An Ode to People

[Ganman]

It's 3 AM, which means another day, another poem.

I'd like to post another one of my submissions, something I'm turning in for a class today. Whatever feedback you have is appreciated.

Anyway, an Ode to People:

I know there are possibilities
beneath the trees
and under the brimming seas
that satellites haven’t seen-

thoughts never processed and assimilated,
ideas never registered-

not because my brain dreams them –
mine is weary and growing lackluster,

because I must believe humanity
is not near stagnating,
decomposing

with the onset of nuclear war
or the coming of some dreary tide;

because at every time,
we sat where we do now, with a thought
on our tongues,
lacking language to effect itself;
because a notion of beauty and progress as transitory,
disposable in a larger scheme,
is well and good in a hypothetical setting,
but not in my world, not for the wonderful people

who make this land shine everywhere-
in our extolling and in our hubris,
in the ravages and banishments
which tear our cores asunder.

I’ll choose to believe against the statistics –
single, married, male, female, black, white –
poor, wealthy, son, daughter, damned –
which daily limit us,

because I won’t be a cynic on my porch,
elderly with frail and rotting bones,
rocking, condemning the passing youth
with green faces like buried saplings;

because we’ve transcended the skies
and lifted the lid of Heaven,
where God itself sat as a general pacing,
gone to war with the certainties

we daily propagate,
the forces which move particles
and ruin nations-

accomplishments, some terrifying,
grisly, macabre, but some flourishing,
synthetically picturesque,
like sculptures of long-dead guardians-

who thought and educated the masses,
who fought and remained steadfast against battalions,
who sought and motivated withering husks.

I deny that we will decline and expire,
that we are predictable,
our fates inescapable,
because I am human,

and I don’t believe
we should die forgotten,
consumed by the oblivions
which elicited our existences
among the constellations.

[milo]

It's 3 AM, which means another day, another poem.

I'd like to post another one of my submissions, something I'm turning in for a class today. Whatever feedback you have is appreciated.

Anyway, an Ode to People:

I know there are possibilities
beneath the trees
and under the brimming seas
that satellites haven’t seen,

ok, this first strophe is focused on some "possibilities", it doesn't discuss what they are, just where they may be in the most general terms possible.


thoughts never processed and assimilated,
ideas never registered,

I am guessing that these "possibilities are now thoughts and ideas. so far, the verbiage is staid, there is no imagery or interesting language.

not because my brain dreams them –
mine is weary and growing lackluster,

just more generalizations and now we have added dreams to ur list of pointless abstractions: possibilities, thoughts, ideas, dreams, what next, hopes, faith god, beauty?


because I must believe humanity
is not near stagnating,
decomposing

nope, humanity. I find it difficult to connect with your vague generalizations. Poets are not smart, stop trying to be a philosopher, be a wordsmith.


with the onset of nuclear war
or the coming of some dreary tide,

because at every time,
we sat where we do now, with a thought
on our tongues,
lacking language to effect itself,
because a notion of beauty and progress as transitory,
disposable in a larger scheme,
is well and good in a hypothetical setting,
but not in my world, not for the wonderful people

who make this land shine everywhere,
in our extolling and in our hubris,
in the ravages and banishments
which tear our cores asunder.

I’ll choose to believe against the statistics –
single, married, male, female, black, white –
poor, wealthy, son, daughter, damned –
which daily limit us,

because I won’t be a cynic on my porch,
elderly with frail and rotting bones,
rocking, condemning the passing youth
with green faces like buried saplings,

because we’ve transcended the skies
and lifted the lid of Heaven,
where God itself sat as a general pacing,
gone to war with the certainties

we daily propagate,
the forces which move particles
and ruin nations,

accomplishments, some terrifying,
grisly, macabre, but some flourishing,
synthetically picturesque,
like sculptures of long-dead guardians,

who thought and educated the masses,
who fought and remained steadfast against battalions,
who sought and motivated withering husks.

I deny that we will decline and expire,
that we are predictable,
our fates inescapable,
because I am human,

and I don’t believe
we should die forgotten,
consumed by the oblivions
which elicited our existences
among the constellations.

I am skipping to the end because it is all more of the same. You are trying too hard to be a philosopher. Use strong words - concrete imagery.

This is a very long list of abstractions and generalization. Pick any one of these thoughts or any line of this poem and try to flesh it out with real experiences that your reader can share.

good luck.

milo

[billy]

very clever

really good read. i thought the beginning could be strengthened by swapping the 1st two stanza round, and that you had an abundance of 'because" are they all needed? some excellent images though near the end i wonder if a couple of stanza are too much of a sameness. i doubt i'll ever write this well but all the praise aside i think you can improve upon it.

thanks for the read.

It's 3 AM, which means another day, another poem.

I'd like to post another one of my submissions, something I'm turning in for a class today. Whatever feedback you have is appreciated.

Anyway, an Ode to People:

I know there are possibilities
beneath the trees
and under the brimming seas
that satellites haven’t seen, are the two 'the's' necessary?

thoughts never processed and assimilated,
ideas never registered, i think this couplet would have made a great opener, i also think the next stanza would be better suited to follow the first

not because my brain dreams them –
mine is weary and growing lackluster,

because I must believe humanity
is not near stagnating,
decomposing

with the onset of nuclear war not sure this ties in well with the stanza above, being nuked is a bit more than stagnating etc
or the coming of some dreary tide,

because at every time,
we sat where we do now, with a thought are the tenses at odds, i get it and it works but it jars me. would sit work better?
on our tongues,
lacking language to effect itself,
because a notion of beauty and progress as transitory, the because's are taking over
disposable in a larger scheme,
is well and good in a hypothetical setting,
but not in my world, not for the wonderful people

who make this land shine everywhere,
in our extolling and in our hubris,
in the ravages and banishments
which tear our cores asunder.

I’ll choose to believe against the statistics –
single, married, male, female, black, white –
poor, wealthy, son, daughter, damned –
which daily limit us,

because I won’t be a cynic on my porch,
elderly with frail and rotting bones,
rocking, condemning the passing youth 4 ing's in two lines, is it a couple two many?
with green faces like buried saplings,

because we’ve transcended the skies
and lifted the lid of Heaven,
where God itself sat as a general pacing, sat as a general pacing?
gone to war with the certainties

we daily propagate,
the forces which move particles
and ruin nations,

accomplishments, some terrifying,
grisly, macabre, but some flourishing,
synthetically picturesque,
like sculptures of long-dead guardians,

who thought and educated the masses,
who fought and remained steadfast against battalions,
who sought and motivated withering husks.

I deny that we will decline and expire,
that we are predictable,
our fates inescapable,
because I am human,

and I don’t believe
we should die forgotten,
consumed by the oblivions
which elicited our existences
among the constellations.

[Ganman]

After some consideration, I'm going to disagree with your criticism, Milo. If I want to write about the human race, I'll write about the human race. With that in mind, can you give me something constructive? "Don't try to be a philosopher" is not exactly helpful advice.

Is it just not your cup of java? Honestly, I'd like to work with you on this, but I'm having a little difficulty not being completely insulted.

If you think it should be longer, and that I should get into specifics, then I'm willing to work with that and make it more specific. But I need you to be a bit more civil, and also a bit more precise in how you offer your criticism. This is a place for detailed criticism, after all.



I'll play with it some more, then gradually post my progress. Such large scale changes could take awhile though, since it looks like, looking at current criticism, what I have is bare bones. Thanks billy, for the compliment and the advice.

Continued feedback is appreciated.

[milo]

After some consideration, I'm going to disagree with your criticism, Milo. If I want to write about the human race, I'll write about the human race. With that in mind, can you give me something constructive? "Don't try to be a philosopher" is not exactly helpful advice.


Continued feedback is appreciated.

It isn't the topic that is the problem, it is the writing itself, much can be written about the human race. It is tough to go through so many lines 1 by 1 but each one seems to carry the burden of needing strength.

Start with the first strophe. Your narrator mentions that they know there are possibilities beneath trees? This thought is never realized later, so why mention the trees?

The satellites? What ever happened to the possibilities?

There are a full 7 strophes of a grammatically incorrect run on sentence?

I guess out of all of it I liked the idea of young people with green faces like buried saplings because it makes me laugh, but I am not sure that part was supposed to be funny or not.

The narrator goes on and on about what he thinks in a rather tiresome and unrefreshing way and I don't really know enough about the narrator to care other than to find him rather odious and perhaps hope the world will end just to spite him.

Still, good luck with it.

milo

[Todd]

Hi Ganman, here are some comments below:

This might work as a spoken piece, but on paper there are simply a lot of statements you share that don't seem to evoke any emotional power. Try reading this in a monotone voice without much inflection and see what still holds some power to it.

It's 3 AM, which means another day, another poem.

I'd like to post another one of my submissions, something I'm turning in for a class today. Whatever feedback you have is appreciated.

Anyway, an Ode to People:

I know there are possibilities
beneath the trees
and under the brimming seas
that satellites haven’t seen,--The opening isn't bad.

thoughts never processed and assimilated,
ideas never registered,--The idea of the satellites seeing actions but being unable to see thoughts isn't a bad one. Moving cerebral rather than showing what the satellites see but fail to understand isn't likely the best choice. It may be better to display a scene and then demonstrate the misunderstanding through some action.

not because my brain dreams them –
mine is weary and growing lackluster,

because I must believe humanity
is not near stagnating,
decomposing

with the onset of nuclear war
or the coming of some dreary tide,

because at every time,
we sat where we do now, with a thought
on our tongues,
lacking language to effect itself,
because a notion of beauty and progress as transitory,
disposable in a larger scheme,
is well and good in a hypothetical setting,
but not in my world, not for the wonderful people--this entire sequence feels like a set of propositions to me. It doesn't evoke an emotional response from me. The old telling vs showing thing. I'd like more show.

who make this land shine everywhere,
in our extolling and in our hubris,
in the ravages and banishments
which tear our cores asunder.--again statements extolling in our hubris...what does that look like? This all feels like its the ideas that are ten thousand feet above the poem. I'd like to see you get a few layers closer. It feels more like the poem is the satellite when what it should be is bringing us inside the people. If that makes sense

I’ll choose to believe against the statistics –
single, married, male, female, black, white –
poor, wealthy, son, daughter, damned –
which daily limit us,--I don't mind the idea again but it's a list and then a statement.

because I won’t be a cynic on my porch,
elderly with frail and rotting bones,
rocking, condemning the passing youth
with green faces like buried saplings,--Here you step back and show us something. You take us deeper. This strophe is good.

because we’ve transcended the skies
and lifted the lid of Heaven,
where God itself sat as a general pacing,
gone to war with the certainties--I'm not sure transcended the skies is necessary. You could condense to "because we've lifted the lid of Heaven" (Nice phrasing that) I'd also consider ending on sat. I like the opening the end gets too cerebral "war with the certainties" again feels a bit flat

we daily propagate,
the forces which move particles
and ruin nations,--This feels a bit too sweeping, and a bit vague

accomplishments, some terrifying,
grisly, macabre, but some flourishing,
synthetically picturesque,
like sculptures of long-dead guardians,--this last line is interesting everything else is just another list that feels vague

who thought and educated the masses,
who fought and remained steadfast against battalions,
who sought and motivated withering husks.--again, go a few layers deeper

I deny that we will decline and expire,
that we are predictable,
our fates inescapable,
because I am human,

and I don’t believe
we should die forgotten,
consumed by the oblivions
which elicited our existences
among the constellations.--these last two strophes could be made to work. I'm not sure I like the direct declaration of the narrator, but that said if you brought in a more primitive astrology earlier and blended the ideas of people always being observed and ruled from above your last line (which I like) might hit harder

I'm not sure how helpful these comments will be. I struggled with this some. I like the ideas, but I needed more from the execution.

Oh well, just thoughts to consider.

Best,

Todd

[Ganman]

After some consideration, I'm going to disagree with your criticism, Milo. If I want to write about the human race, I'll write about the human race. With that in mind, can you give me something constructive? "Don't try to be a philosopher" is not exactly helpful advice.


Continued feedback is appreciated.

It isn't the topic that is the problem, it is the writing itself, much can be written about the human race. It is tough to go through so many lines 1 by 1 but each one seems to carry the burden of needing strength.

Start with the first strophe. Your narrator mentions that they know there are possibilities beneath trees? This thought is never realized later, so why mention the trees?

The satellites? What ever happened to the possibilities?

There are a full 7 strophes of a grammatically incorrect run on sentence?

I guess out of all of it I liked the idea of young people with green faces like buried saplings because it makes me laugh, but I am not sure that part was supposed to be funny or not.

The narrator goes on and on about what he thinks in a rather tiresome and unrefreshing way and I don't really know enough about the narrator to care other than to find him rather odious and perhaps hope the world will end just to spite him.

Still, good luck with it.

milo

Ah, okay. Well, that's a little more helpful. Thank you. The grammar admittedly wasn't as big of a priority as it should have been- I could have just left out the punctuation and used line breaks as the structure- but I did put a bandage on it for now with some semicolons.

I want to keep the tone, but you and Todd seem to be touching on some pretty similar issues. There's too much lecture and very little imagery. I guess, to an extent, I see what you mean about the unrelatable narrator. I can't promise anything, but I'm definitely going to rework the piece, with similar ideas/content.

I'm glad I brought this here before submitting. And thank you Todd! Your specific details have been rather helpful.

I'll be getting back to this soon, probably today or tomorrow. I'm sure I can make this work with several major overhauls/a clean rewrite with similar concepts. Then we'll see if people like this a little more.

[tectak]

It's 3 AM, which means another day, another poem.
Hi ganman,
I know you like to give a preamble to your work but it is not necessarily a good thing. Some newbie crits are sensitive to the motives of the poster and may be put off by lofty reasons for posting...should that ever occur, of course. I am not so sensitive
I'd like to post another one of my submissions, something I'm turning in for a class today. Whatever feedback you have is appreciated.

Anyway, an Ode to People:Titles are a bitch. Immediately, I am wary. "Odes to" tend to wander of into eulogies and philosophical inexactitudes....and often forget they are odes. Even the oraculous (serge, where you?) Wikidef suggests the strophe, the antistrophe, and the epode are a minimum. We shall see.

I know there are possibilities
beneath the trees
and under the brimming seas
that satellites haven’t seen,A whistful start, almost weary...nothing wrong with that. I hope we shall be enlightened. What form is this to be? I cannot get a grip on anything that shouts (or whispers) poetry. It is only the first strophe...hang on! There're more than there should be. Are we really ODe'ing? (pun). Beneath the seas and trees is still entrancing...what can there be?

thoughts never processed and assimilated,Ooops! Gestalts unattended can lead to breakdown. Not sure we need to know this. In fact, it is telling us you know you don't know either. Bit of a let down really.
ideas never registered,

not because my brain dreams them –
mine is weary and growing lackluster,No to this. Your character is getting moribund....we want an ode! We want and ode! When do we want it? We want it now! We shall see. Flat few lines that sends me to sleep.

because I must believe humanity
is not near stagnating,
decomposing

with the onset of nuclear war
or the coming of some dreary tide,

because at every time, the second because was because the first because was because your character was wearied....see, that's what happens in odes...even when it isn't one You are line breaking to no real effect and accordingly you are thinking in bits. There is, as yet, nothing new...which is a foil against philosophising but it still needs some texture, roughage.
we sat where we do now, with a thoughtThe cat sat on the mat, sat on her tuffet, sat on a wall. Sat is doing nothing. It is a doing nothing word and it is doing nothing. A thought on our tongues is a thought shared. One thought, many tongues....and it is screamingly close to a cliche. I think that this whole piece is stretched past Young's modulus. It will snap unless you let go soon....but it will never go back to to its original length. Amen to that. Yes. Cut out the adipose. It is slowing you down. I cannot see an easy route through these islands of intellect. The philosophising will begin soon...I just know it.
on our tongues,
lacking language to effect itself,
because a notion of beauty and progress as transitory,
disposable in a larger scheme,
is well and good in a hypothetical setting,
but not in my world, not for the wonderful people..and did I mention the long sentences? This is a lifer....and no time off for good behaviour. It just goes on and on and on. Sadly, I confess I am no longer looking at the words but I am consoled by the thought that I have read them all before. I will force myself as I am a good egg. Punctuate PLEASE, I need to breathe.

who make this land shine everywhere,
in our extolling and in our hubris,
in the ravages and banishments
which tear our cores asunder. This is a good stanza, but in this Correction Centre it is in solitary confinement. A little ranty, and know-it-all, but why the hell not? It's your poem. I have given up on the ode thingy.

I’ll choose to believe against the statistics –
single, married, male, female, black, white –
poor, wealthy, son, daughter, damned –
which daily limit us,

because I won’t be a cynic on my porch,
elderly with frail and rotting bones,
rocking, condemning the passing youth
with green faces like buried saplings,Good. It stands out

because we’ve transcended the skies
and lifted the lid of Heaven,
where God itself sat as a general pacing,Pick a god...any god. Its a good one
gone to war with the certainties

we daily propagate,
the forces which move particles
and ruin nations,

accomplishments, some terrifying,
grisly, macabre, but some flourishing,
synthetically picturesque,
like sculptures of long-dead guardians,

who thought and educated the masses,
who fought and remained steadfast against battalions,
who sought and motivated withering husks.Stone me! That was the longest sentence I have ever not read! I must say that you are killing me. I think I have had enough. It is all getting just too much. Is your character writing The Constitution now? He, too, has given up Ode-ing. This is for me a mish-mash. It needs at least two coats of looking at.

I deny that we will decline and expire,
that we are predictable,
our fates inescapable,
because I am human,Pretentious and raving. Look at me , ma! Top of the World! Boom.

and I don’t believe
we should die forgotten,
consumed by the oblivions
which elicited our existences
among the constellations....but that we should go where no man has gone before. Yikes.

There is too much nothing in this. I think you think that thinking is all there is to this poetry lark. No. That's not an acceptable crit...I WANT to say that your character implies this. You use the "I" word too often, too pretentiously, too dogmatically and too PERSONALLY. So its your own fault. You pointed out in another place that lines could get too long and I listened. I suggest that you re-write this, as I often suggest, as free text prose...cut out all the whistful, whimpish, weak perambulations and muscle it up; then punctuate the thing to clarity. It should be easy as you are unlikely to have more than twelve lines of good blank verse. For me, you could easily remove the majority of the "I" centred stuff. What do you want the piece to do? Talk about you(r character) OR people. What the hell happened to the people?
Best,
tectak[b]

[Ganman]

Okay. So I have a concept- essentially humanism - but the way I do it, it's just that. A concept, that doesn't get much better than that, and just pretentiously tries to establish itself as something more. These are all thoughts, even good thoughts in their purest form, but they're not original thoughts, and there's nothing especially uniting them.

That's what I'm getting, anyway. I'm sorry to bring such a shameful poem to the forum, but I guess that's how you learn. As I said, I will be revising this extensively (soon) and posting it when I have something much different. I'll work with the poem I have now as a very, very, very rough formulation of concepts, and see how I can spice it up.

All the best!

[tectak]

Okay. So I have a concept- essentially humanism - but the way I do it, it's just that. A concept, that doesn't get much better than that, and just pretentiously tries to establish itself as something more. These are all thoughts, even good thoughts in their purest form, but they're not original thoughts, and there's nothing especially uniting them.

That's what I'm getting, anyway. I'm sorry to bring such a shameful poem to the forum, but I guess that's how you learn. As I said, I will be revising this extensively (soon) and posting it when I have something much different. I'll work with the poem I have now as a very, very, very rough formulation of concepts, and see how I can spice it up.

All the best!

God man ganman!
That's the way to do it...and don't sham shame! There is no such thing as bad poetry only as long as everyone agrees not to post it! Believe me. Let this one stew and sip it now and then to remind you of bad old days.
Best,
tectak

[justcloudy]

hi Ganman
I've had the "abstraction-ism" discussion here before, on one of my own poems... I defended it too at that point, but here's what it boils down to: this poem isn't memorable. and even though there are some great lines in there (love this: "because I won’t be a cynic on my porch" and actually that whole stanza... I guess because they have images?) I don't come away with anything specific in my head. except for a satellite, a porch and green faced kids, which comprise an itty bitty part. so keep your ideas, but work in some pictures for me to draw in my head.
that said, I feel this could work well as spoken word, with minimal tweaking.
anyway good luck with the revision!
-cloudy

[Ganman]

hi Ganman
I've had the "abstraction-ism" discussion here before, on one of my own poems... I defended it too at that point, but here's what it boils down to: this poem isn't memorable. and even though there are some great lines in there (love this: "because I won’t be a cynic on my porch" and actually that whole stanza... I guess because they have images?) I don't come away with anything specific in my head. except for a satellite, a porch and green faced kids, which comprise an itty bitty part. so keep your ideas, but work in some pictures for me to draw in my head.
that said, I feel this could work well as spoken word, with minimal tweaking.
anyway good luck with the revision!
-cloudy

You know, I don't think this reflects on me as an overall poet. Writing a bad poem now and again doesn't mean you're a poor poet. I just branched off in another direction, and I wasn't quite familiar enough with spoken word to make it work. This time, anyway.

I'm thinking I'll probably send this more in the direction of lyrical narrative, but does anybody have any advice for how to write an original spoken word poem, without coming off as hokey? I now feel like I'm deficient in that area... like I took my relative success in one area and let myself become overconfident.

Thank you, Cloudy. You're right. This poem needs more image and less concept. A concept is a launching point, not a finished product.

And I don't think I'm going to let it stew, Tek. It's not all bad. It just needs a lot of refinement. I actually have a pretty good idea of where I'm going to take it now, using some of your comments as inspiration, particularly Milo's. I think I'll nest the lyrical humanism in a character and maybe satirize him.