Help needed

[GuiltyPleasure]

I've struggled with this stubborn poem that will not let me rest. Perhaps it's because the subject is not easy.....Have at it, what's wrong, what's right. I need to know.

(tentative title) The Colours of her Life

Through unspeakable grief
the artist barely hears the service
horrified to think
that his daughter was the exception.

Looking away from the small white box
and up at the simple cross above,
he sees the object as an aberration,
once a comfort, it seems to mock.

Eight stained glass shapes
each one a solid colour
lit from behind by
buzzing fluorescent strips,
faux stained glass that erases
any thoughts of faith.

The ugly image hisses lies.
He longs to break it,
smash each frame and the light
behind that served the falsehood.
Replace it

with something ingenuous
to represent what she had been.
What she would have been,
should have been.

Those who had known
immortalize her each in their own way,
one with a tender pencil sketch,
another with softly spoken words.
poetry embodying her life.
Then in music, a lullaby
for the already sleeping.

But he chooses to paint her life
with colours rioting together.
Red for the joy she brought,
black for her early death,
yellows and greens for hope and sanctuary,
purple desire, frail peaceful blues
and white for laughter.

A frenzied chorus of colour
blended by ambient sunlight,
redemptive and rich, singing of
everything and its opposites.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Revised using suggestions PM-ed.


Through voiceless grief,
the artist barely hears the service,
horrified to think that his daughter was the exception.

He looks away from the small white box,
and up at the simple cross above.
he sees it as an aberration,
once a comfort, it mocks.

Six stained glass squares
each one a solid primary colour
back lit by buzzing fluorescent strips,
faux stained glass that erase
any thoughts of faith.

The ugly image hisses lies.
He longs to break it,
smash each frame and the light
behind that served the falsehood.
Replace it

with something ingenuous
to represent what she had been.
What she would have been,
should have been.

Those who knew her
eulogize her each in their own way,
one with a tender pencil sketch,
another with softly spoken words.
poetry embodying her life.
Then in music, a lullaby
for the already sleeping.

But he chooses to paint her life
with colours rioting together.
Red for the joy she brought,
black for her early death,
yellows and greens for hope and sanctuary,
purple desire, frail peaceful blues
and white for laughter.

A frenzied chorus of colour
blended by ambient sunlight,
redemptive and rich, singing of
everything and its opposites.

 

[Angeline]

This is a lovely poem and obviously very personal, so it's tough for me to see changes that improve over just make it more my style...

But a few thoughts:

Line 6 "He" should be capped, no? And I'd maybe use a full stop, rather than a comma at the end of the line and make the following line its own sentence. That feels stronger to me.

Line 10 I think "backlit" is one word

Line 11 I think "erase" is correct (since its referent is plural), but it sounds off following "glass," which is singular. You could get around that by using "squares" instead.

Line 18 Is "ingenuous" the best word here? Maybe "authentic" or some other, more personal option?

Line 25 Should there be a comma rather than a period after "words"?

Line 29 I don't think you need to start that line with "But." Sounds better without it to me.

Line 33 Maybe just me but why are yellows and greens (and blues two lines down) plurals? The other colors are singular...would it read stronger if they were all singular? (Not sure, just a thought.)


Overall a rich yet delicate poem. I am sorry for your loss, PoeTess.

 

[twelveoone]

Line 33 Maybe just me but why are yellows and greens (and blues two lines down) plurals? The other colors are singular...would it read stronger if they were all singular? (Not sure, just a thought.)ide

no, those colours would be widely varied
#2 is a tougher version
#1 looked a little diffuse, uncentered

singing of everything and its opposites. is a strange line, what does it mean to you?

 

[BooMerengue]

Triss

I read it several times. I won't suggest changes cuz it sometimes changes the meanings. But what occurred to me after the third reading was that there was no rhythm. I don't mean rhythm as in form poetry. It just seems awkward. I don't know if this will help, but I hope so. You've always been a help to me.

 

[ishtat]

I like this a lot. Not much to add.

Possibly in line 5 'and up at' could be reduced to 2 or even one word. Thought it a bit clunky .

Line 11. iffy about 'erase'. Mock, possibly?

Line 18. Disagree with Angeline about 'ingenuous' I reckon it's right - I tried 'innocent' but that is entirely different meaning.

Also disagree with Angeline (Brave or foolish?) about the plurals of Yellows and Greens. In nature they are a myriad different hues, so that seems right.

Last line, 'everything and its opposite(s?)' Had a long think but it looks more right as I re-read.

Repeat. I really like this.

 

[ninianne]

First off, let me just agree that you have a masterful command of the language. There were images here, particularly in the last section, that just felt right. I did agree that I wish there was more rhythm to it--not the sing-song of meter, but rhythm. In a way, it felt like this subject might have been too close to you--I could see what was going on--the picture was painted, but I had a hard time feeling the emotional resonances behind the picture, if that makes any sense. Bear in mind, I'm not a parent.

Having said that, I do have a few suggestions:

section 1: be really careful using adverbs. They're quick, they're easy, but they're also weak words. It seems like you're saying something like: he couldn't hear the service because he was screaming inside, or the sight of his daughter's coffin made the words of the service fade in and out (neither of those restatements is meant to be poetic). You never tell in the poem why "his daughter was the exception" (because she died? of illness? of an accident?) and that's probably not necessary for the reader to know. However, if telling us isn't an important part of the poem, why state that she "was the exception"?

section 2: The first thing I noticed here was that you say "up" and then "above"--one of those is probably (yes, I know. adverb--reviews should be weaker than poetry) unnecessary. Here was one of the places where it seemed like I was seeing the poem instead of feeling it. I get that he is disgusted by religion and the cold comfort it tries to give him at the moment. But you're using words that are intellectual like: "aberration" and "mock" which are not very connotatively rich. What does it make him feel, in his gut, in the back of his throat, in his hands--artists have such expressive hands (and artist--that's a profession. again, we're stepping back from the human relationship of daddy or even father, which have more emotional resonance)

section 3-5: I like how you're relying on visual imagry here. As an artist, he should feel things through vision. I don't necessarily get the connection he makes between the backlit stained glass and lack of faith. It's obviously an important image, but I can't unpack it enough to really get what you mean--and again, it's couched in intellectual terms--this image = lack of faith, not anything concrete.
I assume that the "ugly image" is still the backlit glass (which is why I tacked these three sections together--a single image process). I like the fact that he feels impelled into action--although the thing he's fighting is another abstract--"the falsehood"
I like section 5--not necessarily the "something ingenous" by which (I think) you mean the art project he ends up visualizing at the end of the poem. But I really like the final three lines in that section--there's strength to the repitition, and it's one of the places where I feel the rhythm of the poem.

section 6: I like this--it reminds me of my nephew's funeral which was way to recent.

section7-8: is this painting if he want's to make a new window? I like the image of this, I do hesitate over the fact you've assigned meaning to each color. There's a danger in over defining.
I also like this ending, until we get back to the abstract--"redemptive"--who needs redemption? the daughter? the father? the religion? the funeral? This may even have nothing to do with the message of the poem, but once you say it, it's in there. Also, what "opposites" are there for "everything"? are you willing to let the reader pick--nothing? (that's my first word that comes to mind, and it feels wrong in context) death? loss? I don't know what an appropriate memorial would be to the narrator.
Again, I go back to my nephew's funeral. My sister was disappointed with the program, not because of anything except the fact it used baby imagry. He died a five days old, but he was more than tumbling blocks or a pacifier--he was one of god's warrior angels, now. It strikes me that this narrator is having a similar moment--he wants to memorialize his daughter in a way that feels right to him. And while I get what it would look like, I still don't have a feel for what he means by it "redemption and rich" "everything and it's opposites" just make me curious as to what that could mean without feeling with him.

Ah well. I'm sorry to be so long winded. Good luck with this. I think you have the core of something really good here.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

This is a lovely poem and obviously very personal, so it's tough for me to see changes that improve over just make it more my style...

But a few thoughts:

Line 6 "He" should be capped, no? And I'd maybe use a full stop, rather than a comma at the end of the line and make the following line its own sentence. That feels stronger to me.

That period was a comma, lost in the editing. So, no, it is meant to be lower case. I should edit my editing.

Line 10 I think "backlit" is one word

I do prefer the original (sorry B) "lit from behind"

Line 11 I think "erase" is correct (since its referent is plural), but it sounds off following "glass," which is singular. You could get around that by using "squares" instead.

I'm in two minds here - perhaps rejigging it? -

Six faux stained glass squares
each one a solid primary colour
back lit by buzzing fluorescent strips,
an image that erases any thoughts of faith.


Line 18 Is "ingenuous" the best word here? Maybe "authentic" or some other, more personal option?

Here is where language, accents and the ear conflict. To me "authentic" is cold and official-sounding. Because I wanted a certain feeling here I used "ingenuous", the father is in conflict with his god who seems (to him) to have betrayed him and he is confronted by a crucifix better suited to a supermarket, it feels confining and fake to him. I was trying for a combination of sincerity, innocence and honesty all of which the modern, rather cold cross lacks in his eyes.

Line 25 Should there be a comma rather than a period after "words"?

Yes editing again.

Line 29 I don't think you need to start that line with "But." Sounds better without it to me.

You're right, of course.

Line 33 Maybe just me but why are yellows and greens (and blues two lines down) plurals? The other colors are singular...would it read stronger if they were all singular? (Not sure, just a thought.)

I can't decide, it just tumbled out like that - instinct won.

Overall a rich yet delicate poem. I am sorry for your loss, PoeTess.

A PM explained that there was no loss but I thank you.

Thank you for this, you always make me better.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

no, those colours would be widely varied
#2 is a tougher version
#1 looked a little diffuse, uncentered

singing of everything and its opposites. is a strange line, what does it mean to you?

What do you mean "tougher" - harder to read? understand? more brutal?

By "looked diffused" do you mean the layout or the thinking?

Sorry to be so obtuse.

In the last line I wanted one final punch to show how totally lost this man is in his grief - she was more than everything to him.

Thank you for this but I (like Oliver) want more, please.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Triss

I read it several times. I won't suggest changes cuz it sometimes changes the meanings. But what occurred to me after the third reading was that there was no rhythm. I don't mean rhythm as in form poetry. It just seems awkward. I don't know if this will help, but I hope so. You've always been a help to me.

I want to convey the feelings of disconnection that loss creates, perhaps that's the problem. You have a great poetic eye so thank you.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

I like this a lot. Not much to add.

Possibly in line 5 'and up at' could be reduced to 2 or even one word. Thought it a bit clunky .

I've read it both ways - the "and" gives an auditory break between "box" and "up" which sounds right to me.

Line 11. iffy about 'erase'. Mock, possibly?

Because the light is buzzing behind the crucifix I like the sibilation.

Line 18. Disagree with Angeline about 'ingenuous' I reckon it's right - I tried 'innocent' but that is entirely different meaning.

I talk with Ange about this in her quoted post.

Also disagree with Angeline (Brave or foolish?) about the plurals of Yellows and Greens. In nature they are a myriad different hues, so that seems right.

I think I agree.

Last line, 'everything and its opposite(s?)' Had a long think but it looks more right as I re-read.

1201 took issue with this but I still like it, so thank you

Repeat. I really like this.

Many thanks, this has been very interesting and informative not to mention helpful.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

First off, let me just agree that you have a masterful command of the language. There were images here, particularly in the last section, that just felt right. I did agree that I wish there was more rhythm to it--not the sing-song of meter, but rhythm. In a way, it felt like this subject might have been too close to you--I could see what was going on--the picture was painted, but I had a hard time feeling the emotional resonances behind the picture, if that makes any sense. Bear in mind, I'm not a parent.

Having said that, I do have a few suggestions:

section 1: be really careful using adverbs. They're quick, they're easy, but they're also weak words. It seems like you're saying something like: he couldn't hear the service because he was screaming inside, or the sight of his daughter's coffin made the words of the service fade in and out (neither of those restatements is meant to be poetic). You never tell in the poem why "his daughter was the exception" (because she died? of illness? of an accident?) and that's probably not necessary for the reader to know. However, if telling us isn't an important part of the poem, why state that she "was the exception"?


The prototype had the opening lines -

Through numbing grief
he hears the sermon,
God’s love of all living things,
horrified to think
that his daughter was the exception.

but I cut it because it seemed uneccessary. Perhaps I was wrong.

section 2: The first thing I noticed here was that you say "up" and then "above"--one of those is probably (yes, I know. adverb--reviews should be weaker than poetry) unnecessary. Here was one of the places where it seemed like I was seeing the poem instead of feeling it. I get that he is disgusted by religion and the cold comfort it tries to give him at the moment. But you're using words that are intellectual like: "aberration" and "mock" which are not very connotatively rich. What does it make him feel, in his gut, in the back of his throat, in his hands--artists have such expressive hands (and artist--that's a profession. again, we're stepping back from the human relationship of daddy or even father, which have more emotional resonance)


Points taken. I think I lost the "above" along the way. I find revising and rethinking my poems often fogs them up. I am a completely instinctual poet and, often, if the original doesn't work it never will. That's not to say I am not hungry to learn.

section 3-5: I like how you're relying on visual imagry here. As an artist, he should feel things through vision. I don't necessarily get the connection he makes between the backlit stained glass and lack of faith. It's obviously an important image, but I can't unpack it enough to really get what you mean--and again, it's couched in intellectual terms--this image = lack of faith, not anything concrete.


In my mind he sees it as crass. It's probably an attempt at modernity, he is an esthete and finds it ugly and insulting under the circumstances. He is also finding his beliefs fragile.

I assume that the "ugly image" is still the backlit glass (which is why I tacked these three sections together--a single image process). I like the fact that he feels impelled into action--although the thing he's fighting is another abstract--"the falsehood"
I like section 5--not necessarily the "something ingenous" by which (I think) you mean the art project he ends up visualizing at the end of the poem. But I really like the final three lines in that section--there's strength to the repitition, and it's one of the places where I feel the rhythm of the poem.

section 6: I like this--it reminds me of my nephew's funeral which was way to recent.

I'm so sorry. There's always a chance that a subject like this will be painful to someone. I hope you will forgive me, I didn't go into writing it lightly.

section7-8: is this painting if he want's to make a new window? I like the image of this, I do hesitate over the fact you've assigned meaning to each color. There's a danger in over defining.

Not really, he just wants his child represented to others as he saw her.

I also like this ending, until we get back to the abstract--"redemptive"--who needs redemption? the daughter? the father? the religion? the funeral? This may even have nothing to do with the message of the poem, but once you say it, it's in there.

All of the above apart from the funeral.

Also, what "opposites" are there for "everything"? are you willing to let the reader pick--nothing? (that's my first word that comes to mind, and it feels wrong in context) death? loss? I don't know what an appropriate memorial would be to the narrator.

It is an attempt to show the monstrous loss he feels. 1201 asks the same question.

Again, I go back to my nephew's funeral. My sister was disappointed with the program, not because of anything except the fact it used baby imagry. He died a five days old, but he was more than tumbling blocks or a pacifier--he was one of god's warrior angels, now. It strikes me that this narrator is having a similar moment--he wants to memorialize his daughter in a way that feels right to him. And while I get what it would look like, I still don't have a feel for what he means by it "redemption and rich" "everything and it's opposites" just make me curious as to what that could mean without feeling with him.

Then the poem doesn't work and it's back to the drawing board.

Ah well. I'm sorry to be so long winded. Good luck with this. I think you have the core of something really good here.

No, no, please don't apologise. This thread and all the angles (angels?) are very helpful indeed.

 

[Remec]

I dropped you a PM...sudden case of the bashfuls today.

 

[twelveoone]

What do you mean "tougher" - harder to read? understand? more brutal?

By "looked diffused" do you mean the layout or the thinking?

Sorry to be so obtuse.

In the last line I wanted one final punch to show how totally lost this man is in his grief - she was more than everything to him.

Thank you for this but I (like Oliver) want more, please.

tougher was a bad choice of words
diffused, not so
you are invoking two powerful sets of emotion
revulsion the man's reaction to the service which tends to overshadow what I thing is what you want as the center
a tribute, a celebration of life

you may even do better with a two part poem

i know what you are trying to do with the last line, you don't want it there, on multiple reads it may look pretentious.

here is a slight rewording, redemptive is now the final word


A frenzied chorus of colour
blended by ambient sunlight, (you may want reword and shift this line, above he chorus)
singing of everything
and its opposites,
rich and redemptive.

something like this, so it gives a straight line to the operative word
"redemptive"


blended by ambient sunlight,
A frenzied chorus of colour
singing of everything
and its opposites,
rich and redemptive.

tess, i fell awkward being so cold about the poem, I wrote two such, one i lost control off, the other i finished and destroyed. neither was redemptive, the resolution may help.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

tougher was a bad choice of words
diffused, not so
you are invoking two powerful sets of emotion
revulsion the man's reaction to the service which tends to overshadow what I thing is what you want as the center
a tribute, a celebration of life

you may even do better with a two part poem

i know what you are trying to do with the last line, you don't want it there, on multiple reads it may look pretentious.

here is a slight rewording, redemptive is now the final word


A frenzied chorus of colour
blended by ambient sunlight, (you may want reword and shift this line, above he chorus)
singing of everything
and its opposites,
rich and redemptive.

something like this, so it gives a straight line to the operative word
"redemptive"


blended by ambient sunlight,
A frenzied chorus of colour
singing of everything
and its opposites,
rich and redemptive.

tess, i fell awkward being so cold about the poem, I wrote two such, one i lost control off, the other i finished and destroyed. neither was redemptive, the resolution may help.

Yes, losing control - I know the feeling, particularly with this one,

 

[ninianne]

I'm so sorry. There's always a chance that a subject like this will be painful to someone. I hope you will forgive me, I didn't go into writing it lightly.

No worries. In the past--has it really been five months since April?--I have had a new theme added to my poetry. I know it's too soon. I know I keep on writing mediocre things about dead babies because whenever I am drawn to the theme, I get caught up in my own emotions and leave out words that would make someone else feel it because I don't need those words to feel it myself. I may never be able to write good poetry about it. But a good quarter of the poems I've written in the past five months have been about him.

Then the poem doesn't work and it's back to the drawing board.

Just to clarify, (on the theory that I tend to talk around things until I finally figure out what I meant in the first place) the thing I'm not quite sure of is how he sees her. I did get that his picture would be a memorial, but I don't know the emotional resonance that he'll put into it for her sake. Right now, the main feelings of the poem are grief (as it should be) and despair (the lack of faith thing). I know in my head that the underlying reason is love for his daughter, but I don't have a feel for how he saw/sees her. Yes, the painting is an important image. But I don't get what it would mean to him.

From a line in the beginning, I was kind of assuming that she was a child--possibly even an infant (that's me reading dead babies--sorry) who died of illness or natural causes or possibly an accident (like an exercise bike fell on her (that happened to the child of a friend of mine), not like a car accident, where there's another driver to hate)--the kind of thing where the only thing left to blame is god (although even then, a parent deals with guilt).

The only reason I say that, is to let you know how I interpret the poem--after all, the poem I'm reading may or may not be the one you wrote. And another person, one without a recent funeral, might not have seen the daughter as young . . . there's a different vibe when it's an adult whose funeral it is.

 

[twelveoone]

tess i like the contrast with the lighting in the first and the second part, but Q. when is sunlight not ambient?

the contrast with the colours needs to be somehow improved
solid primary colours
?

vs

frenzied chorus of colour
Red for the joy she brought,
black for her early death,
yellows and greens for hope and sanctuary,
purple desire, frail peaceful blues
and white for laughter.

another possibility, reordering

a laughing white with flowering yellows
the peaceful greens of spring
a joyous red balanced by quieter blues
black for a death too soon

here i feel the use of adjectives would suit a purpose, they are descriptors and you are trying to describe both a painting and a child's life, also furnishing a contrast between the solid primary blocks above, they also tend to add a music strengthening the chorus

purple will be tricky, the colour will mean something different to a child


sorry, these are just thoughts, i was thinking about this today. give it a few days, let it reform in your mind