Convalescing at home,
but I am not alone.
On my chest, St. John Keats.
His verse To Fanny piques
open his ravaged heart,
vies to heal by his art.

My right, Henry Thoreau.
Pens Walden Pond to show
he’d not conform and tries
to heal through nature’s eyes.
Whip-poor-wills help us cope.
The Woods will give us hope.

My left, Albert Camus.
Unmasks our milleau,
indicts us in The Fall
with our sickly call
for grins of subterfuge
gilded by modern rouge.

As I lie in this bed,
their words live in my head.
And like the Surgeon’s Knife
that saved my own short life.
What Fate that might have been.
No poems, books from them.

Better revision. I'll get to this in a bit, as I'm not in a good position to do any in-depth analysis right now.

Convalescing at home,
but I am not alone.
On my chest, St. John Keats.
(Would a semi-colon work better here?
If you don't think it's imperative, then that's
fine.)
His verse To Fanny piques
open his ravaged heart,
(grammatically, does this make sense?
I'm not the biggest fan of references to
literature within poetry, but that's just
my opinion)
vies to heal by his art.
(This sounds strange. You're working
with six-syllable lines, so things are
fairly demanding. "Vies to heal" is clumsy.)

My right, Henry Thoreau.
(This is fine, if a bit abrupt
I don't think the period is necessary.
It adds a nice enjambment if removed)
Pens Walden Pond to show
he’d not conform and tries
(How about "He'll"? Present tense
normally works better than past,
almost as if it's all unfolding before
your eyes.)
to heal through nature’s eyes.
("Nature's eyes" is a tad abstract and
cliche. Perhaps use something more
specific than nature?)
Whip-poor-wills help us cope.
( I do not like this line. Jarring.)
The Woods will give us hope.
(I do like this line)

My left, Albert Camus.
Unmasks our milleau,
(Good rhyme. I like it)
indicts us in The Fall
with our sickly call
(How about a verb instead
Of an adjective?)
for grins of subterfuge
gilded by modern rouge.
(I've noticed something-
The rhythm is a bit off.
You should look into iambic-
pentameter and stresses/unstressed
syllables.)

As I lie in this bed,
their words live in my head.
("Live" is weak.)
And like the Surgeon’s Knife
that saved my own short life.
(I'm not sure I understand this
reference.)
What Fate that might have been.
(Try a - or a ; instead of a period)
No poems, books from them.
(Good close)

This version is better. I think you've ironed out some of the wrinkles, but there's still more to be done, in my opinion.
Keep writing!

(02-13-2011, 03:52 AM)Lawrence Wrote:  Convalescing at home,
but I am not alone.
On my chest, St. John Keats.
(Would a semi-colon work better here?
If you don't think it's imperative, then that's
fine.)
His verse To Fanny piques
open his ravaged heart,
(grammatically, does this make sense?
I'm not the biggest fan of references to
literature within poetry, but that's just
my opinion)
vies to heal by his art.
(This sounds strange. You're working
with six-syllable lines, so things are
fairly demanding. "Vies to heal" is clumsy.)

My right, Henry Thoreau.
(This is fine, if a bit abrupt
I don't think the period is necessary.
It adds a nice enjambment if removed)
Pens Walden Pond to show
he’d not conform and tries
(How about "He'll"? Present tense
normally works better than past,
almost as if it's all unfolding before
your eyes.)
to heal through nature’s eyes.
("Nature's eyes" is a tad abstract and
cliche. Perhaps use something more
specific than nature?)
Whip-poor-wills help us cope.
( I do not like this line. Jarring.)
The Woods will give us hope.
(I do like this line)

My left, Albert Camus.
Unmasks our milleau,
(Good rhyme. I like it)
indicts us in The Fall
with our sickly call
(How about a verb instead
Of an adjective?)
for grins of subterfuge
gilded by modern rouge.
(I've noticed something-
The rhythm is a bit off.
You should look into iambic-
pentameter and stresses/unstressed
syllables.)

As I lie in this bed,
their words live in my head.
("Live" is weak.)
And like the Surgeon’s Knife
that saved my own short life.
(I'm not sure I understand this
reference.)
What Fate that might have been.
(Try a - or a ; instead of a period)
No poems, books from them.
(Good close)

This version is better. I think you've ironed out some of the wrinkles, but there's still more to be done, in my opinion.
Keep writing!

Lawrence, you've taken such care with your analysis--you do possess a great technical eye. A few suggestions I will use, yes, He'll is better than he'd, for example. You've given me a few other things to think about too. Love my whip-poor-wills, though. I thank you--jim

for me the form is much better in this edit.
and the end rhyme feels tighter, the changes made make the poem flow easier. i won't repeat anything said by lawrence.
the meter also works well. (something i never mentioned in the last edit)
the images are much improved for me as well.
i leave the grammar point to lawrence as mine is not that clever. his other point i won't reiterate except to say i agree with him, specially with the whip poor will line
i seriously think you're getting there with this piece jim. nice edit.

(02-12-2011, 03:36 AM)waitingforgodet Wrote:  Convalescing at home,
but I am not alone.
On my chest, St. John Keats.
His verse To Fanny piques
open his (would "this" be a good alternative, to allude to your own chest? Just a taste thing, but you can ignore this suggestion) ravaged heart,
vies to heal by his art.

My right, Henry Thoreau.
Pens Walden Pond to show
he’d not conform and tries (I think "tries" sounds a little... unsure? For what your going for. But since you're trying to preserve the rhyming I understand if you keep it)
to heal through nature’s eyes.
Whip-poor-wills help us cope.
The Woods will give us hope. (Maybe it's because these last two lines are both short, abrupt sentences, but I though the rhyming was too obvious)

My left, Albert Camus.
Unmasks our milleau,
indicts us in The Fall
with our sickly call (this line fails you a bit... not very inspired compared to the others before and after)
for grins of subterfuge
gilded (enjambment kind of trips up here?) by modern rouge.

As I lie in this bed,
their words live in my head.
And like the Surgeon’s Knife
that saved my own short life.
What Fate that might have been.
No poems, books from them. (Not keen on this closing. I love what your trying to say, "but poems, books..." which sounds like "poems and/or books..." makes the line sound sloppy for no good reason.. just imo)

I'm of two minds about this edit. Structurally it improved and it's a lot cleaner, though there are some slight issues with enjambment. In some places, i believe that the problem was from focusing too much on just the end rhyming. But overall it gave a clear, confident, and sufficiently nuanced narrative.

But... a small part of me likes the original as well, thematically speaking. I think when you cleaned up the poem, a lot of the strength and directness of your original metaphor got dialed down. For instance, I liked how the "at my left... at my right" was like an anatomical analysis, with specific writers aiding specific "ailments" in the soul/body metaphor. In this version that implication I think still exists but is less clear. Of course, I think just a little rewrite (of this rewrite) will easily remedy this

(02-14-2011, 03:37 PM)addy Wrote:  

(02-12-2011, 03:36 AM)waitingforgodet Wrote:  Convalescing at home,
but I am not alone.
On my chest, St. John Keats.
His verse To Fanny piques
open his (would "this" be a good alternative, to allude to your own chest? Just a taste thing, but you can ignore this suggestion) ravaged heart,
vies to heal by his art.

My right, Henry Thoreau.
Pens Walden Pond to show
he’d not conform and tries (I think "tries" sounds a little... unsure? For what your going for. But since you're trying to preserve the rhyming I understand if you keep it)
to heal through nature’s eyes.
Whip-poor-wills help us cope.
The Woods will give us hope. (Maybe it's because these last two lines are both short, abrupt sentences, but I though the rhyming was too obvious)

My left, Albert Camus.
Unmasks our milleau,
indicts us in The Fall
with our sickly call (this line fails you a bit... not very inspired compared to the others before and after)
for grins of subterfuge
gilded (enjambment kind of trips up here?) by modern rouge.

As I lie in this bed,
their words live in my head.
And like the Surgeon’s Knife
that saved my own short life.
What Fate that might have been.
No poems, books from them. (Not keen on this closing. I love what your trying to say, "but poems, books..." which sounds like "poems and/or books..." makes the line sound sloppy for no good reason.. just imo)

I'm of two minds about this edit. Structurally it improved and it's a lot cleaner, though there are some slight issues with enjambment. In some places, i believe that the problem was from focusing too much on just the end rhyming. But overall it gave a clear, confident, and sufficiently nuanced narrative.

But... a small part of me likes the original as well, thematically speaking. I think when you cleaned up the poem, a lot of the strength and directness of your original metaphor got dialed down. For instance, I liked how the "at my left... at my right" was like an anatomical analysis, with specific writers aiding specific "ailments" in the soul/body metaphor. In this version that implication I think still exists but is less clear. Of course, I think just a little rewrite (of this rewrite) will easily remedy this

What a nice verse by verse analysis you've done. I agree that some things are lost from the original but I still think the intent is clear, not that it could not be improved. Funny that nobody likes my whip-poor-wills line except me. I do love that line. Key words you mentioned for improvement and I do understand the enjambment you mention that does break up the thought a litttle. I think it is best to lay this one down for a while and come back to it with a fresher eye; as we all know, I think, staying with one poem rewrite after rewrite sometimes screws up things unintentionally, sort of like a never-ending wrestling match with no real decision--I do thank you, Addy--Jim

---

(02-14-2011, 01:56 PM)billy Wrote:  for me the form is much better in this edit.
and the end rhyme feels tighter, the changes made make the poem flow easier. i won't repeat anything said by lawrence.
the meter also works well. (something i never mentioned in the last edit)
the images are much improved for me as well.
i leave the grammar point to lawrence as mine is not that clever. his other point i won't reiterate except to say i agree with him, specially with the whip poor will line
i seriously think you're getting there with this piece jim. nice edit.


Yes, billy, I feel I'm almost there with this poem, but it is time to put it to rest for a while and come back to it later. You noticed the images being better this time. I'm glad about that. I think part of the problem with my poem here and others I've read is that when the writer stops focusing on the intent and begins to look at meter and other technical stuff with a myopic eye, I think we sometimes are the worse for it; it is an on-going battle for all of us, I know. In the end, I think I would prefer to be moved by a poem albeit clumsy here and there than to read a poem technically perfect and say, ok, now what? It's a constant striving for thematic intent with technical proficiency--this never ending pursuit, I know--thanks, billy--jim

hi jim. you have a valid point. like food, poetry can also be overcooked (sorry for the bad simile)

for me the most important things to achieve are originalty presentation, in that order.

if we just show a good presentation without good original content then the presentation/form is wasted.
however if can show some original imagery it still has a lot to offer us if and when we do an edit.
having those images on the page are much more helpful to and edit than having a perfect form.
the other point you make about putting it away for a while. i agree with you. do a few edits by all means but after that put it in a draw for a week, month, 6 months, etc. do the same with the original poem. you'll find when you take them out that you can
spot what you did wrong and where you did it. you'll also see what you did right, etc, and coming at it with a fresh and open mind
will make the last couple of edits all the easier. i often take old poems out to edit and think; did i really write that crap
the other thing is; while the poems are resting in a draw, we're hopefully not. we read more write more become more accustomed to the craft of poetry, we see advice we like and understand and advice we realize isn't quite so good. we learn to discern some of the finer points of what we're doing. while the old poem rots in a draw we (well not me ) get better.

jmo.