Critique please

[TheObserver]

Hello,

A request for critique for the following poem


Beasts of burden

It is close to noon in June,
and the tar under my car
is softening.

A mare, or a horse, or a mule
hitched to a cart,
stacked with white bags of chemical fertilizer
has stopped at the start
of a flyover.

The
d r i v e r
yelling at it,
cracks his whip,
egging it up the slope.
Traffic, in trouble with both.

I
in a hurry,
in a car,
in a jam, watch
the needle of temperature gauge
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp creep towards red…

‘At the danger mark’ heads
from inside window panes
in their seats, on their seats,
display their veins,
their open mouths moving.
They have no voice
in the noise
of honking horns and cursing cart man.
He has many things to say
but no one to hear his pray.

People
sit
and the mare, or the horse or the mule
stands,
unmoved.

Just after half past one,
from cool air conditioned cocoons,
men come out in the blazing sun
(not me, being a poet, I sit and see)
to get behind the cart and push.
Under cracking whip and cart man quips
they &nbsp push and &nbsp &nbsp push and &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp push
to the top of the curve.
From there the mare, or the horse or the mule
quickly reacquires its automotive verve.

 

[WickedEve]

I do like this except for a few spots.

The internal rhymes in your first stanza just aren't working.
It is close to noon in June,
and the tar under my car
is softening.

I'd change car to something like Ford or whatever. And I'd change June to July or August, for example.

At first, I wasn't sure if I liked "A mare, or a horse, or a mule." I think I'd like to see you choose one, but upon second reading it seems interesting.

"I
in a hurry,
in a car,
in a jam, watch"
My first impression of this part was that it sounded like Seuss.

Other than those few spots I think this a good poem.


Disclaimer: The above are suggestions only. Use what you like, lose what you don't.

Eve

 

[Senna Jawa]

Hello,

A request for critique for the following poem

A pleasant surprize. Your poem is good. It has image, it has its drama, and no BS. You may make it a bit still more so, a bit crisper. You need to be aware of certain notions which lead to technical improvements.

Beasts of burden

    It is close to noon in June,
    and the tar under my car
    is softening.

Let me second Eve's motion about the internal rhymes. Yours here are "in your face". You may have isolated internal rhymes when they are discrete. In this case you would need to have them across the whole poem, and it would be a different poem, possibly a funny poem. As Eve said, get rid of them.

close to noon--in poetry you don't have to be so carefully precise. You may replace the whole line with:


    june
    noon

(or should it be July?

Or you may have something like:

    summer in [region_name]
    noon

Next, you may be artistically more alert to being purely objective in a very direct, naive sense, to being nothing but reporter. I am referring to your "exceeding knowledge" of the state of the tar under your car. Instead provide the reader only with what can be seen and felt, not with any product of your advanced education, logic... Don't show off yourself, as an aurthor, smart, leave implications like softening of the tar (asfalt) to readers. Thus just describe the look of the asfalt on the road, in full sun, and write how handling the car feels, perhaps you might use a simile, compare it to a kayak or to a boat whith loose rudder or to a drunk dancer or... But be careful. Your poem has to be integrated, it has to be a whole.

Think all the time in the terms of juxtapositions, of disconnected items, and let the reader do all the logical connecting between the events, parts, ... be like a child, like a camera+tape recorder+smell recorder+touch recorder+cold/warm/hot recorder... and not more.

    a mare or a horse or a mule
    hitched to a cart
    stacked with white bags of chemical fertilizer
    has stopped at the start
    of a flyover

(You don't need any punctuation or upper case). Along the above idea of pure reporting, avoid "hitched" (if you were describing the operation of htching the mule to the cart then it would be different). The image you need to convey is simpler: "in front of a cart" or "a cart behind it"--something like this. Also, you didn't see it stopping (or if you did it is not essential to the poem). Also, avoid "at"!!!Don't connect logically stopping and the flyover. Just write that it stays in place. And you could introduce the overfly before you mention the cart, as a part of scenery. You would have a sequence from large to smaller, more specific: region, road, overfly, cars and the cart, facing the overfly. Quietly, you would get a pleasant harmony instead of the sudden overfly given without respect of being an image. (I am sure about each of my comments, including the respect for the overfly, but not about the sequence--it's not a bad suggestion but you may choose your more chaotic order too; just leave the explicit logical connections, like "stopped at", to your readers, let them do the thinking and associating).

"of chemical fertilizer' is a poetically impotent shortcut. Describe the large signs on the bags or the excaping powder, when it shakes... Don't be soooo scientific and smart. Let us have an idea of their size and of their number and shape, of the material used for packaging (plastic, paper, material? shiny? glazed? coarse?...)

    The
    d r i v e r
    yelling at it,
    cracks his whip,
    egging it up the slope.
    Traffic, in trouble with both.

You were worried about the confusion, hence you have invented an ad hoc defensive shortcut "d r i v e r". It makes no sense, artistically it is a sticking out sore finger. Trust your readers and simply write "driver" or think of a good synonim or whatever. Straight "driver" would do. "at it" is very bad. This is not poetry. In general, be paranoid about pronouns. And here you don't even need this stupid logic, leave it to the reader. Simply skip it (or write this stanza anew, have a yelling driver, but don't say that it is yelling AT the mule). By the same token, don't say that the driver is "egging it" (again that "it"). Say that the cart is egging. That's it, no connection. You will have a pure image. Let it be your reflex, instinct, avoid logic, have camera only. BTW, it is more important, image wise and in every way, and dramatic that the cart is egging, not the mule. (But if you have to have it there then say something like marehorsemule instead of "it").

"Traffic, in trouble..." is another impotent expression. (and be paranoid about antropomorphisations, especially about the ad hoc antropomorphisations).

    I
    in a hurry
    in a car
    in a jam watch
    the needle of temperature gauge
    &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp creep towards red…

Don't say that "I" is watching the needle. It is enough to say that "needle touches the red" (or "is creeping", but I would avoid the antropomorphism). Never ever make a big deal about "I". Pure reportage will do. Thus instead of
"in a hurry" (too abstract) report about fingers drumming on the wheel or about constant checking the wrist watch...

Get rid of that indentation before "creep" (if you keep the stanza's verbiage as is)--your readers will feel the suspension, the tension on their own, trust them (or forget them, but don't spoil your poem).

I'll leave you now. I hope that you got plenty or at least an idea. That now you will not write that "heads...display..." (an ad hoc antropomorphism), that instead you'll have heads and veins as separate items. I hope that you will snear at your ending. Etc. Good luck, it is a good poem. Make it better.

Senna Jawa

PS. I liked the honest "mare or horse or mule". Make it work still better

 

[Senna Jawa]

Re: Re: Critique please

A pleasant surprize. Your poem is good. It has image, it has its drama, and no BS. You may make it a bit still more so, a bit crisper. You need to be aware of certain notions which lead to technical improvements.

My comments about purely objective reporting (down to the bare ground and bare bones), about not making fuss about the lirical subject (or about the author him/herself!), and other, should not be considered as merely technical but viewed in the context of what poetry is. The changes may be "technical" but the difference is fundamental.

 

[TheObserver]

Another version

5th rewrite - and the last I hope 05-21-2003

Beasts of burden

At midday in June,
near the railway flyover,
tires leave their mark
on the soft tar surface.

A mare, or a horse, or a mule
pulls a cart,
stacked with white plastic bags.
'U R E A' stenciled on
bag upon bag upon bag...

The
driver
yelling,
cracks his whip,
eggs it up the slope.
But cart and traffic stop.

(I, in a seat,
in a car, in a jam,
as temperature gauge rises towards red.)

Behind closed windows,
at-the-danger-mark faces,
in their seats, on their seats,
wave their hands,
open mouths moving.
They have no voice
in the noise
of honking horns and cursing cart man.
He has things to say
but no one hears him pray.

People
sit
and the mare, or the horse, or the mule
stands,
unmoved

after an hour
still
unmoved.

Just after half past one,
from cool air-conditioned cocoons,
men come out in the blazing sun
(not me, being a poet, I sit and see)
to get behind the cart and push.
Under cracking whip and cart man’s quips
they &nbsp push and &nbsp &nbsp push and &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp push.

As the cart begins to climb
weight of the bags shifts behind,
all four feet
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp now five feet in air.
(I lean forward for a better view,
make a note, this is not a mare.)

 

[TheObserver]

Thank you Wicked Eve and Senna Jawa -

Thanks to both Wicked Eve and Senna Jawa. I am sorry I had already written another version before I could really digest your comments.

I will now re write it again, and try and take care of points raised by you both.

 

[TheObserver]

Final version - critique please

Beasts of burden

Summer midday,
near the railway flyover,
tires leave their mark
on the soft tar surface.

A mare, or a horse, or a mule
pulls a cart,
stacked with white plastic bags.
'U R E A' stenciled on
bag upon bag upon bag...

The
driver
yelling,
cracks his whip,
goads it up the slope.
Cart and traffic both,
stop.

(I, in my seat,
in a car, in a jam,
as temperature rises towards red.)

Behind closed windows,
at-the-danger-mark faces,
in their seats, on their seats,
wave their hands,
open mouths moving.
They have no voice
in the noise
of honking horns and cursing cart man.
He has things to say
but no one hears his pray.

People
sit
and the mare, or the horse or the mule
stands,
unmoved

after an hour
still
unmoved.

Just after half past one,
from cool air conditioned cocoons,
men emerge in the blazing sun
to get behind the cart and push.
(Not me, being a poet, I sit and see.)
Under whizzing whip and cart man's quips
they &nbsp push and &nbsp &nbsp push and &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp push.

As the cart begins to climb
weight of bags shifts behind,
all four feet
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp now five feet in air.
(Lean forward for a better view,
make a note, this is not a mare.)

 

[Rybka]

Observer, Please e-mail me with an active return address.

Regards,                                 Rybka

rybka_@hotmail.com