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PenguinAttack
I'm just a pigment of your infatuation.
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 Posted: Wed Jan 09, 2008 6:52 am Post subject: |
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*bouncebounces*
I thought I'd chuck a good luck to everyone who entered. I read them all and you're all too brilliant to stand. ^^
Luckluckluck.
*Hearts* Le Penguin. |
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Gadi.
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| Posted: Fri Jan 11, 2008 1:06 am Post subject: |
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Excellent luckies, everybody!
And Kit...when will you post the winners? |
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Gadi.
O FOR VICTORY!
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| Posted: Mon Jan 21, 2008 7:16 pm Post subject: |
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| Hmmm....Results???? |
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Last edited by Gadi. on Tue Jan 22, 2008 2:04 am; edited 1 time in total |
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PenguinAttack
I'm just a pigment of your infatuation.
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| Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2008 1:47 am Post subject: |
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| Kit wrote: |
| Comprehensive judge's report to follow. |
Such things take time, one would assume. She'll post the results when they're ready.
*Hearts* Le Penguin. |
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Leja
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| Posted: Tue Jan 22, 2008 6:20 pm Post subject: |
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| Good luck everyone! |
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Kit
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| Posted: Fri Jan 25, 2008 4:30 am Post subject: |
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Four posts, as it is long.
Okay, okay, I know this is belated, but you know. Amish flu.
All four entries were very impressive, so, I sought out aid of actual uni graduated type published people and though it was a fairly narrow thing, we were pretty consensusy.
First of all some general notes. All of you attacked the concept in the large scale, nothing simple here, nothing wholly personal, which kind of surprised me, it's a common experience, among us, at least, writing poetry, and yet the physicality of the act, the messiness were eclipsed by the loftiness of the goal and the language. No one went for the shortest forms, no quatrains, no haiku. Nothing violent, nothing overtly sexual and nothing vulgar. Nobody mentioned crap poetry, and it's a genre too, people, several genres really, most of us have to write crap to get anything decent, it's part of the process, the art of poetry, as much as the booty calls from Calliope.
Gadi and Palantalid did mention the physical act of it, Gadi came closest with some lovely lovely imagery and the blank page. I particularly liked the coiling breeze, I thought you were going to get bogged down in those adjectives there but you shook it off, and there was a true elegance of phrase that is so essential to poetry, a brevity that did you justice. Palantalid mentioned the oral history of the form, which was appreciated, but you kind of left it hanging there, bud, keep in mind the sound of it, the song of it, the rhythm. It's never enough to rhyme unless you have the rhythm behind it. Not necessarily iambic foot, but you know, assonance, word play, make me feel it. But now that I'm getting into specifics I really should get on to individual critiques. |
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Kit
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| Posted: Fri Jan 25, 2008 4:30 am Post subject: |
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Amelia's "Who'll Drain the River For You"
First of all, WHY DID YOU EDIT THAT POEM? I loved the flow and immediacy of the first version. The phrases stood well, there was a lightness to it, there was a sweetness, and elegance, and the aforementioned brevity is your gift too. Some poetry, you slave over, others are born. This one was born, and respite smiled but you looked back, O CONSORT OF LOT! And why ever would you listen to Gadi, of course Gadi is usually very erudite in these things but he was your rival, and obviously sabotaging you. Next time he does that, mosey on over to his entry and just say:
"**repressed laugh** Hey, Gadaboutster, you know.. you know what would really give this poem the edge. Make it acrostic, use hair and eye colour, say what's happening instead of describing it, use way, way more adjectives, forced rhymes and an iambic foot that wanders off when you can't be bothered with it. Lyke, choice, man."
Critiques are one of the most powerful tools we have, but you have to realise a critiquer can also be a tool, in the colloquial sense of the word.
For example, the comments Gadi originally made:
"(as always? Why is that? And maybe you should use another verb for "step"--make it more metaphorical, maybe.)"
First of all, the subject of poetry is rarely original, because they are about this common human experience thing, love, despair, getting high etc. In adding "As always", you add depth to this unnamed character, so that she could well be the Persona throughout all poetry. This reflects the rituals of language, life, and the seasons of us as a species. It also touches on metafiction, and the idea of this instinct, born into every culture of the world, to create and maintain this other world, of myth, of fiction, and touches briefly on the why. Poetry is not wholly functional, and yet it is necessary, it is universal. Of course if you had just written these ideas it would seem preachy and convoluted, but as it is you managed to cover all of this in "As always".
The second reason to include "As always" is the same as the reason to write very short poems about your lover. Because poetry can never be a whole truth, the meat of it must be insinuated. So, when your lover leans over you and sees you've written him a haiku and he thinks he's at least worth a sonnet, you say an Odysseys of his wonder, would never be enough to do him justice, whereas everyone knows you can't fit anything into a haiku and would know him to be sexy beyond language. "As always" allows the poem as a fragment of a larger tale, a larger reality without heavy handed exposition.
And step was fine, it's plenty metaphorical, hell if it was lofty enough for Neil Armstrong.
This criticism changed this opening line:
"As always, when she stepped into the river,"
(Light, enticing, simple enough to have depth and elegance of line)
to this:
"In trying to skip in the river from one rock to the next,"
"In trying" removes the responder from the action, making it less immediate, skipping from one rock to the next is not so lovely and dramatic as the Ophelia/Virginia Woolf tragedy of the stepping. The skipping over pebbles was fine, they agreed with one another, both with a childlessness, and it's sort of on the edge of assonance, you know, repeated 'i', repeated 'e', that you get that movement imbued in the sound of it. But skipping over rocks seems contrived, skipping over rocks is a lot more cumbersome an image. It does work with the rest of the poem, but as an opening line, it doesn't smite me as "As always, when she stepped into the river".
"her skirt caught, as always, with a current ready to sweep her away. But"
You know my love of the "as always", but as it is, your first two lines do seem jumbled, cluttered, really it's too long a line. The criticisms here grated me, for one thing, basic lack of observation. "How can a dress get caught in a current? And what do you mean "sweep away"--is she walking next to the river, or on the river, or what?" Come on, the current catching the dress, sweep away, these aren't difficult or uncommon images, it's refined but simple symbolism, and it works. Also considering this was preceded by the line "she stepped into the river" and he's asking if she's walking next to the river or what, I mean come on, no one's attention span is that short. This is goddamned sabotage, Gadi's smarter than this, he's messing with you, and it worked. I know, really it's just the subtleties of phrase, the orders of things, but that's all we have in this form. The passing personification I liked very much. Your style throughout has a kind of quietude to it, it's insightful but not elaborate, intellectual but empathetic and universal.
"a poem should be like when she looked upstream to him-- "
I liked all your line brakes first time round, it suited your flow, none of this theme to a line nonsense, embrace the enjambment, let the phrases sit and be marvelled upon. Okay, first overt reference to the Ars Poetica, so getting onto the ideas. I liked that you didn't directly start upon the poem, that you came from life, or the life of the poem, that was astute. And while I have said more Gadi and Palantalid covered the physicality, that a poem is as basic, and instinctual as, well, "kindess and love", you could say, but you attack it far deeper. In some part you're portraying it as this tenuousness of life and death, of Eros and Thanatos, of creating and creating through destruction, writing and erasing. Really I didn't see this initially, but taking it from 'a poem should be', it is. She's Thanatos, the precarious death wish, He, Eros, the ingenuity of survival. Okay, all that may not have been your intent, but if it was, you would have been an essayist, not a poet. It's there. And far out, that is so subtle and beautiful it gives me chills. Having said that, 'back' worked better for the symbolism than 'upstream' does. Which is odd, usually I go for the specifics a little more, in that capacity it is good. Your approach to the subject did seem initially abstract, oblique, and yet it is just overpowering, effective. Love it.
"like when he dammed the river back there"
Probably the only edit I actually liked, "when, of course, then, he dammed the river back there", in the original version it worked because it was the only self conscious kind of line, and your new version just adopted that tone entirely. Really around this line, your edited version is the negative of your original. Even posting the two together could be a post modernists kind of comment on literary process in a way, Gadi's critique could be reader/art world participation, collaboration about the compromise of the commercial bard. But that kind of artistic licence don't come in a cornflakes packet.
"just so that
she could promenade down the cobblestone street,
skipping over every pebble."
"so that now" works better as a line of it's own, it's got an existential thing, "just so that" is transitive and you know it's transitive. Enjambment aside, 'that' is an awful word to end a phrase, resolve your phrases, it's true for music, it's true here. There's this pretend, this suspension of believe in your last two lines here that is just lovely, and bless them, unscathed, apart from the 'could' instead of 'can'.
Well, obviously I'm madly infatuated. And while I would completely applaud you seeking vengeance on Gadi, but that you allowed your faith in this poetic brilliance to be shaken frightens me. I look up to you as a writer, your work is unique on this site, and to think that it might be hammered into conformity with a few deviant questions, brings so little hope to the rest of us. None of your work has ever confused me, it has always made sense and and insightful, and, I'm not the only one. With your tied first, I award you three critiques, and a shaker of salt, for you are salt of the earth, and I hope you take all criticisms, especially mine, with a grain of it. May it ward off doubt and the listlessness of despair. |
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Kit
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| Posted: Fri Jan 25, 2008 4:31 am Post subject: |
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Gadi's "Ars Poetica"
Don't worry Gadi, though I think psyching Amelia out was dastardly, I won't hold it against your poem. And you deserved better critiques than you got. No one gave you the time of day, but for Cade, bless her, who had decent points, most of which I agree with, but for the cake analogy. Though you have an intense rush of imagery, and could sharpen your focus, plenty of people would eat a mostly icing cake. Especially if it was chocolate. And Coleridge was plenty heavy on the imagery, so, it doesn't necessarily spell doom if that's the direction you want to take it in.
"It is a vacant page in the beginning:
a kernel of my pen
yet to be born into a bitter and bare being."
Here we go, that tactile thing I was talking about, that is delicious. This was my favourite stanza, in fact, it was me, I would have used this alone as a haiku, and called it "Pregnant Pause". I liked the vacant page, it's kind of middle of the road, you could have taken it either way, made it stark, barren, or pure, virginal, that you hesitate to defile it, or that it is the blank form, the clay before the man, the stem cell. I don't know, but as it is it does work, especially with the calling of the Muse, and the drifting thought, the persona is preoccupied, while the page is vacant, it's an interesting dichotomy, contrast, and not without subtlety.
Okay, here we come to an impasse. "a kernel of my pen" is so lovely, but so is "yet to be born into bitter and bare being", the alliteration particularly. But you're going to have to choose, because 'a kernel of my pen yet to be born' is a mixed metaphor, kernels aren't generally born. I hate saying that, denying a metaphor, but within the machinations of the analogy, here, when a kernel becomes a plant, it splits open, roots and shoots breaks it's tender skin. Birth insinuates an emergence, the kernel doesn't emerge from the earth, it grows up and into it. Unless your digging up the kernel to eat it, exposed, which probably has nothing to do with anything. The thing is, neither of these images can be vivid, can survive, while the other impedes it. So what's it to be, little boy or baby daughter, Sophie?
So, I look at the symmetry of the piece, and see you're being a magician, using metaphor to turn the poem into a seed, a baby, a landscape, a baby, a seed. That's a good concept, a concept which I like, but you still need to separate the baby and the kernel initially. The key to good Surrealist work is hyper-realism, the greater the leap of faith you want your reader to make, the more vivid and clear your images should be. And while there are flashes of brilliance, your images are planted too close, and choke one another, give them space, they can stand on their own, we know you're a good poet so keep us hungry for more, yeah?
"But then, the valley turns to a vast gap of sand
and the tepid, ginger mountains quiver
in response to the stars’ flash in blue"
Until I saw the symmetry of the piece I was a little shell shocked, Valley, what Valley, where did the Valley come from? You only really link the seed and the baby, which works well in the last but not the first stanza, and yet you completely abandon any kind of a link into the middle stanzas. That is the main weakness of the piece, you need to link your images with sharper focus. What is your experience of the piece? What is it you're describing? Rather than flooding visual imagery, get some stronger verbs on your side. I would suggest a venture into the other senses, but if your keeping this huge, breakneck journey, it may just complicate things further.
The gap of sand is a good, the tepid ginger mountain is verging on too many adjectives but you carried it off and I like the combination of the two quivering, it is vaguely Coleridge for that. "In response" is almost corporate language, it really sticks out, especially with the little escapades to the archaic you have in this.
"and the snow-capped hills sigh
as in the breeze coiling through the initial snowfall
like a mug of tea in December. "
Your middle two stanzas, the stanzas of the landscape, are your weakest. They're not abominable, but they trail off a bit. "Snow-capped" is a little clichéd, but that coiling breeze more than makes up for it, that was genius that was. "Initial snowfall"? That's corporate again, watch that. Bring back that humanity, that fragility, you are capable of very beautiful things, just let your instinct go a little sometimes. I do like how you are opening it up to this grander thing then pulling it back, that symmetry is probably the cleverest device in form in this competition, it was a very good concept but the execution was a little shaky. The mug of tea is cute.
"O sing Muse! O sing! and the ink is scintillating
like the infant crooning hymns in the cradle,
a seed from the bottom of my palm dispersing into soil."
I like the singing and the scintillating, people whinge about big words here, but come on, that alliteration and assonance, it's gorgeous. And though the crying 'O' to the Muses is mildly antiquated, it is not by far and is a nod to your influences. Slightly odd as the persona was torn from most of the poem, it was focused on the transformation of the dream/poem. That last line, though, is my favourite, that was a perfect, distinct image, liquid and illusive, laughing like spilled mercury.
Probably this is the poem that caused the most discussion but this is tied third, awarded two critiques. |
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Kit
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| Posted: Fri Jan 25, 2008 4:32 am Post subject: |
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Penguin Attack's "Such is Poetry"
This is a more laboured work in some way, more straight forward, you can see the mechanics of it, but the devices work, and there is a sense of play within it that is not without delight. I like the three line stanza, the form works well, yet though it is functional, practical in some ways, yet it uses this sense to whore a delirious ravishment of language which I whole heartedly endorse.\
"Elusive and solid, alive and yet without breath,
Timed against the thumping heart of the soul,
Such is the ephemeral touch of the poet. "
Attacking the impalpable with an a pure kind of analyses. "Without breath" is almost ironic, for, in a poem, more than prose, breath is fussed over, and then the touch of the poet, it's a nod to the Dead Poet's Society in some way, this wry idea of how it is only the dead poets that are appreciated, a poem can only live when it's poet does not. "Heart of the soul" is a little contrived, but "Timed against the thumping heart" is very clever. This was the only true reference to rhythm within the entries here, and of the linkages between the rhythm of humans and human action creating the flow of poetry itself. As a portrait of that brief communion of the world and of literature this is apt and creative. You have a good handle of the polysyllabic, you don't crowd them, you let them be, and it works much to your favour. Going into description and then introducing the subject in your last line worked here, but were the stanza any longer it would have been irksome.
"Weaving a tale with limber fingers,
The Spinner’s hand, from destiny to fate,
Pushing barriers far wider than any before."
Appreciate the 'limber fingers', that's a fun one. Weaving a tale works when in context, when leading it to the Spinner. Yay for the allusion to the Grecian Fates, you didn't just shove it in, you knitted it with the common phrase, elucidating the line, the tradition of lore and verse. "Pushing the barriers" I'm not overly fond of, "barriers" is a little cold and mildly incongruent with the weaving analogy.
"The Muse, steering through life’s lessons learnt,
Proposes a whisper against the lips of an angel,
Hearing only cried words through the bars of hell."
Mythic and fantasy elements, the whispering against the lips is hot. The manichean elements are good, provides that epic quality. Really that's going back again to the primal sources of story telling, if ylu've read the poem "Why we tell Stories" it's a little like that. Taking it to this thing of interpreting human action on a grander and more heroic scale, human suffering as more tragic, more poetic. So very good. The Muse as the interloper, caught between the two dominions, it's reaching back too to this ink on page thing, dark on light, the idea that you must corrupt to create, to some degree. Do I taste Pullman?
"Unrequited rejection, slipping against the bone,
Lovers tongues amongst the barbs,
Twisted smiles crashing within vengeance designed."
Unrequited rejection, now that is a good phrase, I really like that. Slipping against the bone, that is such a strong, and very very wicked image, I say there wasn't so much sex or violence in the competition, but this stanza came the closest, it had the most grit, it's delicious. The tongue and the barbs, v tactile that, and the vengeances designed, again, so epic, so grand.
"Knowledge, found as broken glass lying in the window pane,
Sifting colours through the disjointed transparency,
Playing on the world’s insecurity. "
I liked the stately sureness of this, I liked the framed metaphor. Disjointed transparency was vaguely cumbersome but in contrast with the almost starkness of the rest of the stanza it works. The corrupted broken thing that is knowledge, again, is utterly sublime. The specifics here lent it strength.
"Thus is the poem, whose words sing free,
Loved and lost, brilliant and cold;
Such is the world the poet holds. "
Now this had a "Finishing the Hat" kind of vibe to it, and again, that the poet, through dedication must give up any real life, must view their life through a window and be objective that the work may be intimate. Bitter-sweet and just glorious.
I assume the "Such is Poetry" is a Ned Kelly reference, which in itself is tragic and an interesting parallel.
Tie first, of course. Three crits. |
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Kit
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| Posted: Fri Jan 25, 2008 4:32 am Post subject: |
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Palantalid's "Ars Poetica"
You can very easily get swept up in this work, the language is refined, it whores the Classics and the romantic poets, Palantalid, you are a skilled poet and fairly well read. It's very good writing, but good writing does not a poem make. It's borrowed language. It's clever, but it doesn't rip your spleen out. Focus on the spleen ripping. You or your reader must lose their spleen, or it's just a puff piece.
"And when we were but children of our own paradise,
Did we not hear such lovely sounds as pierce the night
When we waked to see the stars and tasted dewdrops
That grant innocence to leaves and murder the night? "
"And when we were but children" is so so contrived, so stilted. I understand your influences, but make this your own, crack a beatnik, embrace your era. The trouble with being solely the possession of the Romantics is that you're always always going to be compared to the Romantics, and even if you manage to be better than Blake and Wordsworth and Keats, they are still going to trump you because they are dead and they came up with it first. That's not to say Romanticism is dead as a literary movement but it evolves as any movement does, in fact, that's the whole reason the come up with movements to begin with. Without some modern day spleen rippage, you could slide into the derivative and shallow, and you're far far greater than that. So go read something you know you'll hate.
Technically proficient. "pierce the night" is good. "tasted dewdrops" is saccharine. "Waked" is a typo, as is 'grant innocence'. Pierce is stronger than Murder, and the repetition just seems like a short attention span.
"And when we were but children tired in our youth,
Did we not close our weary lids to such soft threnodies
That were sung at the funerals of wakefulness
Which is reborn to kill sleep and its silent melodies? "
threnodies/melodies is more like it. I don't know where you went there though. Where is your subject, the subject of the sentence? I'm guessing it's the wakefulness which is reborn, because everything else is plural. You have good images but their very tangled up, keep focus.
"And we are but children who, not missing the innocence,
Must make our fingers dance as we spill liquid sense,
And search with twice twofold eyes tucked deep in our skulls
To make sense flow, we look in and out of those see-through hulls. "
"spill liquid sense" is very very good, elysian even. Also it's the most direct thing addressing the subject of the poem so far, and is insightful upon it. "see-through" goes against your tone. What do you think of the word 'hyaline'? Then you'd have some alliteration and it would be more in keeping with your style.
"Ring out celebration, have we not grown?
Still young, hardly begun, we harbour that very innocence
That within the slightest fledglings are sown,
And that we did reap when we took flight into experience."
the 'innocence' 'youth' and 'child' thing is getting a little frayed. I'd like to see you try something. Write the same poem in like a third of the space, then double the space, then in between. You rhyme kind of comes and goes, between stanzas, I'd probably go all one way or the other, ABAB or AABB, and do something with the five and six line stanzas at the end, picking up and dropping form when you need it can be done well, but it's actually a lot harder than conforming to form. You images are lofty here but arcane. Keep them straight.
"And then we did not know, did we, this game called creation?
In which we dance with ancient gods and with their children,
As we hunt through inward streams and lakes for inspiration.
Those innocent, eternal seasons, we knew this not then! "
The then we did not know, and all those beginnings of those stanzas, they're separating you from your subject, you want sharper, more immediate, just go straight for the jugular of the sensations. Eternal seasons is a paradox.
"And did we not yearn in our youngest reveries
That there was a game that we had yet not played?
But of all our revelations and our discoveries,
This one has not been at the slightest delayed! "
You can't see the subject for the words. The less you say, the more can be read in to it, the more universal it is. What is the purpose of each of these words? Do they further the sensation or are they just trappings. Strip this back.
"Tell me, O tell me, that Orpheus as a child,
Did he not wish to put to rhyme and song
All the beauties and glories of the wild?
And though in childhood we oft times are wrong-
Isn’t innocence of words but experience compiled? "
Okay, the classical allusion, as I mentioned is appreciated, as is the reference to the aural history. But you didn't take it anywhere. Orpheus sang for despair, for his Euridice. Orpheus' tale is so human, so emotive, and it is true poetry. That one may sing to break the hearts of the gods, that they should take pity on us, because we love, because we suffer. Yes, Orpheus in his youth charmed the beasts and trees and rocks with his music, but so too did he charm the gods, that Apollo gave him his golden lyre. Why does this brush upon only the wilds' effect upon him?
"And if I was questioned what I have believed,
I would say that all are born poets in the womb,
And those from whom life has now been relieved,
And before they have composed they are in the tomb,
In death’s endless leisure, their powers will bloom,
And poets they shall be in their innocent doom. "
Brevity and focus. Keep it in mind. "Born poets in the womb" is a paradox too, they can't be born if they're in the womb.
I'm being very hard on you because you are capable of better, and know that my criticisms isn't worth the binary seizures their written on.
Tied third, two critiques. |
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Kit
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| Posted: Fri Jan 25, 2008 4:34 am Post subject: |
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| Well, that's it. Well done, all of you. either post here or PM me where you demand your critiques. |
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Gadi.
O FOR VICTORY!
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| Posted: Fri Jan 25, 2008 5:20 am Post subject: |
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Uh, I had this long Thank You thing and now it's all erased.
So, in short--
Kit, you are amazing, this is the most original end-of-contest of all time-----------
Sorry, Amelia, I did not mean to sabatoge your poem  
Good job everybody,
and I am off! |
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Leja
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| Posted: Fri Jan 25, 2008 4:01 pm Post subject: |
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| lol, chill, gadi. I'm not mad. Congrats on tie-ing for first, and well done everyone else! ^_^ |
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Palantalid
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300 Points
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| Posted: Fri Jan 25, 2008 5:11 pm Post subject: |
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| Oh thank goodness......it's almost a releif. Kit....I'm very grateful. You've done an awesome job. I think third was deserving for me but what's the best part is that this will be a turning point for my poetry. 'Hyaline' sounds fine to me. Congratulation to all contestants- I enjoyed reading all of them. |
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We rode on the winds of the rising storm
We ran to the sounds of the thunder
We danced among the lightning bolts
And tore the world asunder.
-from the Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan |
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PenguinAttack
I'm just a pigment of your infatuation.
Speaker of the Forum
Gender:
Age: 19
Joined: 29 Jul 2007
Posts: 978
Reviews: 384
Country: Grasslands.
470 Points
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| Posted: Sat Jan 26, 2008 4:41 am Post subject: |
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Con grat u lations everyone!
They were all brilliant, especially Goddess Word's mag crits of each one. You rock, my love.
Special congrats to Amelia for tie-ing first, nice work, your poem was lovely.
*Hearts* Le Penguin. |
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Insomnia: He was a wonderful writer. It is perhaps unfortunate he should have met me and become my 3rd husband. I will miss him. And the printer. |
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