Sight Jammed

[first_high_of_the_day]

My pitiful eyes lie in surprise, for the world is all around me. So softly stuck inside a jar, they found a lie and marked it with my name. They saw me? No, but status quo stuffed deeply to the lid. These eyes of lies, so lost inside, creeped out then left me in. I found myself not stuck but stocked, unable to begin. Such mass perspective lost, and as such, was mass perspective gained. What wasn't in my view, from twilight view was framed. From finite to infinity, the seen became the scene, creating what I could think, what I could write, what I could read, and what little I could form, formed me. Not only what I wasn't, but what I wasn't supposed to be. So, desperately, my eyes, like water from the sea, slowly returned to me from far off mountains through tiny streams, and, finally, I can see.

[hopefularahant]

My pitiful eyes lie in surprise, for the world is all around me. So softly stuck inside a jar, they found a lie and marked it with my name. They saw me? No, but status quo stuffed deeply to the lid. These eyes of lies, so lost inside, creeped out then left me in.  I found myself not stuck but stocked, unable to begin. Such mass perspective lost, and as such, was mass perspective gained. What wasn't in my view,  from twilight view was framed. From finite to infinity, the seen became the scene, creating what I could think, what I could write, what I could read, and what little I could form, formed me. Not only what I wasn't, but what I wasn't supposed to be.  So, desperately, my eyes, like water from the sea, slowly returned to me from far off mountains through tiny streams, and, finally, I can see.

Firstly, youre word play is well written, and the rhyme shceme keeps itself together and avoids seeming forced, which is good. Though the block paragraph format makes the poem so so so so much more difficult to read, because i cannot recognize stanzas or lines, or end rhymes, or what is what. Also the stamzas allow your spread of ideas to seems more nicely spread and less jerky. also, The poems meaning is lost in some of the oddly worded sections. From what i gather, when i read, this poem is about looking at things from a new perspective, and about freedom from the oppression of repetitive life, "stuck in a jar". A great idea, well penned and with some very simple changes, could easily be improved alot.

[billy]

i'll reiterate that i too had trouble with the block writing of the piece and wonder if it's just the formatting.
there are some good phrases and there seems to be some internal rhythm going on that lift it out of being prose but i'd like to see it in an easier, more readable format.

My pitiful eyes lie in surprise, for the world is all around me. So softly stuck inside a jar, they found a lie and marked it with my name. They saw me? No, but status quo stuffed deeply to the lid. These eyes of lies, so lost inside, creeped out then left me in.  I found myself not stuck but stocked, unable to begin. Such mass perspective lost, and as such, was mass perspective gained. What wasn't in my view,  from twilight view was framed. From finite to infinity, the seen became the scene, creating what I could think, what I could write, what I could read, and what little I could form, formed me. Not only what I wasn't, but what I wasn't supposed to be.  So, desperately, my eyes, like water from the sea, slowly returned to me from far off mountains through tiny streams, and, finally, I can see.

[Entenzahn]

This is kinda clever, but flawed. First problem I have is that it's super hard to read. There are a lot of sections where phonetically similar words appear right after one another, and that's intentional and yeah, it's fine, but then it's all in one big conga line of pitfalls and abstract ideas and I just keep sliding off the page. It's pretty rapidfire and I'm sure it sounds nice when you read it out loud at an open mic night but read silently I'd be more comfortable if there was some structure here and there that gave it more breathing space.

Second, I stumbled over the abstractions. It's kinda complex and then there are parts where I have trouble computing them because the poem is so quickly paced:

status quo stuffed deeply to the lid
Such mass perspective lost, and as such, was mass perspective gained
From finite to infinity, the seen became the scene

If I really, really slow down and go through it piece by piece I can mostly figure it out but I think this poem would be vastly improved if you either gave it some structure or painted me a clearer picture of the ideas you're trying to illustrate.

[groberts01]

My pitiful eyes lie in surprise, Maybe it's just me but this line tripped me up. After reading this as an opening line I expected more repeated rhyme later in the poem - there's an 'ai' sound three times in this line. However, it made the repetition of this rhyme ('eyes of lies') stick out for me later in the poem, which may have been your intention. for the world is all around me. So softly stuck inside a jar, they found a lie and marked it with my name. They saw me? No, but status quo stuffed deeply to the lid. I'm not sure I understand this line, what does it mean for something to be stuck 'deeply' to a lid?These eyes of lies, so lost inside, creeped out then left me in.  I found myself not stuck but stocked, unable to begin. Such mass perspective lost, and as such, was mass perspective gained This sentence has a grammar problem.. What wasn't in my view,  from twilight view was framed. From finite to infinity, the seen became the scene, creating what I could think, what I could write, what I could read, and what little I could form, formed me. Not only what I wasn't, but what I wasn't supposed to be.  So, desperately, my eyes, like water from the sea, slowly returned to me from far off mountains through tiny streams, and, finally, I can see.

I enjoyed your use of clever wordplay overall.

My interpretation is that you're using allusions to eyes to create a metaphor about lost identity - the way the voice is viewed by others initially warps their own sense of who they are (something is 'seen' in the character of the voice by others, and the voice bends to this opinion like an actor in a 'scene') until they get their true sense of self back (with their returning eyes). It took several read-throughs of the poem for me to form this opinion, however. When at first I didn't understand the poem and was reading it the imagery was interesting, but not engaging enough that I would have worked at understanding the meaning if I wasn't trying to give a critique.

I agree with what's already been written about the format. It would be much easier to read if there were line breaks. It's a great piece in the making.

[Erthona]

Forgive me, I just had to see what it looked like when lineated as a poem.
___________________________________________________________
My pitiful eyes lie in surprise,
for the world is all around me.
So softly stuck inside a jar,
they found a lie and marked it with my name.
They saw me?
No, but status quo
stuffed deeply to the lid.
These eyes of lies,
so lost inside,
creeped out then left me in.
I found myself not stuck but stocked,
unable to begin.
Such mass perspective lost,
and as such,
was mass perspective gained.
What wasn't in my view,
from twilight view was framed.
From finite to infinity,
the seen became the scene,
creating what I could think,
what I could write,
what I could read,
and what little I could form,
formed me.
Not only what I wasn't,
but what I wasn't supposed to be.
So, desperately,
my eyes, like water from the sea,
slowly returned to me
from far off mountains
through tiny streams
and finally I can see.

____________________________________

Now some inline:

My pitiful eyes lie in surprise,
for the world is all around me.
So softly stuck inside a jar,
they found a lie, and  (moved line down)
then marked it with my name.
They saw me?
No, but status quo
stuffed deeply to the lid. (either stuck to the lid, or stuffed deeply in the lid.)
These eyes of lies, (well I guess that's one way to get around saying "lying eyes")
so lost inside,
creeped crept out then left me in. (Doesn't really make much sense. Crept out of where, left you where?)
I found myself not stuck but stocked, (I submit if the speaker were in stocks, then he was also stuck, the same is basically stocked, as on a shelf)
unable to begin.
Such mass perspective lost;
as such,
was mass perspective gained. (I've lost all perspective on this sentence)
What wasn't in my view,
from twilight view was framed. (I have no idea)
From finite to infinity, (from finitude to infinity, or from the finite...)
the seen became the scene, (cheesy)
creating what I could think,
what I could write,
what I could read,
and what little I could form,
formed me. (maybe something like, "what little I could manifest, to manifest myself in me")
Not only what I wasn't,
but what I wasn't supposed to be.
So, desperately,
my eyes, like water from the sea,
slowly returned to me
from far off mountains
through tiny streams (what does any of this description have to do with anything?)
and finally I can see.

___________________________________________________________________________

There seem to be many platitude like sentences here, that at first seem to be saying something profound. For example: "Not only what I wasn't, but what I wasn't supposed to be." This would be perfectly fine if it were attached to something, but it isn't. Had the writer taken the time before this point to expand the characterization of the speaker, this could have made sense, but as is, it is being said in a void. In fact that characterizes most of this poem. The speaker continuously speaks of himself (gender neutral), but only in generalities. By the end of the poem a person really knows no more than when the poem started.  

"Such mass perspective lost"  How does this follow what came before? And then to the whole phrase:

"Such mass perspective lost,
and as such,
was mass perspective gained."

If the speaker said,

"What quantity of perspective lost,
and as such
what quality of perspective gains." 

It does not follow that one can have the lost something and as a result an equal gain of that same something. It does make sense in terms of perspective that what someone loses in terms of quantity, such as part of a limited world view, may be replaced with a less comprehensive but more accurate view. In such a case the loss is a result of the gaining of the new perspective which pushes out the old one rather than vice versa.

As this is in Novice, I've already exceeded what I should do, so I'll stop.


Dale

[first_high_of_the_day]

It's a poem. It has a form. It's called prose. The most common form of english in the world. If you aren't comfortable with prose, if you can't read prose, if you can't critique prose, then don't. Don't force a piece to be what it isn't.

[ellajam]

It's a poem. It has a form. It's called prose. The most common form of english in the world. If you aren't comfortable with prose, if you can't read prose, if you can't critique prose, then don't. Don't force a piece to be what it isn't.

Suggesting that a change of format might make a piece more effective, or that the form chosen, in the critic's view, does not aid the poem, is a valid point of critique. While we would hope that all critiques are at least considered it is surely the poet's choice to ignore, use or reject them.

Just as the posters of poems you yourself critiqued should be grateful for the time you took to read and comment whether or not they agree with what you have to say, there's really no need to critique the critique. It makes members less likely to comment and the mutual goal here is to get input on our work in the hope of improving.

(in mod mode)

The posts that followed this have been split off here to the appropriate forum for further discussion if and when the OP returns. Please continue this thread in the spirit of the Novice forum, helpful and civil. thanks, ella

[Clarko]

there are some great bits of criticism already mentioned here. i'm not as poetry smart as other posters so i'll leave that to them. i had to read this a few times but and i like the end,

"creating what I could think, what I could write, what I could read, and what little I could form, formed me. Not only what I wasn't, but what I wasn't supposed to be. So, desperately, my eyes, like water from the sea, slowly returned to me from far off mountains through tiny streams, and, finally, I can see."

i interpret it that the speaker was liberated by their art, or by art in general, and it helped them find their voice(or eyes). the beginning of the piece could help support the ending more. i was confused by it the first few times i read.