Bronze

[Lawrence]

I woke one morning
And knew I was bronze;
Felt dawn’s copper light paint
My mattress-sunken body-
Laden with the weight
Of third place.
Before, I would speculate
I was this breed of ore.
Once, I thought I saw
A flake floating over
Red ink-defaced
Essays I had written


Oh, to be excluded
From the golden race-
A poor prize placed
around necks of
near-succeeders and
Almost-makers-
The kind of trophy that
No one wants, but anyone will
Take, just to have some
Reward for what they’ve done.

[waitingforgodet]

The lament of third place, but still above mediocrity, isn't it?--I do like the poem. And what does it say about those of us who've never gotten even third place? That's the problem with subjective evaluation and the entire business of handing out awards. To make the sports analogy, though, unless there is a disqualification due to steroid use or some other drug, there is never doubt as to who is the gold winner. He or she simply finishes first in the competition, perhaps that alone is the beauty of sports: In boxing and if there is a knock-out, there is no doubt, such a black and white decision making process which, I think, is a beautiful thing. We want surety. But you weren't writing about an athletic competition, right? Obviously, I'm talking more about the content of the poem which, I think, a great subject to write about, a subject that opens up multi-faceted discussion especially when one questions who the judges are.

To the actual writing of the poem itself: not sure what you mean by a flake floating over red ink-defaced essays. Perhaps you could explain that line, seems out of joint with the other lines. Also, your use of capitalization isn't necessary and slows the reading of the poem down for me, anyway. Once you've already established the sports analogy, I would have liked reading more about what was really on your mind, more about writing and the awards given and not given--I have read so much stuff that was considered, "the best, number one, the literary prize of the year"--yet came away with nothing but disappointment upon finishing the piece. So it brings out that whole judging business. When I was a kid, I entered a music competion. I came in 4th. Got no prize. The girl who was to go on before me came in second. Before she started playing, she looked up at one of the judges, and said, "should I start now, dad?"

Or are you saying that coming in 3rd is the best you'll ever do and one must simply accept that in oneself? I don't think you are, but I could be wrong. Would love to hear your thoughts on what I'm talking about.

Also, I think this poem is begging for a rhyme scheme. that's must my personal taste, though--what it will do, though, is tighten everything up--jim

[billy]

I woke one morning
And knew I was bronze;
Felt dawn’s copper light paint paint feels as if it should start the next line
My mattress-sunken body-
Laden with the weight
Of third place.
Before, I would speculate
I was this breed of ore.
Once, I thought I saw
A flake floating over
Red ink-defaced
Essays I had written


Oh, to be excluded the oh feels a little forced
From the golden race-
A poor prize placed
around necks of
near-succeeders and
Almost-makers-
The kind of trophy that
No one wants, but anyone will
Take, just to have some
Reward for what they’ve done.

for me it's a cross between a metaphor and a result.
the metaphor grips because of the lines;
I woke one morning
And knew I was bronze;
no mention of a letter or a result, just a knowing. something i and others have known on many occasions.
then you give us;
Before, I would speculate
which either strengthens the metaphor or tells us you know something we dont. i like the way we have to think; is the 1st person in the poem just feeling like shit, or did he get 3rd place. and then we see he got third.

liked these lines;
Once, I thought I saw
A flake floating over
Red ink-defaced
Essays I had written

for, the recognition in this part could be extend.

a good read for me lawrence, thanks as always. jmo