Spring Again again
George Dance
It still could use some work, but it's much improved. I think I've
finally got the voice right:
Spring Again
It's spring again, and I am with Maureen.
I'd add "... thank God for that!" (if I believed)
For frozen by its high beams I have seen
Oncoming dread: one dead and one bereaved.
I cannot pray to live eternally
Or gain a brave new body after death;
This is my all - a thought that forces me
To not go tharn, to fight for every breath:
A battle every day this course is run,
A triumph every day that we survive,
Another day my love and I have won
And death has lost. Today I am alive,
This world is mine, its grass and trees are green,
It's spring again, and I am with Maureen.
Dale Houstman
I think you've failed to write a poem for the third time. If you had
stopped with "It's spring again, and I am with Maureen" I would have
given you points for humor, but the rest is excrutiating evocations of a
shallow depression, in which you could have (more usefully) hidden this
poem, afterwards covering it with sodden leaves, and praying that it
would not rise again to bore you in your slumber. How can a person
(wthout really trying) avoid so many opportunities to present one
striking image, or any sense at all that the poem is not just a bad
sermon delivered by a lazy and sentimentally morose priest after a
drunken Saturday night?
"To not go tharn"?
dmh
George Dance
Good thing my coffee cup was empty. Thanks for your comments, sorry
you didn't like any of it, etc.
> "To not go tharn"?
>
It extended the metaphor.
Ronald 'More-More' Moshki
"Tharn" is a village in Ohio.
And the world's leading poets write prose
as in sentences piled on top of each other:
"I seen a lumpdiddle.
What as lovely
lumpdiddle it was."
So "Spring Again" is a poem.
Randy
> Here's a third attempt at a poem that I've failed to write twice now.
> It still could use some work, but it's much improved. I think I've
> finally got the voice right:
>
> Spring Again
>
> It's spring again, and I am with Maureen.
> I'd add "... thank God for that!" (if I believed)
Okay, I'm going to try to make some sense of this. The person
speaking, the "I" of the poem, says the first line and I can accept
that. The second line makes it seem like you're stepping outside
yourself to say the next thought. If you meant to say:
It's spring again, and I am with Maureen.
And thank God for that!
then just say it. Oh, but you're trying to write a sonnet and you need
to fill out the meter. But then you question what you're saying with
the parenthetical remark. Maybe the next thought should be something
like
(I'd say thank God! if I believed)
> For frozen by its high beams I have seen
> Oncoming dread: one dead and one bereaved.
So the metaphor here is spring is an oncoming car and while frozen in
it's high beams you see death and some one near to death.
> I cannot pray to live eternally
> Or gain a brave new body after death;
> This is my all - a thought that forces me
> To not go tharn, to fight for every breath:
This part did nothing for me and "tharn" made me reread to see what
else could be meant. To do no harm? To not go to the barn? If you
meant to not go there, just say that. "Tharn" does not seem to be a
word to the rest of the English speaking world. I noticed in another
post you thought you were continuing the metaphor. Of the headlights?
So the speaker is fighting against death (with out god's help)
something like "Do not go gentle into that head light"?
> A battle every day this course is run,
> A triumph every day that we survive,
> Another day my love and I have won
> And death has lost. Today I am alive,
This is all just filler to get you to the end.
> This world is mine, its grass and trees are green,
> It's spring again, and I am with Maureen.
So there's a mention of an image of death and subsequent resolving to
be glad it's spring and not dead.
Spring, of course, has long been known as a time of birth and rebirth.
The "voice" in this is all over the place and sounds confused. If you
feel you must put in your two cents about it, try to see what's really
there. Sit outside in the spring time and write down all the little
details you observe particular to spring. That can be much more
exhilerating than reading about a mention of something that,
apparently, was scary.
Randy
George Dance
> On Nov 22, 7:48 am, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote:
>
> > Here's a third attempt at a poem that I've failed to write twice now.
> > It still could use some work, but it's much improved. I think I've
> > finally got the voice right:
>
> > Spring Again
>
> > It's spring again, and I am with Maureen.
> > I'd add "... thank God for that!" (if I believed)
>
> Okay, I'm going to try to make some sense of this. The person
> speaking, the "I" of the poem, says the first line and I can accept
> that. The second line makes it seem like you're stepping outside
> yourself to say the next thought. If you meant to say:
>
> It's spring again, and I am with Maureen.
> And thank God for that!
>
> then just say it. Oh, but you're trying to write a sonnet and you need
> to fill out the meter. But then you question what you're saying with
> the parenthetical remark. Maybe the next thought should be something
> like
>
> (I'd say thank God! if I believed)
Thanks for commenting, Randy. I'll play with the punctuation of that
line, though I dunno ... I've tried many different punctuations over
the past 6 months. I do have to protest that "if I believed" isn't
meter-padding, though; it's key to the argument that the speaker is
not religious.
>
> > For frozen by its high beams I have seen
> > Oncoming dread: one dead and one bereaved.
>
> So the metaphor here is spring is an oncoming car and while frozen in
> it's high beams you see death and some one near to death.
>
Spring isn't the oncoming vehicle - maybe that's the 'it', which is
supposed to refer to the 'dread' - but the 'dread' is quite real: it's
a fact that one of us will die and (perhaps worse) one of us will have
to live for a while without the other.
> > I cannot pray to live eternally
> > Or gain a brave new body after death;
> > This is my all - a thought that forces me
> > To not go tharn, to fight for every breath:
>
> This part did nothing for me and "tharn" made me reread to see what
> else could be meant. To do no harm? To not go to the barn? If you
> meant to not go there, just say that. "Tharn" does not seem to be a
> word to the rest of the English speaking world.
It's not a word in common use; but it's been used by more than one
writer, and the definition is easily available on-line. And it has to
be there; there's not all that much to the original metaphor without
it. (Originally there was no metaphor, but the initial response told
me I needed one; it's rather pedestrian, even cliched (it's the image
anyone would use as the metaphor), but it is the most effective.
'Tharn', being effectively the opposite (a word hardly anyone uses)
was meant to try to lift that metaphor's head above the cliche. It's
also meant to be 'voice' - the fact the speaker says things like
'tharn' (and 'brave new body') is meant to show something about him.
> I noticed in another
> post you thought you were continuing the metaphor. Of the headlights?
> So the speaker is fighting against death (with out god's help)
> something like "Do not go gentle into that head light"?
>
Something like that; though Thomas wanted his father to fight on his
deathbed, a battle he was sure to lose anyway; whereas I'm trying to
talk about fighting death and winning.
> > A battle every day this course is run,
> > A triumph every day that we survive,
> > Another day my love and I have won
> > And death has lost. Today I am alive,
>
> This is all just filler to get you to the end.
>
I'm sorry it looks that way. It's not much, perhaps, but it's all that
a nonbeliever has to shore against death. And the thought, if not my
wording, can inspire. It can be so wonderful to be alive at times.
> > This world is mine, its grass and trees are green,
> > It's spring again, and I am with Maureen.
>
> So there's a mention of an image of death and subsequent resolving to
> be glad it's spring and not dead.
Not "not dead" - alive. Death is coming, but it can be defeated. We
defeated it yesterday, and we'll defeat it again today. Those are
facts, as real as the 'oncoming dread.'
> Spring, of course, has long been known as a time of birth and rebirth.
> The "voice" in this is all over the place and sounds confused. If you
> feel you must put in your two cents about it, try to see what's really
> there. Sit outside in the spring time and write down all the little
> details you observe particular to spring. That can be much more
> exhilerating than reading about a mention of something that,
> apparently, was scary.
>
If I wanted to write about what was going on outside in the spring,
I'd write an article -or perhaps, if those events were dramatic
enough, a story. IMO, poetry is about showing what's going on inside
minds; and that's what I'm trying to learn to write - as a beginner,
who's learned enough to know that he's going to produce more misses
than hits.
But enough argument. I asked for feedback; you gave it; and I have to
learn what I can from it. You've told me that this poem is one that
not many readers are going to like; that its sonnet form does nothing
to help in that respect, but in fact is a negative, in that it makes
the reader suspect padding; and its argument, by itself, isn't going
to capture anyone's interest. It may have merits, but it doesn't have
value. Probably the only thing to do with it is bury it in a book
(should I come to write one).
ggamble
<george...@yahoo.ca> wrote:
> I do have to protest that "if I believed" isn't
>meter-padding, though; it's key to the argument that the speaker is
>not religious.
>
>
>Spring isn't the oncoming vehicle - maybe that's the 'it', which is
>supposed to refer to the 'dread' - but the 'dread' is quite real: it's
>a fact that one of us will die and (perhaps worse) one of us will have
>to live for a while without the other.
>
>It's not a word in common use; but it's been used by more than one
>writer, and the definition is easily available on-line. And it has to
>be there; there's not all that much to the original metaphor without
>it. (Originally there was no metaphor, but the initial response told
>me I needed one; it's rather pedestrian, even cliched (it's the image
>anyone would use as the metaphor), but it is the most effective.
>'Tharn', being effectively the opposite (a word hardly anyone uses)
>was meant to try to lift that metaphor's head above the cliche. It's
>also meant to be 'voice' - the fact the speaker says things like
>'tharn' (and 'brave new body') is meant to show something about him.
>
>I'm sorry it looks that way. It's not much, perhaps, but it's all that
>a nonbeliever has to shore against death. And the thought, if not my
>wording, can inspire. It can be so wonderful to be alive at times.
>
>Not "not dead" - alive. Death is coming, but it can be defeated. We
>defeated it yesterday, and we'll defeat it again today. Those are
>facts, as real as the 'oncoming dread.'
>
>If I wanted to write about what was going on outside in the spring,
>I'd write an article -or perhaps, if those events were dramatic
>enough, a story. IMO, poetry is about showing what's going on inside
>minds; and that's what I'm trying to learn to write - as a beginner,
>who's learned enough to know that he's going to produce more misses
>than hits.
>
>But enough argument. I asked for feedback; you gave it; and I have to
>learn what I can from it. You've told me that this poem is one that
>not many readers are going to like; that its sonnet form does nothing
>to help in that respect, but in fact is a negative, in that it makes
>the reader suspect padding; and its argument, by itself, isn't going
>to capture anyone's interest. It may have merits, but it doesn't have
>value. Probably the only thing to do with it is bury it in a book
>(should I come to write one).
You do the exact same thing every time you get legitimate feedback.
You did the exact same thing when Rob graciously gave you legitimate
feedback.
It's difficult to imagine that you've ever submitted your work for
critical review before.
You're going to claim that you just want to improve, or somesuch
self-delusionary craziness, but your reaction to legitimate commentary
betrays you every single time.
You have yet to learn that it's not what your intent was when you were
writing the piece that matters.
You have yet to learn that your explanations regarding what you really
meant are irrelevant.
You have yet to learn not to defend your work.
You have yet to learn that your self-defensive posturing in the face
of legitimate feedback makes you look like a moron who doesn't know
anything about the critical process.
You have yet to learn that good poetry is not about *what's going on
inside minds*. Good poetry is about conveying experience to a
receptive reader through the skillful manipulation of words.
It's the words on the page that matter, not what the writer had in his
mind when he wrote those words.
You need to learn which elements of the poem need to be there for the
good of the poem.
Until you learn these basic things, you will never begin to improve
your writing.
But, I'm not entirely sure that you're really interested in improving
your writing, I think you're just here to troll, troll.
You're welcome. Now, take a good look in the mirror or continue to be
an amusement factor here.
ggamble
<george...@yahoo.ca> wrote:
>
>> "To not go tharn"?
>>
>
>
>
>It extended the metaphor.
No, it took a silly piece of writing to a whole new level of
silliness.
Speaking of silly: why am I trying to help you?
George Dance
> On Fri, 23 Nov 2007 04:49:08 -0800 (PST), George Dance
>
>
> >But enough argument. I asked for feedback; you gave it; and I have to
> >learn what I can from it. You've told me that this poem is one that
> >not many readers are going to like; that its sonnet form does nothing
> >to help in that respect, but in fact is a negative, in that it makes
> >the reader suspect padding; and its argument, by itself, isn't going
> >to capture anyone's interest. It may have merits, but it doesn't have
> >value. Probably the only thing to do with it is bury it in a book
> >(should I come to write one).
>
> You do the exact same thing every time you get legitimate feedback.
>
What's that?
> You did the exact same thing when Rob graciously gave you legitimate
> feedback.
>
Perhaps it's what pissed Rob off enough to start calling me a "liar"
and an "idiot." (Though, IIRC, that began when I criticized a poem
that Rob liked.) Anyway, what seems to be the problem?
> It's difficult to imagine that you've ever submitted your work for
> critical review before.
>
It's difficult to imagine that's what's I'm doing here. All I see is:
I'm posting poems, others are writing their reactions, and I'm writing
my reactions to their reactions. It's called a dialogue.
> You're going to claim that you just want to improve, or somesuch
> self-delusionary craziness, but your reaction to legitimate commentary
> betrays you every single time.
>
I listen to it, think about it, and either agree or disagree. What's
delusional or crazy about that? Don't you do the same?
> You have yet to learn that it's not what your intent was when you were
> writing the piece that matters.
>
How silly. Why would I rewrite the same poem twice over 6 months, if I
thought my intent was all that mattered? I had the intent nailed 6
months ago.
> You have yet to learn that your explanations regarding what you really
> meant are irrelevant.
>
They're at least as relevant as anyone else's explanations regarding
what I really meant, no? When someone gets into that, I figure I'm
allowed to talk about the same thing.
> You have yet to learn not to defend your work.
>
Why not? If a poem I liked by someone else were being criticized, I'd
defend it. What makes one of my own special?
> You have yet to learn that your self-defensive posturing in the face
> of legitimate feedback makes you look like a moron who doesn't know
> anything about the critical process.
>
> You have yet to learn that good poetry is not about *what's going on
> inside minds*. Good poetry is about conveying experience to a
> receptive reader through the skillful manipulation of words.
>
And "experience" doesn't happen inside minds? (I don't disagree with
the rest.)
> It's the words on the page that matter, not what the writer had in his
> mind when he wrote those words.
>
If the words don't convey what's in the speaker's/narrator's mind,
then there's not much of a poem there. (Don't confuse the speaker with
the writer.)
> You need to learn which elements of the poem need to be there for the
> good of the poem.
>
> Until you learn these basic things, you will never begin to improve
> your writing.
>
The more poetry, and articles about poetry, I've read, the more I've
discovered that there's no consensus about any of those elements. At
one time end-rhyme was considered absolutely essential; but that
changed.
> But, I'm not entirely sure that you're really interested in improving
> your writing, I think you're just here to troll, troll.
>
I think it's more than likely that you're trolling here, yourself.
However, I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt at the
beginning of a conversation.
> You're welcome. Now, take a good look in the mirror or continue to be
> an amusement factor here.
That last sentence rather blows your cover of pretending to offer only
"legitimate feedback" and"critical review," don'cha think?
George Dance
> On Thu, 22 Nov 2007 09:53:52 -0800 (PST), George Dance
>
It didn't extend the metaphor?
> , it took a silly piece of writing to a whole new level of
> silliness.
Perhaps it's a silly metaphor; but I was told (after the first draft)
that I needed one, and it seemed the best fit.
> Speaking of silly: why am I trying to help you?
Speaking of sillier: why should I think you are trying to help me?
Rob
<dm...@skypoint.com> writes
Dancing Bunny in the headlights is worth two fish in a barrel.
Rob
--
Rob Evans
--
Posted via NewsDemon.com - Premium Uncensored Newsgroup Service
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Karla
wrote:
OK, Randy, you MUST post warnings so that people who are drinking coffee
don't muss up their desk! hahahaha "Do not go gentle into that head light"
- priceless! Bravo (and sorry George for a laugh at your expense).
Karla
Dale Houstman
i'm sorry you're sorry. But it isn't that I simply don't like it: I
actually have rational reasons to support that dislike. The "theme" is
sentimental and badly explicated, it is full of listless (and often
rather popmpous) rhetoric, and inexplicably dull "images" such as "its
grass and trees are green". It is also rather ineptly forged in a
pseudo-archaic tone (like the comic book Thor's "Shakespearean
discourse") that is seemingly an attempt to render the false into the
important;y poetic. Your victory over death strikes me as a purely
melodramatic revel, of whose power the reader must inevitably be
unconvinced, since the entire thrust of the piece is a sort of
renaisssance-oid plastic, with no actuality stirring about in the mix to
lend substance. From the dull as potato colored clouds title to the
disappointing repeat of the last line, there is - literally - nothing of
any real value to be sucked from this very very dry turkey.
>
>
>>"To not go tharn"?
>
> It extended the metaphor.
How exactly? What is the metaphor being extended? A delusion I think. It
really only makes the entire proceeding seem more pointless and damaged
than it would have otherwise. It draws vastly undue attention to the
fakery of the entire attempt.
I really don't care how many times you "fiddle" with this piece, it is -
at the core - not worth any further effort; both form and content are
beyond redemption.
dmh
George Dance
> On Fri, 23 Nov 2007 00:16:39 -0800 (PST), Randy <randic...@gmail.com>
Don't be sorry. That was a funny line.
Randy
Okay, in my haste I only looked in the dictionary part of
dictionary.com for tharn and came up empty. I did read Watership Down
for a high school class but apparently the rabbit language didn't
stick. I suppose it does say something about the speaker who uses it.
Still, using it in a poem aimed at a non-geek audience may be ill
advised.
> > I noticed in another
> > post you thought you were continuing the metaphor. Of the headlights?
> > So the speaker is fighting against death (with out god's help)
> > something like "Do not go gentle into that head light"?
>
> Something like that; though Thomas wanted his father to fight on his
> deathbed, a battle he was sure to lose anyway; whereas I'm trying to
> talk about fighting death and winning.
>
> > > A battle every day this course is run,
> > > A triumph every day that we survive,
> > > Another day my love and I have won
> > > And death has lost. Today I am alive,
>
> > This is all just filler to get you to the end.
>
> I'm sorry it looks that way. It's not much, perhaps, but it's all that
> a nonbeliever has to shore against death. And the thought, if not my
> wording, can inspire. It can be so wonderful to be alive at times.
>
> > > This world is mine, its grass and trees are green,
> > > It's spring again, and I am with Maureen.
>
> > So there's a mention of an image of death and subsequent resolving to
> > be glad it's spring and not dead.
>
> Not "not dead" - alive. Death is coming, but it can be defeated. We
> defeated it yesterday, and we'll defeat it again today. Those are
> facts, as real as the 'oncoming dread.'
So the speaker is easily terrorized by the thought of death, then is
relieved, repeatedly, that death is easily defeated. Seems like a lot
of trumped up drama.
Randy
Dale Houstman
George Dance wrote:
>>
>>This part did nothing for me and "tharn" made me reread to see what
>>else could be meant. To do no harm? To not go to the barn? If you
>>meant to not go there, just say that. "Tharn" does not seem to be a
>>word to the rest of the English speaking world.
>
>
>
>
> It's not a word in common use; but it's been used by more than one
> writer, and the definition is easily available on-line. And it has to
> be there; there's not all that much to the original metaphor without
> it. (Originally there was no metaphor, but the initial response told
> me I needed one; it's rather pedestrian, even cliched (it's the image
> anyone would use as the metaphor), but it is the most effective.
> 'Tharn', being effectively the opposite (a word hardly anyone uses)
> was meant to try to lift that metaphor's head above the cliche. It's
> also meant to be 'voice' - the fact the speaker says things like
> 'tharn' (and 'brave new body') is meant to show something about him.
>
What precisely - that he's an idiot with an old security thesaurus? Or
that he is apt to use words that almost no one in the English-speaking
world ever uses, so as to get invited to the next dyslexia party? It
obviously is NOT the "most effective" word, since it instantly makes
almost anyone think you're either speaking nonsense, or have an entirely
aritfical manner of cobbling together a poem. If the "metaphor" (which
is supposed to be a guiding tent of composition and not the pathetic
little utllitatrian kitchen tool you've tried to make of it) is cliche,
it can not be the best choice. And to think you can make something dull
and tired vivid and powerful by merely tossing in a rare word is - to
put it mildly - idiotic. It's not even "lipstick on a pig' but "a raisin
in a crap pile" - it only makes the contrast more obvious, the crap
crappier. In honesty, I think this sort of "ploy" only makes it more
obvious that your grasp on the very idea of "the poetic" is not weak,
but illusory. If you knew that the metaphor you only inserted into a
dead piece of writing was pedestrian and cliche, and also felt the need
to fix it (after someone else called your attention to the problem) why
didn't you work on the metaphor rather than merely tossing in an
incredibly stupid word choice?
dmh
ggamble
<george...@yahoo.ca> wrote:
>
>
>> Speaking of silly: why am I trying to help you?
>
>
>Speaking of sillier: why should I think you are trying to help me?
You should read this too.
George Dance
> On Fri, 23 Nov 2007 07:10:21 -0800 (PST), George Dance
>
>
> >> Speaking of silly: why am I trying to help you?
>
> >Speaking of sillier: why should I think you are trying to help me?
>
> You should read this too.
>
> http://www.valpo.edu/english/vpr/mcdonaldessay.html
Well, thank you for that. It's always nice to read another writer's
experiences. If you have any more links like that to share, I'd be
interested in reading them.
George Dance
You mean like this?
Pot Holder Day
_____________
everybody got pot holders on Pot Holder Day.
some got red pot holders some got blue pot holders some got plain pot
holders
some got pot holders with pictures of Dorian Gray
but everybody got pot holders on Pot Holder Day.
some of the people had pots and some had not
but everybody got pot holders on Pot Holder Day.
some people used their pot holders to hold pots
some people used their pot holders to decorate their walls
some people used their pot holders to make beautiful clothes
and went out dancing and dining and drinking
with other people who used their pot holders to make beautiful clothes
some people played checkers on their checkered pot holders
some wondered why they had got pot holders anyway
but everybody got pot holders on Pot Holder Day.
some people were very happy with their pot holders
some people were very unhappy with their pot holders
some people collected them
some people just threw them away
but everybody got pot holders on Pot Holder Day.
- Dale Houstman
> So "Spring Again" is a poem.
With all due respect: if I were in doubt as to what a poem was, I
don't think that it's Dale I'd be asking.
George Dance
I've found the best option is to type "define tharn" (or whatnot)
directly into the search engine; that usually gives definitions from
multiple sources, with links.
> I did read Watership Down
> for a high school class but apparently the rabbit language didn't
> stick.
I never did. Do you remember if it was any good?
> I suppose it does say something about the speaker who uses it.
> Still, using it in a poem aimed at a non-geek audience may be ill
> advised.
>
Adams (and Stephen King) do have millions of readers; some may
remember the word, some may be reminded of it (assuming anyone reads
it, of course).
Sorry you didn't like it. But I'll thank you for commenting; your
comments were constructive, in that you did help me improve my work.
Your criticizing LL9-10 forced me to look at them and realize how dull
and prosaic they were - how monotonous the 'every day' repetition
made them - and how their flatness right after 'tharn' made that stick
out even more. So I replaced them, and even got in another symbol
(though I expect it's one you'll find just as cliched). I don't think
that'll change your mind about SA, but it is an improvement; and
perhaps later, down the road, your other criticisms will also result
in improvements.
ggamble
<george...@yahoo.ca> wrote:
>
>
>With all due respect: if I were in doubt as to what a poem was, I
>don't think that it's Dale I'd be asking.
You'll just never, ever get it.
You should go deliver pizza in Columbus GA.
jesus
Fuck
George Dance
Spring Again
It's spring again, and I am with Maureen.
I'd add "thank God for that" (if I believed)
For frozen by its high beams I have seen
Oncoming dread: one dead and one bereaved.
I cannot pray to live eternally
Or gain a brave new body after death;
This is my all - a thought which forces me
To not go tharn, to fight for every breath:
A battle till the setting of each sun,
A triumph every sunset we survive,
George Dance
It's spring again, and I am with Maureen.
I'd add "thank God for that" (if I believed)
For frozen by its high beams I have seen
Oncoming dread: one dead and one bereaved.
I cannot pray to live eternally
Or gain a brave new body after death.
This is my all - a thought which forces me
To not go tharn, to fight for every breath;
A battle till the setting of each sun,
A conquest every sunset we survive,
George Dance
The only reason I posted this (one-word) revision was that I thought
it would allow me to read Dale's last post, which google won't allow
me to for some reason.
Dale, I'm sure this revision doesn't change your opinion of the thing
in the slightest: so if you want to re-send your previous post, as a
reply to this one, I'd appreciate it.
Dale Houstman
It was short...
"Still (and I wager, forever) wretched, harn, tharn, or everywharn..."
So you weren't missing much...
The striking thing here is the nature of your "re-write" which appears
to reveal that you have as much trouble with the re-writing process as
you do with the writing process: you are vastly timorous, afraid to make
"big choices" and step outside what you have already laid dow so as to
(possibly) achieve a higher plane of poetic expression. All the writers
I have known (including myself) have had to make the hard choices, the
severe triage, of gutting entire phrases, of smashing the form and
re-imaging it, of breaking away from "what is" to create "what might be"
etc. If you really think you can turn a bland bit of melo-drama into a
striking poem by simply changing one (or two, or a dozen) words, then
you misunderstand the necessary "heartbreak" of the re-write, in which
you have to admit your baby is ugly and opt for either radical surgery,
or a quick death and burial. Almost all good poems are really "sculpted"
in the re-write, and "sculpted" is not an arbitrary term: it is usually
a matter of chiseling away large chunks of the drivel to see if there is
anything breathing in there, or in you. I personally don't think you
have the stuff to make anything out the material you have supplied
yourself, which is a mostly inferior grade of marble (i.e. fool's gold).
There simply isn't enough "there" to reveal.
But whatever...
dmh
Lime & Tequila
> Here's a third attempt at a poem that I've failed to write twice now.
> It still could use some work, but it's much improved. I think I've
> finally got the voice right:
>
>
> It's spring again, and I am with Maureen.
> For frozen by its high beams I have seen
> Oncoming dread: one dead and one bereaved.
> I cannot pray to live eternally
> This is my all - a thought that forces me
> To not go tharn, to fight for every breath:
> Another day my love and I have won
> And death has lost. Today I am alive,
> This world is mine, its grass and trees are green,
> It's spring again, and I am with Maureen.
I've read Spring Again a few times now. I first read it silently. I'm
pretty sure I must have just skimmed it. It didn't draw me in
immediately. And tonight when I read it, I clued into the meaning of
this poem (not exactly flattering to me).
Initially, I want to share with you the fact that I don't care for the
"frozen by its high beams" and "oncoming dread" allusion to an
automobile. It's not that have any particular problem with your actual
language, it's just the automobile reference seems grafted in, chosen
mainly because it's kind of a cool way to reference fear and death.
But then you drop it--appropriately enough--and move on with a more
traditional battle against death motif.
I'm thinking some other reference would work better in this context,
onrushing soldiers, army, whatnot. The car motive would easily work
in another poem, but not here.
Well, I've beaten that horse to death. So let's move to tharn. I'm
comfortable, even admiring, of unconventional word choice. And I kind
of like tharn in the context of frozen by fear of death. But when you
combine it with oncoming headlights, as Richard Adams did in his novel
"Watership Down," it's almost cliché.
Let's be honest, the vast majority of your readers will have to look
up the word tharn. And they'll be directed to the reference in
"Watership Down" of rabbits frozen in fear by oncoming headlights. And
suddenly the originality of this line goes a bit flat, it trails too
deeply in the footsteps of Richard Adams.
A small point, throughout the poem, you are "I" centered, thus, "I
am," "I'd add," I have," etc. But in your lines 10 and 11, we shift to
us, you and Maureen. Maureen hasn't done much so far, she hasn't
prayed or been forced or fought. But she's now winning the battle
along with you. It's a subtle point, but I tend to think you should
either bring Maureen in as an active participant earlier or leave her
the beloved wife and keep your work "I" centric all the way through.
Now, turning to the end of your poem, you state, "This world is mine,
its grass and trees are green."
I get the joy of another day and I understand why you reference the
grass and trees are still green. But to me, "it's grass and trees are
green" seems a bit weak given that you have just fought death and
won.
In other words, the line is there solely to support the spring again
motive. But is this really what springs to mind as you stand unbowed
and glory in having fought and defeated death another year.
I don't want to exhaustively examine line by line every word in this
poem. Frankly, it's beyond my capability. But I did want to give you
the courtesy of my honest thoughts on this poem.
As drafted, it doesn't quite work. On the other hand, I really like
the idea of a man glorying in the fact that he and his wife are still
together. I like that his fear is one or the other being left alone.
And I can see and feel the elements that prompted you to write this
poem. It's something worth capturing.
Perhaps the reason I didn't quite get the meaning of this poem on my
first read or two lies in the fact that my best friend and I have
joked for years that when our husbands drop dead, we can finally live
together as old women and cackle from our porch at anyone who passes
by as we rock back and forth.
Thank you for letting me read your poem. I can see why you return
again and again to this particular subject. If you can capture the
essence of that fear, losing a spouse, and the glory of surviving
another year, you'll have something well-worth reading.
Peace,
L&T
Dale Houstman
Lime & Tequila wrote:
> On Nov 22, 4:48 am, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote:
>
>>Here's a third attempt at a poem that I've failed to write twice now.
>>It still could use some work, but it's much improved. I think I've
>>finally got the voice right:
>>
>>Spring Again
>>
>>It's spring again, and I am with Maureen.
>>I'd add "... thank God for that!" (if I believed)
>>For frozen by its high beams I have seen
>>Oncoming dread: one dead and one bereaved.
>>I cannot pray to live eternally
>>Or gain a brave new body after death;
>>This is my all - a thought that forces me
>>To not go tharn, to fight for every breath:
>> A battle every day this course is run,
>> A triumph every day that we survive,
>>Another day my love and I have won
>>And death has lost. Today I am alive,
>> This world is mine, its grass and trees are green,
>> It's spring again, and I am with Maureen.
>
>
> I've read Spring Again a few times now. I first read it silently. I'm
> pretty sure I must have just skimmed it. It didn't draw me in
> immediately. And tonight when I read it, I clued into the meaning of
> this poem (not exactly flattering to me).
That's probably because that "meaning" - like so many "meanings" - isn't
worth the price of admission - reading the poem.
>
> Initially, I want to share with you the fact that I don't care for the
> "frozen by its high beams" and "oncoming dread" allusion to an
> automobile. It's not that have any particular problem with your actual
> language, it's just the automobile reference seems grafted in, chosen
> mainly because it's kind of a cool way to reference fear and death.
> But then you drop it--appropriately enough--and move on with a more
> traditional battle against death motif.
There IS a "particular problem" with the language, and you've hit on
part of it: its deep artificiality, and the resultant inability of the
writer to sustain his metaphor or to get a handle on the language he is
using to promote the "meaning" which is essentially banal. Meaning is a
vastly over-rated concept in art; the means of transport outweigh the
destination. Very few poems - reduced to their meaning - would be worth
looking at: it is precisely the form and language which makes the
journey worthwhile. Anyone and their cousin can probably assert "mankind
is lonely and needs love" for instance or "death is awful but each day I
live is a small victory" but a poet will say it in a way which compells
the reader to rethink old possibilities; they can connect to the poem
via shared experience, but they are attracted to the poem by an uncommon
linguistic display. The poem under discussion is a rather flat and
artificial construct that seems made to contain an idea, but which is
not - in itself - worth visiting.
>
> I'm thinking some other reference would work better in this context,
> onrushing soldiers, army, whatnot. The car motive would easily work
> in another poem, but not here.
>
> Well, I've beaten that horse to death. So let's move to tharn. I'm
> comfortable, even admiring, of unconventional word choice. And I kind
> of like tharn in the context of frozen by fear of death. But when you
> combine it with oncoming headlights, as Richard Adams did in his novel
> "Watership Down," it's almost cliché.
"Tharn" is one of the bad poems low points...
>
> Let's be honest, the vast majority of your readers will have to look
> up the word tharn. And they'll be directed to the reference in
> "Watership Down" of rabbits frozen in fear by oncoming headlights. And
> suddenly the originality of this line goes a bit flat, it trails too
> deeply in the footsteps of Richard Adams.
This sort of forced connection (which will remain obscure) is the death
of art. I saw a lot of this in poetry classes: a person claiming that a
tophat is mentioned because it is a reference to the ASrtful Dodger, or
some sort of ridiculous thing. First off, it is doomed to be unrealized,
and - once the connection is made clear by the writer (who should do
that in the poem itself), it is doomed to be pretentious, or a rather
cheap way to drag in a better writer as support for one's tepid drizzle.
>
> A small point, throughout the poem, you are "I" centered, thus, "I
> am," "I'd add," I have," etc. But in your lines 10 and 11, we shift to
> us, you and Maureen. Maureen hasn't done much so far, she hasn't
> prayed or been forced or fought. But she's now winning the battle
> along with you. It's a subtle point, but I tend to think you should
> either bring Maureen in as an active participant earlier or leave her
> the beloved wife and keep your work "I" centric all the way through.
>
> Now, turning to the end of your poem, you state, "This world is mine,
> its grass and trees are green."
> I get the joy of another day and I understand why you reference the
> grass and trees are still green. But to me, "it's grass and trees are
> green" seems a bit weak given that you have just fought death and
> won.
A "bit" weak?! It's one of the lamest constructs I've seen in a
(reputed) poem ever since my eyes opened. If a writer cannopt think of a
better way to declare the continued vitality of life than by stating the
obvious - that grass is green - then they might as well look into
starting a small cobbler business. It's a hopeless trope...
>
> In other words, the line is there solely to support the spring again
> motive. But is this really what springs to mind as you stand unbowed
> and glory in having fought and defeated death another year.
>
> I don't want to exhaustively examine line by line every word in this
> poem. Frankly, it's beyond my capability. But I did want to give you
> the courtesy of my honest thoughts on this poem.
>
> As drafted, it doesn't quite work. On the other hand, I really like
> the idea of a man glorying in the fact that he and his wife are still
> together.
The "idea" is fine - almost any idea is fine - but the fact is the poem
is an utter failure in either conveying whatever freshness might be
leftr in the idea, or in connecting to an audience with either a neat
rhetorical flourish, a personal vision, or a neat display of wit,
intelligence, or linguistic flair. Screw the idea...
>I like that his fear is one or the other being left alone.
> And I can see and feel the elements that prompted you to write this
> poem. It's something worth capturing.
But the fact is he doesn't have a net, or any hunting skills: he seems
incapable of coming to a poem as a "object in itself" apart from his
bland attempt to front a all-too-common "idea". His take on re-writes
reveals (even further) his lack of understanding of what makes (or
breaks) a poem: he makes timorous steps, adjusting the deck chairs on
the Titanic of his disaster. He doesn't know how to "re-enter" the poem,
because he never entered it in the first place.
>
> Perhaps the reason I didn't quite get the meaning of this poem on my
> first read or two lies in the fact that my best friend and I have
> joked for years that when our husbands drop dead, we can finally live
> together as old women and cackle from our porch at anyone who passes
> by as we rock back and forth.
>
> Thank you for letting me read your poem. I can see why you return
> again and again to this particular subject. If you can capture the
> essence of that fear, losing a spouse, and the glory of surviving
> another year, you'll have something well-worth reading.
>
There isn't a chance in hell that he will be able to capture any of that...
dmh
George Dance
OK, you've given me reasons you don't like it. And while those all
reduce to your dislike of aspects of it, you've gone on to give me
reasons for them as well. I do have to acknowledge those.
First, you don't like the theme, because to you it looks sentimental,
false, and insubstantive. Second, you don't like the argument, as it's
badly explicated. Third, you don't like the tone or voice, because to
you it sounds listless, pompous, and archaic. Fourth, you don't like
the form, because it looks artificial (renaissance-oid plastic).
Fifth, you don't like the imagery, because it doesn't excite. Sixth,
you don't like the repeated line.
When I get a crit of any kind, what I do is reread the piece in
question, specifically looking for that or those flaws. In this case,
I don't see them; the theme resonates with me, I can follow the
argument, the voice sounds as natural to me as my own, the sonnet form
still looks to me like the appropriate one, the imagery (well, yes,
'grass and trees are green' isn't exciting; I have to agree with
that), and I'm happy with the repetition.
Maybe that'll have changed the next time I look at it. This time
around I was able to see, if not completely fix, the lack of imagery.
Who knows what will jump out at me 6 months from now, given what I'll
have learned by then? It could be one of the things I've just looked
for, and couldn't see, now.
>
> >>"To not go tharn"?
>
> > It extended the metaphor.
>
> How exactly? What is the metaphor being extended?
"Frozen by the high beams."
>A delusion I think. It
> really only makes the entire proceeding seem more pointless and damaged
> than it would have otherwise. It draws vastly undue attention to the
> fakery of the entire attempt.
>
You keep coming back to that: forgery, falseness, now fakery. If I
could detect any of that, that would be a good reason to rip the poem
up and throw it away. But I don't.
> I really don't care how many times you "fiddle" with this piece, it is -
> at the core - not worth any further effort; both form and content are
> beyond redemption.
>
Yes, I understand that's your bottom line. You're telling me, in
effect, "Don't work on this: Throw it away and try to hide the fact it
was ever written."
> dmh
George Dance
Ah, you were just being a tharn in my side. Well, you've given me more
below, so my missing the original might have been of value.
>
> The striking thing here is the nature of your "re-write" which appears
> to reveal that you have as much trouble with the re-writing process as
> you do with the writing process: you are vastly timorous, afraid to make
> "big choices" and step outside what you have already laid dow so as to
> (possibly) achieve a higher plane of poetic expression. All the writers
> I have known (including myself) have had to make the hard choices, the
> severe triage, of gutting entire phrases, of smashing the form and
> re-imaging it, of breaking away from "what is" to create "what might be"
> etc.
I understand the situation. I've had to go through a lot of my old
work this month, and found a couple of pieces lke that; one I rewrote
completely, while the other I haven't been able to do anything with.
But of course you can't see that; you're commenting on the basis of
what I did with this poem alone (which admittedly wasn't much in
either revision; I certainly wouldn't call either a "rewrite" of the
poem).
> If you really think you can turn a bland bit of melo-drama into a
> striking poem by simply changing one (or two, or a dozen) words, then
> you misunderstand the necessary "heartbreak" of the re-write, in which
> you have to admit your baby is ugly and opt for either radical surgery,
> or a quick death and burial.
I think that's only one option; the radical surgery you mention is
really just going back to the beginning and writing a new poem. The
original dies in either case.
> Almost all good poems are really "sculpted"
> in the re-write, and "sculpted" is not an arbitrary term: it is usually
> a matter of chiseling away large chunks of the drivel to see if there is
> anything breathing in there, or in you.
It's a good metaphor, which I've thought myself. There's a big
difference with word sculpture, though, in that one can take out and
replace any piece. In this case, though, I thought I was past that; I
gave this a form months ago.
> I personally don't think you
> have the stuff to make anything out the material you have supplied
> yourself, which is a mostly inferior grade of marble (i.e. fool's gold).
> There simply isn't enough "there" to reveal.
>
Sure; you're still telling me to throw it away.
> But whatever...
>
> dmh
Dale Houstman
Well, you do call it a "revision" - which is six of one, half a dozen of
the other... Obvioulsy I can't judge what I haven't seen. But I've
watched you approach all the critiquing here, and seen your response to
it, and - frankly - it's a pretty vapid display: after all that noise,
you chose to re-present the poem with only one word changed. If you
can't do anything with it, you can't do anything with it...but to
present something as a "revision" with only one word changed, and to
then expect some new comments is - well - sort of dumb.
>
>
>
>>If you really think you can turn a bland bit of melo-drama into a
>>striking poem by simply changing one (or two, or a dozen) words, then
>>you misunderstand the necessary "heartbreak" of the re-write, in which
>>you have to admit your baby is ugly and opt for either radical surgery,
>>or a quick death and burial.
>
>
>
> I think that's only one option; the radical surgery you mention is
> really just going back to the beginning and writing a new poem. The
> original dies in either case.
So? Some deaths are necessary, even merciful. And actually, one can
radically sculpt a poem without starting a new one (in effect). It is
admittedlydifficult in this case, because the material you have to work
with is so deficient, so tossing that ugly baby under the carriage
wheels is actually the best course available.
Spring Is Maureen
Spring is Maureen.
Thank God for that" (so to apeak)...
Her beams are frozen
In dear dread
And I am dead
To our unbereaved.
Yet, I am not prey to her polished body,
After each crush of each thought,
I cannot force her vein,
And enter a bruised sunroom,
Because each sunset is survived
By love unwon,
And an absence we are driven to wake in,
Lost up a garden path.
Today is not mine,
Its grass and trees,
Our smallest green dial,
Their distant starts of roses...
Smudged into smoke by haste...
Spring is Maureen.
Thank God for that" (so to apeak)...
......
No great deal, but you see - as long as there are words in a thing,
something better (if less overtly "meaningful") can be rooted from it.
This is why your so-called revision (and all the timid reworkings
previous) are so chillingly disappointing, so redolent of linguistic
cowardice and delusion...
>
>>Almost all good poems are really "sculpted"
>>in the re-write, and "sculpted" is not an arbitrary term: it is usually
>>a matter of chiseling away large chunks of the drivel to see if there is
>>anything breathing in there, or in you.
>
>
>
> It's a good metaphor, which I've thought myself. There's a big
> difference with word sculpture, though, in that one can take out and
> replace any piece.
A minor quibble with a useful metaphor...and - like all analogies - it
must fall apart if pushed too hard. It was addressed precisely to your
(seeming) inability to take the knife to what is essentially a grotesque
growth, which actually hides beauty more than it dares to revel in.
>In this case, though, I thought I was past that; I
> gave this a form months ago.
Well - it is no good. You might be enamored of the machine you built,
but it doesn't work, and you might stop re-presenting it...
>
>
>>I personally don't think you
>>have the stuff to make anything out the material you have supplied
>>yourself, which is a mostly inferior grade of marble (i.e. fool's gold).
>>There simply isn't enough "there" to reveal.
>>
>
>
>
> Sure; you're still telling me to throw it away.
Well - yeah...Unless you find it in you to make more than baby steps in
a swamp of odorless mud, you might as well...
dmh
Dale Houstman
Well - what else is to be expected? That I tell you how much I like it?
Why lie?
>you've gone on to give me
> reasons for them as well. I do have to acknowledge those.
>
> First, you don't like the theme, because to you it looks sentimental,
> false, and insubstantive. Second, you don't like the argument, as it's
> badly explicated. Third, you don't like the tone or voice, because to
> you it sounds listless, pompous, and archaic. Fourth, you don't like
> the form, because it looks artificial (renaissance-oid plastic).
> Fifth, you don't like the imagery, because it doesn't excite. Sixth,
> you don't like the repeated line.
>
> When I get a crit of any kind, what I do is reread the piece in
> question, specifically looking for that or those flaws. In this case,
> I don't see them; the theme resonates with me, I can follow the
> argument, the voice sounds as natural to me as my own, the sonnet form
> still looks to me like the appropriate one, the imagery (well, yes,
> 'grass and trees are green' isn't exciting; I have to agree with
> that), and I'm happy with the repetition.
You're welcome to your delusions on this matter - I really don't care
whether you like what you've wrought or not - it still sits there like a
squamous gopher hide in a slimey hole. It's simply dreadful at every
turn, and I simply do not believe you anymore: the diction is not -
could not - be "natural" to you - NOBODY says "tharn". The theme is not
only initially rather vapid, you totally destroy it with a lack of
imagery, and a vague-to-nonexistent handle on metaphor. The sonnet form
has (like it does to so many) misled you into arificilaity at every
turn, as you try to crush a theme into a pre-ordered box. I like
sonnets, but this is certainly one of the worst examples I've ever seen
of one, as you often prosaic lines stumble through their pre-ordained
paces, clumsy as a drugged donkey on a tightrope. you veer from
out-right didacticism to oafish manglings of an almost invisible
metaphor, all sprayed with occasional plastic verbiage, and topped off
with the whiff of the unfelt sentiments of a goth teenager. Still...you
think it's perfectly wonderful. Such poetic blindness is - perhaps -
beyond a human curative, and - since there are no gods - you're pretty
much without hope.
>
> Maybe that'll have changed the next time I look at it. This time
> around I was able to see, if not completely fix, the lack of imagery.
> Who knows what will jump out at me 6 months from now, given what I'll
> have learned by then? It could be one of the things I've just looked
> for, and couldn't see, now.
>
This is a highly unlikely scenario.
dmh
George Dance
> On Nov 22, 4:48 am, George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote:
>
>
> > Here's a third attempt at a poem that I've failed to write twice now.
> > It still could use some work, but it's much improved. I think I've
> > finally got the voice right:
>
> > Spring Again
>
[snip]
>
> I've read Spring Again a few times now. I first read it silently. I'm
> pretty sure I must have just skimmed it. It didn't draw me in
> immediately. And tonight when I read it, I clued into the meaning of
> this poem (not exactly flattering to me).
>
Thank you for reading my poem more than once. I did the same for your
crit, as it raised some good points.
> Initially, I want to share with you the fact that I don't care for the
> "frozen by its high beams" and "oncoming dread" allusion to an
> automobile. It's not that have any particular problem with your actual
> language, it's just the automobile reference seems grafted in, chosen
> mainly because it's kind of a cool way to reference fear and death.
> But then you drop it--appropriately enough--and move on with a more
> traditional battle against death motif.
>
Both metaphors were grafted in later. The first version didn't have
any at all; one reason I considered it unfinished.
> I'm thinking some other reference would work better in this context,
> onrushing soldiers, army, whatnot. The car motive would easily work
> in another poem, but not here.
>
It is a bit lightweight, I guess. I'd gladly replace it if I could
think of another metaphor that captured both the inevitability of
death, and the paralysis on seeing it, as well. But I haven't.
> Well, I've beaten that horse to death. So let's move to tharn. I'm
> comfortable, even admiring, of unconventional word choice. And I kind
> of like tharn in the context of frozen by fear of death. But when you
> combine it with oncoming headlights, as Richard Adams did in his novel
> "Watership Down," it's almost cliché.
>
> Let's be honest, the vast majority of your readers will have to look
> up the word tharn. And they'll be directed to the reference in
> "Watership Down" of rabbits frozen in fear by oncoming headlights. And
> suddenly the originality of this line goes a bit flat, it trails too
> deeply in the footsteps of Richard Adams.
>
One thing that gives me a bit of hope in that context is that Stephen
King's used tharn as well, in The Stand IIRC. I haven't read WD, and
just used it because I liked the word; and there's no other word to
use. If "frozen by its high beams" stays, "tharn" stays; if not, then
not.
(One thing I did in response to the 'tharn' criticism was stick
another look-up word, 'garner,' a couple of lines earlier. I figure if
makes 'tharn' stick out less than it does now, as the only odd word.)
> A small point, throughout the poem, you are "I" centered, thus, "I
> am," "I'd add," I have," etc. But in your lines 10 and 11, we shift to
> us, you and Maureen. Maureen hasn't done much so far, she hasn't
> prayed or been forced or fought. But she's now winning the battle
> along with you. It's a subtle point, but I tend to think you should
> either bring Maureen in as an active participant earlier or leave her
> the beloved wife and keep your work "I" centric all the way through.
>
That's not a small point at all. You've spotted a serious flaw, and
given me something solid that can be fixed. Those three are OK, but
after that it continues to be all about me: "I cannot pray" for "a new
body"; this is "my all"; "this world is mine". It doesn't even sound
like I'm thinking about Maureen. If anything makes anything in this
poem sound fake, this looks like it.
I thank you for spotting that. I did some rewriting of those lines,
but I won't post yet another revision just yet; I want to see if I can
deal with your last criticism first.
> Now, turning to the end of your poem, you state, "This world is mine,
> its grass and trees are green."
> I get the joy of another day and I understand why you reference the
> grass and trees are still green. But to me, "it's grass and trees are
> green" seems a bit weak given that you have just fought death and
> won.
>
Yeah, there's a serious balance problem in that line. Originally I had
The sun is high, the grass and trees are green
- both pretty much equally lightweight. To give that line a bit more
gravity (because of pretty much the same reasoning you use above), I
changed the first conjunct to "This world is mine" (now "This world is
ours"), but that only makes the second half even more banal in
contrast. I've been brainstorming alternate lines:
it blesses us with green
it fills us with its green
it is alive with green
]we are its king and queen
etc.
but nothing's worked, as yet. Either I'll find something, or I won't.
When that's settled, I'll post another (and I hope final for now at
least) revision.
> In other words, the line is there solely to support the spring again
> motive. But is this really what springs to mind as you stand unbowed
> and glory in having fought and defeated death another year.
>
I like 'green' in general, as connoting 'fertile'. But I agree that
the line could express that better.
> I don't want to exhaustively examine line by line every word in this
> poem. Frankly, it's beyond my capability. But I did want to give you
> the courtesy of my honest thoughts on this poem.
>
> As drafted, it doesn't quite work. On the other hand, I really like
> the idea of a man glorying in the fact that he and his wife are still
> together. I like that his fear is one or the other being left alone.
> And I can see and feel the elements that prompted you to write this
> poem. It's something worth capturing.
>
> Perhaps the reason I didn't quite get the meaning of this poem on my
> first read or two lies in the fact that my best friend and I have
> joked for years that when our husbands drop dead, we can finally live
> together as old women and cackle from our porch at anyone who passes
> by as we rock back and forth.
>
> Thank you for letting me read your poem. I can see why you return
> again and again to this particular subject. If you can capture the
> essence of that fear, losing a spouse, and the glory of surviving
> another year, you'll have something well-worth reading.
>
You've already helped me improve it, and if I can fix L13 you'll have
helped even more. Thank you for reading, rereading, and commenting.
> Peace,
>
> L&T
Lime and Tequila
George,
Thank you for your kind words. It pleases me to have in a small way
assisted you in the creative process. Your advice has helped me in the
past with my own attempts at poetic imagery.
I think I get why this particular poem draws you in again and again.
You do grapple with a powerful concept. But your words don't yet
reflect that power.
Someone earlier alluded to a poem as a sculpture in which you chip
away at its form until you reveal the essence of your words, the heart
of your idea. And there was a bit of a squabble back and forth about
what that idea means and whether this poem's form is set and what
not.
But there is real power in the analogy of a poem to a sculpture.
Still, I might think of an unfinished poem, a poem where the creator
still pours over the words, more as a lump of clay.
Yes, it has a form. But until you fire it in a kiln, you can remold it
in any way you want. And so I would urge you, when you get ready re-
approach this particular poem, try to dismiss all the past work done
on this poem, and view it as something that can be totally reshaped.
You may find a fresh approach. You may even end up with a completely
different poem. Let me give you an example (an example that no doubt
will run afoul of our more experienced resident critics).
I've spoken about the onrushing headlights and than as not quite
working in this poem. And one might be tempted to focus on reworking
those particular lines.
But maybe instead, you reword the other lines so that this poem is
about a man driving down the road, perhaps he has a blow out or skids
on ice, but he narrowly avoids death. And this experience drives home
for him the joy of life.
We might make the the car accident take place at night. Now, we can't
see green at all. So perhaps the reason we had the accident was we
swerved to avoid a deer and its fawn (or any other animal with
babies). And this brings home that its spring and new life is about
and even though you just faced death, you conquered it, and you've
survived another year with you wife Maureen.
Obviously, this isn't the "way" to go. It's simply an example, but
there must be at least 1,000 ways to approach the defeating death,
onslaught of spring idea.
I'm re-reading what I wrote (always a mistake) and I sound a bit
preachy. And for that I apologize. But I do think there is power in
the idea you attempt to express. It's just you haven't figured out
quite the right way to unleash that power.
I'm off to bed.
Peace,
Lime & Tequila
P.S. I too like the sonnet approach. Although, even there, I'd be
prepared to throw it out if in trying to approach the poem completely
fresh, some other for or manner of presenting my idea sparked within
my mind.
George Dance
I'm resigned to coming back to the theme, over and over again. Death
is always going to be there, somewhere around the bend; each day it
loses is one day closer to the day it finally wins. I don't expect
I'll stop writing about that, until I stop writing period.
>
> Someone earlier alluded to a poem as a sculpture in which you chip
> away at its form until you reveal the essence of your words, the heart
> of your idea. And there was a bit of a squabble back and forth about
> what that idea means and whether this poem's form is set and what
> not.
>
> But there is real power in the analogy of a poem to a sculpture.
> Still, I might think of an unfinished poem, a poem where the creator
> still pours over the words, more as a lump of clay.
>
> Yes, it has a form. But until you fire it in a kiln, you can remold it
> in any way you want. And so I would urge you, when you get ready re-
> approach this particular poem, try to dismiss all the past work done
> on this poem, and view it as something that can be totally reshaped.
>
Yeah, I'll do that. But that may or may not replace this poem. If I
write about the theme in another way, using another form, the result
may just be two poems; one better than the other, but neither of them
bad enough to throw away.
> You may find a fresh approach. You may even end up with a completely
> different poem. Let me give you an example (an example that no doubt
> will run afoul of our more experienced resident critics).
>
> I've spoken about the onrushing headlights and than as not quite
> working in this poem. And one might be tempted to focus on reworking
> those particular lines.
>
> But maybe instead, you reword the other lines so that this poem is
> about a man driving down the road, perhaps he has a blow out or skids
> on ice, but he narrowly avoids death. And this experience drives home
> for him the joy of life.
>
> We might make the the car accident take place at night. Now, we can't
> see green at all. So perhaps the reason we had the accident was we
> swerved to avoid a deer and its fawn (or any other animal with
> babies). And this brings home that its spring and new life is about
> and even though you just faced death, you conquered it, and you've
> survived another year with you wife Maureen.
>
Now, I'd see that treatment, where the plot is used to explicate the
theme, as calling for a story; and that's how I'd write it. I'd
imagine husband and wife both in the car, driving through a forest at
night, engaged in a bitter argument. She wants to stop for the night;
he insists on driving all night. That quickly descends to ad hominems:
he accuses her of mothering him, she calls him a perfectionist, or
whatever; and it escalates. She tells him he's not watching the road;
he tells her she's not letting him concentrate on driving, etc. Then
they have the near-miss with the fawn, but he successfully swerves,
stops, ditches the lights, and the fawn toddles off after its mother.
They ask each other, and confirm, that they're OK; then sit in awkward
silence. She tries to break the silence by telling him, "I told you to
watch the road," but what comes out instead is "I love you, ____";
which shocks her into silence. He says nothing, either; but he turns
off the road and stops at the next motel.
That would be a neat treatment of the theme, and maybe some day (when
I've learned something about writing stories) I'll write it. If I did,
though, it wouldn't cause me to throw SA away; I'd simply have written
something else on the same theme.
> Obviously, this isn't the "way" to go. It's simply an example, but
> there must be at least 1,000 ways to approach the defeating death,
> onslaught of spring idea.
>
> I'm re-reading what I wrote (always a mistake) and I sound a bit
> preachy. And for that I apologize. But I do think there is power in
> the idea you attempt to express. It's just you haven't figured out
> quite the right way to unleash that power.
>
> I'm off to bed.
>
Have a good night, and thanks again for the feedback. If/when I come
back to this poem months or years from now, it will be right here for
me to read then as well as now..
George Dance
I wasn't expecting any new comments over that word change. That wasn't
why I posted it; I explained why I posted it up above; I couldn't read
your earlier post, and hoped that making another post would make yours
readable. (That's worked with google, sometimes, in the past.)
Hmmm, that reminds me of Tom Bishop. Yeah, I can try to write
something like that. Let's see ...
It's spring and I am with Maureen again,
we're running through the roses in the rain,
thorns scratch our bare legs
our blood
hers and mine
runs scarlet as the rose
each drop reflects
our future
meat for maggots
grub for grubs.
That could replace LL1-4. And the rest could be jettisoned, as that
form doesn't lend itself to resolving the problem; just showing it is
sufficient.
Great; maybe I'll even use that (as much as Maureen hates it). But I
don't think it replaces what I've already written.
> No great deal, but you see - as long as there are words in a thing,
> something better (if less overtly "meaningful") can be rooted from it.
That may be what's "wrong with me" (as ggamble likes to put it): I
don't see either of the above as "something better" than what I
originally wrote. It's not that I'm completely without standards; I
can recognize all three as better than, say, any of Hedzilla's posted
poems, or Christian Knight's poem. But perhaps there are other
standards I'm completely unaware of.
> This is why your so-called revision (and all the timid reworkings
> previous) are so chillingly disappointing, so redolent of linguistic
> cowardice and delusion...
>
Well, I don't think I'm *afraid to admit that what I've written is
garbage, so it must be delusion: I don't see that it is garbage. In
that case, though, of course, it could be that I'm deluded about not
being afraid, too; that somewhere down deep I understand that it is
garbage, but I'm repressing that fact as it's too much of an ego-
threat. I don't know how that would be shown; perhaps your rewrite was
meant to do that, but if so it failed.
>
> >>Almost all good poems are really "sculpted"
> >>in the re-write, and "sculpted" is not an arbitrary term: it is usually
> >>a matter of chiseling away large chunks of the drivel to see if there is
> >>anything breathing in there, or in you.
>
> > It's a good metaphor, which I've thought myself. There's a big
> > difference with word sculpture, though, in that one can take out and
> > replace any piece.
>
> A minor quibble with a useful metaphor...and - like all analogies - it
> must fall apart if pushed too hard. It was addressed precisely to your
> (seeming) inability to take the knife to what is essentially a grotesque
> growth, which actually hides beauty more than it dares to revel in.
>
> >In this case, though, I thought I was past that; I
> > gave this a form months ago.
>
> Well - it is no good. You might be enamored of the machine you built,
> but it doesn't work, and you might stop re-presenting it...
>
>
Yes, I fully understand your opinion of it by this point.
George Dance
It's spring again, and I am with Maureen.
I'd add "thank God for that" (if I believed)
For frozen by its high beams I have seen
Oncoming dread: one dead and one bereaved.
No hope for us to live eternally
Or garner brave new bodies after death;
This is our all - a thought which forces me
To not go tharn, to fight for every breath:
A battle till the setting of each sun,
A victory each sunset we survive,
Another day my love and I have won
And death has lost. Today we are alive,
This world is ours, its grass and trees are green,
Stuart M Newberger
Going tharn (from Watership down) Well ,one of the conditions a rabbit can
fall into is called tharn.Its that point where fight of flight is so
overwhelmed by danger or chaos or over stimulation that the rabbit just
freezes.They lock up right where they are almost paralyzed in mind and body
with their only hope being that the hawk will pass over without noticing
them.
It also calls to my mind the Browning poem -Roland to the dark tower came .
Obviously I liked your poem.Congratulations.smn
"George Dance" <george...@yahoo.ca> wrote in message
news:2abec3c3-f5c5-4d31...@i12g2000prf.googlegroups.com...
George Dance
wrote:
> www.websnark.com/archives/2006/04/going-tharn.html
> Going tharn (from Watership down) Well ,one of the conditions a rabbit can
> fall into is called tharn.Its that point where fight of flight is so
> overwhelmed by danger or chaos or over stimulation that the rabbit just
> freezes.They lock up right where they are almost paralyzed in mind and body
> with their only hope being that the hawk will pass over without noticing
> them.
> It also calls to my mind the Browning poem -Roland to the dark tower came .
> Obviously I liked your poem.Congratulations.smn"
Thanks, Stuart. I'm glad someone else liked 'tharn.' A few people were
telling me to drop that word, but I dug my heels in. I've never read
WD, but it was the perfect word for the context. And I was hoping that
it would resonate with some readers. (I'm not that worried about
readers who don't know the word, given that it's so easy to look words
up online nowadays.)
After reading your message, I pulled out my Browning and read "Childe
Roland to the Dark Tower Came," and then
spent most of the day reading /The Ring and the Book/. I see the
similarity between what Browning does so well - seamlessly combininb
normal speech rhythms, heightened diction, and regular meter - and
what I was trying to do with this poem. I'll be reading more
Browning.
Thank you for reading and commenting.
George Dance" <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca> wrote in message