[Critique Group 2] Leonards critiques
Tuchyner5 at aol.com
Tuchyner5 at aol.com
Wed Feb 22 14:03:23 EST 2017
I like the revised version more. It’s more powerful. Though I think
starting with the first approach probably facilitated the second version. The
first one is primarily interested in the logical flow of ideas and telling
the story to completion. It uses the connective devices of good grammar. So
when you got down to focusing on the essentials and eliminating what was
unnecessary, the poem had more punch. A poem is often made more powerful by
what it doesn’t put down in words. The last few sentences in the first
version make sure you know that the bed was empty. That reassurance has some
value, but the reader has plenty of information to know that without the writer
having to say so. The sudden ending of the unheard scream ends with an
unfinished startle effect. It leaves the reader hanging in mid air,
emotionally speaking. When the reader is told, that the bed is empty, it is like
landing on a soft pillow which buffers the effect.
I couldn’t find anything in the revised piece that I would change except
for the third line. It doesn’t seem to have the same flow as the rest of the
poem. I think taking out one of the syllables where you use the word,’
usually,” might help. For example, “routinely or commonly.” I also think
you can come up with a better word than,”much,” as an ending word. “Even, “
a lot,” sounds better to me. Don’t know why.
I love this poem.
IN MY DREAM
He held me in bed, but reality hit
when I smelled booze on his breath,
knowing he usually didn't drink much,
and I woke with a start
in a stranger’s embrace,
screamed, though no one could hear me,
and the bed was empty,
the feel of his arms having vanished,
***
Revised
IN MY DREAM
He held me in bed,
but I smelled booze on his breath.
He usually didn't drink much.
Reality hit--in a stranger’s embrace,
I screamed, though no one could hear me.
--
Oooh! I like this. No, I love this. Tremendously effective in telling a
story, making n ethical statement, giving a history lesson, presenting a
memoir. This has it all.
Now for the knit picking:
Lines:
2. I’m assuming Margie is a family member. It’s not really important,
since we know she is the original story teller.
There is a nice sprinkling of rhyme throughout the poem.
9. This line with the multi-syllabic date breaks up the rhythm, but it’s
important to the story and I don’t have any solutions.
13. I question using “only”. I think it would sound better to leave it
out. Also, it sounds a little apologetic.
16. I like this strong ending to the second stanza.
18. Using “massive” twice, so close together maybe is not such a good
idea. I would use a synonym.
20. Ditto with the word “know” Maybe something like, “Are you aware…”
22. At first I wondered about the relevance of this line. But then it hit
me like a gold bar. The poem is about the company’s lust for gold that
supersedes compassion.
24. Is this the writer’s attempt to ignore that the same issues are very
much alive today?
31. Much of this stanza is about the writer, or dreamer, trying to let
dead horses lie. Why does she have to be haunted by what should have been
long dead and buried? This conflict is portrayed with craft. Excellent.
28. How does turning milky white facilitate the horse’s ability to take
flight? Is it because it makes him ghostly and able to haunt a dreamer?
Also, is there something here that relates to a message of not to whitewash
what’s going on today? In other words, not to ignore the white horse in the
living room?
30. Now comes the blasting away of all pretense. Suddenly, this message is
right in the reader’s face. No guess work.
Powerful ending. I think this poem needs to be published.
------------------
In a Dream Came the White, Mine Horse
by Alice Jane-Marie Massa
1. In a dream came the white horse
2. whose story Margie told.
3. The massive, milky white horse,
4. who had worked at the coal mine
5. that bordered our property line,
6. galloped gracefully into my dream
7. to tell me the stories
8. of the turn-of-the century mines,
9. the Indiana mines of the early 1900s,
10. and much more.
11. Born in Italy, in 1879, my grandfather--
12. who, despite his 6’1”-height, worked the mines for too many years--
13. insisted with only a light Italian accent and a couple of tears,
14. “None of my four sons will ever set foot
15. in a coal mine.”
16. None did.
17. Yet, the massive, milky white horse,
18. from the old mine near my house,
19. trots boldly into my dream.
10. “I know your story. Go away! Go away!
11. I do not have an apple nor hay for you,” I say.
17. He whinnies with laughter and does not obey.
18. The massive, milky white horse speaks in my dream,
19. “Don’t you know I eat coal dust?
20. Do you know why my eyes are yellow?
21. Because from all those miners,
22. I caught the lust for gold.”
23. He whinnies with laughter, and my body turns cold.
24. “Forget this pretense of the present tense,” I snap.
25. “Margie told me you drowned in that old pond—
26. the pond, near the shale hill, our mountain.”
27. “Oh, so, you do know why I am
28. so massive and milky white.”
29. “If you had really worked in the mine,
30. you wouldn’t be so tall and white.
31. Just go! Go, and let me sleep.”
31. “Listen, I was not always a horse of twenty hands;
32. as a colt, I was a white or cream.
23. Of course, when I worked, I grew gray and black
24. from the ever-present coal dust. How that life weighed down my back!
25. But, after all those years
26. of washing in that old pond,
27. I turned a milky white
28. so that I could take flight
29. into your dream to tell you:
30. lobby against Connally Coal Company—
31. they will blast and scrape and sour
32. your pretty, little town.”
33. I lie back down, but cannot sleep.
34. Wiping coal dust from my eyes, I begin to weep.
------------
A most ambitious project this I find. An archaic way of speaking, are the
way you write your lines. Awkward to my New Jersey ears, it sometimes seems
un-sublime. So many ands and syllables to wrap around a rhyme. These
ancient folk their brains must have been caught up in a bind.
This narrative poem violates so many rules of modern writing custom that it
’s difficult to critique, especially since you make it work. So my
suggestions are minimal because I don’t know when a suggestion would change the
authenticity of the style you are using.
The story is a classic theme. We love to find a flaw in what seems to be a
perfect hero. When we do, we hurt them and they go from a god to a demon.
We love to find scapegoats. When we do tear down a person or minority it
is often because we believe they think they are better then us. Well, we’ll
show them.
Anyway, the story is told well. I’ve made a few suggestions for
consideration.
There is a plethora of “ands.” Is that part of the style? You certainly
don’t need them by modern standards.
Line 11: “Unlooked for,” was confusing. “Surprisingly,” would be
clearer.
Line 21: “countenance has too many syllables for the rhythm. “Face doesn’
t hold exactly the same meaning. But it flows better.
All the rhyming is superb. The pattern of the rhymes is consistent. You
must have worked hard and long to achieve that.
Lines 31 to 33: A wonderfully efficient and profound way of encapsulating
a complex concept.
Line 39: Leave out “new.” It will help the rhythm. The rest of that verse
is great in rhythm and rhyme.
Line 46: Leave out “most.” It breaks the rhythm and says nothing.
Line 52: Change “people” to a single syllable word, such as mob.
Line 56: change “brightly to bright,”
Line 57: Leave out “certain.”
Line 64: Cut down the number of syllables in either location or beloved or
both. For example: “locus” for “location.”
Line 72: Substitute “leaving” for “with.” I think you need an extra
syllable here.
Line 77: I think this should start a new stanza.
---------------------
The midwife’s cat
© by Brad Corallo
Word count 540
1.A strange young woman lived alone a mile or so from town.
2. She was honored for her skill and wisdom
3. by folks for miles around.
4. Her spotless old stone cottage was well maintained and sound.
5. And her steadfast loyal companion
6; was a lost cat she had found.
7. In the woods she found her wounded
8. hurt nye unto her death.
9. And even with her skill she feared
10. the cat had taken its last breath.
11. But unlooked for the cat recovered
12. and grew fat and hale and strong.
13. And the woman’s joy and gratitude
14. would overflow from her in song.
15. For many years they lived that way.
16. In quiet happiness they dwelt.
17. For her counsel and her aid
18. to all were freely dealt.
19. She healed the sick and tended berths
20. for ladies poor and fine.
21. There were those who swore Her countenance
22. was touch by hand divine.
23. While others said it wasn’t so;
24. she just was wise and very kind .
25. And where she would go
26. so would her cat.
27. They seldom were apart
28. as the cat’s love for her mistress
29. went deeper than the heart.
30. But dear friends, as we all know
31. good situations seldom last.
32. And wonders of the present soon
33. become horrors of the past.
34. For on a stormy night was summoned
35. our good midwife to preside
36. at the berthing of the Mayer’s child.
37. Her cat was by her side.
38. But things went wrong.
39. no song was sung to celebrate new life.
40. for all beheld a stillborn monster
41. in the flickering candle light.
42. In their fear outrage and sorrow
43. the people’s mood grew cold.
44. And out of no where untrue stories
45. of our heroine were told.
46. She was said to be unnatural and most certainly demonic.
47. Those she’d helped the most maligned her loudest
48. how bitterly ironic!
49. Exhorted by the evil parson
50. the Mayer and his grieving wife.
51. The mob proclaimed she was to blame
52. and screamed “we‘ll have her life!”
53. The evil parson told the people
54. “by fire not the knife!
55. For she’s a witch and her devil cat
56. must burn brightly at the steak tonight .
57. It’s the only certain way to insure
58. the breaking of Her curse’s might!”
59. So eagerly a fire, in the town square did they lay.
60. For they all swore she would never see
61. the dawning of the coming day.
62. From her home they roughly dragged her
63. and brought her to the square.
64. But the location of her beloved cat
65. the people knew not where.
66. By the town’s good citizens she was bound
67. to the steak and the flames ignited.
68. And though none there would admit it,
69. in their hearts they were excited!
70. They watched her burn to ashes
71. while her cat watched from a tree.
72. After the people scattered, with her world shattered
73. from the horror she did flee .
74. The cat lived on as felines will
75. but spent her life in sorrow.
74. Though only a cat she understood
75. for her mistress no tomorrow.
77. A mystery is the human heart
78. to the cat and to this poet.
79. For our steps have left the path of love
80. and our species doesn’t know it!
-------------
This piece is a tribute to a lifelong friendship. It speaks of a main
foundation for that relationship, that of art and writing. That relationship
was founded as children and the same cornerstones are valid today as they
were at the beginning. The story made me feel good and thankful that the
writer has this in her life.
Not all the details of the dreams came true, but the important thing was
having the dreams and sharing them.
I wonder why the artist used a male’s name...
I love your description of how the two of you spurred each other on to
create in your respective mediums. Encouragement and appreciation seems to
have been the major tools.
I love the verse regarding senior high school. The mentioning of the three
songs you heard playing in the background is especially good. I only
remember the Knights in White Satin but it took me right to the time and place.
I can’t think of anything I would want to change. I can’t think of
anything that needs to be added.
This poem would make a lovely Valentine’s Day gift to your friend.
-------------
Sisters
Valerie Moreno
We weren't from the same family,
but it didn't matter.
Drawn together by creativity,
we spoke of dreams with colors
and words all our own.
You were the artist,
sketches adorning notebooks like flowers.
Horses and filigree and
your artiste name "Thomas Edgar".
I was "The Author",
a name you gave me I cherished,
because you meant it, pouring over
my poetry and stories with excitement.
In the noisy world of senior high,
we talked of colaborating as the jukebox
played "Nights In White Satin",
"Wild World" and "Revolution".
Our success turned out to be
marriage, children, finding faith.
Yet, you and I still speak of
contrast and color as artist, author share life as
sisters in heart and spirit as we did
all those years ago.
-----------
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