leonardcohenforum.com

POEM #1

life in a seedy hotel

vicious circles of time
melt on the surface of a pool
whilst you're loafing here, on shore,
by the walls of a seedy hotel,
and raindrops are pattering, ruffling the water,
like sad lazy drumsticks of tired grasshoppers.

flashing round, indiscernible faces loom in the windows.
rum fellows, your guests, getting drunk, start to dance,
and you understand:
they're just little malicious devils of your recollections,
tattered puppets you tug by the cords,
amusing yourself with their fantastical pas.

mirrored faces, memories dancing, ripples of time in the water –
that's how the life passes by


POEM #11

Welcome.

Welcome lies the doormat
To guests who are fallen
On hard times and thin walls.
Labelled, boxed and shelved
They pass the old concierge
Who files them away in his mind
And grim rooms.

What name(s) to record
In the unread log
As Life locks them in
To a tower of dust.

The only way up
Is denied by the stairs
That carried hope in their youth
To higher dreams
Now each step up
Takes them down to despair

Pay cash on the nail
For the shared toilet door
With rolls of loo-paper
Thicker than shared party walls

Light bulbs fight
With grime-smeared windows
To make lives dimmer
Welcome lies the doormat
To purgatorial souls............
POEM #13

Brown Hotel

The race is run,
The adieu’s are done,
At last I have arrived,
Decked out with flowers
And kind speeches,
A penny on each eye,

It’s a very, very brown hotel,
My pearl of great price,
The man behind the bars
Is called Ahithophel,
And he’s giving sound advice,

"The elevator is broken
You’ll have to take the stairs,
But since God is Wholly Other
They won’t lead to anywhere,
The doors all are numbered
Your days are numbered too,
But they’ll start up again --
Just as you get through,
You’ll be very, very happy here,
Your room is in the attic,
The television’s got six hundred
Channels – but all you’ll get is static,
Ah, your neighbor must be cooking,
(Sweet smell of cabbages and fear)
I’m afraid the windows do not open,
We can’t have any jumping here,
Look out at that view!
What an indelible scene –
What Delectable Mountains,
What a Great Gulf between,
Steady now,
Don’t look down
And you won’t fall, --
Just ignore that Hand
that’s writing on the wall"

So he leads me by the arm,
He puts me in my place,
He hands to me a mirror,
So I can see my face,

King of All that I Survey,
The Captain of my Soul,
My feet are made of clay,
My head is made of gold,

The Grand Inquisitor is coming,
There are spiders in my bath,
Now that everything’s permitted,
He’s sure to make me laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My Comments:

Poem #1: Although this starts out with a cliché, the rest of the poem is smart with inventive metaphors. It reeks of seediness…underbelly-ness, etc.

Poem #11: The first line really grabbed me. Welcome. A lie. It lies. Very clever. "Fallen" in stanza one serves a dual purpose. Stanza 3: "…each step up Takes them down…" More cleverness. Great poem.

Poem #13: If you're gonna do a consistent rhyme, it better be damned well done. This passes that test. If i had a red pen and a choice (haha) i'd ask the poet to re-do the "(…cabbage…)" line. I hate it. Otherwise this poem is an easy read with its meter and good story line.

You had tough job Laurie. Especially while you were so sick.

The poem that won was a good one. Though more of a "goofy" kind of poem. Not so crazy about the second grand prize one though.

The best in my opinion is Brown Hotel. In fact I think it brilliant and the best of the lot. I can't wait to see who wrote it. Maybe the author will tell you why they wrote the line (cabbages) you hate.

My own poem was totally not good.

Hi Charles~

Well, i wouldn't really want someone to compromise their artistic stance just to satisfy my distaste for that 'cabbage' line.

I'm not going to be personally affronted by any angry mobs regarding my choices. So, i hope everyone feels free to complain.

This came down to just one person's opinion...and not a very reliable one at that

It will be fun, in the future to see who actually did write what. I still would like to wait a few days before that happens, if possible.

cheers,
Laurie

Poem 11 does have a very nice opening line and one or two other fine lines as well. But I feel it is not as good as it could have been. Incidentally, it would have been presented so much better without the Capital at the start of every line. It's important to vary the tone, not all lines are spoken at the same volume.

Some nits and crits below if interested

Welcome lies the doormat
To guests who are fallen
On hard times and thin walls.
Labelled, boxed and shelved
They pass the old concierge
Who files them away in his mind
And grim rooms.

decent first stanza.



What name(s) to record

the choice of name/names does not work. The flow is interrupted for no gain.

In the unread log
As Life locks them in
To a tower of dust.

the Capital L for Life is a wee bit portentious

The only way up
Is denied by the stairs
That carried hope in their youth
To higher dreams

"dreams" is on the "caution list" in poetry (not the same as the "doomed" list where "soul" presides, but watch it!)

Now each step up
Takes them down to despair

Pay cash on the nail

clichee provisionally forgiven if it is there to make me think of the toilet paper hanging on a nail

For the shared toilet door

I don't like "toilet door"


With rolls of loo-paper

nor "loo paper"


Thicker than shared party walls

you could have done something really good with "party walls"

immediate thought-

.
"in this place,
there are no celebrations shared,
not on either side of the party walls,
which are as thin
as the shared paper left hanging for your convenience"

or something like that, perhaps?

Light bulbs fight
With grime-smeared windows
To make lives dimmer
Welcome lies the doormat
To purgatorial souls............

you mentioned the S word!

but I like the repeat penultimate line

Okay, since, anyway, no one gives any criticism anymore, I’m revealing myself, too. My “masterpiece” is #1 here - one about tired grasshoppers .

[And just because I don’t like too much various double personalities… I was strangerX, as well, who appeared on the Board for a moment, approving of an idea of this contest. It was my “terrible conspiracy”, which wasn’t successful I think ]

Hi Helven~

So YOU wrote that mesmerizing line about the grasshoppers!

I paused on that audio image for some time.

Nice job!!

regards,
Laurie

vicious circles of time
melt on the surface of a pool
whilst you're loafing here, on shore,
by the walls of a seedy hotel,
and raindrops are pattering, ruffling the water,
like sad lazy drumsticks of tired grasshoppers.

I like this first stanza, I overcame initial fury at "vicious circle" because you set it up at the start. it's when people irl describe a situation and *then* say, "it's a vicious circle" that I become a vicious clichee hater and feel it is my duty to beat them viciously with a First Edition of Beginner's Guide to Creative Writing/Talking

flashing round, indiscernible faces loom in the windows.
rum fellows, your guests, getting drunk, start to dance,

"rum fellows" really works, I don't know why it does, it shouldn't!


and you understand:
they're just little malicious devils of your recollections,
tattered puppets you tug by the cords,
amusing yourself with their fantastical pas.

"puppets" ! "PUPPETS" ! where's my weapon, I HATE PUPPETS. lucky you are in decent credit for "little malicious devils".

But I don't understand where the puppets' (shoot them shoot them) fathers come into this. please explain.


mirrored faces, memories dancing, ripples of time in the water –
that's how the life passes by

lovely feel to the last lines, so much so that I do not comment at all on "mirrored faces", (which do not proeprly reflect, anyway, the standard of this nice piece).

Dang it!!! That's the one I was leaning toward, too, with regard to its being yours! Primary reasons? Your love of images, and the extent of them, along with the substantive nature of the poem itself! Did I [Please say "Yes"!] mention to you that I was leaning most toward it, of the three I had brought it down to!?! "Always go with your first instincts!"

Love,
Elizabeth

Hi Laurie,

Thank you! Yes, it was me …
It was very interesting, in fact – to try to compose something that would resemble a poem a little, and, at the same time, would make some sense. I’ve “ransacked” a dictionary in search of appropriate words and still didn’t know for sure how all of that would really sound in English, since, of course, I was unaware of all the connotations, etc. It resembled a bit walking blindfold. Very interesting!



Critic2, thank you, too.
Yes, I completely agree with regard to these “vicious circles”. And puppets… well, after all, this must be somehow disgustingly, right ?

And now – the “pieces” of meaning I wasn’t able to represent. All of that is about a situation when one has to deal a bit too much with his/her memories. There’re no real “guests” in that hotel. There’re only memories. But they are vivid enough, and resemble those dancing drunk guys. This remembrance process can’t be totally bent in the subject’s will – in the will of one who recollects; memories just come and go away – like guests, partially independent from a host. Sometimes they become too intensive - as if they “played pranks”, or something like that, - there turn out to be “too many of them”, and then they become drunken guests - a bit uncontrollable ones. But, at the same time, they are puppets, as well since, in fact, they’re not totally independent from a person; there’s one who recollects and, therefore, calls them into being, “animate” them. [Btw, are puppets really those dolls (or which word is correct here?) with cords, or strings, which are used at theatres etc. - i.e. marionettes? Are they really synonyms?] And “mirrored faces” – they’re “faces” of those “guests”: not “real” ones, but ones just “reflected” or “mirrored” in the mind, in the memory… That’s what I tried to say …



Elizabeth, yes, of course, I’ll say, “Yes! You mentioned that you were leaning most toward it!” [You didn’t, though, in fact , but it was first in your list so I decided it was your “main suspect” .]

Love,
TH.

etiquette demands acknowledgment of really poor jokes

1. "their fantastical pas."

I don't understand where the puppets' (shoot them shoot them) fathers come into this. please explain.


2. "I do not comment at all on "mirrored faces", (which do not proeprly reflect, anyway, the standard of this nice piece"

hee hee

Dear Helven ~

Thank you for clarifying that I hadn't REALLY "said" it ~ for I never want you to back me up, if I'm not back-upable ! I guess I didn't say that it sounded like you or anything!?! I'll recheck my emails and see if I said any blasted thing to substantiate my perspective of it. Drat! I shoulda just spit it out! It's sooooo like you to write from such an in-depth perspective. That "seedy hotel" was one created in your mind by virtue of all those 'shady' memories. You're so right how they inhabit you like real beings.....and do all those bizarre, unpredicatable things when they visit your conscious. I really love what you did with the theme!

Love,
Elizabeth

#10
#11
C'est moi.
Welcome to my haiku.

Hi Critic2,

1. You simply should recall another meaning of "pas" - and the puppets' fathers' riddle will be solved .

2. Could you clarify your question, please ?



Hi Byron,

Your "Welcome" was one of my favourite poems here, too. "Welcome lies the doormat..." - I love this line!



Dear Elizabeth,

Yes, of course, you gave some reasons why this one could be mine!
Thank you very much for the compliments!

Love,
TH.

Hi Byron ~

Thanks for entering the contest!

Great poems.

Damn lying doormats, indeed!

regards,
Laurie

1. You simply should recall another meaning of "pas" - and the puppets' fathers' riddle will be solved .

2. Could you clarify your question, please ?

Hi Helven

1. I was only joking (twice!)

2. I am not a fan of your mirror phrase and the alleged joke on this occasion was the "reflect" comment in brackets (or parenthethingys)