Of Gold, Gleam, Metal; or, a poem containing a play

edited

This is a very new style and I totally dig it! never before have i seen a poem laid out like a play involving scenes like this, it's very novel and eclectic and I love the originality. Keep it up!

Thank you Venturepants! I'm glad you enjoyed it.

I enjoyed the poem as a whole, and, most of all, I absolutely LOVED the idea of doing it as a play, with acts. I thought that it could have been done as: I, II, III, IX as well - like you know how a poem has separated stanzas? But...you know what? I liked the definite nature of the acts - instead of making it seem like snapshots of the bigger picture, it made it seem more linear and as if we were seeing the story itself in a linear fashion (even if we weren't)...I just like the tongue-in-cheek obvious drama going on here.

Prelude

Prelude
In this house:
The brother, who in his darkling heart still loved
She, the prodigal wife, who awoke to find dreams alive and nightmares dead;
And the sister, an eye who watched order and chaos intertwine.

Okay, so I admit, the first time I read this, I got confused. Do you mean to say that the three people who live in 'this house' are a man, his wife and his sister? I wouldn't call this a prelude at all - more like a character list for a ply - change the title, maybe? And I loved how you even gave descriptions about them...makes it seem more grandiose, I reckon, more drum-beat-till-the-curtain-rises-and-we-see-the-play-unfold...sort of like you're in control of the play, you know what you're doing, and you're giving us little nuggets of information to keep us hooked - but saving what really matters for the rest.

Also, there is some major ambiguity in this 'prelude/character list' - which I would expect to see resolved during the course of the poem/play. Like you say: 'the brother, who in his darkling heart still loved' - so the man is a 'dark', and possibly sinister character, who still loves his wife, right? (And the word 'darkling' immediately transports me to a time more SHakespearean - is this the intended effect; is the play MEANT to be a little more 'classical' as opposed to modern?). And 'prodigal wife' is also mysterious, as are her dreams and nightmares - you realise that from the prelude, the foremost part of the play, I expect to see something in the rest of the play about her dreams and nightmares? If I do not, it will appear as if the poem has been loosely sewn together, with captivating words chosen for their aesthetic beauty as opposed to their actual significance. A good poem/play should do both. And I also want to see the mystery of the sister resolved; she watches chaos and order; which makes it seem like she's the one trying to keep the household together.

Overall, a mysterious beginning, with a good eye for detail and a magnificent roll-out-the-red-carpet-for-these-actors grandiose, if slightly old-fashioned effect.

Act One

The first detail my senses detect
is the delicate, frayed whir of
a ceiling fan.
the swoops and spirals of air
write cursive in my hair
as I stoop down
towards the cool wooden floor
to still quivering papers.
a grating of a groaning chair
asks my eyes a question;
beyond me, the answer sits, breathing
with overworked, heaving lungs.

I loved the imagery here - and how you keep beautifully well-controlled and do not dive into resolving the mysteries all at once - instead, here you set the stage. 'Delicate, frayed whir of the ceiling fan' was such a fascinating image to begin with - kind of so off-the-wall that it's interesting, you know? But I also want to know the significance of it besides painting a picture - what might it represent? And I didn't care for the first line - 'first detail my senses detect' - seems too bizarrely inverted, actually (even though you're going for a somewhat Victorian feel), and makes it seem like the narrator just woke up (did they?). The way you describe the narrator's actions is extraordinary - it's kind of like a hold-you-breath-in-suspense-and-watch-them-act -

I stoop down
towards the cool wooden floor
to still quivering papers.
a grating of a groaning chair
asks my eyes a question;

And here, you've also seemlessly merged literal actions with figurative description, which was pretty as well.

beyond me, the answer sits, breathing
with overworked, heaving lungs.

In this bit, I expect to see some significance - what is the answer? What was the QUESTION? From the very first line, till here, you've opened up so many questions that I want to know about - and these little ambiguities and mysteries are going to help drive the poem forward -

Here are the questions in my mind so far (and, at some point later in the play, I expect to see them resolved in one way or another, otherwise I'll be disappointed):

Who is the narrator in the first bit of the first act (the man, his wife or his sister)? What is the man's personality like? Why does his wife have nightmares that disappear and dreams that come alive - what makes her so happy consciously if her husband is like that, and what makes her terrified at night to have nightmares in the first place? Why is the sister living with them? Why is she the 'housekeeper'? What is the question the narrator is asking in the first act, that they say the 'answer sits beyond [them]' for? If the narrator has indeed woken up, what were they doing sleeping on a chair in what I imagine as either the living room or the dining room (you mention chair, fan, cold wooden floor)?

with overworked, heaving lungs.
She is finding everything laborious now, even controlling
her hands (which tremble) as they rest on her swelling belly.

Didn't like the brackets around 'which tremble' - take them off. From the way the 'overworked, heavy lungs' merges into the 'she is finding...' bit, I assume now that the narrator from the beginning was the wife, pregnant - and this answers my other question - obviously the pregnant wife cannot take care of the household and so the man's sister must do it; which explains her presence there. I liked the dead-on-the-mark description of the scene - but you still retain an element of distance between us and the text and give us some 'breathing space' (pardon the pun) to figure out all the little mysteries. The images are very clear, shockingly clear, almost, and I am picturing it so vividly that it is like a film running through my head. Well done .

Why do you suddenly switch from first person to third person? It's an interesting effect, yes, but it comes across as disjointed. Kind of like you dangling a carrot in front of us, and then suddenly flinging it away - just when we feel like we might begin to understand something more by getting into the minds of one of the characters (which we identify with), you suddenly distance us from them, making them elusive all the more, just at the very moment you resolve a few mysteries for us - a double effect.

From a film point of view (yes, although this is a poem, written as a play, your description is so vivid that I see it like a film, instead), I imagine that the camera is in close-ups and extreme close-ups for the first part of the first act, and then, when you suddenly switch into third person, the camera zooms out, and we can see the whole picture). I also wonder...it reads fundamentally like a poem that is imagined as a film; but the indication of the fact that it is a play suddenly gives everything a more grandiose stage-like effect as well, but there is no dialogue at all - only description and some internal dialogue now and then...did you intend to mix so many different types of text together? It sort of gives it an intriguingly different feel - like the poem is saying 'I am unique' to me...but it does also make it a little muddled, like it needs more grounding in one overarching style, and then the others helping contribute towards it.

then, as restless dragonflies
who simmer in solar solitude
asking is it? worth it?
she brings them together,
gently working the gilded band off a pale finger.

Again, very captivating imagery, but it throws up more questions...why is she taking off her wedding band (at least, that's what I assume it is)? Discomfort? Divorce? A symbol for giving up her wife-hood for her motherhood, maybe?

It's actions like these that are poignant and powerful in this play/poem/film that I am visualising. And when you make such a point of them, I WANT TO FIGURE OUT WHY! I'm not telling you to tell me - you've done a great job of showing not telling already - just to let you know these are all mysteries that I hope will be resolved later on, and not just one-liner statements put there for their beauty.

Act Two

This review is gonna be longer than your poem, I bet. Okay, main idea here is aesthetics - not in terms of the actual imagery, but in terms of the way the poem looks on the page. I don't like it; it looks way too splattered out randomly - lines are extremely long, or remarkably short, and it looks bizarre - less neat, and takes away from that grandiose/magnificent effect I'm getting when reading the poem/play. Tighten it, do something about it - don't let the lines run away. You have a brilliant sense of control with the actual imagery, the plot, the characters etc. - and I want to see this control in the overall poem, too.

The Chandelier was found broken and twisted
at some garage sale.
a hot summer day, we plunged into a fervent perspiration, tense as others also viewed such a treasure.
He liked the curves, true, but far more that a
glow could emanate out of such a dingy piece of metal. (and here the eye gazed and saw his heart love hers).
so we brought it home, where of its own accord
it clung to the ceiling, like the golden octopus it was, learning how to swim in un–water.
harsh came the radiance–honest–
we never saw such light cast such strong shadows.

Little things: line length needs to be sorted, the 'and here the eye gazed and saw his heart love hers' bit is clunky, the '-honest-' looks out-of-time for the era this poem seems to be set in. Overall picture: I LOVE how you jump from one image to the next; from the pregnant wife, to the chandelier, and your description is cute and mesmerising ('where of its own accord...golden octopus...clung to the ceiling'). It has started to read more like a poem than a film, now, because of increased figurative language - not necessarily a bad thing - because now that you've got us hooked in by the visual drama, you can afford to throw in more personification-type language and make it read more poetically.

Again, the narration here bothers me. From whose perspective is it? I doubt it is from the man's - because you say 'he' in this. I doubt it's from the sister's, since the chadelier seems like it was bought some time ago, when just the man and his wife lived together (bef she was pregnant) - so it must be still from the wife's point of view, right? It was the 'we' that set me off - why are we in first person plural now? Otherwise, those lines read smoothly.

And, to be perfectly honest, the only line that struck me as being thematically important was the one: 'we never saw such light cast such strong shadows.' What. Does. That. Signify? Is it going back to the idea of the fact that the man is dark and sinister, but also loving, and the wife has a happy life, but has nightmares? Kind of like...a double paradox of happiness - when their emotions are more intense, the bad times are just as strong as the good ones? That is amazingly clever.

Questions again: what is tying the thematically important image of her taking off her wedding band, and them buying the chandelier together? Why the switch in perspective-of-narration? Here, I'd say the narrator switch appears...off, slightly.

later, I learned that the shade and shimmer were debating, fighting, throwing furious blows.
blood from the dichotomy's battle
smeared itself in hunger and thirst, fulfillment and quenching
all over the dull kitchen floor tiles. but bright metal won the precious victory.

The first line here I find important too. 'Shade and shimmer' - again building upon your paradox of 'light and dark', 'dreams and nightmares' - very tightly done . Methinks that the household is...in a bit of upheaval - the man's love is all-consuming, so powerful that he posseses her, fights his wife, bruises her - which'd explain why she's taking off her wedding band. Oh my God...it's all starting to come together!!! And I love how we're suddenly back in the kitchen where we seemed to be in the first act as well - but the fan and chandelier seem too much for one ceiling. As beautiful as the fan is, I'd say it carries less thematic significance, and I'd focus on just the chandelier, myself.

Act Three

And so I left the floor for the table, the answer not yet fully tangible to me.
nearby, the darkness attempts to pervert
us, and we are only mesmerized by the light.
She holds the ring up to the light,

Questions...why the change in narration to first person again? Who is speaking? I can't tell if it's the man or his sister, now - and it can't be the wife, since you've given her as 'she'. What was the question, to which the 'answer is not fully tangible'? What is going on here - an abusive relationship, extreme happiness and sadness, and dark and light, a pregnant wife, her housekeeping sister-in-law - where's the plot? I can't string these facts together, and I would have hoped to have done that by the third act. Now, the mystery is annoying rather than enticing. But your words are lovely, all the same. And I love how you're trying to concrete it and tighten the dark/light, wedding band+ chandelier images/motif even more - it gives it a stronger impact.

and the red roughness of her finger does not elude me.
yet the gold and the diamond each bear celestial qualities,
two rays of starlight–
brilliance and joy etched dynamic like the
striking of a match, the sparking of embers–

I liked the first line of that bit above - so raw and vivid. But the next few lines are pretty...but not thematically well-tied in like the rest. There needs to be a balance between dreams and nightmares, dark and light, love and anger - and here, you're tipping the balance totally in the direction of beauty and happiness in the way you desribe the ring/wedding band. It doesn't fit in as well.

I turn away, to get away, out of the room,
Walk past the clock (whose frowning face I ignore)
into a quiet corner of the house
a little pocket of darkness, if you will
selecting a seat, my back hunching over like Rodin's prodigy, as I
sit on the vague, musty chair

I would have expected these lines to tip the balance back towards darkness - but they a=only do that in the phrases 'frowning face...pocket of darkness...back hunching...musty chair' (by the way - 'vague' sounds off). These 'darkness' phrases are not as strong as the brilliant and shining 'diamond' oriented ones from before, so they do a poor job of tipping the balance. I think you're best off with having alternating lines of dark and light, rather than alternating sections. The contrast is more obvious that way. And I still can't tell who the narrator is - I am thinking it might be the man, but really, I have no idea. And that annoys me, since now I wonder why the sister - if it is the sister - would leave her sister-in-law to remove the ring; and if it's the man, I wonder why he'd leave the room when his wife retaliated by removing the ring, or if she jut ook it off to look at it. I don't know what he's annoyed about.

Act Four

I did not need to ask, for I know now how
Her smile lingers,
even when steeped in shadow
Her eyes afire like a dragonfly
suspended in the flares of the sun,
how I know now they will not fade

Unending in its circles,
as if an arsonist had kissed the very sign of infinity–
the kitchen light fights forever.

I reckon the narrator here is the sister-in-law, who seems to be the more objective third-person (literally) who can tell us what's going on in the house from an outsider's perspective. Why are narrator's changing? Not that it is odd - just that it seems clumsily done; though, when donne properly, I can imagine the effect will be spectacular.

Why are we back to happy images of smiles and dragonflies and the sun? And the 'arsonist' looks horrifically out of place - the word seems too modern for such a classical story. Admittedly, the feeling I get here is that ou're describing something that probably IS modern from a classical point of view...and this needs to be consistent.

And the ending was infuriating. You had such a tight metaphor going on there - the light and dark, and happiness and sadness, love and war all described with breathtaking imagery - and such a dramatic effect from the outset; I felt there was no story to this in the end. The 'kitchen light fights forever' really means that nothing happened - the CONFLICT that you had so cleverly set up was NOT resolved, and this seems like a cop-out; not an intelligent solution, given the depth of intelligence you've shown throughout the poem.

Overall

You know I loved this. And I would love to see it in all it's glory. So...here are major pointers you need to consider:

So...what really happened? There was a man, his wife, who loved each other very much. They got married, bought a chandelier. This was a symbol of their relationship - a love-hate one. The woman got pregnant, so the man asked his sister to come over and help take care of the house - we don't find out much about the sister, actually, because she has bvery little voice in the poem/play - she acts as our medium to see what happens next. The woman takes off her ring/wedding-band and the man walks away, annoyed. They fight forever. The end.

This is not structurally sound. You create conflict upon conflict, and by not resolving it - and by leaving many of the other mysteries unresolved, it seems like little planning has gone into this; more just spur-of-the-moment ideas. The depiction of their relationship has been wonderfully sewn together in terms of the metaphors you have used, but the resolution of the conflict itself needs to be rethought.

The drama you have created from the beginning is intense, and stunning - likewise is the intellect gone into that beautiful metaphor of yours. But because you have created higher expectations from the outset, I expect to see you follow them through till the very end, and not leap out of the story at the last minute, and leave their relationship unresolved. I want to see some action, and a bit more plot. I want to really see who is narrating at each part, and get into the head of the characters more - I feel like I can see what is happening, but that I do not really know them. I want to connect with them - intellectually and emotionally - more than I do now; but I still want you to maintain that element of mystery, ambiguity and distance at the beginning. Reveal things to us - but slowly - yet make sure you have revealed them to us at the very end. Let us figure things out as we go along - but do not unnecessarily confuse us.

Well done on such an amazing piece of writing. I hope I have not overwhelmeed you. If and when you do a rewrite, PM me to let me know. And thank you for the marvellous read.

Navita: Whew. That was some review! But I'm so glad that someone took the time to actually read it. I understand that I had some rather ambiguous language in there, which led to a different interpretation of the story than my own (though you were very close to the story), but I'm glad you saw it in a different light; it means that it doesn't have to be seen through one specific lens.

First, a few details. In the prelude, I called the sister an "eye", which was supposed to serve two purposes: the witness to the brother/wife relationship, and the "I" that was the narrator. I know, I should have been more clear.

The "answer" is the wife, who makes a noise (grating chair) that the sister looks up to see. The first question was, in this darkened house with the single kitchen light on (and I know I didn't fully explain this–mostly in my head, sorry), who made the disturbance? Which leads to seeing the wife. The sister then begins to talk about her. As for the second question, it has to do with whether marriage is still a thing of beauty. The ring comes off in a moment of pondering, and the wife wonders: in spite all of the work, pain, and friction, is matrimony is worth it? I tried to imply at the end of the poem, with the the ring catching the light, that yes, it is still a joy to behold. It's true that the husband isn't perfect, and the wife has a troubled background.

This leads me to another symbol. The wife was meant to be the chandelier; she came from a tawdry background. Hence "prodigal", and the garage sale, which if the reader wishes may interpret as something akin to the the sex trade industry. Her husband struggles with his feelings about her background ("he liked the curves, true"– trying to love her, not lust for her like other men had– yes, I know I didn't do a great job of hinting at this), and cannot treat her as well as she often needs. She is broken, he is broken; it is one of the friction factors in their marriage. Again, I don't have a problem with seeing their relationship as love/hate, with the chandelier as the symbol.

Also, with the wife, because of her broken nature, she is still fighting old habits and attitudes. She is at war with herself. This was the whole "shade–shimmer" bit, and I perfectly understand how you saw this as wife against husband. The "un–water" was to show how she was out of her environment. This domestic scene isn't like her background.

So, in short, you saw a perfectly understandable story, though not my original intent; I am so glad to have read your review. You pointed out some things I hadn't seen. I am unsure as to how I ought to revise parts of the poem; indeed, you mentioned the subtitles were a problem; I shall fix "Prelude" so that it reads "Cast List". I'll also remove the parenthesis from the trembling hands. Some descriptions I included merely to set the stage; a waste of words I most certainly hope not, but I may change them to serve a more metaphorical purpose.

Thanks again, and cheers,

–antimelrose

Ouch. I didn't realise I was so far off the mark. Of course, in the first act, it makes perfect sense, now - I always had this idea that the sister should have been our lens - I did mention that, didn't I? But yeah, it could have been clearer - I mean 'the answer sits behind me' was rather vague, even after rereading it for the sixth time! Maybe I was just sleepy...

Yes, I also see how the ring comes off as a question to their marriage - but again, that could be taken two ways, depending on the way we view the love-hate relationship. And THANK YOU for clarifying the significane of the chandelier - as a symbol for the woman not the relationship - which SHOULD have been obvious to me from the way you talked about the 'curves' of the chandelier from the man's point of view. But...if I skim-read over that, then I can see how I'd be justified in saying that the chandelier was a metaphor for their relationship as well. My gawd...you're a freakin' Shakespeare!!! We can interpret the scenes in so many different ways! That's what I love about good writing - having the freedom to interpret it.

However, the ending is only structurally strong if we go with your version of events - that the woman finally accepts the sweeter side of life - as opposed to my idea that the relationship and all conflict is left unresolved. But...I reckon you could be super clever here, too - why not have an ENDING which could make the WHOLE STORY interpreted in two ways? I mean - so that both our versions of evenst work? Just an idea - just trying to turn you into the next budding Shakespeare, that's all *smiles cheekily*.

Of course, give this some time to cool. A week or a month or so. Come back to it anew, and attack it when you are less attached to it. Give every image some significance, and remove any that might be totally misleading. Tighten up the edges, so to speak.

Anyway, thanks again for clarifying all of that, and I'm glad I could help. If you write any other masterpieces that require intense dissection...you know who to ask .

Firstly, I feel that I should warn you that my review will be wildly inferior to Navita's novel-critique! I did skim the comments between you two, though, so hopefully I can still be of help.

Next, this was wonderful. I loved the style and format, and that it was laid out like a play, but what I loved even more was that you managed to contain a story within a poem. The story is what matters, and it's so often the part that's left out.

I do think that the "question/answer" thing in Act One was too ambiguous and unexplored. The important thing is to figure out what the question was-- then the wife can work as the metaphorical answer. The problem with unclear imagery is when both sides of the analogy are metaphorical or not literal, because then there's nothing anchoring the image to the poem. I'll touch on this later.

Another thing-- why does the sister-narrator (I didn't understand that she was the narrator either, until reading your comment) stoop towards the floor? There's no apparent reason for that motion, even though it does open up a window of description. Since you're having to work with both characters and imagery, you've got to make sure that the natural impulses and realistic tendencies of you characters aren't overshadowed by the need to be poetic. First and foremost is the story, the people, the WHY and WHAT of the plot. You can weave the poetry (the HOW) around that.

And so I left the floor for the table, the answer not yet fully tangible to me.

You've established that the "answer" is supposed to be the wife, so this line doesn't go over well for me. Why would the wife not be tangible to the sister. That relationship (between the sisters-in-law) is kind of a missing link. We never get to see into their interaction and relationship.

Overall

I think what made this confusing and unclear was that you had dueling metaphors, especially for the wife. She's the chandelier, the answer, the shade, and shimmer, the kitchen light, possibly a question as well. I'd focus these images a bit more narrowly so that they all point to this one character. I love the idea of her being a chandelier at a garage sale, so keep that but strengthen the ties between the image of a chandelier and the image of the wife. Without that reply of yours, I wouldn't have been able to tell that they were one in the same, and that's essential to the understanding of the poem.

To tighten that connection, you need to tighten the connection of the garage sale and the relationship as well. Draw parallels-- if you can connect "marriage/garage sale", "wife/chandelier", "husband/buyer" then the whole image will come together. I think it could be helpful to refer to the chandelier as a "her" instead of an "it". It's perhaps not as subtle as you'd like, but it would do the job and be easy to edit in.

Next, filler words! Death to them all. You say things like: "true", "honest", "where of its own accord", "if you will", etc. They're clunky in your voice and will just clog up the imagery. If it's not necessary to the image or the plot, you don't need it.

A tiny last note-- why is the chair at the end of Act Three described as "vague"? That's a bit of a stretch for me, the personification there. The chair plays such a small part in the overall theme of things that I don't think it's worth assigning such an ambiguous image to it.

Overall, this was lovely, I *liked* it, and I do hope to see your poetry in the future. ^_^

~Evi

Thank you Navita and Evi! I see (*cringes*) that there are several gray areas to be rehabilitated. Confusion was not my intent! I'll give it a rest, probably a few weeks (with school and everything), but I fully intend to work on the piece in the somewhat near future.

–antimelrose

Great! I can't wait to see it! And remember to keep me informed about what happens with it, okay?

>>Evi - I didn't actually set out to write that much - it just turned out that way. And I'm glad you took the time to review this as well, since you found some things I had overlooked. Maybe we should join forces or something in the future, eh? Anyway, I'll stop clogging up her beautiful poem thread with comments to you now .

Not to be rude, but I will not have read any of the previous reviews. xD If I repeat anything that's been said so far, my apologies.

I really like the imagery and the space in your poem. In the first section, especially, the idea of a ceiling fan is so SKILLFUL. I never realized it before, but focusing on something so high up in a room gives the room a feeling of space and emptiness, and that's especially effective when coupled with the character on the floor, suffering under the weight of so much space above her.

The second section has a few awkward lines, such as:

we plunged into a fervent perspiration, tense as others also viewed such a treasure.

Fervent perspiration is kind of funny where I'm sure you don't mean it to be, and I don't think the second half of that sentence is worded as elegantly as the rest of the poem.

true, but far more that a glow could emanate out of such a dingy piece of metal. (and here the eye gazed and saw his heart love hers).

I think 'true' is completely superfluous, and I don't like the part in parentheses. It seems like you're trying to hold too much to a specific plot and make sure the audience gets all the plot points, when maybe it's not really important that we know the sister is watching.

such light cast such strong shadows.

I'd remove the first 'such', because though it could be argued to be a unique light, it seems to work better without the distinction.

I LOVE the line about the golden octopus, and you should be very proud of that section, because it's beautiful imagery and I can see it there, and the way the light plays from it.

blood from the dichotomy's battlesmeared itself in hunger and thirst, fulfillment and quenchingall over the dull kitchen floor tiles. but bright metal won the precious victory.

I think you need to revisit this part and make sure the flow of the sentences makes sense. I couldn't really follow the subject to verb to anything, and though it's a nice thing to get tangled in, it's not effective for following the meaning. I also don't like the phrase 'precious victory', but I think if you considered WHAT DID the bright metal win, you could say, 'but bright metal won NOUN', and it might be stronger.

I love the fourth section, but I really dislike the third section. It seems bland and void of imagery, except at the end with the image of a hunched sculpture. This really disconnected me from the poem and it was questionable whether I'd return, get back into it, in time to read the fourth section. Try to keep the reader connected to SOME image for the whole poem. I acknowledge that you attempted with the imagery about the ring, but it wasn't strong enough. It was unique and interesting like your golden octopus.

Let me know if you have any questions, okay? ^_^ I really enjoyed this poem, and though I could not follow a step-by-step plot, it didn't really matter because the imagery was beautiful. I suppose I would like to know a definite feeling at the end of the poem though. Perhaps as you clean it up, you will find a way to fix that.

Thank you for the read! (And for the fifth gold star, since you're my 250th review!)

-Hannah-

Hi antimelrose,

Apologies for the late review. I have been bogged down in other affairs for the last few days. Now:

This is disjointed. Overusing metaphors is only making you look desperate to tie together something that barely exists on one plane in the first place, and honestly the only thing that saves this piece is the fact that it was cleverly idealized, if not so well executed.

antimelrose wrote:Cast List

In this house:
The brother, who in his darkling heart still loved
She, the prodigal wife, who awoke to find dreams alive and nightmares dead;
And the sister, an eye who watched order and chaos intertwine.

First issue is the slap in the face with the sister thing. "And the sister, an eye who watched..." screams to be read. That's nothing but a nuisance on the part of the piece, something which you need to learn to not so brusquely throw at the audience. So the eye represents her. Fantastic. Now you want us to go through the whole poem catching out the symbol and applauding ourselves for doing so?

No. Poetry isn't such a straightforward instruction manual. Half of the meaning of the poem is derived from the reader, while the other half is simply a series of stepping stones placed by the author. Does a train track hold human riders? No, the train itself does - but the tracks show the vehicle where to go. In the same way, guide your reader and don't grab him by the neck to show him where the treasure lies. Cut out the "Look, the sister is an eye! Remember this!" in the prologue.

Other than that, this opening has potential, it really does. It's too bad that what comes after doesn't match the pace and hidden energy that this stirs above itself. If I see a thundercloud looming in the distance, bulging its lips and ready to howl, I expect it to rain acidic sweat down upon me and rent my ears with the thunder from its lungs. I don't expect it to suddenly vanish and reveal a clear day, and I don't wish to see something as mundane as that.

That's the problem with this poem. You have several good openings throughout the piece (yes, several good openings, considering you have several parts to this story anyway) and yet they are well done enough to deserve a better following act. I will point out specifics in the coming review.

Act One

The first detail my senses detect
is the delicate, frayed whir of
a ceiling fan.

Yeah, we can probably figure the senses detection part out if you simply say "I smell so-and-so". Why are you making your wording so technical? It doesn't serve any purpose and is seen as merely a way to fatten your stanzas. Trim it.

the swoops and spirals of air
write cursive in my hair
as I stoop down
towards the cool wooden floor
to still quivering papers.
a grating of a groaning chair
asks my eyes a question;
beyond me, the answer sits, breathing
with overworked, heaving lungs.

No. I don't want to hear about what "the answer" does and where "the answer" sits. As I've said above, guiding is not the same thing as force-feeding. Images should lead to meaning, as meaning leading to itself is a terrible circle never broken.

If you have a symbol for your "answer" - and you do - then use it.

She is finding everything laborious now, even controlling
her trembling hands as they rest on her swelling belly.
then, as restless dragonflies
who simmer in solar solitude
asking is it? worth it?
she brings them together,
gently working the gilded band off a pale finger.

This is good imagery. But solar solitude? There's a fine line between beauty and pretentiousness; do not abuse it. Of course, there are a myriad of ways that "solar solitude" could work, but you haven't even attempted to expand on what you mean. Do so.

Act Two

The Chandelier was found broken and twisted
at some garage sale.

I don't see the point of the passive voice. You found it, yes? Then say that you found it.

a hot summer day, we plunged into a fervent perspiration, tense as others also viewed such a treasure.

The fervent perspiration... the hot summer day thing before it gives it some sort of leg to stand on at least, but you need to dedicate a little more of your time to making this kind of description work. Sweat, salt of the earth, salt of the face, face made from earth, man made from earth. If you want to say that you plunged into perspiration, the statement is so ripe with potential that it starts to rot if you don't mold it before the mold does the work for you. Plunged into the sweat from your own eyes, blinding and hot. Something.

This isn't really as big a deal as I seem to be making it. But every flaw is highly visible in literature, especially poetry, so take care to correct all that you can.

He liked the curves, true, but far more that a
glow could emanate out of such a dingy piece of metal. (and here the eye gazed and saw his heart love hers).
so we brought it home, where of its own accord
it clung to the ceiling, like the golden octopus it was, learning how to swim in un–water.
harsh came the radiance–honest–
we never saw such light cast such strong shadows.
later, I learned that the shade and shimmer were debating, fighting, throwing furious blows.
blood from the dichotomy's battle
smeared itself in hunger and thirst, fulfillment and quenching
all over the dull kitchen floor tiles. but bright metal won the precious victory.

Again and again, your good imagery is repelled by the frustrating vagueness, "otherness", you stick at odd intervals into this stanza. The dichotomy's battle, really? How is the reader even supposed to see that? And then you bring it back to life, temporarily, with the feasible description of smearing. And then once again it dies horribly with the "bright metal won the precious victory". Can you even imagine someone saying that?

Watch that your words are fluid.

Act Three

And so I left the floor for the table, the answer not yet fully tangible to me.
nearby, the darkness attempts to pervert
us, and we are only mesmerized by the light.
She holds the ring up to the light,
and the red roughness of her finger does not elude me.
yet the gold and the diamond each bear celestial qualities,
two rays of starlight–
brilliance and joy etched dynamic like the
striking of a match, the sparking of embers–
the new question,
second but far larger than the first,
sits silent on my tongue.
I turn away, to get away, out of the room,
Walk past the clock (whose frowning face I ignore)
into a quiet corner of the house
a little pocket of darkness, if you will
selecting a seat, my back hunching over like Rodin's prodigy, as I
sit on the vague, musty chair

Now this, this is what you need to look at every time you begin to fix the rest of your work. This is good. This is visceral. This is poetry. The only parts that you should change are the ones where, once again, you somehow decide that it is a good idea to drink liquid mercury instead of wine, and end up killing yourself. An example is the "each bear celestial qualities". You don't need to tell us this. The starlight bit does a fine job of that itself.

Act Four

I did not need to ask, for I know now how
Her smile lingers,
even when steeped in shadow
Her eyes afire like a dragonfly
suspended in the flares of the sun,
how I know now they will not fade

Unending in its circles,
as if an arsonist had kissed the very sign of infinity–
the kitchen light fights forever.

This is the first time in a long time that I've survived a poem on these forums without flinching at a slipshod ending, so thank you for that. The rhyme works, the imagery works. The only one that doesn't is the arsonist infinity thing. I warned you above not to cross the line between imagery and nonsense and find yourself crossed on Calvary Hill. In most cases, you've managed to avoid that, but the kissing of infinity doesn't bode well for description at all. Have him kiss a dead Andromeda for all I care; don't have him perform his antics in the void of space where imagery cannot breathe.

In general, this is a refreshing break from the rotting usual. It's a newborn, so naturally it needs to learn how to walk and eat; I won't fault you for the mistakes that huddle in its core. But do pull them out and eradicate them, and all will be well with this piece.

Hope that helped,
Galerius

I have said this before (and my intent, believe it or not, is to avoid redundancy) that I will rework this piece in order to suit the directions your criticisms wanted me to go. My fear, however, is that it will end up like that Aesop's fable about the donkey– in order to please everyone it will end up far from my original intent, possibly even disastrous. I'm now wondering if I ought to write a different version for everyone's demands, for while I think you all brought up excellent, thought–provoking points, I saw some contradictions between reviews. I mean it's good, it's healthy that there's debate, but certain sections people praised while others criticized, and vice versa. So yes, I'm a little perplexed about what to do. I don't want to necessarily pick and choose the things I like in each review, because I think that will harm "Gold" in the end.

Yes, it needs extensive rehabilitation. I may look for a second opinion elsewhere on some stuff, but I do want to thank you all for catching the problems and giving me thoughtful suggestions on how to fix them. It means a lot to me that you would take the time.

Thanks again,

–antimelrose

You know...I still think you have a beautiful idea here, and whether or not you choose to do much with it is all up to you. I also noticed an interesting deviation in the way the comments were written - and, were I in your position, I'd probably be too confused to do an immediate rewrite, or if I did, it would try to work towards what most people suggested.

Writing poetry may be an art, but sometimes it can be just as scientific as an experiment - trial and error and all - so I'd say have a go at a rewrite just anyway, while still keeping the ESSENCE of what you intended to mean the same, and just clarifying the theme a little bit more by taking away any little discrepancies. If it doesn't work - so what? Try again!

I actually think it's good that there's some debate of opinions. I'm saying this mostly from a point of view of theme behind the poem, as opposed to the actual style and/or writing of the poem, because I think most critics here are widely read enough to know which style they enjoy. If there's some issues about style etc, I'd probably just leave that for now, unless it's really glaring; and the theme also deserves a healthy dash of debate, like you said.

I really did enjoy reviewing this, because I enjoyed reading it. I like poems that are a good mental exercise - a tough nut to crack, so to speak - however, I think more for the long-term than the short-term. People who might have found it confusing or daunting might have done so because poetry has to have a more immediate impact on them for it to be effective - I care for the long-term impact just as much, though!

Good luck with whatever you decide to do with this. Oh, and, if you ever feel like doing another strangely formed poem, I'd love to see another play-poem again!