(a Golden Shovel)
by Frank Coffman
Illinois poet, Carl drew pictures. The
words could urge stark clarity from the fog
of unclear mullings over—bring light that comes
only to those who’ve learned simply looking on
a thing is not, always, the way to see the little
details. Much like the agile way the cat
can deftly walk the narrow ledge, its feet
finding the place each foot was placed before. It
does its tightrope dance, then calmly sits
and preens itself, occasionally looking
about—as if its feat were no big deal. Over
the City of Big Shoulders and its harbor,
noticing the finest details—both the small and
grand—the homespun bard captured the city
in words that rang so true that they live on.
The singer’s voice is now forever silent.
The fogs have cleared. That cat rests on its haunches.
He, in words, had caught Lincoln’s grand state and
Lincoln himself in fine biography….Then
he left us—along that road each traveler moves.
The Art survives. The Artist must move on.
Comments
Hi Frank
Welcome to the site. This form was
new to me, you seem to have
accomplished it with finesse.
The "fog" ... smoky silencing
cover for many a discretionary
tale.
it is pretty intense. Welcome
it is pretty intense. Welcome Frank Serve us more of your poetic writes. I wish that Kelsey [swamp-witch] who is running a critiques workshop here visits this page because in my opinion this poem is a good example of how to use literary devices to create a visual appeal
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Hmmmm...
This is only the second time I have ever seen this type of poetry. Nice job! Welcome to Neo!
~ Geezer.
viva Sandburg
I do not personally prefer poetic gimmicks in which the poem itself does not hold up as a poem.
Before I read your comments to show me the last word of each line was the famous poem, I thought this is very fine prose, but not really a poem which is sensitive to the idea of what a poetic line is. Why end a line with the word "the"... Nor did the lines have any established music or pace...it was good prose.
After learning of the intent of the poem....I felt is was clever, but too contrived. I still feel it does work as a prose poem, a short vignette with good detail and imagery. As to the devise...I prefer real poetry to crossword puzzles. To each his own. Looking forward to reading other works by you.
Oh Frank, you are so welcome!
Thanks for visiting.
What is the collective noun for poets? Most of them differential.
Your wordcraftsmanship is, as expected, immaculate.
You have already encountered resistance but I have read your previous works and know that you commit to more than tricksyness. Am I being a bit gushy? If so it is in genuine admiration for your skills and craft and gratitude for your input.
Honestly I am a bit jealous. I lack the discipline to create works of meaning within a stern structure.
It was your advice about creating two great lines to use when writing a villanelle that have prompted me to revisit that form. Though I am still having trouble coming up with two great lines.
The best critique I can give you is hearing your work in an Aussie accent. Many actually find it helpful, especially in terms of meter and cadence.
So here goes-
https://soundcloud.com/neopoet/illinois-poet-carl-drew-pictures-the
May I have your permission to post this to our Neopoet Facebook page?
I'm honored by the audio rendition (in OZish, het :-) Very Fine
For WEIRDELF. You definitely have my permission to post on the Facebook page for Neopoet. I'm honored that you liked the work well enough to render it. It is, quite likely, a better rendition than I could do myself. Many thanks.
Regarding the form for the poem--and it does have one, sort of loose 10-11-12 syllable syllabic blank verse. I would submit that the lines are too regular in cadence for "prose poem" (but the definition of that beast--whatever it is--is sort of like the blind men and the elephant."