A Funhouse Mirror

[Wjames]

There are women whose laugh I’ve learned to hate,
needling at my pride as I stumbled through a joke
I never thought was funny.
 
I used to love some of these women,
as they tore my limbs from their sockets
in attempt to mould the perfect man.
 
I used to cringe when their eyes met mine,
shrinking at the thought of inadequate wit, looks, or standing.
 
I know what I am –
and there are women who laugh with me
at the stupidity of my jokes,
the blemishes on my face,
and the silliness of a man with no limbs.

[Brownlie]

I like the idea of this poem because it takes a traditional prompt (looking at a reflection) and plays with it.

There are women whose laugh I’ve learned to hate, -- Maybe you could represent the idea hate, and similar ideas,  with the senses?
needling at my pride as I stumbled through a joke
I never thought was funny.
 
I used to love some of these women,
as they tore my limbs from their sockets
in attempt to mould the perfect man.
 
I used to cringe when their eyes met mine,
shrinking at the thought of inadequate wit, looks, or standing.
 
I know what I am –
and there are women who laugh with me
at the stupidity of my jokes,
the blemishes on my face,
and the silliness of a man with no limbs.

This is not bad. Maybe you could throw in the five senses. Not much advice, but maybe that will give you some ideas. Also, perhaps you could include more of the funhouse mirror as an actual object.

[billy]

i quite like the title in relation to the poem. how they make us look absurd.
after the first few passes i get the feel you clould clip a little of the poem, not much but some

There are women whose laugh I’ve learned to hate,
needling at my pride as I stumbled through a joke
I never thought was funny. why tell it? a suggestion would be [that would never be funny]
 
I used to love some of these women, [i loved]
as they tore my limbs from their sockets a suggestion [that tore me limb from socket]
in attempt to mould the perfect man.
 
I used to cringe when their eyes met mine, [i cringed]
shrinking at the thought of inadequate wit, looks, or standing.
 
I know what I am –
and there are women who laugh with me
at the stupidity of my jokes,
the blemishes on my face,
and the silliness of a man with no limbs. i like this line a lot, it makes the 1st person defenceless. not sure if the juxtaposition of this  last stanza was meant, but it can be taken that there are people who laugh with you, unlike those in the first part of the poem; who laugh at you

[Wjames]

Thanks for reading and critiquing guys, yes the juxtaposition was intentional. I'll think over what you've said...

[Mr. Creosote]

I envision that you would paint women much as Picasso did.

This has elements of both a rejection poem and a relationship poem. I suggest you pick one. Are these the women that reject you...the ones you "shrinking from" or are they the women that try to remake you?

I love the theme of the reality of relationships. Picasso literally made a living off of documenting his relationships in the faces of his lovers. Beauty overtaken by the brutish reality of the human behind the pretty face.

[RiverNotch]

I agree -- this poem is already pretty good, but it needs some clipping.

There are women whose laugh I’ve learned to hate,
needling at my pride as I stumbled through a joke 
I never thought was funny. I like this last line, but I feel like the two lines preceding could be shortened -- their rhythm doesn't stumble, sure, but "I've learned to" feels removeable, and there's something off about "needling at my pride"
 
I used to love some of these women, 
as they tore my limbs from their sockets
in attempt to mould the perfect man. 
 
I used to cringe when their eyes met mine, 
shrinking at the thought of inadequate wit, looks, or standing.
 
Maybe:
"I used to love these women,
as they tore my limbs from their sockets
in molding the perfect man.
I cringed when their eyes met mine, 
shrinking at [inadequacy? I dunno -- I think this line is missing something. The last four words are a neat list, but the word "inadequate" is too jarringly long. And I think "at the thought of" could be omitted, but then I don't know what's a good substitute for that.]


I know what I am – I feel like a contrasting conjunctive (but) and something to reiterate that what used to be now isn't (that is, now) would be fair additions, but then the stanza break is enough. Your choice, I suppose.
and there are women who laugh with me
at the stupidity of my jokes, 
the blemishes on my face,
and the silliness of a man with no limbs. "Blemishes on my face" feels inappropriate, as it is very barely touched on by the rest of the poem, unlike the two ideas flanking it. And it's not as if it's a moment of clarity, either -- the metaphors are already pretty straightforward. But yeah, I like this whole stanza anyway, and how it plays with the rest of the poem.

[Wjames]

Mr. C: A women must reject you (if only parts of you), in order to seek to remake you , no? That was sort of why I combined the two things you presented there. Thanks for reading, and sharing your thoughts (and comparing me to Picasso, however undeserving).

River: I agree with basically everything you said, and shall think it all over tomorrow. Thanks for your thoughts.