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One last thing, childhood is a magical time. Quarters come from nowhere and our Uncles are the ones who drop them. "He smelled of beer" yet, he also flew a Spitfire. Would he have been a Hero had he not flown a spitfire? I haven't read Laurie's or Lizzy's or Switz' comments (minus the halos - when I saw halo I had to hide). In my mind, yes. I think what I meant to say in my previous post was this is what makes heroes, "Heroes".

Practically every one of us is a hero to someone (believe it or not, know it or not). We see ourselves differently than others - and childhood is 'magic time'. It's only when our 'heroes' are gone, do we really recognize them as heroes, despite their failings as humans.

There, that's it. Now, I'm going to read the other offers of commentary, just to see how far off the mark I am. - Actually, I'm not far off the mark at all - as this is what the poem said to me, a reader.

As for 'is the thread over now?' Ah, c'mon, leave it here so we can play in it. Kidding. Good job. From a reader.

Linda.

Hi Linda~

I like what you have said about childhood and heroes.

Linda wrote:

Now, I'm going to read the other offers of commentary, just to see how far off the mark I am.

Take that back!
Just kidding. But really, your opinion of how the poem effects you and how you interpret what Andrew has said or implied is totally suggestive. A writer can hope that his/her readers 'get' a certain thing or two from a piece, but ultimately it belongs to the reader and their interpretation.

As for me, just read my tag-line and you can see I am being obnoxiously "diligent" in my critique(s).
As for the overall ambiance/message of the poem, I totally agree with you. But, even if I didn't agree, it would not mean one of us was right or wrong....

L.

Wha..? Well, yeaah. It would mean that I'm right.

Linda.

PS:** I just finished reading the other opinions (I got side-tracked by another thread), but you sure are diligent, no doubt. That's your strong point, though. It's very hard to put a feeling into words, as you well know. So, this shows that Andrew's poem is a good poem from the perspectives of both an educated reader (you) and a casual reader (me).

And a goofy reader (SWITZ).

Kidding, SWITZ. I guess that's it. The thread is returned to its rightful owner.

...diligent...schmiligent...

the problem is that Andrew is like an English professor (a Teacher, at least!) and I am not nearly qualified to 'really' crit his stuff.
I keep telling myself to keep my fingers clenched and poetic opinions to myself, but, there I go again...

I know Linda.....I'm just a moth eating dog.... ...but it has helped me survive

Thanks for the comments/ suggestions for improvements.
I will reply to all, of course.
Right now, I'm more concerned with bits....i.e. the envoi/ ending.
For the umpteenth time, please accept....


Heroes

The children's section in our library
was stacked with adventures: Biggles books
the patriotic stuff for boys like me.
We'd conquer every danger, bond
with heroes who fought to save the world.

My uncle Fred arrived one night,
caught me reading by torchlight, said
It's good to study; here's some money.
Two shillings dropped from his pocket,
landed between the pages where Bertie
and Algie helped Biggles rescue
Indo-Chinese slaves. His breath

smelled of beer; his clothes, coal-dust.
He died before I was told
he'd flown a Spitfire.



I guess I'll defend the introduction of the first person singular in the last stanza, for now at least.
It's getting late: I have work tomorrow.
Yer Andrew.

2nd version:

...landed between the pages where Bertie
and Algie helped Biggles rescue
Indo-Chinese slaves. His breath smelled of beer,

his clothes, coal-dust. He died before
they told me he'd flown a Spitfire.

3rd version:

landed between the pages where Bertie
and Algie helped Biggles rescue
Indo-Chinese slaves. His breath

smelled of beer; his clothes, coal-dust.
He died before I was told
he'd flown a Spitfire.

Okay. I am not liking either envoi much at the moment (may be my mood...)

I am wondering if you are attached to the notion this is a specif event?

Otherwise it could be pared down to a generic:

Smelling of beer and coal-dust, he died
before they told me he'd flown a Spitfire.

This implies it was a usual state for the boy to observe the uncle. Your versions all imply it is a singular (isolated?) event.

Does this help?

me got to work too...hihohiho

L

NO. I don't agree, Laurie. AGH!! What am I doing????

smelling of beer and coal-dust, he died...

implies that he smelled of beer and coal dust when he died. It has a whole different feel than the previous endings. Your suggested ending sounds as though he smelled of beer and coal dust at the moment of his death. I didn't think that was the intended meaning. He smelled of beer and coal dust, yes, but it was later that he was told that he flew a Spitfire. It doesn't mean that he was smelling of beer at the time of his death. does it? whoops... I'm gone ......................................

Linda~

i know i have said this before, but this time i Really mean it!!


YOU'RE RIGHT!!

C'mon, SWITZ, I'll buy you a moth-burger. And a beer.

Linda.

I'm liking the original more and more. I also prefer "He died before I was told . . . " and I definitely agree with your comments on the uncle, Linda. He smelled of beer and coal dust when he entered and found the boy reading. He apparently didn't visit often, or come up in conversation often enough, to have been told about his having flow a Spitfire. He may have smelled of coal dust and beer when he died, but we don't know that, nor do we need to know. He was a hero, nonetheless.

Thanks Linda !

Crunch....Crunch....lap...lap...lap.....wag...wag....wag....scratch....scratch........bite...bite...bite...

Dear all,
In spite of my promise to reply, I won't.
So there.
It's not a question of the criticism (always welcome, especially when I'm on my own) of the poem: it comes down to my inability to finish it.
But I'll return to it. In the meantime, I'll try to get it published.

Can this thread be ended ?

Andrew.

I believe this thread ended on August 22nd.

Linda.

Linda,
the thread may have ended on August 22nd, but the poem hasn't.
My last post was the result of frustration on my part: I'm not finished with it; and it's not finished with me.
Andrew.