Comment Number One

Are we all not yet the horrid ones
with fits of neurosis and melodrama?
Stumbling about with our heads full of ideas
of our own self worth and individuality,
we fail to see the mark of special and unique
is merited by our deeds and not by our simple existence.

In blindness we fumble for ourselves.
In blindness we stumble upon weakness.
In blindness we are all the same,
sightless ones in a broken valley.

We are not who we think we are.
We are not who others perceive.
For we think we are as we want others to see,
and others see the things they wish to.
We are ourselves,
as our choices make ourselves to be.

Well, I'm glad I ventured into Other Poetry. Seem you've posted something new here.

I'm not exactly sure what to make of this. Not a poem to read quickly; the complex lines and ideas found within them prevents that. You have a rather interesting theme here, blindness (tangent: which often shows up in a more religious work but I'm so glad not to see that blaring here. Although your second stanza could have led into a religious poem), and I find you executed the theme rather well. There is a slight disjoint between stanzas, mostly between stanzas one and two. Going from "stumbling" (which I took as darkness surrounding) to "blindness," which is personal. I'd like to see "sightless ones in a broken valley" (or a line reminiscent of) in stanza one. It would help establish more of a setting for stanzas 2 and 3.

Speaking of stanza 2, I find it stops the poem dead. It acts like a bridge between stanzas one and three, I'll say that, but it's not tremendously interesting. I find it doesn't say much, for being four lines. The repetition of "In blindness" I skipped after the first mention, and I think this stanza would be richer if you cut the repetition after the first line and wove this into a non-repetitive stanza. Keep the same ideas but make them less like bullets being fired. This would also make the stanza fit with the style of the poem a bit more.

Despite stumbling over stanza three while reading a bit (the first four lines, to be exact) I liked the literalness of their rhythm. What I mean is, you're speaking of others stumbling and making us stumble over the truth of the mater, which we so often do. I'm also not too sure if those lines can be reworked, haha. It should be noted there's a rhymes in stanza three that's missing elsewhere (see/be). I like that, though. It gives the truth of the poem in a more flowing sense, when the rest of the poem was more broken in terms of rhythm.

And full-circle to stanza one... Your first line really has me confused. The ideas presented in eight words seem to contradict each other. I think that by cutting "yet" you'd get rid of the contradiction. Unless "yet" has some meaning I'm just not understanding. But to me, "yet" means that we aren't currently encountering fits of neurosis and melodrama, when your poem states otherwise.

All in all, nice work. There are a lot of tangents you could go on with this poem (is that why there's a number in the title?) but it's nicely self-contained at the same time. The second stanza I'd deem the weakest, for reasons mentioned. I do like the ideas presented, though.

Drop me a line with questions.

~Rosey

Rosie was quite thorough, and I agree with her for the most part.

The first line could use rephrasing. I understand what you are saying, but the way you've used "not yet" is not very common or expected nowadays. Using "already" instead of "yet" is one possibility.

I think that "special" and "unique" could be placed within quotations to offset them a bit and make it more obvious that they are titles.

I personally found that the first four lines of the third stanza flowed quite well. The "wish to" sounds a bit meh to me, but I can't think of any suggestions that wouldn't alter the meaning.

Speaking of meaning, I really appreciated the whole point of this poem, and I think you handled it quite well without getting preachy about it.

Hi Conrad Rice,

I am appalled. For one who ventured into serious poetry only a few months ago (as according to your own admission), your work has thus far been decent, even good, better than most of the others on the first page of the forums.

And now - this. This blob of ideas and "deep thought" smashed into each other like so much putty, hardened into a shapeless mass and then presented proudly as a such a philosophical poem, such a provocative piece on the human condition.

Too much sugar gives diabetes. Too much strutting of abstract concepts without any kind of poetic - sensual - fulfillment to go with them disgusts the reader and makes him want to stop reading at the second line. And that's precisely what has happened here.

Conrad Rice wrote:Are we all not yet the horrid ones
with fits of neurosis and melodrama?
Stumbling about with our heads full of ideas
of our own self worth and individuality,
we fail to see the mark of special and unique
is merited by our deeds and not by our simple existence.

What on earth is this? "With fits of neurosis and melodrama" - a bland line that does absolutely nothing but make us feel as if you're standing on a pulpit, or worse, your personal armchair by the fireplace and preaching to us to no end. The entire stanza follows this vein.

I feel like I'd be beating a dead horse to pulp if I commented on the rest of the stanzas, each which bears the mark of complete pretentiousness as this first one has done, so instead I'll point out that this problem your piece has is systemic and has infiltrated every single line here.

Nobody likes to be lectured. Nobody likes to be treated as if he is a small child scolded for the sins of his species. It's perfectly fine to make a point about whatever you feel plagues the human spirit, but don't ever go about it by saying things like "For we think we are as we want others to see, / and others see the things they wish to". This is all Disney channel pop stuff, basically junk that's worded poorly. Perhaps you do have some good ideas in here, I don't know. What I do know is that very few will bother to read your works if they feel that you're speaking to them from a horse ten-stories tall, raining thunder and lightning down upon their mortal frames.

Come back to earth. Write poetry that's not so sickeningly heavy-handed and monotonous as this one. Describe these feelings instead of rambling on and on about them. God gave you the five senses, now use them to convey your point to the reader.

Hope that helped,
Galerius

Words, words, words.

Spoiler

Conrad Rice wrote:Are we all not yet the horrid ones
with fits of neurosis and melodrama?

Perhaps buried deep, unleashed once we've settled into the poem, I might be more receptive to the first line. But the very beginning strikes me as a bad time to break out the 'Are we all not yet...". Not the hook I was looking for.

Stumbling about with our heads full of ideas
of our own self worth and individuality,

This poem, in a nutshell.

we fail to see the mark of special and unique
is merited by our deeds and not by our simple existence.

I feel as though "fail to see that the mark..." would be more clear. Also the statement made by this line really is never backed up by anything. If the aim of your poem is to make a direct statement, then it still needs to be proven.

In blindness we fumble for ourselves.
In blindness we stumble upon weakness.
In blindness we are all the same,
sightless ones in a broken valley.

I didn't really know what to make of this. First off, what exactly does it mean?

We are not who we think we are.
We are not who others perceive.
For we think we are as we want others to see,
and others see the things they wish to.

Hmm...

We are ourselves,
as our choices make ourselves to be.

This poem is not a poem about a lovely pastoral landscape, or a party you once went too, or your relationship with your step-dad. This poem is a poem that is trying to make a point, and an enormously difficult point to make.

I'm not really a fan of that premise to begin with, but I'll put that aside, and only quote George Saunders who wrote 'If you set out to write a poem about two dogs fucking, and you write a poem about two dogs fucking, then you've written a poem about two dogs fucking.'" This statement means a lot of things, but in this case, you've written a poem to make an argument, and that's what you ended up with, and perhaps I shouldn't be surprised that I didn't like it. And secondly, anything that starts in one way, and then ends in the exact same frame of mind is just boring.

But beyond that, I've been reading philosophy papers all week, and this is something you need to prove. I'm not even sure what you're arguing. Are you suggesting it is actions that define a person? Or that we all have separate impressions of each other that are intractable? Are you arguing for a kind of impartial judge which takes actions into account in determining worth?

This is not glamorous stuff, and if you intend to hold a reader, then you've got to find a more presentable way to do this. If you are unwilling to sacrifice this poem's 'point', then make it clearer. Otherwise, try for an image, an allegory, a story, or an entirely different poem.

Conceptually a dead end.

Hi Conrad.

Your poem was actually really good. I love your language and the way you used it to execute your vision. I do agree with Rosey when she said it is not a poem to read quickly but it is all the more enjoyable to read slowly. The second stanza was my favourite!

p.s I would just like to say that I thought Galerius comment was a bit over the top and offensive. I mean we all have a passion for what we believe in and I believe everyone should have an opinion, but if your going to give an opinion can you please give it in a courteous way. Thank you

Show, don't tell. This is boring.

On a similar note, although poetry is about exposing truths of our lives, reading poetry that tells us this or that is really not helpful. Which one is more truthful? Having your mom telling you, "Don't touch that pan, it's hot." Or actually touching the hot pan and getting burnt?

In poetry, lead us to that hot pan.