First five lines are spectacular. Beautiful imagery.
Trouble is to my eyes there's not much substance to the piece. If the brambles or their fate or their appearance were symbolic of something else I think it might have more punch. great language, though.
I love the sound of this. It is as good in the mouth as the berries themselves! I don't think you need to worry about substance (Pound: "The natural object is always the adequate symbol"), though I do think there may some lines that you don't need. I like the last three lines on their own -- but I wonder if you are really adding anything to the poem after "grief." How would you like the poem if it ended there?
thankyou james, I've always tended towards Pound's view about this. I think you're right I do need to chop off some lines and perhaps that would resolve the lack of substance that I feel about it also.
hi dominic, thankyou! a series of fruity poems sounds like a plan :)
hi titus, thankyou very much, I'm glad you like it! it's good to know how it works for you.
Of course, it isn't a contest :-) I should clarify maybe --- I don't think you have to worry about substance in this poem. where it seems to come through pretty well (for me, at least). Not to quibble, but suggesting that you cut the last six lines of a fairly short poem is hardly unqualified praise.
Cheers. You are one of the few people to thank me for my thoughts.
I remember reading your poems in the last edition of Horizon, and not connecting you with the author of this blog, and stating on Niall O'Sullivan's forum UK Poetry, that:
Marion McCready is well placed to ride along on the Jen Hadfield factor, of being a voice influenced by the magic of rural Scotland, and though the theme of her poem was safely tucked into a recognisably well-made school, there is a clear talent on display for the light-handling of sound and sonics, broadcasting what is either an instinctive ability for patterning assonantal components into smooth verse, or the sign of a grafter - as in the awn/uch/uscs combo below.
At her call the heart-shape shells rise from sands. Their rib mouths yawn,
part under her touch. Her home is a haven for molluscs.
~
I was pretending to be a Critic, practising on the content there, and it was only afterwards I discovered you and Sorlil are one and the same.
I think Heaney gets it right with the statement that poets exist not on the say so of others or how many facebook fwends we have, but 'in your own esteem'.
I never send my stuff out: after getting in a few mags, I just lost interest, as I saw it all as a bit of a game, and the process one of writing your way to a Faith that the string of verbals we make are poetry, regardless if such an ed would choose us or nay.
And now i have upset a lot of eds that they wouldn't publish me on principle, which is great as being the bad OAP of intellectually challenged poetry, suits me fine, Marion me arl mucker.
19 comments:
First five lines are spectacular. Beautiful imagery.
Trouble is to my eyes there's not much substance to the piece. If the brambles or their fate or their appearance were symbolic of something else I think it might have more punch. great language, though.
thanks shug :) I know what you mean, I was trying to link them to something else but struggling with that!
Have you been overdosing on the Sylvia my dear?
And why is it that pregnancy feels like YEARS?
x
With Shug's comment on mind...I wonder if the poem might not just be those first five lines...
x
oh no, not even been reading her recently!
you're not kidding, esp this last week!
Interesting thought, thanks! :)
Haven't lost your touch at all I see.
thanks frances :) you know what it's like when you don't write for ages you wonder if you'll write another poem again!
I love the sound of this. It is as good in the mouth as the berries themselves! I don't think you need to worry about substance (Pound: "The natural object is always the adequate symbol"), though I do think there may some lines that you don't need. I like the last three lines on their own -- but I wonder if you are really adding anything to the poem after "grief." How would you like the poem if it ended there?
Shug probably hit the nail on the head. There's definitely a good poem in there...
It put me in mind of Pablo Neruda's Ode to a Tomatoes - one could write a whole series of fruity poems!
I think I'm more with James than Shug here: the poem resonates for me as it is. I can make a leap to signified.
A very beautiful piece of work.
thankyou james, I've always tended towards Pound's view about this. I think you're right I do need to chop off some lines and perhaps that would resolve the lack of substance that I feel about it also.
hi dominic, thankyou! a series of fruity poems sounds like a plan :)
hi titus, thankyou very much, I'm glad you like it! it's good to know how it works for you.
I didn't realise it was a competition. I always find advice to be more useful than unqualified praise.
"I don't think you need to worry about substance" is a strange recommendation, whether you're writing poetry or eating berries.
lol, causing me a dilemma!!
I very much appreciate the advice, it's always a great help - it's why I post my drafts here.
Of course, it isn't a contest :-) I should clarify maybe --- I don't think you have to worry about substance in this poem. where it seems to come through pretty well (for me, at least). Not to quibble, but suggesting that you cut the last six lines of a fairly short poem is hardly unqualified praise.
"but suggesting that you cut the last six lines of a fairly short poem is hardly unqualified praise" - aye, you're not kidding! ;)
The only line that struck me as a clunker (and bear in mind this is a wholly subjective observation) was 'like a family of suicides'
I thought it was out of place and unneeded.
hi desmond, thanks for reading and for your thoughts! :)
Cheers. You are one of the few people to thank me for my thoughts.
I remember reading your poems in the last edition of Horizon, and not connecting you with the author of this blog, and stating on Niall O'Sullivan's forum UK Poetry, that:
Marion McCready is well placed to ride along on the Jen Hadfield factor, of being a voice influenced by the magic of rural Scotland, and though the theme of her poem was safely tucked into a recognisably well-made school, there is a clear talent on display for the light-handling of sound and sonics, broadcasting what is either an instinctive ability for patterning assonantal components into smooth verse, or the sign of a grafter - as in the awn/uch/uscs combo below.
At her call the heart-shape shells
rise from sands.
Their rib mouths yawn,
part under her touch.
Her home is a haven for molluscs.
~
I was pretending to be a Critic, practising on the content there, and it was only afterwards I discovered you and Sorlil are one and the same.
I think Heaney gets it right with the statement that poets exist not on the say so of others or how many facebook fwends we have, but 'in your own esteem'.
I never send my stuff out: after getting in a few mags, I just lost interest, as I saw it all as a bit of a game, and the process one of writing your way to a Faith that the string of verbals we make are poetry, regardless if such an ed would choose us or nay.
And now i have upset a lot of eds that they wouldn't publish me on principle, which is great as being the bad OAP of intellectually challenged poetry, suits me fine, Marion me arl mucker.
thankyou desmond, you must be my first critic :) very glad you liked the poem, I can only wish to ride along on the Jen Hadfield factor!
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