Askew

[Leanne]

It's quite true that if I read another "he soared too high and his wings caught on fire" reference I may just puke

[Erthona]

You're completely correct. I have this delusion that since I spent all these years in school studying this stuff I should pass it on. It completely belies the fact that no one cares about that sort of thing. If you want to be popular among English professors, and get ask out of cordials, just fain interest in such things as literary criticism, or better yet, the history of!

I think I had no less than 3 teachers teach the "Daedalus incredibly stupid son myth" in widely disparate classes. It is probably the most overly used myth in English. I guess it is because it appears so accessible, and taps into that flight/freedom/hubris archetype it is irresistible. Besides all those sophomoric writers have little knowledge to pull from in that first mo0ment of enlightenment. The classes were, the pre-Socratics, Greek Dramatist, Greek Mythology.


Dale

[popeye]

Hi Dale, I guess their lyrical wax melted........

[Erthona]

Not for lack of trying my friend, not for lack of trying.

Certainly to their own ear waxed lyrical, they.


"Iamb what Iamb" Now that's funny.

Just don't bring that anapest around,
Whimpy, who likes ground round,
but Tuesday's never there to pay
on when he has money. Trochee! Et tu, Blutus


Jeep, jeep,

Dale

[popeye]

Not for lack of trying my friend, not for lack of trying.

Certainly to their own ear waxed lyrical, they.


"Iamb what Iamb" Now that's funny.

Just don't bring that anapest around,
Whimpy, who likes ground round,
but Tuesday's never there to pay
on when he has money. Trochee! Et tu, Blutus


Jeep, jeep,

Dale

Ear, ear oyle go along with that, be a wimp if oy didn't, life's just so much spinach you know!

[Todd]

Hi Leanne,

I've looked at this poem off-and-on since you posted it, but haven't had the time due to family and holidays to give it the attention it deserved. Forgive me, I haven't read the thread through so if I comment on some aspect of the poem you've already discussed I apologize for any redundancy.


I like the title quite a bit oddly perhaps what I like the most about it is that it rhymes with L2. While this may be gimmicky, I almost hoped you would add some slant rhymes to play off the title.

Let's go through the lines:

Sometimes I tilt my head to the side
and cross-eyed, try to imagine your view
through that close woven canvas you wear
as your gray-shadowed sleeve

The first two lines are a humorous way to deal with a pretty common problem. If only it was that easy to tilt your head and understand what the hell another person meant. I wasn't entirely sure about the meaning of the next images. Here's what I took away: I'm picturing someone with a burlap sack placed over their head. I don't get the feeling that there are any eye slits, and when you add to the image by calling it a gray-shadowed sleeve I imagine it as close fitting, as pervasive as their own shadow, and also something that permanently mutes the vibrant colors they're exposed to. The person in this condition probably takes the view if all you have is a hammer everything looks like a nail...everything must be pounded into conformity (I'm free associating a little, but that is my take away).

I can’t find the itch that straddles my back,
though I seek it with your blank stare
and scratch with the fangs that ride
upon your tepid breath

In so many ways, this poem rises and falls on word choice. The speaker seems to be communicating the level of disapproval the other person gives. I love the idea of an itch straddling a back. Straddle is such a good word. There is a sense of lounging (a lazy irritation, a buzzing mosquito, etc). That the speaker can't find the itch is just another way of saying that they don't connect with the other person. Their irratated but can't pinpoint the full reason. Or put another way, they're conflicted. Blank stare and tepid breath convey a lukewarm, bland person. The fangs seem a little out of place for me too menacing. That could just be my read. I can see how you could be saying look this looks harmless but it's incidious--that's fair. I just feel a little conflicted between viewing this muted cripple with that level of threat. A couple minor points, I do love fangs that ride (and the line break). I also keep wanting to cut with and replace it with in "...your blank stare" pretty minor though.

I know the blood has been freed from my skin
by the footprints you leave with my shoes
as you waltz carefree into the cave
to drink from the Lethe once more

The first line of S3 is really evocative. This has the level of careless menace that I think the earlier lines were lacking. The fangs felt more purposeful. I wonder if the shoes line implies that the person is a master at the hurting the other person with their own words or actions. I like the carefree waltz. While I think the Lethe is good in some ways, as it implies they continue to do the same thing over and over again without conscious memory. It could be more menacing. I was thinking you could get the same idea across by just making the person more mechanical (arthur murray dance steps, etc)...just a thought.

I stand before the mirror and you, knives sheathed,
try to suture my skin to my bloodied clothes,
not realising that it is not wholeness I desire,
but fragmented honesty

I'm not really a fan of knives sheathed here I think it robs a little of the power from the horrific image in the first two lines. These are some of the strongest lines and strike me as the core idea. The wholeness in view is interesting. Wholeness on the speaker's terms would probably be fine, but this is like asking an alien species to come upon a human being and try to "fix" it based on how their biology works. Wholeness on the other's terms would be terrifying and the best it would be is a surface suturing (very bride of frankenstein)

Sometimes I wonder if I’d be happier like this,
with my eyes pleasantly scaled and dark
and no questing blades to score my flesh
with lines not parallel like yours

This proposition is equal in terror to the last. It's the idea of giving up. I love eyes pleasantly scaled and dark. I like the use of score as it implies a type of blade. And finally there's the realization of the futility of seeing things in this way and an understanding of the cost of it all.

but I don’t think I can breathe
underground

And you leave us with a shadowed morlock existence...I think the ending works. Another optioin would be to move this up and end on fragmented honesty. Something to consider, though I think I like the tone more in this ending. There's more resignation in it.

I felt a little all over the place with that critique. Hopefully, you'll get something out of it.

Best,

Todd

[Leanne]

Todd, thank you, I've got loads of changes to make now and am very happy

Your reading of the first stanza reminded me of exactly what I was thinking when I wrote this -- it was a little while ago now but you're so completely right about that!

Will post the revision forthwith, many thanks.

[Leanne]

I haven't changed the Lethe part -- I think it's more insidious that "they know not what they do". There are people who will strike in just this fashion time and again, seemingly with no memory of the hurt they caused the last time -- or perhaps it's less memory, than simply not being able to conceive of a view other than their own, or that their "advice" might be received with anything other than fawning gratitude.

[billy]

in general, comments in the poetry threads should be about the poem in the first post.
if it looks like something needs discussing which doesn't or won't help the poet with the poem posted in the first post, create a thread in the poetry discussion forum with an url leading back to the thread where the seed was born. sometimes dissecting a point of a poem with other critics has little to do with said poem and very soon wanders so far away from the poem that the poem is forgotten and thread's intent is changed beyond recognition. normally i'd say "keep it to the poem and interact with the poet not other cirtics/admin" the above should have been pointed out after the first query or the 2nd off topic post. we're not being heavy with this method of moderation, we're just trying to make sure a poem isn't being buried under stuff that would work better in the poetry discussion forum.

the poetry threads are for posting poetry and for response between critic and poet. should it arise that a critic wishes to ask another critic or poets in general a question, please do so in the discussion forum and open the subject up to it widest audience, no warnings were given in the making of this post and no poets were terribly hurt

stay on topic/mod

[Wildcard]

Hi Leanne,
I've read this one quite a few times, but avoided the comments entirely because I'm trying to find it for myself. My level of success is admittedly low, but I still want to give you my thoughts as you may benefit from the viewpoint of total idiots that read your work :p

Revision 10/01/12

Sometimes I tilt my head to the side
and cross-eyed, try to imagine your view
through that close woven canvas you wear
as your gray-shadowed sleeve --gives me the picture of someone sitting in partial darkness or intense shadow

I can’t find the itch that straddles my back, --great line. Some lines I fly over, but some make me go back and re-read them and other bits in comparison. 'straddles' makes this unique imo
though I seek it in your blank stare
and scratch with the barbs that ride --don't mean to dote, but 'barbs that ride on tepid breath' is great. Makes me think of biting criticism or a generally rough edge
upon your tepid breath

I know the blood has been freed from my skin
by the footprints you leave with my shoes -- I don't get how someone can leave footprints with YOUR shoes . . .
as you waltz carefree into the cave
to drink from the Lethe once more

I stand before the mirror and you
try to suture my skin to my bloodied clothes,
not realising that it is not wholeness I desire,
but fragmented honesty -- I don't know the intent here, but it makes me think of the old 'does this dress make me look fat?' question.

Sometimes I wonder if I’d be happier like this,
with my eyes pleasantly scaled and dark -- I hear a lot of eyes being scaled. Is there another way to say it? And does it need to be scaled AND dark?
and no questing blades to score my flesh
with lines not parallel like yours

but I don’t think I can breathe
underground

I'm sure I've missed a lot of this, but I'm still reading it- which in itself is a tribute because I have the attention span of a mosquito :p

Thanks for sharing Leanne.

[billy]

Revision 10/01/12

Sometimes I tilt my head to the side
and cross-eyed, try to imagine your view
through that close woven canvas you wear
as your gray-shadowed sleeve

I can’t find the itch that straddles my back,
though I seek it in your blank stare
and scratch with the barbs that ride barbs reads better
upon your tepid breath

I know the blood has been freed from my skin is 'i know needed'
by the footprints you leave with my shoes is 'the' needed
as you waltz carefree into the cave
to drink from the Lethe once more

I stand before the mirror and you
try to suture my skin to my bloodied clothes,
not realising that it is not wholeness I desire,
but fragmented honesty is this line needed, for me it feels tacked on

Sometimes I wonder if I’d be happier like this,
with my eyes pleasantly scaled and dark is 'with my' needed
and no questing blades to score my flesh
with lines not parallel like yours

but I don’t think I can breathe
underground



Original version

Sometimes I tilt my head to the side
and cross-eyed, try to imagine your view
through that close woven canvas you wear
as your gray-shadowed sleeve

I can’t find the itch that straddles my back,
though I seek it with your blank stare
and scratch with the fangs that ride
upon your tepid breath

I know the blood has been freed from my skin
by the footprints you leave with my shoes
as you waltz carefree into the cave
to drink from the Lethe once more

I stand before the mirror and you, knives sheathed,
try to suture my skin to my bloodied clothes,
not realising that it is not wholeness I desire,
but fragmented honesty

Sometimes I wonder if I’d be happier like this,
with my eyes pleasantly scaled and dark
and no questing blades to score my flesh
with lines not parallel like yours

but I don’t think I can breathe
underground

not much of an edit but the revision for me is better. i found it to carry a bit of baggage that took away from the piece. in the 1st stabza i'm at odds as to how to view the sleeve, is it carried dick dastardly like in front of his eyes?

some of the 'I's' i think could be done away with. i was unsure of the use of the lethe at first but after a few reads i think it works, it adds a certain persona to the other person. it reads well. the last line "underground" didn't add anything for me, lethe was reference enough to the underground/world. i think the penultimate line would be a great finish, it would leave me on the edge. jmo

as always, thanks for the read

[Leanne]

Billy, many thanks.

I had to get rid of "fangs" when Ray mentioned Twilight ... anything fanglike has been appropriated by the teenies these days!

I don't think of sleeve as something that just goes over an arm. It's something that fits closely, like the sleeve of a record, or a sleeve in an engine. The cloth case I keep my iPod in is a sleeve (in my head at least).

Unfortunately, the answer to all your "is this needed?" queries is, at least at the moment, yes.

Thanks for taking a look.

---

I don't get how someone can leave footprints with YOUR shoes

Todd pretty much nailed the meaning there. You've heard "walk a mile in my shoes"? Well, there are people who will take your experiences out of context, or your words, and superimpose them on their own so that they are certain they know exactly what you mean, but you'd never have thought of their interpretation. To most people, that discrepancy is ok and can be lived with, but to some it's inconceivable that their ideas don't match up with everyone else's. Those are the people who do the most damage, in my opinion.

I don't know the intent here, but it makes me think of the old 'does this dress make me look fat?' question.

There might be an element of that as well . But on the whole, it's more like these are my faults and scars, if you try healing them you'll destroy me.

I hear a lot of eyes being scaled. Is there another way to say it? And does it need to be scaled AND dark?

If it's scaled at all, then I'd say it needs scaled AND dark -- but I'll think on the scaled.

Thanks Mark

[Erthona]

This revision reads more clearly to me, especially the first three stanzas.

Hate to disagree with Billy,

"but fragmented honesty"

seems one of the best lines in the poem, and really puts in clear relief what is being juxtaposed:

wholeness--honesty

A poet comes to the truth through self honesty, and self honesty through a deflation of the ego. Deflating the ego leaves scars on our psyche from admitting the stupidity, and foolishness of our actions, and the idiocy of cherished beliefs. These are the sacrifices required to reach greater levels of self honest. Self-centeredness and egoism must be pushed aside, at least temporarily, if we are going to come to an awareness of the truth. The person who would heal us, haven't a clue what they are trying to do. This is in addition to the fact that they are not doing for us, but for themselves, because these things make them uncomfortable. It is fear being practiced under the guise of kindness, and there is no consideration given to the thought of whether or not this "healing" will be beneficial to the one receiving it. It should be noted that manslaughter still carries with it a penalty despite the fact that the action was unintended.

Dale

[Leanne]

My thoughts pretty much exactly, Dale It's an idea I've explored many times and one I really didn't understand until just a few years ago, when I met a certain Scotsman. I have a sonnet that perhaps works better, I will post it in Misc as it doesn't really need workshopping.

[Erthona]

Look forward to it.

[billy]

This revision reads more clearly to me, especially the first three stanzas.

Hate to disagree with Billy,

"but fragmented honesty"

seems one of the best lines in the poem, and really puts in clear relief what is being juxtaposed:

Dale

it's good that people disagree, specially for the poet, it makes them think, (i think)
back on topic, i see where you're going with sleeve now you mention it. and i should have understood without being told. thanks for the clarification

[Leanne]

It's great that people disagree -- every time someone mentions something I hadn't thought of, I take a good look at it from all angles and decide whether to use it, amend it or discard it entirely, but the fact is that it's making me look things critically, from someone else's perspective. That's the true value of workshopping, and I thank you.

[rayheinrich]

I like most of the revisions. I tried to read this through as though
I were reading it for the first time and found a few real and/or 
imaginative concerns (which may be because I'm really hungry because
I'm trying to wait to eat until my wife gets home and the cats are 
starting to look like chicken to me [of course, I look like chicken 
to the cats all the time]).

Askew - rev 10/01/12

Sometimes I tilt my head to the side
and cross-eyed, try to imagine your view
through that close woven canvas you wear
as your gray-shadowed sleeve   <- No problems here, just wanted to say 
        that this whole stanza's a hoot: "To see your vision of the world 
        all I have to do is tilt my head, cross my eyes, and put a bag 
        over my head   

I can’t find the itch that straddles my back,
though I seek it in your blank stare
and scratch with the barbs that ride <- DO like 'barbs' 
upon your tepid breath  <- But still dislike this line. 'Hide within'? 
        Can 'barbs' ride something that's tepid/lukewarm/milk-warm? Or maybe 
        they're the passive-aggressive barbs of indifference/neglect?
                         
I know the blood has been freed from my skin
by the footprints you leave with my shoes
as you waltz carefree into the cave
to drink from the Lethe once more  <- Star Wars: Episode III - 
                                                            Revenge of the Lethe

I stand before the mirror and you
try to suture my skin to my bloodied clothes,
not realising that it is not wholeness I desire,
but fragmented honesty  <- Oh, jeez, I liked this so plusmuch before 
        but now it reads like "failed honesty". To me it used to mean 
        that I'd rather be honest in pieces than a glued-together fake. 
        Maybe there's a problem with "wholeness" being too positive, 
        that there's not a modifier stressing that the "wholeness" is 
        just a facade. Whatever, maybe my brain just farted and it's all 
        just fine. 

Sometimes I wonder if I’d be happier like this,
with my eyes pleasantly scaled and dark
and no questing blades to score my flesh
with lines not parallel like yours

but I don’t think I can breathe <- reads awkwardly because I
underground                        unconsciously want to stress the 
                                           second 'I' instead of the 'can' 
                                           which causes a stumble if I'm 
                                           reading it for the first time. 

               - - -

[Leanne]

Ray, thanks, thinking your comments over for now... but the last one seems odd to me because when I read it aloud, I don't stress "can" at all -- I read it as:

but i DON'T/ think i can BREATHE

or at a pinch, I can stretch it to iambs I guess, as long as there's an anapaest to start:

but i DON'T/ think I/ can BREATHE

then an anapaest for "underGROUND" to close on a strong stress.

To me it's the "breathe" that's important, maybe I should record it and see how it sounds.

[abu nuwas]

Even though you have, despite all, 'given the game away' a little, I shall choose (as a space) to see it the way I prefer. As scriptor, we have already established that you are powerless.

First, as there was a lot of talk about meaning, before the censors stepped in, I have read this, just as I would listen to some instrumental music, whether Bartok, Albinoni, or Britten. There is no purpose in asking oneself wtf does it mean in those cases-- yet, people the world over get something from it. Likewise, I should not stare at a work by,say, Ben Nicholson and ask the same question. With poetry, because of its nature, I have a choice.

Second, I liked the tone. How casual it was, lazy, conversational! Surely not pent-up rage, or anything of that sort --no, no. But, over-arching, perhaps, maybe, stuff which y--I mean, the scriptor, does not want to dig out, perhaps even scriptors have recesses, which they themselves are unaware of, while being all too aware of plenty. Yet, mainly, just the tone: no good reason.

Third, I read a number of times, and was most satisfied by just allowing it to hang, as the Arabs would say, and frequently did, like a necklace. On this necklace, are gems (pearls usually) which for me were the beginning lines: tilting and so on; the barbs of s.2, and the first two lines especially of s.3, the blood and implicit pain. (Waltz, maybe a bit cultural. For me, it smacked of cliche, as in " You come waltzing in here and think you can tell me what to do" and I wondered why Lethe needed an article; Keats did not bother his arse with one). Next gems on this particular 'unique necklace' are the mirror line, the suture and bloodied clothes line, no-one can gainsay that. No-one! It is an absolute! And finally, where I might have been tempted to finish, the 'fragmented honesty'.

Fourthly: so much for my approach, tone, and the gems. What might they add up to? There is blood, and pain; and a back too. It is not just in the mad Middle East that people thrash themselves till blood pours out, eg at Ashura, in memory of Ali; the Muslims, who adopted these ways first, were those who had conquered the old Persian lands, and there, Dualism was the religion, namely, Zoroastrianism. The great divide between the super spiritual, and the orthodox, replicates everywhere. So later we find Spanish mystics knocking seven bells out of themselves, just like some of their Muslim cousins. One always wonders just what the mix of sex, and religious fervour truly is-- but it surely goes with guilt. And with guilt goes secrets, or the divulging of secrets, and a preference for not digging up the past, in case of what one may find. A mirror may be a hateful thing, and the more so, if someone else is in that mirror -- but it may also be redemption, a final finding of honesty, after so many hidings away; even if, it cannot be a complete, frank and open honesty, but a fragmented one. The scriptor is not, of course, obliged to comment!