What Happens Under a Canopy of Sea

Hey Gal! Thought I'd drop by and give you a review.

Anyway, I really liked this. This piece had strong imagery and it made me feel good when it was over with. There were a few minor things, though.

To start off, your first stanza seems kind of out of place, and I can't really see a connection to the rest of the poem. Also, the transition to the next line is kind of rough. How do the two relate to each other? Keep that in mind when you revise.

(down)pouring

Why is down in parenthesis? It doesn't make sense or add anything to the line.

-
That's all I had. Your ending was nice and all around you're a great poet.

-Elinor

Galerius --

I don't care for the poem itself. I'll start off by saying that. It feels heavy, contrived, and the language used is insipid, for the most part. However, I want to follow that up with saying that the method you used, and the style with which you wrote it was brilliant, not because the style is necessarily anything new or resonant, but because it is a big departure from how you usually write. In this poem, I noticed clarity. I could connect all the images, all the ideas. I knew exactly what this poem was about, and because of that, I was able to appreciate (but not necessarily enjoy ) your Thermopylae metaphor. This poem unlocks, I think, the gateway to a lucidity. It should serve as a guiding rod when you write your future poetry.

Now here's why I didn't like the poem.

When you write, I look for exciting word choices, and complex, standalone metaphors. This poem and hardly any of the two. Your word choice was feeble at best. There is no phrase in this poem that is unique, or that I care about. Let me do a quick line-by-line.

Who was the first who said
"I shall brood no more,
and breed instead"?

Yesterday I took a walk.

Alright. Fine. There's nothing wrong here. I read on.

The worms had dug themselves up
out of a rut into the sidewalk,
strings of pink in rings around
themselves, never beginning, never
ending, always reproducing,
always on the move.

Probably one of the most boring description of worms on the sidewalk after a rainstorm I have ever read. There's nothing inspired here. It's vaguely interesting that you explore the eternity of a circle, but that doesn't save the boring language.

Truth be told, it was raining that
night and they were dancing to the
tune of a million drops, ants and
beetles congregating against the torrents
as the three hundred doomed of Sparta,
praying. I strayed with them for a moment,
forgetting my place, and sent myself forward
in timely space, and sent myself backwards in
shaded rhyme where they spat at arrows
and praised the Persians for erasing all doubts
of courage in the hearts of the shielded ranks of

Why "truth be told"? What is it accomplishing? It's too conversational. And then you introduce the Sparta metaphor, which is fine, but expected. This is Galerius writing. Of course, there's going to be some reference to Grecian history/culture/mythology. So. I'm happy with the stanza enjambment on the last line. It cleverly links the ants to the Persians.

ants. It was raining that day
and lie I may, for my mind was soaked by the spit from the Gods

Really? Spit from the Gods?

into the endless ocean
that is the mouth of a
yawning cloud in the spheres above.

The ocean is endless, the clouds are yawning. Ho hum.

A bloodied Greek races through the sky
like a lightning bolt

The lightning bolt simile tops your God-spit metaphor for the worst.

of the Earth's (down)pouring of her soul
to the dirt below.

I echo Elinor. What in the world is the purpose of the parentheses? Okay, I guess I can see the personification. People "pour" out their souls. The Earth is, conversely, "downpouring" her soul. Okay, I get it. But it doesn't work.

Anyway. I didn't really point out specific ways to help you improve because you're absolutely competent on your own when it comes to poetry, and you'll alter this or learn from this in your own way. In closing, all I have to say, I guess, is that this is both your worst poem, and your best.

-Kylan

Hey Gal.

My problem with this is that it's not something that I'm going to remember. It's like taking a five-minute stroll through a familiar park on your way somewhere more important-- a pleasant experience, sure, but it doesn't make me ponder anything, and none of the images jumped out at me.

The worms had dug themselves up
out of a rut into the sidewalk,
strings of pink in rings around
themselves, never beginning and yet
managing to be sinning with
their lips meeting their tails like
the Titans curling around themselves,
prophesying with their spasms that
soon a child will be born and weep over
us all 'till we have fallen over the railings
of the Good Fields like drops of water
always on the move.

Besides the fact that this is one massive sentence and reads like someone tripping repeatedly until finally falling on their face, I don't like the transitions. You're tossing similes (more specifically, the word "like") in between images and ideas to connect them, but it feels less like a naturally progressing thought and more like being slapped on the face and told to alter your train of thought. You're describing soggy worms, and then BAM you turn the curling worms into curling Titans. The transition thought is missing. Why are these things similar? (And no, I don't believe the curling and spasming counts.)

I strayed with them for a moment,
forgetting my place, and sent myself forward
in timely space, and sent myself backwards in
shaded rhyme

This seems a bit clunky. "For a moment" and "forgetting my place" are empty phrases, and the "forward in timely space" is never really explored, so it feels like you include a forwards just to parallel the backwards. Also, shaded rhyme? While I think it's a fantastic idea and rolls off the tongue brilliantly, I have no idea what the heck you mean by it, and it conjures up no meaning or (again) transition to the bit about Persians. Although I do like that next part.

It was drizzling that day
and lie I may,

It kind of irks me when narrators in poetry or prose say anything that hints "I could be wrong". When their perspective is all that matters to the reader, it seems pointless to mention the fact that they could be lying or forgetting something.

Watch your use of the word "spit", "spat", and all other variations. You seem to enjoy mentioning it as often as possible, which is fine and dandy until your readers start to notice the lack of variation.

I do like the play-on-words with "(down)pouring", unlike the others. Those dual meanings are something I always enjoy finding in your writing, although I'd like to see some of them used without the parentheses, which take some of the subtlety out of it.

I remember an old poem of yours where the title is "(Fore)cast a windy spell", and that stuck in my mind because of all the underlying complexity that you are so known for. Also, in that one piece of prose you posted about Persephone, there was an image comparing streetlamps to crumpled fireflies. Those are examples (and there are more, I'm sure) of your poetry sticking. There wasn't much of that here, I think. Safe is the best word I can use for it. Kylan's right that you took a large step towards coherency, but if that means losing those great, profound lines and vibrant pictures, you're going to need to find that balance.

Solid work, as always, Gal. Best of luck.

~Evi

that line should read "The worms dug themselves up" instead of had dug. The whole poem suffers from... overpopulation like that.

One thing i do like is the use of all those proper nouns, the places and the names. Those are some of the best details in the whole poem, and as Kylan pointed out, some of the other details are stupid.

You've got a lot of suggestions here so Ill keep it brief, you've got all the skin and bones here, you just need to trim it down now. like a sculpture.

Why must you always delete these things before I can look at them.