Greenmountain's Passive Voice

[Unmasked Poet]

I'm asking you to be brave, I am asking that you enter this thread without baggage. lets just talk about this poem and what you think it means.

Passive Voice by Greenmountaineer

I neither smelled of dirt nor plastic.
Mine was a faint smell, really.
One had to be conscious I was there
By some other means:
Like opening doors for everyone.
I ushered all the ladies through,
Palm touching shoulder,

Then leaned on door frames,
Ventured within
But soon sought sturdy walls
And sliding glass doors
With floor to ceiling drapes,

There to peek,
To see the gentle sway of hips,
The cosmetic color of skin,
And wonder what body heat
My hand may have missed.

 

[annaswirls]

I cannot enter anything without baggage. It is attached to my hips and neck and would require surgery. But it is not bad baggage-- we all read through the lens of experience. But I do not think that is what you meant anyway

I cannot logically go through the poem and defend my position through all of the lines, but the feeling I got from the poem was that of a funeral home, the voice being the recently deceased. The cosmetic colors of the corpse, not smelling of dirt (where he came and is returning) nor plastic (from the life he has left) the physical descriptions of ushering people in, floor to ceiling drapes, reminded me of the funeral homes I have been in. The emotional components-- palm touching shoulder, leaning on door frames makes me think of being supported in a difficult time.

Other parts do not fit with my theory, but it is my initial impression. I am interested to see what others think!

 

[Angeline]

I don't get it. Really. Well maybe I sort of do. It seems to me like it's about an Alfred Prufrocky kind of guy who desires women and at the same time feels really separated from them.

Also, I'm having a hard time getting past the "neither" in the first line, which is in the wrong place.

You could make the argument that this is a smart poem that leaves itself very open to interpretation, but I wouldn't. I think it's pretty unclear and needs work. To me a poem, no matter how metaphoric, should have some basic clarity. I like this poet a lot, but I don't think this is one of greenmoutain's best poems.

 

[Unmasked Poet]

What seems to strike me at the moment is the more ghoulish aspect of the last stanza. Is this person peeking at the women and the corpse? I’m always curious about the intent of the author and how well that message makes the transition to the reader. Does this poem carefully venture toward the taboo? I ask this because of a thread by Wicked Eve To put it delicately.

Anna,
I’m sure your baggage is lovely, I thought a church rather than a funeral home at first read but your mentioning of it has swayed me to see things more your way. Although I wonder why there would a plastic smell in either of those places.

Angeline,
Unclear can be good. Do we want every question answered in a poem? You make a great point about the use of metaphor in general. I think this poem has a hard time with metaphor. The second stanza is filled with it in my opinion and I did find it unsatisfying so at least in this application unclear is not good. Still it is good to ponder any poem.

 

[champagne1982]

Well, I think it's about passive solar heating...

 

[Angeline]

What seems to strike me at the moment is the more ghoulish aspect of the last stanza. Is this person peeking at the women and the corpse? I’m always curious about the intent of the author and how well that message makes the transition to the reader. Does this poem carefully venture toward the taboo? I ask this because of a thread by Wicked Eve To put it delicately.

Anna,
I’m sure your baggage is lovely, I thought a church rather than a funeral home at first read but your mentioning of it has swayed me to see things more your way. Although I wonder why there would a plastic smell in either of those places.

Angeline,
Unclear can be good. Do we want every question answered in a poem? You make a great point about the use of metaphor in general. I think this poem has a hard time with metaphor. The second stanza is filled with it in my opinion and I did find it unsatisfying so at least in this application unclear is not good. Still it is good to ponder any poem.

Agreed that unclear can be good. I can think of poets (like Wallace Stevens, for example) who do unclear really well. But I think a poem works better when you can read it and think "it could mean this or this or this," but not "it could mean anything because I don't know what it means." And I also think you're right, that the first stanza does convey that sense that you could take the meaning as various things but the rest of the poem doesn't. The second and third stanzas seem pedestrian next to the first one.

Well, I think it's about passive solar heating...

Smartass.

 

[vampiredust]

I think it's about writing and the need to shift from a passive to an active voice in order to communicate the message more effectively.

 

[Tzara]

I'm asking you to be brave, I am asking that you enter this thread without baggage. lets just talk about this poem and what you think it means.

Brave. OK.

I kind of feel like I'm taking a projective test and telling my therapist that I see weird sexual images in every inkblot, but here goes:

I read it as a poem about voyeurism, set in a hotel perhaps, where some kind of meeting or gathering is going on. The narrator may be either someone whose position renders them professionally invisible (doorman, waiter, hotel clerk) or, I think more likely, someone casually hanging about, though inconspicuous (neither smelling of dirt (not a street person) nor plastic (this word confuses me a bit, but perhaps not uniformed staff with plastic badges and such?)).

The second and third stanzas are what make the voyeuristic interpretation for me--I read it non-metaphorically, where the narrator is finding some sheltered place where he (presumably he) can spy on the women, whatever they are doing.

I stumble a bit on the word "cosmetic" in the third stanza--it isn't clear to me what purpose that word serves in the poem, though I can see where that might suggest a funeral.

I know, I know. I'm probably creeping y'all out, especially Greenmountaineer.

Hey. I majored in psychology. It messes with your head.

 

[wildsweetone]

I'm asking you to be brave, I am asking that you enter this thread without baggage. lets just talk about this poem and what you think it means.

Passive Voice by Greenmountaineer

I neither smelled of dirt nor plastic.
Mine was a faint smell, really.
One had to be conscious I was there
By some other means:
Like opening doors for everyone.
I ushered all the ladies through,
Palm touching shoulder,

Then leaned on door frames,
Ventured within
But soon sought sturdy walls
And sliding glass doors
With floor to ceiling drapes,

There to peek,
To see the gentle sway of hips,
The cosmetic color of skin,
And wonder what body heat
My hand may have missed.

when i first read this poem i was surprised at the different feel it had to other poems. from the concrete images given, i get a whole lot more than is said. my thoughts were similar to Tzara's.

V1 - perhaps the lyrical subject doesn't smell of dirt or plastic because his/her job is not a labourer or an executive (whatever the term for top management is).

V2 - the LS is there in a scene, but most often un-seen, like a doorman as offered in the poem. a LS who prefers to stand back from the woma(e)n he/she seeks.

V3 - cosmetic colour of skin... gives me the image of a woman wearing makeup, a good looking woman, 'gentle sway of hips' - this also gives me an image of the way a skirt moves when a woman walks.

passive voice - thinking, looking, but rarely touching, especially those parts the LS longs to feel.

however, to fit correctly with my theory, 'I ushered' would need to be 'I would usher'.

all in all i very much enjoyed this poem and each time i read it i pick out a little more. bringing in the sense of smell right at the beginning, enhances the whole for me.

UnmasketPoet, in your review (recommendation) you gave an alternative by using the first stanza and a couple of lines from the last. i think in your version there is a lot lost. the particular 'class' of woman the LS is watching is important, in my opinion. the LS gives a reasonable impression of his level in life and with the holding back and watching, makes me think he/she is on a lower level of life than the women he watches, even if it is just slightly lower.

the poem would read and have a very different meaning if the LS were looking at a street worker, don't you think?



like i said, i enjoyed the poem (thank you Greenmountaineer) and am enjoying the comments. they're enlightening.

oh... edited to add... plastic - pen pusher - white collar worker. most pens white collar workers use are plastic Bic biros. sorry if that wasn't clear above.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

My take

I really like this poem. To me as the reader I am made privy to an alienation, an exclusion - the "Passive Voice". There is no animosity, just a gentle resignation. It could be a husband gamely ushering his wife’s women friends, some of whom he fancies perhaps, to some kind of hen party, hanging back until he retreats to watch and yearn from afar. It’s quite erotic.

I should add, I may be repeating what has already been said a I have only read post # 1.

 

[Tzara]

UnmasketPoet, in your review (recommendation) you gave an alternative by using the first stanza and a couple of lines from the last. i think in your version there is a lot lost.

I was running out the door to an appointment when I wrote my first post, but I felt very much the same way as WSO about the revision UP suggested in the recommendation thread. To my mind, UP's version is pretty tame--guy holds door for some women, touches them somewhat incidentally, has mild erotic reaction/impression. Kind of mundane.

The original version, at least the way I read it, is delightfully creepy. The reader becomes a voyeur observing the voyeur of the poem. Almost a Rear Window effect.

I find it interesting that some of you think it's vague or unclear. It seems pretty straightforward to me, but then I could be delusional.

This is an interesting exercise, UP.

 

[Tzara]

Fuck. Testing something and hit the wrong key.

Nevermind.

 

[annaswirls]

Fuck. Testing something and hit the wrong key.

Nevermind.

uh oh. hope it wasn't something nuclear

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

Oh! Puh-lease!

This poem is not creepy! It's a gentle slice of life and nothing to do with corpses or watching murders. I'm not a betting soul but I would bet on this. If I'm wrong I'll eat my hat - or at least write a poem about it.

Sorry for the blurt - just my take,

 

[Tzara]

uh oh. hope it wasn't something nuclear

No, no. Nothing like that.

I had something like an original thought and it got away from me and was flying about my office, trying to get out of the window.

I was knocking over bookshelves and old pizza cartons, trying to grab the thing, but it kept flying off.

Finally swatted it, though. So, everything's OK.

 

[TheRainMan]

. . . lets just talk about this poem and what you think it means . . .

I don't know what the poem's about. I think it lacks clarity.

 

[greenmountaineer]

Passive Voice

I am joining the thread and will refrain from explanation as Unmasked Poet suggested.

I'm also enjoying the perspectives, even "passive solar heat," which reminded me of an old joke about how many surrealist painters it takes to screw in a light bulb.

 

[Angeline]

I am joining the thread and will refrain from explanation as Unmasked Poet suggested.

I'm also enjoying the perspectives, even "passive solar heat," which reminded me of an old joke about how many surrealist painters it takes to screw in a light bulb.

I hope you'll tell us eventually what you meant although imo a reader's and writer's opinions about what a poem means are usually pretty far apart, which is fine by me.

 

[Safe_Bet]

Must be my perspective, but I really liked it. I feel the emotions of "being there, yet being excluded", the sense of not being "in" the group "even though I'm physically present." I can also empathize with the "need to blend into the suroundings while still desiring to not" kinda thing.

I additionally like the sense of yearning I get from:

And wonder what body heat
My hand may have missed.

Maybe cuz I have felt the loneliness of being alone in a crowded room, I am getting a different read than most, but this poem works for me.

 

[Liar]

I cannot logically go through the poem and defend my position through all of the lines, but the feeling I got from the poem was that of a funeral home, the voice being the recently deceased. The cosmetic colors of the corpse, not smelling of dirt (where he came and is returning) nor plastic (from the life he has left) the physical descriptions of ushering people in, floor to ceiling drapes, reminded me of the funeral homes I have been in. The emotional components-- palm touching shoulder, leaning on door frames makes me think of being supported in a difficult time.

I got the funeral vibe from it too. Of someone who died and looked back at his life, realizing he'd always been as passive as he was now. A prop instead of an actor.

 

[wildsweetone]

I don't know what the poem's about. I think it lacks clarity.

lacks clarity for purpose of being, do you mean? or, what?

i think it gives me a good impression of part of the character of the lyrical subject.

 

[TheRainMan]

lacks clarity for purpose of being, do you mean? or, what?

i think it gives me a good impression of part of the character of the lyrical subject.

What I mean is much of the poem is too abstract, which doesn’t do it any favors.

I do think the poem has some good things going for it. To get at them I have to look past the poorly-placed “neither” in line one, and the unfortunate decision to modify ‘walls’ with ‘sturdy,' and the poem’s weak syntax (the run-on sentence that goes from line 6 thru the end), and the distracting caps at line beginnings. All those are easy fixes. But I must especially look past the poem’s vagueness, the repair of which will take a bit of work. (as will the removal of some inconsistent logic. How does one, for example, escort people into a room and then get behind drapes from where they can be seen, without his being noticed? Unless he’s a ghost of some sort, but that doesn’t hold water, either).

I think greenmountaineer has the entrails for a good poem. And he (I assume, since the voice feels male) does a good job establishing mood. I too feel what SafeBet mentioned, the “being there yet being excluded.” That’s nicely accomplished. And the language has a certain simplicity and delicacy, and a restraint I find pleasing. The poet does seem to understand that much of poetry resides in what you don’t say, but I think he goes too far with it, past the point where aaah! becomes huh?

Ambiguity can be good. Confusion is not. The fact that I can’t tell whether this takes place in a funeral parlor or someone’s living room or the back room of a sex club or wherever, that I can’t tell whether it’s a wake or a hen party, intense voyeurism or a slice of life, is not a good thing as far as the poem goes.

Why, I’m not even sure if the N is supposed to be living or dead. Line 1 would seem to try to indicate the former—he doesn’t smell of dirt (not buried) nor plastic (not zipped up in a body bag). Yet, who walks women into some place, whatever place, touching them all as forwardly as with a palm on a shoulder, and then goes to hide behind the drapes to watch them (both of which I find pretty creepy myself, Tess, not to mention far-fetched). Where exactly would this happen? Unless he’s dead or some kind of apparition, but then what’s the first line all about? For me, the poem just does not compute.

It needs cleaning up, in my opinion.


P.S. I'm editing this to add a "Welcome to the Poetry Forum" to greenmountaineer. It's a pleasure to have you here. I like your voice very much.



.

 

[champagne1982]

I think the poem is supposed to illustrate those very same leaps of logic that a reader must perform when an author uses excessive passive voice to construct a poem or story.

Sound will accomplish these feats that TRM finds jarring and so, I think the poem's about background music; cocktail party jazz, luncheon piano, soiree classical or intermission canned... It all gets swallowed up in the drapes while at the same time it greets people at the door. Music can flush the cheeks and simultaneously raises goosebumps on arms.

Of course it's an anthromorphed metaphor but I'm pretty sure I can forgive that, especially when the anthromorphisation takes place in a pretty clever poem.

 

[GuiltyPleasure]

I neither smelled of dirt nor plastic.
Mine was a faint smell, really.
One had to be conscious I was there
By some other means:


I am neither poor - smelling of dirt - or rich - smelling of plastic (charge cards) I am an ordinary man (having a faint smell - nothing strong and memorable

Like opening doors for everyone.
I ushered all the ladies through,
Palm touching shoulder,

Unobtrusively presenting myself - Like opening doors for everyone. Then Palm touching shoulder. A very common and courteous gesture.

Then leaned on door frames,
Ventured within
But soon sought sturdy walls
And sliding glass doors
With floor to ceiling drapes,

Here I see him casually trying to become part of the proceedings in a non-active way - interested but passive (remember the title?)

There to peek,
To see the gentle sway of hips,
The cosmetic color of skin,
And wonder what body heat
My hand may have missed.

Finally he realises he's not accepted as "one of The Girls" and contents himself to observing and dreaming

Now Mr Carrington, where's the "creep" factor in that?

I'd like to join Patrick in welcoming GreenMountaineer. I can't wait to find out the truth.

 

[TheRainMan]

Now Mr Carrington, where's the "creep" factor in that?

I'd like to join Patrick in welcoming GreenMountaineer. I can't wait to find out the truth.

where is the truth found? in what the poet intends, or in what the reader perceives?

we don't need the writer to tell us what he meant. you already have your truth about this poem. i know i already have mine.

i don't see or feel many of the interpretations you offer (and that doesn't mean they're not there). i get a much different feel.

isn't that part of the beauty of poetry?