<{Baba^Yaga}>
on some deleted poem
28 Aug 2002, 3:20 AM
indeed 8/10!
'stare' not 'stair'. This has no rhythm pulse really, it reads like cut-up prose
i totally fucking agree with your ending. simple and sufficiently brave to gain focus...h8,,thinks this ending is 'killer' get it
Why are certain words capitalised?
Please write about something else. Or if you're going to do teenage angst, do it with humour. Think of Morrissey - he's a funny chap, his irony undercuts all that 'to die by your side' stuff, and that is truly touching. Whereas this is bogus (judging by the fact that you're alive enough to post this). If you need help, get help; if this is meant as poetry, well, it ain't.
See comments on Suicide III. Please.
Christof: but it wouldn't have scanned. Limericks are in compound time; you need two unstressed beats between every stressed beat. And in any case, this isn't a poem about my love for myself. It's about a very special and beautiful and magical thing which happened in my life, and which tragically and mysteriously ended. Of course, the mystery is solved in the last line. And, on further pondering of god'swife's claim that 'so her did I' is a 'rape' of the English language, I've decided that that is one of the top five most idiotic things said so far on poemranker (two of the others are also god'swife's comments). Clearly she has never read any poetry written before 1824. The whole point of poetry is to mix up an almost-rhythmic language so as to make it rhythmic, while still retaining its meaning. It helps if the language inflects, as English does in the case of 'her' and 'I'. I want to see god'swife off this site. Does anyone agree with me?
some deleted user
on some deleted poem
28 Aug 2002, 8:44 AM
GW, It's not about description, if you want description, go to an
expository writing repository. Poetry is simply an expression of the
soul, if the feeling is vague then the expression will also be. It would
be interesting to hear your personal definition of "mature".
Yes, I was only being flippant. I can never resist a cheap gag. And your syntactical inversion, while technically and gramatically correct, isn't very graceful. Have you tried saying it out loud? Yes you provide the correct stresses and beats, but the phrase is galumphing on the tongue. Anyway, I would argue that the limerick is more anapaestic than this (e.g.'There once was a young man from Bude'by the limerick master himself, Mr Lear - you'd have to mangle your first line a bit to get these stresses, because the words ' three years' automatically suggest a long trochaic sound). God's wife may or may not have read any poetry from before 1824, but you obviously aren't acquainted with Robert Frost's 'sound of sense', which makes my point much more clearly and is a damn sight closer to 2002 than 1824 is.
This strikes me as a bland meal. Only add salt? You want some cumin in there, maybe some turmeric...a kind of cannibal curry...
no kiddimg...mr. vague. burn too. captain druel. burn high and bright .cad, and ouija board player. burn......
As you may guess from reading my other commetns elsewhere, I don't like archaisms, and 'time has but a hidden arrow/ For to pierce us all' spoils this for me I'm afraid.
I like this - mysterious and urgent and visceral. The aftermath of what? Is it rape or her own death to whcih she says NO? I like an enigma like this.
If, as your name suggets, you don't care about anyone's criticism, how do you think you'll improve as a port? It's all about taking other people's criticisms and suggestions and advice on the chin and learning from it. Otherwise you're just having a one way conversation with your own ego. That said, I don't think your poem is as bad as God's wife does. While it's formally messy, there is a genuine emotional pull.
wow. this is so good and so bad, all at the same time. clever descriptions and solid idea vs. language uncertain and awkwardly assembled. dissect. reassemble. polish. ta da! please consider reworking this; it pleases me greatly and it's only a suckling. it would destroy me, should it arrive full-fleshed...
I concur, and yet on this very day I will subject myself to the CHAIR. With any luck at all, I'll be able to write an Ode to Vicadin upon my return.
okay, so this one is strays from the former flock. how about 'locked to the bed by silver chains'? rolls out, smooth sadism...
Absolutely smashing