all you lovers of time

all you lovers of time, join in the streets!
come with your bangles and pockets
and your verdigris roofs
to claim your rightful due.
this is not the end for there is no end
and no beginning—no angles on
this cycle to stab the stars
in their sparkling eyes. this is
an exercise in futility,
but where else can one find beauty?
eyes are futile; they wither, they cloud,
their curtains droop and blot out the sun,
yet there we find beauty.
celebrate the futility.
celebrate the dervish dance of verve
and beauty
and humanity—
join in the streets, all you lovers of time!

in the airless corners under gables
and between tenements,
the sounds of your tambourine will continue to ring
and the wasps will spin from flowerbox to flowerbox
while down in the street
with their bangles and pockets
the bastards of God jubilate.

raise hell and lower heaven
because if beauty is futility, what point is there
to salvation?
bring the salvation to yourself,
iron out the creases,
and make all one.
make all one, and one all—
the dew-spangled grass and the
eavesdropping stars and the
propagation of species and the
cement under bare feet and the
hand that strikes one cheek, then two—

I like very much. It all seems so crisp and airy, talking about a world that's so far away and nonspecific, but still somehow tangible. I like how the words reverse on themselves like here:

this is not the end for there is no end
and no beginning—no angles on
this cycle to stab the stars
in their sparkling eyes

and here:

and make all one.
make all one, and one all—

and how they play off each other like here:

raise hell and lower heaven
because if beauty is futility, what point is there

I like how the setting is referenced all through the poem; it keeps it grounded. There's the mention of joining in the streets at the beginning and end of the first stanza, then the gables and flowerboxes in the second, then the cement at the end.

no angles on
this cycle to stab the stars
in their sparkling eyes.

^ I really liked these lines.

because if beauty is futility, what point is there
to salvation?

^ I'm not sure where you're going with this, which is a problem because I kinda think it's the crux of the poem. After that point anyway, things became rather ungrounded, spinning off into strung-together abstractions rather than a unifying image.

Mmm, this is yummy. I'm listening to the Leonard Cohen album "Songs From A Room" right now and your poem complements it. Have you ever read or listened to Leonard Cohen? I like that this poem has a lot of musical and rhythmic quality to it. That's important.

I do agree with Melja about it becoming "ungrounded." While you have some really wonderful imagery in this poem, I feel as though it's not quite sewn up enough. I mean, the style of this piece is loose, so preserve that and don't sew very tightly. But it seems to me as though there are perhaps too many questions and/or wimpy statements, for lack of a better word. Your diction could be stronger; the individual words need to keep up with the vibrancy of the images.

The ending is excellent; I like the suddenness of it, the lack of resolution. It almost seems that the poem ends at its climax. I like that.

-Colleen

Thank you both! Far more complimentary than I expected. =)

My question to you is now--which parts should be trimmed or adjusted? I agree that it does become 'ungrounded,' but I have no earthly idea how to fix it. Any advice?

In reply I think I'll just show you on the poem. Obviously what I've cropped may not always be cropped cleanly, but I think you get the idea:

all you lovers of time, join in the streets!
come with your bangles and pockets
and your verdigris roofs
to claim your rightful due.
this is not the end for there is no end
and no beginning—no angles on
this cycle to stab the stars <<This part in italics I might move.
in their sparkling eyes. this is
an exercise in futility,
but where else can one find beauty?
[s]eyes are futile; they wither, they cloud,
their curtains droop and blot out the sun,
yet there we find beauty. [/s]
celebrate the futility.
celebrate the dervish dance of verve
[s]and beauty [/s]
and humanity—
join in the streets, all you lovers of time!

in the airless corners under gables
and between tenements,
the sounds of your tambourine will continue to ring
and the wasps will spin from flowerbox to flowerbox
while down in the street
with their bangles and pockets
the bastards of God jubilate.

raise hell and lower heaven
[s]because if beauty is futility,[/s] what point is there
to salvation?
bring the salvation to yourself,
iron out the creases,
[s]and make all one. [/s]
make all one, and one all—
the dew-spangled grass and the
eavesdropping stars and the
propagation of species and the
cement under bare feet and the
hand that strikes one cheek, then two—


Obviously the second stanza is my favorite! I love the images in it, especially the wasps. I'm not sure about the phrase "bastards of God"--it's interesting, but I feel that it doesn't fit in.

Note one: Capatilization you need to put captials in there dear.

Note two: it moved too quickly, it was confusing because it had this tone where you're supposed to read it fast. At least in my poetry retarded mind.

Note three: what was this about? I had absoloutely no idea it was pretty sounding, but (like I said in point two) terribly confusing. You're describing eyes then something else and then turning something into something else.

The first stanza sounds like a good poem all in its own, that's the one that makes sense.

Best of luck dear,
The poetry retarded Alice

The sarcasm was not appreciated or necessary, Alice.

1) Poetry does not have to be capitalized. I don't capitalize mine for a reason.

2) Yes, it is supposed to have movement and flow; it isn't supposed to stagnate. It's about time, not standing water.

3) I don't explain; I let the reader make of it what they will. What do you think it was about?

busboys and poets.


This is fine, thought-provoking work. I saw it as an illustration of the links between reality, portrayal and perception. Cade's comment reflecting on music was one direction to take the piece, but I saw it more as a "crime" reduced to a photo in a newspaper--the sort of thing you'd expect to see in French magazine during May of '68.

The details did present one problem for me. While the repetition and inversions don't necessarily detract from the overall work, they certainly aren't adding anything to it--I'd suggest seriously considering their worth in the piece for a final draft.

The transition to what others refer to as the "ungrounded" part of the poem was extremely well done and was the most creative work in the piece in my opinon.

You might consider flipping the third-to-last and second-to-last lines, since that proves to my mind a less jarring transformation.

I thought the title worked well enough that you could simply cut the first line of the poem without losing any of the connection it provides.

All in all, a well done piece.

Thank you for posting it.


Best,
Brad

My god, it is incredible and refreshing to see a comment from Brad that doesn't say, "This is a sorry attempt. Toss it." It is rare, in fact, to see a comment like that. Treasure it!

Anyway, seeing that he had commented made me read the poem again. And now I'm commenting for the third time. I don't know why I didn't think of this before, but the word "futile" or "futility" is used four times in the piece--the first futility, futile, and the second futility are all found within six lines of each other. I'm all for repeating it once, but four times seems excessive. I would definitely take out this one:

celebrate the futility

as I don't think it adds anything where it is. The same sentiment is repeated later in a more eloquent way.

-Colleen

This is an excellent poem! I really like this. Keep up the good work!

-Rick