Poetry workshop comments: A short Glossary

[Mark A. Murphy]

POETRY WORKSHOP COMMENTS: A short glossary

I'd like to hear that again = I was half asleep with boredom.
That's your best one yet = They're all rubbish.
I'm sure that should be published = You'll never find a publisher.
If you left out the first two and last two lines and reworked stanza four = Scrap it.
Where did you get that idea? = Rubbish.
The language is so unusual in this poem = The language is grammatically
and syntactictically incomprehensible.
How many have you written in this sequence? =It's remarkably boring.
Did that actually happen? = What a sordid life you must lead.
You've captured the whole scene = It's overworded and prosy.
That's a prizewinner = But, no chance.
You're good at that kind of thing = None of us understand it.
That's very sad = You're so depressing.
Do you have any more like this? = Burn them.
You've obviosuly spent some time on that = You've killed the whole idea.
When did you write that one? = obviosuly one of your early efforts.
That's an unusual approach = It's totally unintelligible.
Your "voice" is really in that poem = Same old monotonous verbiage.

James Hall Thomson (From the Poetry Scotland website.)

I have heard all of these comments before (not always used about my poems) and used some of them myself! I think there is an etiquette to workshop critiqueing that we would all do well to observe. If one must insist on telling the author of a poem that their images are 'tired' and 'lazy', 'not poetry', etc., then do it with some humanity.

[Manna]

Workshop

I might as well begin by saying how much I like the title.
It gets me right away because I’m in a workshop now
so immediately the poem has my attention,
like the ancient mariner grabbing me by the sleeve.

And I like the first couple of stanzas,
the way they establish this mode of self-pointing
that runs through the whole poem
and tells us that words are food thrown down
on the ground for other words to eat.

I can almost taste the tail of the snake
in its own mouth,
if you know what I mean.

But what I’m not sure about is the voice
which sounds in places very casual, very blue jeans,
but other times seems standoffish,
professorial in the worst sense of the word
like the poem is blowing pipe smoke in my face.
But maybe that’s just what it wants to do.

What I did find engaging were the middle stanzas,
especially the fourth one.
I like the image of clouds flying like lozenges
which gives me a very clear picture.
And I really like how this drawbridge operator
just appears out of the blue
with his feet up on the iron railing
and his fishing pole jigging “I like jigging”
a hook in the slow industrial canal below.
I love slow industrial canal below. All those I’s.

Maybe it’s just me,
but the next stanza is where I start to have a problem.
I mean how can the evening bump into the stars?
And what’s an obbligato of snow?
Also, I roam the decaffeinated streets.
At that point I’m lost. I need help.

The other thing that throws me off,
and maybe this is just me,
is the way the scene keeps shifting around.
First, we’re in this big aerodrome
and the speaker is inspecting a row of dirigibles,
which makes me think this could be a dream.
Then he takes us into his garden,
the part with the dahlias and the coiling hose,
though that’s nice, the coiling hose,
but then I’m not sure where we’re supposed to be.
The rain and the mint green light,
that makes it feel outdoors, but what about this wallpaper?
Or is it a kind of indoor cemetery?
There’s something about death going on here.

In fact, I start to wonder if what we have here
is really two poems, or three, or four,
or possibly none.

But then there’s this last stanza, my favorite.
This is were the poem wins me back,
especially the lines spoken in the voice of the mouse.
I mean we’ve all seen these images in cartoons before,
but I still love the details he uses
when he’s describing where he lives.
The perfect little arch of an entrance in the baseboard,
the bed made out of a curled-back sardine can,
the spool of thread for a table.
I start thinking about how hard the mouse had to work
night after night collecting all these things
while the people in the house were fast asleep,
and that gives me a very strong feeling,
a very powerful sense of something.
But I don’t know if anyone else was feeling that.
Maybe that was just me.
Maybe that’s just the way I read it.

[Byron]

Manna, a Gem.

[Alan Alda]

Pretty bold for someone who has come to "share" but it seems has Never commented on another poet's work. One half the maxim: give and take.
Just sayin.....