"To keep the review thread clean..."

[twelveoone]

I don't do reviews, darling, I do recommendations.

what 'ev,
could have been read as either
review one
others need woik
recommend woik

 

[champagne1982]

Thanks for the comments on my recent sub Desejo, twelveoone, and of course the ever present Tazz. We had a halloween poemie contest here a long while back, that gleaned plenty of spooky comments, this poem was the poll winner.

My thoughts when I was composing Ghosts was: 1. that prison is a way for the desperate to gain shelter for at least one cold winter, so perhaps murder or worse could be a method to get there and 2. When I was growing up, we could go trick or treating with an older kid and that was adequate supervision. We always had at least one ghost in the group. The problem was that the big kids would fill little minds with horror stories about dark corners and then head off through the very alley they'd just spooked their charges with.

Convoluted enough? This writing let me explore that mood and yes, twelvio, I like the lines, "I saw two become one, it didn't grow, just got heavier", too. It's my favourite image in the whole piece.

 

[Desejo]

Thanks to Demure, Harry, and 1201 for comments on Shortcut Home, and especially for pointing out my sloppy mistakes in the final stanza.

Harry - the poem is based on story a friend told me about how he became interested in politics. Sometimes all it takes is going home on a different road.

 

[HarryHill]

Harry - the poem is based on story a friend told me about how he became interested in politics. Sometimes all it takes is going home on a different road.

..
Perhaps Frost knew what he was talking about after all

 

[twelveoone]

When will I see her again? By Feverman


hoping for the sight of her returning, (d)

I am undone, half whole, searching, wanting. (d)
This chill is to the bone. I’m so empty. (e)
I try to warm my heart with what we had... (f)
her love, her joy, days and nights of plenty (e)
but, clouds of doubt are creeping in my head (f)
What am I missing, Desejo?
recheck the rules for rhyme

mod's - this and feverman's response belong in the comments section
ans,
returning, wanting - are not even considered rhyme

empty, plenty - well interesting, if emp and plen would rhyme this would be with ty at the end, would be feminine rhyme, however they don't and you are now ending on an unstressed syllable.

had.../head. interesting

not my bailiwick, i'm a free verse guy, but Desejo was right to question.

my question why in the hell are you doing these?

 

[twelveoone]

Thanks to Demure, Harry, and 1201 for comments on Shortcut Home, and especially for pointing out my sloppy mistakes in the final stanza.

Harry - the poem is based on story a friend told me about how he became interested in politics. Sometimes all it takes is going home on a different road.

now about this, suppose you put a short bio at the top, the reader gets into the story he thinks the poem is about...then surprise...aha

 

[feverman]

When will I see her again? By Feverman


hoping for the sight of her returning, (d)

I am undone, half whole, searching, wanting. (d)
This chill is to the bone. I’m so empty. (e)
I try to warm my heart with what we had... (f)
her love, her joy, days and nights of plenty (e)
but, clouds of doubt are creeping in my head (f)
What am I missing, Desejo?
recheck the rules for rhyme

mod's - this and feverman's response belong in the comments section
ans,
returning, wanting - are not even considered rhyme

empty, plenty - well interesting, if emp and plen would rhyme this would be with ty at the end, would be feminine rhyme, however they don't and you are now ending on an unstressed syllable.

had.../head. interesting

not my bailiwick, i'm a free verse guy, but Desejo was right to question.

my question why in the hell are you doing these?

Well, I suppose I did these [things] much like many of the other dubious decisions I made along the way in my life's journey... sharing the memory of an intense period of longing for someone I missed desperately at a point in time seemed like a good idea when I jotted down my thoughts in what I thought was reasonable sonnet format. Damn, I guess this means I won't be spending the big poetry prize money on Christmas gifts for my honey.

 

[twelveoone]

Well, I suppose I did these [things] much like many of the other dubious decisions I made along the way in my life's journey... sharing the memory of an intense period of longing for someone I missed desperately at a point in time seemed like a good idea when I jotted down my thoughts in what I thought was reasonable sonnet format. Damn, I guess this means I won't be spending the big poetry prize money on Christmas gifts for my honey.

Des's statement
When Will I See Her Again by Feverman is a sonnet per the poet's own note. Others can comment more on exactly what type of sonnet it is, all I can say is that it doesn't adhere to a shakespearian rhyme scheme, and that it has some nice turns of phrase. Take a look.
your mistake to argue there
somebody's gonna nail you for the rhyme,
now this can't be your first attempt. it was too good.

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Well, I suppose I did these [things] much like many of the other dubious decisions I made along the way in my life's journey... sharing the memory of an intense period of longing for someone I missed desperately at a point in time seemed like a good idea when I jotted down my thoughts in what I thought was reasonable sonnet format. Damn, I guess this means I won't be spending the big poetry prize money on Christmas gifts for my honey.

I've seen any number of formats called sonnet. Some use no rhyme whatsoever. Some of these I have even seen in the New Yorker. Typically all sonnets have five strong beats per line (pentameter, more or less iambic) and twelve to fourteen lines. Beyond that is much variance.

A poor man's education in Form can be readily had at the Scansion Mansion on some other website or on Tzara's Thread of Forms. PM for details.

 

[champagne1982]

Well, I suppose I did these [things] much like many of the other dubious decisions I made along the way in my life's journey... sharing the memory of an intense period of longing for someone I missed desperately at a point in time seemed like a good idea when I jotted down my thoughts in what I thought was reasonable sonnet format. Damn, I guess this means I won't be spending the big poetry prize money on Christmas gifts for my honey.

You can always call it a Sonnet (Modified). If you must name a formula, that is.

 

[twelveoone]

Des's statement
When Will I See Her Again by Feverman is a sonnet per the poet's own note. Others can comment more on exactly what type of sonnet it is, all I can say is that it doesn't adhere to a shakespearian rhyme scheme, and that it has some nice turns of phrase. Take a look.
feverman compared his rhyme to a shakespearian sonnet in a response

his question is more appropriately. what constitutes rhyme? sub question would have been about the metre?

his form was close to correct

the misunderstanding hinged on the adjective "shakeperian" what does it apply to.

eh?


Demure101 could have stuck his/her neck out in a comment, but no, the free verse asshole (meaning me) has to pick up on it.
the greatest tool yet
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhyme

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhyme_scheme

 

[feverman]

When Will I See Her Again - the real question to me

I don’t claim to be a poet
And all-y’all should know it
Got caught in this snare
Just trying to share

To me, Lit poems is all brand new
I didn’t expect no fancy Forum review
Just wanted you to know, I learned something from-it
That this right here ain’t no-kinda sonnet

Thank you Demure
For standing so sure
For setting things straight
So my words can relate

Now, back to the thing I would like to know,
‘bout what the words in my poem were trying to show!

Could anybody see
The pain that was me
The hurt that I felt
Needing her like that?

 

[twelveoone]

I don’t claim to be a poet
And all-y’all should know it

Could anybody see
The pain that was me
The hurt that I felt
Needing her like that?

stealing from dylan first two lines? joking
look feverman, 3 of the best people said it was good, goddamn it, keep fucking writing

That this right here ain’t no-kinda sonnet
and it was, see above, hinged on defination

 

[twelveoone]

oh, btw great day in new poems

no kokshur

 

[feverman]

stealing from dylan first two lines? joking
look feverman, 3 of the best people said it was good, goddamn it, keep fucking writing

That this right here ain’t no-kinda sonnet
and it was, see above, hinged on defination

By, "this right here ain't no-kinda sonnet," I meant, this little rhyming response, not the original submission. In any case, thanks for the kind words, the 5 vote and the encouragement. Okay, I'm off, inspired now to write the perfect sonnet for you fine folks. I'm feeling like John Anderson when he sang the words to the song, "I'm Just an Old Chuck of Coal," ..."Well, I'm just an old chunk of coal, now Lord, but I'm gonna be a diamond some day."

 

[Desejo]

Feverman , I hope this is cleared up by now. I am no expert on sonnets, my recommendation was for people who know better to read your poem and comment if they wished. I'm limited on Internet right now as I had the brilliant idea of going into the hurricane instead if away from it. Stuck out in the Catskills for the next few days. Oh well. Some nice poems today, I will comment when I am not on A silly iphone keyboard

 

[twelveoone]

By, "this right here ain't no-kinda sonnet," I meant, this little rhyming response, not the original submission. In any case, thanks for the kind words, the 5 vote and the encouragement. Okay, I'm off, inspired now to write the perfect sonnet for you fine folks. I'm feeling like John Anderson when he sang the words to the song, "I'm Just an Old Chuck of Coal," ..."Well, I'm just an old chunk of coal, now Lord, but I'm gonna be a diamond some day."

let's not get too carried away
but do get involved, if you have a question ask. it generally gets sorted out. i liked demure's response.
i'm telling you feverman read the comments on the poems, you get a wealth of information.
leave a few, you start doing that, you find out what works best for you in writing.
now fess up, that wasn't the first poem you ever wrote, was it?

 

[feverman]

let's not get too carried away
but do get involved, if you have a question ask. it generally gets sorted out. i liked demure's response.
i'm telling you feverman read the comments on the poems, you get a wealth of information.
leave a few, you start doing that, you find out what works best for you in writing.
now fess up, that wasn't the first poem you ever wrote, was it?

No, not my first poem by any means... not my first sonnet... I wrote a number of sonnets and other poems years ago. Edna St. Vincent Millay was my favorite poet, and I modeled my sonnets after her style (back when). "When Will I See Her Again?" was, however, the first sonnet (or any attempt at "real" poetry) I've made in many years. I suppose I've written 50 or 60 poems total, not counting little humorous things like the rhyming comment I left above.

Prior to discovering the Forum "review" that sparked this conversation, I had no idea poems posted on Lit were reviewed for recommendations, were commented on, or were given any form of systematic evaluation here in the Forum. I came to the Forum looking for something entirely unrelated and found the "review" of my poem along with the others that day. Well, no need to rehash history... the posts above tell the rest of the story pretty well.

Anyway, it has been an interesting if unexpected bit of interaction since posting my humble attempt as sharing a period of emotional stress via verse. I've learned a good bit and have enjoyed process and the interaction.

Just so you know, I'm not terribly attached to my original "sonnet" submission... it was a quickie of sorts when compared to my stories. I'm much more emotionally attached of a few of my prose submissions... The Prom, The Legend of Green Lightning Swamp, Holly's First Female Lover, Chance Encounter, and Naughty Pillow Talk are a few I personally like, but each for different reasons and each is a different type of story. The sonnet was a fun, different, personal challenge, much as were each of the mentioned stories.

http://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=1182219&page=submissions

I appreciate the feedback on my poem, the interaction and the discovery of this new (to me), interesting section of the Forum.

 

[HarryHill]

I appreciate the feedback on my poem, the interaction and the discovery of this new (to me), interesting section of the Forum.

..
Try the monthly challenges... you will have fun if you don't go crazy first.... and welcome... Drop by the bar n tell us about yourself

 

[twelveoone]

No, not my first poem by any means... not my first sonnet... I wrote a number of sonnets and other poems years ago. Edna St. Vincent Millay was my favorite poet, and I modeled my sonnets after her style (back when). "When Will I See Her Again?" was, however, the first sonnet (or any attempt at "real" poetry) I've made in many years. I suppose I've written 50 or 60 poems total, not counting little humorous things like the rhyming comment I left above.

.

didn't think so, too good. Edna St. Vincent Millay and George Dillon collaborated on a translation of Baudelaire in the 30's that is quite unique, they tossed the pentametre, and tried duplicating the french line in english.

The Enemy

I think of my gone youth as of a stormy sky
Infrequently transpierced by a benignant sun;
Tempest and hail have done their work; and what have I? —
How many fruits in my torn garden? — scarcely one.

And now that I approach the autumn of my mind,
And must reclaim once more the inundated earth —
Washed into stony trenches deep as graves I find
I wield the rake and hoe, asking, "What is it worth?"

Who can assure me, these new flowers for which I toil
Will find in the disturbed and reconstructed soil
That mystic aliment on which alone they thrive?

Oh, anguish, anguish! Time eats up all things alive;
And that unseen, dark Enemy, upon the spilled
Bright blood we could not spare, battens, and is fulfilled.

— Edna St. Vincent Millay, Flowers of Evil (NY: Harper and Brothers, 1936)
...
and my personal fave


Beatrice

In a burned-over land, where not a blade or leaf
Showed green, through a charred world, whetting my ancient grief
Slowly upon my heart, and making sad lament
To Nature, at broad noon, not knowing where I went,
I walked... and saw above me a big cloud — which at first
I took to be a storm — blacken, and swell and burst,
And pour upon my head instead of rain a rout
Of demons, dwarfed and cruel, which ringed me all about.
As passersby, no matter upon what errands bent,
Will always stop and stare with cold astonishment
At some poor man gone mad, then bait him wittily,
Just so they gaped and nudged, and jeered aloud at me.

— "Come! Have a look at this! What is it, should you say?
The shade of Hamlet — why, of course! — look at the way
He stands! — that undecided eye! — the wild hair, too!
Come here! Do look! Oh, wouldn't it wring a tear from you!
This shabby bon-vivant, this pompous tramp, this ham-
Actor out of a job, thinking that he can cram,
By ranting, stale gesticulations, crocodile-tears,
His tragic fate into the ears of crickets, into the ears
Of eagles! — yes, who knows? — along with brooks and flowers
Forgetting we invented these tricks, even into ours!"

But for one thing — no mountain is taller than my pride;
No demon horde can scale me — I could have turned aside
My sovereign thought, and stood alone... had I not seen
Suddenly, amongst this loathsome troupe, her, my heart's queen —
And the sun did not reel, it stood unmoved above! —
Her of the pure deep gaze, my life, my peerless love,
Mocking and pointing, laughing at my acute distress;
Or fondling some foul dwarf in an obscene caress.

— Edna St. Vincent Millay, Flowers of Evil (NY: Harper and Brothers, 1936)

 

[PandoraGlitters]

i did my time

was it hard time?

 

[HarryHill]

Harry's vote

Now. See what you think! Maybe I'm full of shit, just this once.

..
<<Claps ....Bravo!

 

[feverman]

As long as we are sharing Edna St. Vincent Millay

I love the irony both of these sonnets. The first one has an unusual rhyme scheme toward the end.

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year's bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go,—so with his memory they brim
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, "There is no memory of him here!"
And so stand stricken, so remembering him!

Below is the more typical rhyme scheme I tried to use. I loved this sonnet so much I committed it to memory years ago.

Loving you less than life, a little less
Than bitter-sweet upon a broken wall
Or brush-wood smoke in autumn, I confess
I cannot swear I love you not at all.
For there is that about you in this light –
A yellow darkness, sinister of rain –
Which sturdily recalls my stubborn sight
To dwell on you, and dwell on you again.
And I am made aware of many a week
I shall consume, remembering in what way
Your brown hair grows about your brow and cheek,
And what divine absurdities you say:
Till all the world, and I, and surely you,
Will know I love you, whether or not I do.

 

[twelveoone]

I love the irony both of these sonnets. The first one has an unusual rhyme scheme toward the end.


Below is the more typical rhyme scheme I tried to use. I loved this sonnet so much I committed it to memory years ago.

Loving you less than life, a little less
Than bitter-sweet upon a broken wall
Or brush-wood smoke in autumn, I confess
I cannot swear I love you not at all.
For there is that about you in this light –
A yellow darkness, sinister of rain –
Which sturdily recalls my stubborn sight
To dwell on you, and dwell on you again.
And I am made aware of many a week
I shall consume, remembering in what way
Your brown hair grows about your brow and cheek,
And what divine absurdities you say:
Till all the world, and I, and surely you,
Will know I love you, whether or not I do.

this one threw me off at first, i had to count, it avoids the iambic deathometer in the first line, see that
and the repeat of less

now why do you like sonnets?

check this out

keep reading, watch sonnet 1 morph

 

[feverman]

Why do I like sonnets?

Good question...

I don't know for sure why sonnets appeal to me as a reader.

Perhaps the meter makes them (as a rule) more readable to me and the limitation on size (number of lines) makes getting to the point of the poem more predictable. I liked Millay's sonnets because they were written in modern language and largely to be understood at face value... one doesn't need to know anything about her or her background to easily understand most of her poems or to identify with her message. They are, to me, beautifully self-contained. So many times I read modern poetry and a left wondering, "What the fuck was this supposed to be about?"

As an occasional writer of poetry...

- the structure demands a kind of discipline that helps me focus on getting to the message of the poem quickly.

- thinking in meter (of some sort) seems to aid my ability to construct verse.

- constructing a sonnet gives me a sense of accomplishment with a finality that is not as easily realized with the other forms of poetry I have attempted. Once the poem is done, I'm not tempted to go back and add another set of verses or take a set away. Oh no... the structure won't allow that.

Having said the above, I wouldn't prefer a mediocre or poor sonnet over a fine piece of the other forms of poetry. I hope this somewhat answers your questions. Sonnet writers jump in here, please... help get me off the hook! Share your reasons and thoughts.