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I Do, Do I?

  • Feb. 6th, 2006 at 3:01 AM
Mindless Moments
This was written a long time ago, when I was waiting for an incredibly boring class on Human Resource Management to hurry up and finish happening....  I don't expect you to make any nice comments, but feel free to say what you like....  Just try to maintain some level of pertinence to the post ya?  :oP

(okai, I know you'll deviate now that I've made this plainly simple request.  lol, But I don't mind, be good and do your worst!)

So sorrowful and not just bleeding awry,
    I soak the sand, deep red!
In anger I've known not before, cry I,
    Into the soil, my essence has bled.

Such value in intermittent charm, I say,
    The world makes my heart 'ere thunder,
In my chest, my heart seeps silently away,
    What have I done to invoke such wonder?

In careless whispers of un-toyed emotion,
    I shudder in strange, unwilling anticipation.
I know I've suffered inscrutable demotion,
    I lie low for a time, in this languid segregation.

As rigid as the rock that stands at Gibraltar,
    as stony as stone, as she can be,
I love her enough to take to the altar,
    like a moth to a flame, I'll never see....

I let out unconsciously, a human emotion,
    So softly subtle, yes I should know....
To her image in my mind, there's utter devotion,
    for years in progression, Love knows how to grow....

Her eyes, they sparkle, just like the dew,
    She sifts through my mind like hay....
What am I now?  What have I turned into?
    Will I even live to see that day?

Such questions as these, they plague my mind,
    They lie unanswered, dark blue in the background.
To search these answers, that I know I shan't find,
    no not a clue, not a hint, not till her I've found....

Don't blame the girl, blame the heart that feels for her....  :o)  Live by that thought, and you'll see the beauty of living in a life filled with the pleasure of unending pain....

Comments

thekamajournals wrote:
Feb. 6th, 2006 01:00 pm (UTC)
For the very first time I stand speechles. Such powerful emotions can only be brought forward by total submission to love. I hope the girl knows how lucky she is to have a man love her so much that pain brings about pleasure.

Simply awestruck!
angiasaa wrote:
Feb. 6th, 2006 01:07 pm (UTC)
Total submission to love....

That's such a beautiful way of putting your point across....

It's a wonder how our emotions can sometimes just come to the surface and show themselves for what they are....

A sparkle in the eye, a quivering smile, the gentle blink of an eyelid, the slow turning of a head to face you....

There are so many subtle ways of saying things.... without really saying them. :)

I hope she's lucky.... :) Sometimes, pain can hurt loved ones too....
latelyontime wrote:
Feb. 6th, 2006 03:50 pm (UTC)
I am never very sure whether I should be responding to the raw emtions of the poet or his skills. In cases of uncertainty, I just state the uncertainty and let it pass.
angiasaa wrote:
Feb. 6th, 2006 08:00 pm (UTC)
Either way is good. Both, is even better....

I love to justify my pomes.... I relish it with passion. Both ways, my poetic styles as well as the emotional contexts involved.

Note: I sometimes snap shut nice and tight at some emotional aspects of the pomes. But in general, I'm quite open about them. However, regarding the style, I'm always a willing participant in its disection. :)
latelyontime wrote:
Feb. 7th, 2006 03:50 am (UTC)
the critieuq: part 1
I am one of those horrible people who actually take things at face value and am presuming now that you actually want feedback on style and the craft of poetry writing for this particular poem. I shall be, as I adorn my editorial cap, nasty…but it is not personal and it is brutal only towards the poem.

To begin with, I shall stick to the Joycean idea that the poet, once he has written his poems, is far removed from it, detached, paring his finger nails and anything that you can say to justify the poem has to be within the poem and not outside of it. So a defence or an explanation will only be redundant. It would advice you rather, to make the defence by reworking on the poem. Also subscribing to the theory that the man who writes and the man who suffers are two different people – that is to say that poetry is not about the depth of the emotion or the intensity of the feelings as the poet imagined it but about the way in which the poet was able to talk about emotions in new ways – I shall refuse from getting overawed by ‘substance’ or the ‘passion’ that you might have felt in writing of the poem. What is more interesting is whether the poet has captured the emotions and feelings – you will of course agree that they are neither new nor unique – in new ways.

Let us begin with the style. You have chosen to write in a rhyming structure of abab that belongs to the Romantic writers. You have to be aware of the fact that rhyming within English poetry is accompanied with strict rhythm patterns and structures. As shown in the first stanza of your poem, the feet (the regular repetition of syllable and stress patterns) are completely irregular and it is only in the written form that the poem seems to acquire a regularity or rhythm. When spoken aloud, the stress patterns are completely, to use your own word, awry and extremely chaotic. Of course writers have (Eliot for instance) exploded the meter and the rhythm patterns but only to reinforce them. To break the rules, you need to know them first and right now, not only does the rhythm sound clumsy it also gives a certain forced effect to the entire poem. Compare this with something like Wordsworth’s Lucy poem which uses the same rhyming and (affected) rhythm scheme that you use:
/A vio/let by/ a mo/ssy stone/
/~ -/ ~ - / ~ - / ~ - /
/Half hi/dden from/ the eye/;
/~ -/ ~ - / ~ - /
/Fair as/ a star/ when on/ly one/
/ ~ -/ ~ -/ ~ - / ~ - /
/Is shi/ning in/ the sky./
/~ - / ~ - / ~ - /

I am of course not suggesting that you copy the Romantic poets but to choose a rhyming scheme like theirs and be unconscious of their metrical pattern is jarring and does not seem to achieve anything. Rhyming poetry is a demonstration of the writer’s style over the language and the words and to break that constraint with irregular meters is defeatist.

So so/rrowful/ and not/ just blee/ding aw/ry,/
~ - / ~ ~ / ~ - / ~ ~ / ~ ~ / ~
I soak/ the sand,/ deep red!/
~ - / ~ ~ / ~ - /
In an/ger I've/ known not/ before,/ cry I,/
~ -/ ~ ~ / ~ - / ~ - / ~ -/
Into/ the soil,/ my es/sence has/ bled./
~ ~/ ~ - / ~ ~ / - ~ / - /
angiasaa wrote:
Feb. 15th, 2006 10:16 pm (UTC)
Re: the critieuq: part 1
Point well noted. I had a couple of caustic remarks 'mailed' to me on my Colorblind pome.

I wonder if you've ever heard of free verse?

The violation of scansion was not a mistake. It was in fact a purposeful product and hence, I shan't be changing that aspect of the pome.

I am never separate from my poetry, and am never far-removed from them. Once I write something, It's always a part of my mind. I might not recall the words, but when I hear it again, the chances are slim, that I'd fail to see it as separate from myself. However, I am game with criticism of the pomes I write since I'm always open to genuine failures in my attempt to put forth my emotions. (There's always room for improvement ya!) :o)

NEhoo, coming back to the critique, I Deviate from the Joycean view of a poet while at the same time, embracing an extension of the Jacobean view on poetic form. One individual who well portrays some of the aspects that I embrace, and who would stand out markedly in your memories of poems read, would be T. S. Eliot.

Do not see the verse in the form of cadence and rhyme, for you shall undoubtedly be bound to identify and locate hitches throughout the pome where in deliberation, they have been ignored by choice.

Yes, I do realize that it would be much easier for someone to read a poem as a sing-a-long thing, but that was definitely not my purpose. I look for the projection of emotion through metaphors, if not through direct impression. However, that is not what really drives the form of the poetic license in my poetry. (Mind you, there are pomes that I write from time to time that move in accordance to classical rhyming schemes and single-thought:single-line impressions.) It's the product of my attempts at bringing out subtle layers of emotional responses through implying multiple connotations via the use of metaphors. That's what takes precedence in my pomes, and (unless I tie myself into a specific set of rules) this inconsistency that you note is a direct evolution of that very aspect.

I do not accept the idea that meter is a fundamental part of poetry. Don't worry, I'm not alone in this. Poets such as Marianne Moore, William Carlos Williams, and Robinson Jeffers, also shared my view while they lived. Though I might point out that they were a heck of a lot more critical of their views on this aspect. I believe that meter was imposed into poetry by man and his unwillingness to deviate from folk theory, and hence, meter is not a fundamental part of its nature.

Still, you've taken a lot of time to put forth your thoughts and they are indeed valid. Sadly, I deviate here in a different style. There are other aspects that you point toward that do in fact apply to this pome. I shall follow up on those in context as and how I come to them.
latelyontime wrote:
Feb. 7th, 2006 03:56 am (UTC)
the critique: part 3
As rigid as the rock that stands at Gibraltar,
(One of the more interesting parts of poetry writing is to invent new images and symbols; rework myths and legends to give them new layers. But to do that the poet necessarily needs to look into his own immediate iconography and environment. To invoke the rock of Gilbraltar does not do anything here. Except for giving geographical allusion perhaps)
as stony as stone, as she can be,
(Not only is the simile redundant – ‘as blue as blue’ – unless used for an ironical effect which is lost on me – but the verse also has something grammatically wrong with it. Are you trying to say that she was as stony as stone like the rock (which of course is not stone) of Gilbraltar in a way that only she could be? If so, I laugh. If not, I cry.)
I love her enough to take to the altar,
(Oh god…all that invoking the Gibraltar to end at the altar? Is the altar actually a part of your wedding experience? I am not asking a rhetorical question. I am actually asking you. If you do marry, will be in a church at the altar? Then I guess it can stay here. But if you do not have the experience of the altar – the baggage that the phrase ‘being at the altar’ carries is almost infinitive – then I would seriously ask you to reconsider this.)
like a moth to a flame, I'll never see....
(And I thought after the Urdu poets no man shall ever dare to write of moths and flames. An image that even the Hindi film lyricists (main shamma hoon tu hai parvana…) have done to death. Way back in the 18th century, Shelley had already recognised the futility of moth and flames and hence changed it to say “the desire of the moth for the star”…and that made all the difference)


I let out unconsciously, a human emotion,
(Amazing epiphanies. If this is a human emotion what was all that came in the last few stanzas? What does it mean to say human emotion? I thought all emotions were human in invention and expression. Never really heard of an inhuman emotion. And if it is unconscious, how can you write of it? Remember that the only unconscious we can write about is the other people’s unconscious and not our own. Not only a bad choice of words but also a meaningless choice of words)
So softly subtle, yes I should know...
(I almost got the meaning of the verse there. Almost. I am trying.)
To her image in my mind, there's utter devotion,
(Arggghhh look at the inversions you are forcing upon yourself. Strongly recommended reading at least ten poets who write in rhymes to see that they don’t use such inversions or forced syntax to force the rhyme. If you must rhyme, you must suffer and work hard to get the right words without resorting to cheap thrills.)
for years in progression, Love knows how to grow....
(Zen and the art of poetry writing? Are you under the impression that you are making a new discovery or a revelation? The verse has the weight of making a proclamation that shall change the way we look at the world and yet contains nothing more than a cliché that Raj kapoor used in his movies. Again “progression” is a horrific word.)
angiasaa wrote:
Feb. 15th, 2006 11:00 pm (UTC)
Re: the critique: part 3
As rigid as the rock that stands at Gibraltar,
(One of the more interesting parts of poetry writing is to invent new images and symbols; rework myths and legends to give them new layers. But to do that the poet necessarily needs to look into his own immediate iconography and environment. To invoke the rock of Gilbraltar does not do anything here. Except for giving geographical allusion perhaps)


Don't tell me you don't know about the "Rock of Gibraltar!?"

I'm not talking of geographic locations here at all. I merely call upon the readers knowledge of the real world for an instant to say a thousand words with the mere mention of a few.

I'm not talking of someone who refuses to move or is stubborn out here, I'm talking of the immovable guide-rail that the Rock of Gibraltar signifies. If you're familiar with early European culture, or if you're acquainted with the mythology surrounding the rock in question, you'll see the meaning carried by that single line.

I don't expect my readers to know anything about the world around them, however, I don't write for them, I write for myself. As I said before, I speak in metaphors.... (and no, not the "metaphor-a-date" kind.... lol! yeah, I'm a rude punster, sorry)

If a reader does'nt understand or 'get' the idea that I'm projecting so very obviously here, I just hope they either google it up and learn a little bit about the world that their culture is a part of, or that they just ignore it and move on, assuming that it has some significance, somehow.

As always, I don't write for the masses, I write for my own purposes, and that's to remember my thoughts at I thought them, or the emotions as I feel them, at a later date, when I get around to re-reading them.

as stony as stone, as she can be,
(Not only is the simile redundant – ‘as blue as blue’ – unless used for an ironical effect which is lost on me – but the verse also has something grammatically wrong with it. Are you trying to say that she was as stony as stone like the rock (which of course is not stone) of Gilbraltar in a way that only she could be? If so, I laugh. If not, I cry.)


If I had said 'as stony as stone', and left it there, then, and _only_ then would your interpretation of the intended projection be accurate. However, you have focused your interpretation on the surface of the individual line.

I expect a reader to spread a wide-angled view over the 'whole sentence' before jumping to a conclusion over the semantic (yes, I'm an avid student of language semantics, my bad!) correlation that is perceived as awry as you state, grammatically.

I suggest you laugh at this point, most people would find that funny I guess. :o)
angiasaa wrote:
Feb. 15th, 2006 11:02 pm (UTC)
Re: the critique: part 3
I love her enough to take to the altar,
(Oh god…all that invoking the Gibraltar to end at the altar? Is the altar actually a part of your wedding experience? I am not asking a rhetorical question. I am actually asking you. If you do marry, will be in a church at the altar? Then I guess it can stay here. But if you do not have the experience of the altar – the baggage that the phrase ‘being at the altar’ carries is almost infinitive – then I would seriously ask you to reconsider this.)


METAPHORICAL! If I was writing in Hindi, I would perhaps have acceded to a different tone and term. However, I am not as friendly with that language as I am with english, and any educated individual reading the poem as a 'whole', rather than as a line-by-line, word-by-word, upstream pole-pushed raft view, would invariably fumble and see an ideological inconsistency here.

The altar metaphorically refers to the act of getting married, or rather, to be more precise, the act of proclaiming ones love before the entity that's claimed to be God. :o)

like a moth to a flame, I'll never see....
(And I thought after the Urdu poets no man shall ever dare to write of moths and flames. An image that even the Hindi film lyricists (main shamma hoon tu hai parvana…) have done to death. Way back in the 18th century, Shelley had already recognised the futility of moth and flames and hence changed it to say “the desire of the moth for the star”…and that made all the difference)


That made all the difference to Shelly, but I'm not Shelly, and I talk of a flame and not a star, for drawing upon remote similes too often and to as wide a presumption as did Shelly, is _not_ something I wallow in with blurred eyes.

For a moment back then, when I was writing the poem, I did indeed think of changing the vision I was trying to project, but I realized how inconceivable it would be to expect such a stretch of the imagination to overflow into lateral thought. Consequently, I kept the original framework and stayed with the phrase that I'd originally chosen.
angiasaa wrote:
Feb. 15th, 2006 11:57 pm (UTC)
Re: the critique: part 3
I let out unconsciously, a human emotion,
(Amazing epiphanies. If this is a human emotion what was all that came in the last few stanzas? What does it mean to say human emotion? I thought all emotions were human in invention and expression. Never really heard of an inhuman emotion. And if it is unconscious, how can you write of it? Remember that the only unconscious we can write about is the other people’s unconscious and not our own. Not only a bad choice of words but also a meaningless choice of words)


Ah! You're not the first to trip over that interesting bit. :o)) *laughs!* Well, I'll clear that up in a jiffy. First off, If you have'nt read my previous work, you're missing half the value of this pome here. The very fact that you picked this phrase as sounding 'off', points to the fact that not only have you not read (and understood) any of my other stuff, but you have also yet to know me.

NEhoo, I won't go about telling you about myself here, I think I'll leave it to you to browse around my journal, should that fancy your interest. :) I would'nt wish to spoil it for you, or even for those who drop by and happen to read these comments. :o)

But coming back to the line for itself, assuming there's zero background to it, let's look at it for what it is okai.

The first thing you'd note, is that the tense places it as an event that was in the 'past'. So it's describing something that has occurred in the past sometime.

The second thing you should notice is that it states that something is 'let out' and that that something is 'a human emotion'.

You say one could'nt write about something that was done unconsciously? How about this statement? "I made an unconscious decision to do what it takes!" or something like "it was an unconscious reaction, I never knew what hit me!" The second example follows in step with my ideological framework, while the first is merely a device to show you that if something was done unconsciously in the past, it may be identified and talked about in the future.

As for why I said "A Human Emotion", that is easily understood. Why would someone write such a thing? When someone reads that line, that's about the first thing that would strike them. And when the question hits them, they're bound to answer it by following it through with logic.

Possible Answer 1: "The writer obviously did'nt mean to express such an emotion"
Possible Answer 2: "The writer considers himself to be devoid of human emotion"
Possible Answer 3: "The writer might have wished to hide the emotion, or did not believe himself capable of such emotion"
Possible Answer 4: "The writer does not consider himself human*" *emotionally, that is!

The list of possible answers is endless, but the idea is roughly along the same lines every time.

So unless the reader is hell bent on reading the mere surface, it seems unlikely that anyone would follow along the same lines of thought as did yourself there.

Are'nt all emotions human? After all, Humans invented emotions right? Nope! Not all emotions are human. They are all definitely felt by humans, but the fact of the implication here should be looked at, in a deeper level. For instance, just because an animal behaves in a specific way, and we characterize it as human, does'nt make the animal human.

Just because a Dog merges toward the ground when a man raises a stick at it, does'nt mean its fear is human. Because it can display happiness and sadness in mighty human mannerisms, and people often characterize it as being so, does'nt mean they are'nt human emotions.

Just because I look like a human, does'nt make me one. I might be an alien, or an orangutan, however, that's stretching the point. Still, the point-stretching was done to exaggerate the point that you seem to have missed out on.

The main point here, is that "Human" is what humans identify themselves with in general. Do _not_ take the term literally. It's a broad angled expression of a much subtler response.
angiasaa wrote:
Feb. 16th, 2006 12:00 am (UTC)
Re: the critique: part 3
So softly subtle, yes I should know...
(I almost got the meaning of the verse there. Almost. I am trying.)


I'm assuming I ought not to explain it to you. Or rather, I believe you missed the point. I guess you're looking for grammatical and poetic lapses, and where you look for answers, you'll ask for them.


To her image in my mind, there's utter devotion,
(Arggghhh look at the inversions you are forcing upon yourself. Strongly recommended reading at least ten poets who write in rhymes to see that they don’t use such inversions or forced syntax to force the rhyme. If you must rhyme, you must suffer and work hard to get the right words without resorting to cheap thrills.)


Those are _NOT_ inversions. They are merely the use of poetic license.

Here's a definition if you've never heard the term before:
poetic license/licence refers to the ability of a poet to ignore some of the minor requirements of grammar for poetic effect. For example, Mark Antony's "Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears" from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar would technically require the word "and" before "countrymen", but this is omitted. This is an example of poetic license.</blockquote>

I'm not the first to use it, I'm just one among many. However, if you've read any of Isaac Asimov's works, you'll see how effectively he uses these 'inverted' sentences, as you put it, to change the entire flow of what he's trying to put across. I'm disappointed! I would have expected some awareness of the same.


for years in progression, Love knows how to grow....
(Zen and the art of poetry writing? Are you under the impression that you are making a new discovery or a revelation? The verse has the weight of making a proclamation that shall change the way we look at the world and yet contains nothing more than a cliché that Raj kapoor used in his movies. Again “progression” is a horrific word.)


To say a word is horrible, is merely a statement that displays your affection of the language in use here.

No, I am not under any impression out here. I splay a quote of my own supposition and I'm not in the least bothered about who Raj Kapoor is and what his cliches are meant to be like.

More importantly, I could'nt care less what impression it leaves the reader with. If a reader _thinks_ that I'm trying to make a proclamation, then so be it. If he thinks I'm impressed with what I've written, then I owe the reader an apology. However, since I'm my own reader, in this and every poetic case that I've made up so far, I believe It's all cool.

NEhoo, My apologies for sounding so bold in the 'proclamation', I can assure you that I had absolutely no intention of taking over the world at the time of its writing. :o))
latelyontime wrote:
Feb. 7th, 2006 03:56 am (UTC)
the critique: part 4
Her eyes, they sparkle, just like the dew,
(Like the dew? Really? Have you seen dew? Have you ever considered that the first caveman when he tried to write poetry, used the same imagery? Compare this with Shakespeare’s “My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun” and see how cliché ridden that is. It is not only bad poetry, it is also an insult to the subject of the poem to address her in something so overused that it doesn’t mean anything anymore.)
She sifts through my mind like hay....
(bad syntax. Is your mind like hay? Is she like hay? Is the sifting like hay? It cant be because you sift through hay and not in it. This verse, if it were not here, might have been an Odgen Nashe poem)
What am I now? What have I turned into?
Will I even live to see that day?
(I fall upon the thorns of life, I bleed. There is more angst in the world than you can capture in rhetorical questions to the self. )

Such questions as these, they plague my mind,
(Just look at the unnecessary words that have crept into this one verse. Such, these, and they all to qualify the noun “questions” which is already present in the verse. )
They lie unanswered, dark blue in the background.
(Oh we move from deep red to dark blue, is it? Again, no meaning. No depth. Just a colour that is there for reasons unfathomable. “unanswered” follows the “horror, horror” pattern)
To search these answers, that I know I shan't find,
( “these answers” means that you are referring to answers already mentioned elsewhere. It is the equivalent of saying ibid without citing a book. You have only talked of questions so far, which answers are you talking of? Is this a holy grail quest that you shall seek for answers you know you will not find?)
no not a clue, not a hint, not till her I've found...
(oh look…grammar class. Find found found. Isnt that what we are doing? Clues and hints and oh god the boredom.)

So that’s it. Just my first editorial comments – this is what I do for a partial living – for the poem. As I said earlier, the attack is on the poem, not on the poet. Even when the poet is dragged into it, it is not you the person, but you the poet and only you the poet in this particular poem. As I might have mentioned earlier, I take people at face value and when somebody actually asks me to ‘critique’ their poem…I take it seriously and do it. Hope it has been of help.
angiasaa wrote:
Feb. 16th, 2006 12:26 am (UTC)
Re: the critique: part 4
Her eyes, they sparkle, just like the dew,
(Like the dew? Really? Have you seen dew? Have you ever considered that the first caveman when he tried to write poetry, used the same imagery? Compare this with Shakespeare’s “My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun” and see how cliché ridden that is. It is not only bad poetry, it is also an insult to the subject of the poem to address her in something so overused that it doesn’t mean anything anymore.)


Yes, I've seen dew. I know what I'm talking about, if that's what you're getting at. In which case, I wonder now, have you seen dew? It's beautiful!

If that's not what you're getting at, and I read on through your comment, considering your initial queries to be mere surface tension, then well, here goes:

If you expect me to say her eyes sparkle like stars, then I'm sorry, that's overused too, if you expect me to bring the sun into the picture, then that's like "WAY" more overused! And mind you, Shakespeare was'nt being original. They've been numerous mentions of eyes like the sun before he was even born.

When he said "nothing like the sun", he was demeaning her eyes. Re-read his words, then re-read mine, if you think we were talking about similar subjects in the same context, I'm sorry, a clarification is not in order.

Oh, and by the way, I look down on Shakespeare. :o) There's a post in my archives that deals with the reasons for this somewhere in the past. I'm not digging that out right now....

How often has Dew been used in comparison? In direct comparison, it's almost negligible. Again, it depends on what kind of stuff you actually _do_ read. But that's beyond the subject at hand, so I'll leave that be. :)


She sifts through my mind like hay....
(bad syntax. Is your mind like hay? Is she like hay? Is the sifting like hay? It cant be because you sift through hay and not in it. This verse, if it were not here, might have been an Odgen Nashe poem)


No, not bad syntax at all. It's called bad interpretation. That's the beauty as well as the curse of the English Language. I grant that there are many things can be said that might be interpreted both this way, or that, but ignoring grammatical coherency for incorrect interpretation is inexcusable!

As to your particular interpretations, I suggest you read the _whole_ sentence as a single block of information. She's _not_ sifting like hay, and she's _not_ like hay, and my mind's _not_ like hay either!

Read the _entire_ sentence, and you'll see light. "Sifting through my mind like hay" No commas were inserted originally, and I don't expect people to go about doing so either. Also, I did'nt ignore the commas on purpose. Believe you me, I know enough of the language to not make a foolish mistake such as the kind that you seem to think that I've made.


What am I now? What have I turned into?
Will I even live to see that day?
(I fall upon the thorns of life, I bleed. There is more angst in the world than you can capture in rhetorical questions to the self. )


And how, pray I, do you critique these phrases? I'm aware that there is more angst in the world than can be captured in rhetorical questions. I'm also aware that there is nothing you can capture in anything at all, questions or not.

Your critique belittles the power of imagery. I'm usually not the first person to go forth and say what I truly think, but have it if you must. I expected a Critique, but I did'nt get one.

Kaydeeyoh!
latelyontime wrote:
Feb. 7th, 2006 03:54 am (UTC)
the critique: part 2
I shall now proceed to do a line by line analysis, looking at the major pitfalls that poems should avoid – clichés, clumsy words, forced syntax, anachronisms, telling images instead of showing images and uneconomic use of sound.

So sorrowful and not just bleeding awry,
(awry? What does bleeding awry? It doesn’t mean anything. Just a nice sounding word put at the end.)
I soak the sand, deep red!
(nice attempt at alliteration. But ‘deep red’ is the laziest use of the phrase. There is so much more you should be doing with the notion of the colour red. Try for an ‘s’ sound and attempt something more dramatic. Deep Red sounds like something out of a six year old’s crayon box.)
In anger I've known not before, cry I,
(This is what happens when one uses a rhyming scheme…the meaning and the sounds are lost in the frantic attempt at trying to rhyme. Inversions such as “cry I” are not only cringe worthy, they are also the weak links of poetry because in reading it, the reader loses all sense of direction and rhythm.)
Into the soil, my essence has bled.
(The golden rule of poetry is to show and not tell. The ‘essence’ means nothing. It is an empty word. Also the entire line seems to be a repetition of the second line in the stanza. It has no value and makes me wonder why the poet had to talk of the sand getting red – in such mundane ways anyway – twice in the same stanza.)

Such value in intermittent charm, I say,
(Intermittent is a word that not even the greatest poet could have used without shuddering. Imagine a word with four syllables put there in the name of poetry. Try to use words which might be less ‘grand’ but easier to sound. Poetry is about the economy of sounds and such long words, unless they are used for irony, are particularly useless. The addition of “I say” makes my heart go the reverse of leaping…a certain kind of reverse explosion I think.)
The world makes my heart 'ere thunder,
( ‘ere’?????? Why, pray why? It is not like you are sticking to meters anyway…why would you want to use a 16th century ellipsis in a line here? “the heart thunders” is a horrific imagery. Not horrible, horrific.)
In my chest, my heart seeps silently away,
(We are still stuck with the heart are we? Imagine repeating the noun of the stanza in two subsequent verses! Laziness and a complete disregard for the sensitive reader’s sensitivities)
What have I done to invoke such wonder?
(Polemics and rhetorics are good for political speeches. In a poem, an interrogation is for effect not for deliberation. Unless you are going to answer the question, don’t ask it. If you are not going to answer the question, make sure that the question is an answer in itself. Right now it is just primary school wonderment simulated at great unease)

In careless whispers of un-toyed emotion,
(What is this? A tribute to George Michael? You are never going to dance again and careless whispers? Why would you want to resort to using phrases out of pop music? Surely you have better things to do than talk in careless whispers?)
I shudder in strange, unwilling anticipation.
(Oh the horror! The horror! “unwilling anticipation” sounds like it is put there for a revenge against the minimalist poets. Long, clumsy, meaningless and redundant. Give me an image, a strong sense of the visual or the sensual rather than a description of your feelings. Descriptions come in empty epithets. You have to overcome the temptation to use them.)
I know I've suffered inscrutable demotion,
(“Inscrutable demotion”. Want to deconstruct it? Really, try to explain “inscrutable demotion” in ten lines and see if you can make it to mean anything.)
I lie low for a time, in this languid segregation.
(“languid segregation”. This is it. I think I am now going to weep. Weep. WEEP.)
angiasaa wrote:
Feb. 16th, 2006 12:28 am (UTC)
Re: the critique: part 2
Hmmm.... Saw this comment last, but it's late and I need some sleep. I'll reply to this at a point in time in the future, as yet unknown.
subtle_blues wrote:
Feb. 8th, 2006 01:59 pm (UTC)
Live by that thought, and you'll see the beauty of living in a life filled with the pleasure of unending pain....
A bittersweet pain and an unalderated pleasure! Why blame the heart? It is, but a slave for love.

for years in progression, Love knows how to grow....(how apt and beautful:))
A vine, it entwines my heart
In time, the vine is all I see..
Love _knows_ how to grow...
angiasaa wrote:
Feb. 15th, 2006 09:31 pm (UTC)
Blame the heart, not the girl. I did'nt mean to imply that it's the heart that is at fault. I'm metaphorically refering to the owner of the heart. :)

Yes, Love knows how to grow....
subtle_blues wrote:
Feb. 8th, 2006 11:05 pm (UTC)
/s/unalderated/unadulterated/
(Anonymous) wrote:
Feb. 9th, 2006 08:04 am (UTC)
www.yadoge.ilcannocchiale.it
Hugs from Italy
angiasaa wrote:
Feb. 15th, 2006 09:33 pm (UTC)
Thanks for the hugs! :o)

I checked out your blog. Looks like you live an alt lifestyle. I'm not the kind, but I do appreciate the thought.

Thank you for commenting on my journal.
simplysaps wrote:
Feb. 10th, 2006 03:01 pm (UTC)
Dunno how to respond...So will just post a small poem I had heard a long time ago.

Gates of Memories
Never Close!
How Much I Love U
No One Knows!
The Tears in my Eyes
Have Wiped Away!
But the Love for U
Will Always Stay!

Cheers!
angiasaa wrote:
Feb. 15th, 2006 09:32 pm (UTC)
That's sweet, and nice.... Who wrote that?

This pome was just off the cuff.... You don't 'have' to respond, as long as you feel it. :)
simplysaps wrote:
Feb. 16th, 2006 12:33 am (UTC)
I don't really know who wrote that but it has been close to my heart since I realized its meaning in LIFE.

Don't blame the girl, blame the heart that feels for her...
How very nicely put!




angiasaa wrote:
Feb. 18th, 2006 11:39 pm (UTC)
That's okai....

And thankyou. :o)