stretchy pants are my very favorite thing in the world right now. i just want to run them up a flagpole and dedicate a day to their honor. streeeeeeetchy pants! stretchy paaaaaaaants!
the draft in the previous post has a couple of things going for it: suprising language, unusual pairings of subject matter and treatment {the key phrase and unexpected allusions and images}, and the beginnings of rhythm. i heard some reference to hericlitus and was curious, and did a little reading about him {only wikipedia} and found him interesting. so i stole some catch phrases from the hericlitus highlights reel and sprinkled them in.
which brings me to the drafts's weaknesses: the allusions are lightly researched and that's okay but i think it's trying to come off as knowing something it doesn't. so there's maybe some missed opportunity there. also the repetition of the key phrase is clunky and overdone. probably there are just too many lines in this poem and i need to decide which are working toward unity and which are just hanging on for fun. cut, cut, cut!
because...if the parts don't hang together, if there's no unity, then there's no excitement or understanding. people will say, "i don't get it," and what they mean is not that they don't understand the words, but that there isn't any sense to the poem as a whole. it's not finished until there is some sense, whether of meaning, story, sound or impression. without any of those, you probably wouldn't even read a poem to the end, because your attention will have been betrayed with red herrings.
one thing that shouldn't be too prominent: wisdom. hide your wisdom, they say. that doesn't mean you shouldn't have any, but you don't want to end a poem with some grand declaration of smartness and finality that makes everyone roll their eyes.
my heart isn't really in this one, so i probably won't spend much time revising it, but i might mine it later for interesting lines or ideas that could spark something new.
that's all.
7 of you said:
I like being in poetry summer school. I printed this out along with the poem it critiques for further study.
I wrote a poem once. The Professor and I were just married and a girl we knew had worked really hard to help us move into our apartment. Her name was DeLynn. I gave it to her with some cookies (or something) as a thankyou.
Eau de Lynn
This ode
Much owed
Oh, DeLynn
to you.
The end.
(Except that it wasn't an ode. Oh, well.)
My poems are like Nicea's.... My mind relies on simple fodder. Your's, SC, are the words that take and then inspire thought.
i really like where this is going. i'm beginning to understand and, as i tell my students, understanding enhances enjoyment.
also, i like your thoughts.
also, stretchy pants really are the best.
Are you pregnant? You singing the praises of stretchy and a couple of other things make me think you are. So tell!
I, like Sarah, jumped to the question, "Is she pregnant"? Although I don't know why,since I like stretchy pants too and we all know I will never be pregnant again, thank goodness.
I will never be a poet but I still appreciate your knowledge and enjoy reading you. I'm a simple fodder girl like Natalie.
If you run some stretchy pants up a flagpole I will salute them every chance I get.
It would appear you are ignoring the question. Either that or you have been kidnapped by rogue library workers who are tickling torturing you for the secrets of stretching pants.
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