Poetry Forum

Amadis, may I make some translation suggestions? I don’t know how to tell you I don’t know how to explain to you There is no cure For how I feel For how I feel The moon tells me do one thing The stars tell me to do another And the light of day sings to me This sad song This sad song Those kisses you...

Amadis,

Why don't you edit your first post by placing this new version on top of it, and calling the original poem, version 1. That way, we can all see from the list that you have posted something new.

Jackie

Version 3 cashiers have stopped asking did you find everything all right ghost crowds down these aisles slaked their panic with paper buying skilled workers from abroad can’t get here to bring the harvest in new brands on the gap shelves sign me to want them instead isolated by the evening light I w...

Poet, I hear your voice and your passion clearly in this piece. So right! The problem is horrific, pervasive, and systemic. As a poem, though, right from the title, it may have bitten off more than it can chew. How can you narrow the topic to make it more powerful? Can you focus on a single image fr...

Not,

I enjoyed your conversion of nursery rhymes to taunts, but so far as political commentary goes, I try to keep to my own side of the pond.

Jackie

Amadis, This poem propels me into the scene and I keep wanting to like it but can't quite get there because the images don't work for me. For example, how can haze be brutal sunshine? And how can haze have consequences? I try starting the poem with S2 which reads beautifully, assuming by "ken&q...

Amadis,

When this is read aloud, the ball is hit at regular intervals so there seem to be no misses, and I recognize the names of some of the songs, but I don't follow Bryan Adams so I think I'm missing a lot here.

Thanks for posting,
Jackie

Thank you, Amadis, this helps. I can see how the ending comes as a surprise.

Jackie

Hi Trevor As I understand it, N at first feels resentful that this child is verging on walking when N no longer can/now cannot, but later finds enlightenment or release in this…what? Spiritual connection? As you say, you could write only about the child, but this too is a very engaging topic. To me,...

Suzanne, this has the gentle feel of Roberta Flack singing, "Jesse, Come Home." Would you consider dropping the first two lines and starting the poem with the third line? I stumble on by describing the vessel rather than pointing out its lack of content. . How about shortening it to "...

JJ, to me there is a huge difference in the overall impression between the original and revised version. The original seemed like a controlled child's book illustration, framed, enclosed. The second is wide open, and the door with the detail of people becomes a secret revelation on the edge of a mas...

Anongirl, thank you for posting this. My sympathy for your loss. I do agree with Perry's suggestions, especially where he says the first step is to ask yourself if you're writing for yourself or for another audience. I'm a firm believer in using journals to get the pain out and clarify my thinking e...

Not, Jules and David, thank you so much for giving me your help and impressions. Not, thanks for your specific suggestions for me to consider. Jules, you may be giving me a tad more credit that I deserve! Hope if I stretch, I reach that far! David, so honored you like it. And does it reach beyond th...

Thanks for your comments, Ray and Mac, they help a lot. Yes, Scrabble. It's just my own uncommon way of playing it: I'm not into scores and absolutely love games where unusual words, coaxed out of nothing planned, predominate. I don't get along with Scrabble masters who know all the winning strategi...

I found this delightful, Ray, and kept tasting fetching Mrs Shelley’s shopping over and over—did you consider it as your title? I'd choose S1 as the stronger, maybe because "even though" and "as well" and the last line are less compact or special. I'm not talking about the conten...

Hi Trevor, I enjoyed this read. Two things nagged at me. One was the point of view—"you" seemed to refer to changeable people. I thought the reason might be that each room was more closely linked to the structure than who inhabited it, but it didn't seem so. The other was the hope that thi...

These are the games I forfeit. I extend a real word to the east (though less mighty than I’d like) and watch for your move as we build our gallery. But you slap scat alongside me first top and then bottom. On my branch reaching west you plop the unpronounceable. Round the board you pursue me: where ...

we don’t plan
doorways
or sneezes
how to be out
yes
and how to be in
but what happens
in the betweens
is figmental
mask up well
for the surreal flip

Jules, I'm so grateful for all the thought you put into this critique. It's given me lots to think about.

Jackie

Not, my understanding of Unsung is that something ought to be sung. The direct question in line 1 is more involved in their cause, and "thirsting and footsore" altogether more sympathetic. You seem to be championing the cause of these people, who are perhaps refugees; unlanded emigrants? J...

Intriguing, Not. I wonder why you decided not to give it a title. Without one, I guess I’ll head for a parallel universe where “they” hear what’s in ours. I haven’t figured out yet how to get lost in your own tongue, though.

Jackie

Thanks so much Not, Poet, Perry, Mac, Tristan, JJ and Ray! Your questions and comments have been very helpful.

I've posted a 2nd version above, that I hope works better.

Jackie

Tristan, I like that you distinguish the two-fold task of writing, and connect them with the properties of snow: it obscures clear vision, it's expansive, and the excitement of it melts away, leaving you with who you are.

So thoughtful.
Jackie

I would cut cut lines 15-18, to me it reads better,

I agree with Tony on this point. These lines are a letdown from "on a regular basis," which I loved.

Much enjoyed!
Jackie

Version 2 He was trim, a tall man who wore spats, a fact hidden now as family snaps trained on his laughter, caught on the fly. Boys then all longed to be traveling salesmen but where’s the kudos with no frames? He’s not named in civic rosters. At home, he made art from wood. We recently reupholster...