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Little untitled poem
Posted: 06 November 2005
Word Count: 49
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And there are those warm evenings
as the sky dispenses with the sun
and glows deeply with its own ocean-bottom blue
when he lets himself look up
nostalgia pricking his eyes
spinning again with the
sense that something incredible
could happen
if only he knew how to make it
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Comments by other Members
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 Nell at 07:00 on 07 November 2005
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Hi Xenny,
There's something simply beautiful and beautifully simple about this poem. Perhaps it's because it describes a feeling we've all experienced yet never quite put into words. I love the sense of spoken honesty in that first line followed by the wonderful ...as the sky dispenses with the sun... and ending with the slight ambiguity of ...if only he knew how to make it... The 'unfinished' quality of that last line leaves the reader with the very same feeling that the narrator must be experiencing - lovely.
NB. You've some stray html in there (<br>) that's not needed.
Nell.
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 Xenny at 12:20 on 07 November 2005
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Thankyou so much Nell
I'm surprised you even managed to read it properly with those brs in there. I don't know how that happened!
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 joanie at 15:13 on 07 November 2005
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Hi Xenny. Phew, that's better! (without the added extras) I had read this a couple of times but hadn't got around to commenting.
For some odd reason, I do love poems beginning with 'And'. I think this is particuarly simple and lovely, but there are real depths. I love so many of the phrases that it's hard to pick any out; the sky description is wonderful. I like how he 'lets himself look up', like he knows it will be fruitless but it feels good.
I agree with Nell that it's something we have probably all experienced. I do like | nostalgia pricking his eyes |
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Very good, very enjoyable.
joanie
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fevvers at 15:58 on 07 November 2005
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Hi Xenney
There's some lovely writing in this poem and I especially liked the first line - it set the whole tone and language of the poem beautifully.
I love the permission the subject allows himself in the fourth line - and it seems to me that's the psychological impulse of the poem, some sort of permission. I'm not sure if it's the writer allowing the writing, but I suspect it is (and might hint at why the poem's untitled because there's not really any reason for it to be untitled).
I wasn't keen on 'dispenses with the sun' it felt too clinical in a poem that has a questioning, meditative feel about it. I also think you're closing the poem down too soon - you're making it about lost opportunities when it could be something totally different and much bigger in its vision/ideas. Have a look at the poem without the adjectives/adverbs - think about what it's actually doing. (You need to put in some punctuation)
And there are those evenings
as the sky dispenses with the sun
when he lets himself look up
nostalgia pricking his eyes
spinning again with the
sense that something
could happen
if only he knew how to make it
There's scenes being set, questions being asked and not asked and that's very exciting - Look at that third line and how it slows the poem, after that sinous syntax of the first two, so the reader has to look up and where is the reader led to? What is he/she looking at? Where can the poem take the reader?
Sometimes it's a good idea to slough off the adjectives/adverbs, because they can be very seductive and also camouflaging for the poem. Active verbs can be seductive too, but that's a different story...
I'd love to read more of this poem; it feels like the start of something stunning and surprising and it feels like it could be the kind of poem that makes you look differently at poetry.
Thanks
Cheers
<Added>
Sorry, Xenny, I always spell you name wrong - I'll try to get it right next time.
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Xenny at 16:33 on 07 November 2005
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Joanie and Fevvers - thankyou
I like poems beginning with 'and' as well. It's often how they start off in my head - as a little description that occurs to me while I'm walking along. I'm talking to someone in my head... 'and today I saw your old house...' and then sometimes it begins a poem.
Wow Fevvers - you've given me SO much to think about. At first I disliked the suggestion that it could be the start of something more. Then after a bit of thinking I realised why perhaps I disliked it - too long-winded to go into now. But I wonder if you are right. I will dwell on it and see what happens when the time is right.
Punctuation - I know. I'll try and put it in.
>I'm not sure if it's the writer allowing the writing, but I suspect it is (and might hint at why the poem's untitled because there's not really any reason for it to be untitled).
This really made me think too. It also lead me on to thinking about why I've written a poem about myself (though not only) but used 'he' instead of 'she'. And this lead on to lots of other thoughts about male/female writers, which again I won't go into here!
And your suggestion about the adverbs/adjectives.
This poem was just a little thought-stream, expressing a sadness/wish/elation, and now I have a whole set of new thoughts and ideas running through my head. Thankyou again
Xenny
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fevvers at 18:23 on 07 November 2005
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Hi Xenny
I think you're right to give it time and see what comes of it - that gestation period is one of the most exciting times for a poem. And those lovely little thought strands often realize huge (as in vision and ambition, not size) poems.
I'm glad you mentioned it, because I'm also interested in the division of self when we write - how we use our own personal experience and place it in different voices, points of view or subjects. I think it's partly to do with a distinction between 'personal' and 'autobiographical' - some poems are distinctly autobiographical (Sharon Olds' The Father always comes to mind) and some take personal experiences and fictionalise them, Myra Schneider does this a fair bit, as does Selima Hill. They're aren't the same thing, and I think sometimes we, as writers, need a device that helps us to differentiate between the two.
One of the lovely things about poetry is that we can make things up in it - something in a poem doesn't have to have happened exactly the way it did in life ; poetry, like all art, is transformation.
Cheers
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