now,
   now we will discuss,

When.

For when to write is almost
as precariously precious as our reasons why
we write,
   oftentimes going hand in hand,
        certainly one not existing without
             the other,
                    when, why, why, when…

and the when of times will come
upon us
at the most inconvenient of times,
when we are without
pad
pen
napkins
backs of envelopes
pencils
and we fall short of drawing
our own blood
to write upon our own skin,

except in unbalanced thought,

but our hands are too full
of what we are doing
[or we would have found the accoutrements
so required]
so with
the beating of that very blood
banging in our eardrums
over the tense of Now! Now! Write me Now!

Oh!  We grasp at that elusive word, just the
one word that will bring it all
back once we reach our
destination, if not
our destiny,

holding on to it and milking it,
tasting it in our mouth, rolling it over and over
like a mantra, that one word that will
bring forth from the depths
of the well of us
all that would pour forth and nourish
any reader who is desiccated
and waiting,

like a sponge thrown from the sea
and beached,
dried brittle by the harsh sun and
sucked dry from the sands below,

and then like the mighty return
of the wave in the dark of night,
having snuck back up the shoreline
toward the pier,
we crash upon the sponge/paper
and let it drink in all that it waited
for…

for this is the when that comes upon us,
the when of our write,

and like the sponge we swell
with relief
as the words pour forth, and we ebb
and flow with the tide of words
         (This “sponge” analogy is probably the most creative imagery in your entire piece. Even so, you could cull it slightly to increase the effect.)
in this when of now!

Now comes elusively,
and our muses are named, graciously,
that we bid them, good eve,
come sit beside me,
stroke my brow
and knead my shoulders,
and lend to my fingertips that taste
of salt,
and sand,
and sea air…

that the gull should fly, now,
that the fog should come in, now,
that this should be the when,
now,
and bid me

write.

~*~

Excerpt from “To a Poet” – 5

My dear Poet,

We have spoken of birthing,
as naturally to come to you, a man,
as to me, a woman, and please,
believe,
it will be as painful for you,
as I…

    we have discussed faith, nakedness
         and secrets

all of the heart…

we have spoken of instruments,
     how akin they are to any stylus
           of other days, any papyrus of eras
                 past, all bound by leathered thoughts
                       and silken cord…

and we have thrust about
     timing
         knowing that it always seems,
             too little, too late, clichéd remarks
                 easier to say, than our ability to do…

so now, to truth.

It goes farther than the mirror,
   farther than your thoughts, rippling       (Unless speaking of measurable distance, the word is, “further”)
          just as a monarch’s beat of wing, the
                hurricane on the other side of the world
                      coming full bore as a result…

and this is why you write.

Someone must scribe what was, what is, what
will be.

You and I choose a form,
     something that stands out a little,
         not too loud, perhaps, certainly at times
          a bit soft, a deliquesce whisper that captures   (The adjective form is “deliquescent”)

souls…

and  is not the dry, factual, pragmatic, writings (I’m not a fan of beginning a line with, “and.” In most cases you can eliminate such fillers altogether.)
    of any historian…

no…

we ask that our words
    breathe, a breath to be caught up
         by the reader, so much so that they
might know our restaurant of choice this (“restaurant?” …I dunno… just doesn’t seem all that exciting to me…considering there are good restaurants and                           bad ones—and some quite unhealthy at that. )
                   very day…

then we ask that our lexis live,
     a palpable beating of heart beneath
          the thumb on its pulse, warm to the
               touch, the scent of lavender on skin,
                     a lace glove enclosing fingers stained

by ink…

and we center on our truths…
     this is where we face the mirror
           and see beyond…

so do not lie to me, and say, “I write
for others,” as this is not true;

do not say, “I only write so politicos
know a voice speaks,”
for neither is this truth;

do not whisper, “I only write
to pass the time,”
as we both see past that mirror…

Poet, bleed me your tears,
    and pass the sentiments,
          speak your truths, even if
                you do not feel you know that
                     much, they are still your truths…

garland me with your dreams,
      rope me in with your deeds,
             thrill me with your heart skips
                   when love’s light comes near…

rant your rage against injustices,
      scream your miseries, please God!,
            and whimper in yourlost, for you are (either “in your loss”, “regarding your loss” or, “because you are/have become lost”.)
                   only lost once in your life,
                          

and in your found… (Same problem with the proper word usage. It’s more of a distraction.)
cry…

and weep me a Poet of truth…

and this, my Poet,
is the why
of your write…

and If, if you have read this (Again, the distraction of the “and”, along with the “if” repetition doesn’t do it for me.)
word by word,
and If you feel a bit empty, (”and”)
and your throat is a bit sore, (”and”)
a sting lays behind your eye,

If, all of this, is with you now…

Then, perhaps, by serendipity or
Kismet,

I, too, shall one day
Be your poet.
Overall:

This could easily have been more readable with less scrolling.

The haphazard line breaks add nothing to the overall piece.

About those isolated single words: The reader is forced to focus on them, and if a word doesn’t stand on its own, isolating becomes pointless.  

Many of your word choices don’t match the classical feel and level of emotion that you are attempting, and needing, to convey in such a piece. By the time I reached the middle it began to feel more like a treatise than a poem because you over-sell your point.

Also, drop the ellipses. They add nothing.

The main question from this average PIPster is why this old thread was reposted on this forum, in its entirety? If indeed an author desires fresh critique, why bother posting old opinions, which often only serve to steer the course of the new ones?

[This message has been edited by cynicsRus (08-06-2004 10:10 AM).]

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