Prose Poem Rejected

[Koba]

I posted a poem to the site last night. I absolutely feel it is among the very best I've ever written. This morning I get a note back saying my poem was rejected because it is not a poem. I am being told that it belongs in the story section.

I will try to be nice here but I doubt I will be. Who are the ignorant morons who get to make a decision like this? The prose poem I posted is so clearly poetry and not a story that I have to believe that the people making these judgements have the poetic experience of a typical fourth grader. I have upon occasion taking flak that my poetry "doesn't rhyme", "doesn't have meter", "doesn't look like a poem" etc, but I have never gotten that here where supposedly intelligent people read over the poems for editing purposes before posting.

 

[butters]

I posted a poem to the site last night. I absolutely feel it is among the very best I've ever written. This morning I get a note back saying my poem was rejected because it is not a poem. I am being told that it belongs in the story section.

I will try to be nice here but I doubt I will be. Who are the ignorant morons who get to make a decision like this? The prose poem I posted is so clearly poetry and not a story that I have to believe that the people making these judgements have the poetic experience of a typical fourth grader. I have upon occasion taking flak that my poetry "doesn't rhyme", "doesn't have meter", "doesn't look like a poem" etc, but I have never gotten that here where supposedly intelligent people read over the poems for editing purposes before posting.

i don't know who makes those kind of editorial decisions when you submit, but if you feel you'd like further input from the poetry forum members - and we'll give honest opinions which may or may not match with what you'd like to hear - why not post it up here for comment? we have had similar tales of people having competition subs rejected for not fitting the category they were submitted under. your call

p.s whilst i understand you're feeling aggrieved, name-throwing on a site that allows your participation totally free of fees isn't a great route to take, especially if this can be fixed. you are, naturally, quite free to see your writes published elsewhere on the net.

 

[bronzeage]

I posted a poem to the site last night. I absolutely feel it is among the very best I've ever written. This morning I get a note back saying my poem was rejected because it is not a poem. I am being told that it belongs in the story section.

I will try to be nice here but I doubt I will be. Who are the ignorant morons who get to make a decision like this? The prose poem I posted is so clearly poetry and not a story that I have to believe that the people making these judgements have the poetic experience of a typical fourth grader. I have upon occasion taking flak that my poetry "doesn't rhyme", "doesn't have meter", "doesn't look like a poem" etc, but I have never gotten that here where supposedly intelligent people read over the poems for editing purposes before posting.

I posted a poem to the site last night.
I absolutely feel it is among
the very best I've ever written.
This morning I get a note back.
My poem was rejected
because it is not a poem.
I am being told that it belongs in the story section.

See how easy it is?

Ever since Whitman published Leaves of Grass, we have had this constant battle. It's pointless and no one ever wins. You call it a poem and the person who divides the poems from the prose says it is prose.

This is the poets lot. Get over it.

 

[greenmountaineer]

i don't know who makes those kind of editorial decisions when you submit, but if you feel you'd like further input from the poetry forum members - and we'll give honest opinions which may or may not match with what you'd like to hear - why not post it up here for comment? we have had similar tales of people having competition subs rejected for not fitting the category they were submitted under. your call

p.s whilst i understand you're feeling aggrieved, name-throwing on a site that allows your participation totally free of fees isn't a great route to take, especially if this can be fixed. you are, naturally, quite free to see your writes published elsewhere on the net.

Ditto. Post it here, Koba. I look forward to reading it.

 

[twelveoone]

I posted a poem to the site last night. I absolutely feel it is among the very best I've ever written. This morning I get a note back saying my poem was rejected because it is not a poem. I am being told that it belongs in the story section.

I will try to be nice here but I doubt I will be. Who are the ignorant morons who get to make a decision like this? The prose poem I posted is so clearly poetry and not a story that I have to believe that the people making these judgements have the poetic experience of a typical fourth grader. I have upon occasion taking flak that my poetry "doesn't rhyme", "doesn't have meter", "doesn't look like a poem" etc, but I have never gotten that here where supposedly intelligent people read over the poems for editing purposes before posting.

...and dear folks is the funniest fucking thing i've ever read here...
right up there with when the authours post a poem here and bring their 29 friends to rave about it.
tell you what to do take any random four lines and leave a little bit of white space and resubmit it.

 

[twelveoone]

http://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?t=789759

 

[HarryHill]

Cheese with that whine?

Ditto. Post it here, Koba. I look forward to reading it.

..
As do I ... and welcome to the club ... hard work getting rejected....
...reminds me of a discussion about a poem with sheep n shepherds that was denied ...heres one that made it...Happiness # 2- .........hhtp://literotica.com/p/happiness-2-1

..harry

 

[Koba]

Ok

My response was perhaps the response one might expect from an arrogant asshole. And at times that is what I am. Especially when my soul is exposed in my poetry. Yes. Many poets are very sensitive.

But anyway, ok, I will post my poem here. However, there are two things I will not do: I will not divide it up into neat little poetic looking lines to try to satisfy those who insist a poem must look that way. And secondly, I will not post it in the story section.
================

A Trip Beyond the Row


Pandora, in purple veils, visited me on an adolescent afternoon. I did not recognize her, but she earned my trust by reading seductive poetry to me. We talked of Aphrodite and words of love. She smiled when she handed me the key to the box. As soon as I accepted her gift, the beautiful woman disappeared, leaving me to wonder in my loneliness.

The first thing I noticed was that the eight foot wall on which I sat was thirty feet high. I watched a chameleon walk slowly under my ladder. The grass below was a different shade of green than any I had ever seen before. Charismatic flowers appeared. Looking down, I was struck by an intense fascination with the simplicity of the working class clothesline in my yard, a device that had always spelled failure to me. For the first time in my life, I heard the sound of silent breezes purring through the leaves of the ancient oak tree which had shaded my childhood. I giggled as I felt fear and anger flying off with a one way ticket south.

The little boy, frozen since birth, got up to dance.

I was in love!
The arrows of Eros had hit their mark.
I closed my eyes
and a vision of celestial glory
burst upon me,
infusing me with a sensual ecstasy
that permeated the fiber of my being.
I felt an immediate fanatic devotion
to my newfound priestess;
this spiritual royalty who moved mystically,
calling me
to the sands of the Seychelles
and Himalayan poppy fields
on carpets of golden silk.
She became my Goddess,
walking on the vapors of powdered clouds
high above earthbound Olympus.
I swooned as she enveloped me
in the warmth of a maternal cocoon.

When inside me,
she pounded my heart
faster and harder
than pelting rain;
filling my brain,
twisting my mind
into dreams of Elysian meadows,
where kaleidoscopic colors
lovingly caressed
black and white concrete.

The metamorphosis was rapid. Spring turned quickly into autumn as the deceptive power of the spiraling maelstrom pulled me in. The present vanished into a deniable reality. Movement ceased. There was a radical rearrangement of thought, a transformation of essence. The surrender was complete.

The aspiring patrician knelt to his mistress in the playground of an impoverished wasteland.

She was everything.

I died.

Those smiling people with me in those pictures; they also died. I killed them, and it was not an accident. Death surrounded me in the tragedy I continued to watch.

The boy with broken legs died, too.

I moved into a lead vault. The Gorgon followed me. She removed her mask, mocking me by eliminating all pretenses of disguise. Her hideous smile repulsed me. In desperation, I tried to evict her, but my pathetic efforts were futile. I closed my eyes to see mountains caving in, and rivers washing over large cities, drowning them in an instant. I felt wild animals tearing at my flesh, seeking the veins that were so deeply recessed. I heard the Virgin Mary cursing and spitting on me, condemning me for my transgressions and failures. I saw snakes and cockroaches crawling through the walls, their eyes ablaze with triumphant hatred, screaming my name, laughing at the terror they were inflicting upon me. My fever rose as I dragged myself closer to the boundaries of Hell, where the fires were sweeping out to meet me, not for the season of my mentor, but for the eternity promised by those I had turned my back upon.

I raised the knife to my throat. In the throes of my delirium, I saw my face mirrored in the sharpened blade as the old man I was never to be. He begged for my confession in schizophrenic tones that cut into me with their anguish. With no other avenue of escape, I screamed it out to him in a waterfall of tears, the release of which drained me of consciousness.

Upon my awakening, the little boy looked down on me with gentle eyes. "Thy sins be forgiven. Arise and walk." The Hope that remained propelled me to my feet.

I have, to this day, not found it necessary to return.

 

[twelveoone]

My response was perhaps the response one might expect from an arrogant asshole.
The little boy, frozen since birth, got up to dance.

I was in love!
The arrows of Eros had hit their mark.
I closed my eyes
and a vision of celestial glory
burst upon me,
infusing me with a sensual ecstasy
that permeated the fiber of my being.
I felt an immediate fanatic devotion
to my newfound priestess;
this spiritual royalty who moved mystically,
calling me
to the sands of the Seychelles
and Himalayan poppy fields
on carpets of golden silk.
She became my Goddess,
walking on the vapors of powdered clouds
high above earthbound Olympus.
I swooned as she enveloped me
in the warmth of a maternal cocoon.

When inside me,
she pounded my heart
faster and harder
than pelting rain;
filling my brain,
twisting my mind
into dreams of Elysian meadows,
where kaleidoscopic colors
lovingly caressed
black and white concrete.

you go away for a while...some one takes your title...you want pompous too. i'm willing to give that one up also

this was in the middle?

look i just came from new poems, without even reading it, it was better than half, i suppose if i read it it would move up more.

ok i just read some of it, it moved up further

The first thing I noticed was that the eight foot wall on which I sat was thirty feet high. I watched a chameleon walk slowly under my ladder. The grass below was a different shade of green than any I had ever seen before. Charismatic flowers appeared. Looking down, I was struck by an intense fascination with the simplicity of the working class clothesline in my yard, a device that had always spelled failure to me. For the first time in my life, I heard the sound of silent breezes purring through the leaves of the ancient oak tree which had shaded my childhood. I giggled as I felt fear and anger flying off with a one way ticket south.

this is a very curious passage. Charismatic? flowers,but then i see chameleon...slowly

silent - would find a better word
flying off with a one way ticket south -xplain, looketh like a cliche

 

[HarryHill]

So, you've posted your first write...WHAT NOW?
..
welcome to the world of criticism:
..
I find this to be NOT a poem .... although it was mildly interesting but overly pedantic..
I look forward to your next rejection.
..
Harry

 

[twelveoone]

So, you've posted your first write...WHAT NOW?
..
welcome to the world of criticism:
..
I find this to be NOT a poem .... although it was mildly interesting but overly pedantic..
I look forward to your next rejection.
..
Harry

i have a tendency to agree, but i've seen your comments.
how is this less poemlike?

 

[HarryHill]

I came back because I felt that (maybe) my words were a little harsh and found twelveoone had replied to my post. His/Her reply is exactly why I am here now. We write not only to express our feelings but to communicate with a world that may care little how we feel... So be it.
..
The Weight of Words
..
They will discover your dusty words
Sometime in the distant future
Among all the chaff and gold
Sifted from humanities searching soul

What will be said as they read
Offerings torn from your bursting heart
Will they breathe an earthly sigh
Or hit the delete icon, pass you by

Life is fleeting, very old news,
A constant truism of fact
Never defeated say you
Although the weight of words leaves shoulders blue
..
May your bruises be less than mine Koba

 

[twelveoone]

I came back because I felt that (maybe) my words were a little harsh and found twelveoone had replied to my post. His/Her reply is exactly why I am here now. We write not only to express our feelings but to communicate with a world that may care little how we feel... So be it.

May your bruises be less than mine Koba

his
and if i did that, the world would be in trouble
take a look in new poems, see what i recommended, but lets return this thread to koba

 

[bronzeage]

...and dear folks is the funniest fucking thing i've ever read here...
right up there with when the authours post a poem here and bring their 29 friends to rave about it.
tell you what to do take any random four lines and leave a little bit of white space and resubmit it.

This is definitely a poem, because it is not prose.

 

[Koba]

Thank you.

"This is definitely a poem, because it is not prose."

Well, there you have it! What a perfect answer! (I assume it was meant for me, although it was preceded by a quote of someone else.) I shall remember this one for future use. It is exactly right. When one reads what I wrote (or something similar by someone else), how can one call it prose? It fits much less into a sole category of prose than it does in the sole category of poetry. Thank you!

I apologize for my rather abrupt and well, yes, frankly rude post that opened this thread. I was out of line. People are entitled to opinions and I must accept that fact. I have never found that easy. I have this self destructing tendency to prefer rightness over happiness. I'm still learning.

 

[HarryHill]

This is definitely a poem, because it is not prose.

..
Are those the only choices?

 

[bronzeage]

..
Are those the only choices?

People keep proposing "prosetry" and "poese", but it's never caught on.

One of the problems faced by poets, which prose writers do not face, is the infinite subsets of poems. Prose is either prose, or it's not. It's like coloring inside the lines. Everyone can see when it's wrong.

Whenever someone looks at poem and declares it "not be a poem, because...", someone else comes along and says, "It's a non-rhyming eleven line limerick."

 

[twelveoone]

..
Are those the only choices?

no you always have adverts from the preverts, which is where i submit mine, but they always keep throwing them into poetry

I posted a poem to the site last night. I absolutely feel it is among the very best I've ever written. This morning I get a note back saying my poem was rejected because it is not a poem. I am being told that it belongs in the story section.

there may be another possibility, this may exceed a certain word or space limit set aside for poetry.
but on the other hand, over in stories you get more readers, but nastier comments

 

[Koba]

Rejected a 2nd Time

I am now being told that my poem is being rejected because it has a plot. I wrote the thing and I don't see a plot but apparently someone here does. They say prose poetry is ok but not if it has a plot. So, according to their definition, Rimbaud's "A Season in Hell" is not a poem despite the fact that it is recognized as a masterpiece of prose poetry. They say they will post it if I submit it as a story.

I think not. I have posted over 60 poems and stories here. I very much enjoy writing prose poetry as I feel that it brings out my best writing. If I cannot have it posted here I will take the suggestion of a contributor to this thread and find another site that recognizes the beauty of prose poetry.

 

[Koba]

What mystifies me here more than anything else is how a site that is supposedly on the frontline of freedom of expression can employ reactionary Stone Age standards in deciding what is poetry and what is a "story".

I find it far more offensive that someone calls what I wrote "a story" than if they called it the worst piece of shit ever written. It is far closer to that than being in the groupings of stories that are posted here.

 

[KatieTay]

"not a poem because it has a plot"????

gods be good

EVERY poem has a "plot" trajectory

 

[bronzeage]

I am now being told that my poem is being rejected because it has a plot. I wrote the thing and I don't see a plot but apparently someone here does. They say prose poetry is ok but not if it has a plot. So, according to their definition, Rimbaud's "A Season in Hell" is not a poem despite the fact that it is recognized as a masterpiece of prose poetry. They say they will post it if I submit it as a story.

I think not. I have posted over 60 poems and stories here. I very much enjoy writing prose poetry as I feel that it brings out my best writing. If I cannot have it posted here I will take the suggestion of a contributor to this thread and find another site that recognizes the beauty of prose poetry.

"Casey at the Bat" has a plot. There must be more to the rejection than that.

 

[Koba]

""Casey at the Bat" has a plot. There must be more to the rejection than that."

No. I wish I had the exact quote to put here but I resubmitted the poem again and when I did their explanation disappeared. Essentially what was said was that prose poetry is ok for posting to the poem section. However, if the prose poem contains a plot it must be posted in the story section.

 

[twelveoone]

""Casey at the Bat" has a plot. There must be more to the rejection than that."

No. I wish I had the exact quote to put here but I resubmitted the poem again and when I did their explanation disappeared. Essentially what was said was that prose poetry is ok for posting to the poem section. However, if the prose poem contains a plot it must be posted in the story section.

fucking sick
"prose poetry" as often exhibited here should be buried in a plot, along with certain persistent writers.

 

[butters]

koba, thankyou for posting your write here.

i'm not certain if every poet has experienced that wonderful feeling of 'wow, this is the very best thing i have ever written' but i'd lay odds most of us have. and, at the time, it may be the absolute truth! having said that, it then is often something of a come-down when others don't appreciate just how brilliant it is and engage with it the same way you do. this is normal. it is also normal (whatever that strange creature is) to revisit the same piece years later only to find ourselves mildly alarmed at just how fabulous we thought it was when we wrote it.

i think you've actually given the subs editor something of a brain-ache with this piece: it's baldly unpoetic (to my eye/ear) in a lot of places, including parts intended as verse, but the inclusion of the verses as part of the same voice of the piece lays claim to some kind a poetry label by intent. i'm pretty sure there's a word-count limit for poems, and to say it is prose because of it having a plot seems ... strange.

now don't get all pissed off with me - this is merely my own opinion and i don't expect you to see things the same way. that's also cool.

what i would like to see is a polishing of this write; remove excess words (especially in the paragraphs) and - whilst keeping your vision true to the piece - attempt to introduce sound (the sound that exists in the actual words you are using) to tie phrases together, to amplify mood, to create some sort of harmonic thread that runs throughout the whole. for me prose-poetry is smoother, more harmonious to the ear as well as the eye than your write, but whatever label we choose to give it a polishing can't do it any harm, surely?