A/N: this is basically a spitefic in poem form. So...an online writer friend of mine has been reading Mary Oliver's "A Poetry Handbook" and is not a fan. She took offense to the following paragraph and said she now wants to write a poem that only uses "poetic diction." My brain took this and went, "oh, so you want me to mash all of these metaphors in a poem together and make it make sense? And throw in a dash of old-timey language to be extra obnoxious?" And then it kinda morphed into a meta-poem on poetry cliches.
The language of poetic diction is romantic and its images come from the natural world. Patches of woods are "bowers"; fields are "emerald carpets"; trees are Druids or statesmen perhaps; the moonlight is a river; birds are members of a choir; the sun is the eye of
heaven; and the sea is a briny bed. And so forth. It is a collection of real clunkers. It is language that is stale, mirthful when it does not mean to be, and empty.
Avoid it.
To be clear, I don't totally disagree with Ms. Oliver here. If you've read literally any of my poems, you know that I tend towards plain language. And in many of my 1200+ reviews on this very site, I have told people to tone down the floweriness. Sometimes a tree should just be a tree, and a field a field. But flowery language is a tool like any other, so...screw absolutes, let's go drown ourselves in rose petals like Taylor Swift in the "Our Song" video! :P
The river of moonlight flows through the bowers, spilling over leaves like pebbles until it reaches the emerald carpet at my feet. Under its gentle stream, I let my body sink into the grass, soft as a babe’s hair. Just afore midnight, I tumble over a cliff into slumber, trusting the druid trees to watch over me on this solstice-short night, as they have guarded this forest since Earth was Eden.
Did I dream? Mayhaps I did, mayhaps I did not. If I did, the choirs of morning birds hath sung it out of my memory. I glare up into the eye of Heaven and mine eyes burn from Icarian hubris. I speak a prayer of thanks that this is not the day the sun will welcome my weary mortal soul into His embrace. No, today, I march on towards my love, the one who lives by the briny bed of the sea.
Oh, my love! What is there to say of her that better bards hath not told before me? Have they all looked into her eyes and found the clearest skies paled in comparison? With every step I take in midsummer’s heat, my skin flushes to match the rose pink of her cheeks, the flower petals of her lips. Has every poet kissed them and declared that they would prick themselves with a thousand thorns for the mere chance to do so again? Has their every heartbeat drummed out desire for her, playing percussion for the songs of love they compose, the songs that, once sung, sound nothing like the orchestras they had composed in their minds?
Have we all loved the same woman? Or rather, are we all Odysseuses, journeying and toiling to return home to our Penelopes, who have all let the waves wash over their feet as they watch the horizon, writing their lovers’ name in the sand, praying for their return?
Perhaps love poems are like snowflakes, unique fractals, but with the same structure underneath.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
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hey hey! ^_^
thoughts
this is so cool! the tone is so delightfully meta and indulgent and cheeky and weirdly poignant! the meta-level stuff creeps in more and more as the poem goes on, and it becomes almost serious in the last few stanzas. it’s like a joke that ends up telling a truth you didn’t expect.
there is a lot of poetic diction here, but you’re strategic about it. it’s so over-the-top but also really elegant? if this were written in earnest, it would be hilarious. because it's written with intent, it’s beautiful!
suggestions
could the form reflect the content more extremely? if you really wanted to get obnoxious, you could format the poem in something like faux-sonnet stanzas or mock-epic heroic couplets. obviously not necessary [the tone alone carries the parody], but if you were in an unhinged mood...
overall, THIS IS SO GOOD!!!
~ adore
Hey there! Plume here, with a review!
I enjoy the premise of this poem a lot; nothing like a good old art piece motivated by someone else telling you you shouldn't do that in art. I appreciated getting the context as well! Definitely a very interesting quote from Ms. Oliver--- I think I'll have to classify myself more in the camp of your friend; different poetic strokes for different poetic folks! And sometimes it can just be so nice to imagine a field as an emerald carpet :)
I'm not exactly sure how to approach this poem to review it; obviously were I to treat it like a serious work, I think I'd have more than enough to say about the quality of the overall figurative language. I do think it functions well as a satire/commentary piece! I am curious; while your explanation helped contextualize it, I wonder, had I not had it, if I would have taken it at face value and treated it just like any other lyrical poem. I'm curious if there are some other ways to make it stand independently as a sort of unserious work. The random shift to that sort of Shakespearean speak definitely helped with that tone; I wonder if some more obvious and silly riffs off of old-timey love poetry could increase the sense that this poem isn't just supposed to be a bunch of flowery, incompatible metaphors.
Another thing I just thought was interesting was the choice to make it a prose poem; in some ways, it felt at odds with the rest of the message. Overall, it definitely feels more akin to the prose of yesteryear rather than the poetry. Still, I like how you've meshed the old and new to create something both unique and somehow, cliche. Stupendous!
Specifics
Genuinely really enjoy this line; the allusion and the cadence (plus the alliteration of Earth and Eden) were divine.
I thought this part was super effective; it's clear that this is where you sort of transition out of the satirical tone and move onto some genuine musings. I also enjoy the break from traditional love poems, where the common theme is to insist that the object of the poet's affection is beyond compare and unlike any other.
This was such a lovely metaphor to end on; I know using love as the main theme of something is hardly original, but there's a reason it's so common <3 The human constancy of love will always get me and I don't care if that makes me a sentimental idiot ^-^
Overall: this was such a fun read! I liked how it made me think deeper about what can be called poetry -- and further, what can be called good poetry. I had a great time reviewing; until next time!