Form
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By RW
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1
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Form
Form-less
words in a torrent
meet a dam with tiny holes
and I the boy observing
the trickle or the roar
sticking fingers in to control
volumes, tones
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2
I the aspirant, squeezing
and stretching, strong-arming
nouns, verbs, adjectives
with the wrong size of wrench
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I the technician, picking a template
with which to put clever twists
and spontaneous spurts of
un-spermatic lyric
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I the lost one, in a wood
where each leaf and weed
is a possibility
uncarefully chosen
to fill each syllable
with words that fit an empty scheme
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3
The forced question:
what is hiding behind metaphor
empty and accidentally vague
I wasn't aware when I rose
destracted to the surface
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my words lost the goal
when I began to love
affirmation
and the death-knell of clever,
writing well crafted masks
for truths perhaps to dank
for my courage to touch
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4
In the wilderness, though
the options become conscious
and habits become choices
and I am following my way back
to where the truth,
coalesced
in words,
is what I
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form
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Form
About This Poem
Last Few Words: This is a poem that is missing something that I can't find. It feels wrong and self-indulgent. I don't have the lyrical pyrotechnics that a Plath or a Sexton had that made the use of "I" less distracting and whine-like. I can surely use help with this. It's a chassis without a motor to me at this point.
Style/Type: Free verse
Review Request Direction:
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft
Comments
Dear Ron,
I'm sorry this feels wrong to you, as I throughly enjoyed it. I gleaned from it a humble wordsmith, searching for the right words. I wouldn't change a word of it. I especially liked these lines:
In the wilderness, though
the options become conscious
and habits become choices
and I am following my way back
to where the truth,
coalesced
in words,
is what I
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form
always, Cat (& eddy)
Thanks Cat (and eddy)
I appreciate that! It's certainly about the quest for the next word and the feeling I get that sometimes I lose my way of better instinct and accept less from myself. I'm glad you liked it and understand the struggle. That horror that is the perfect word.
Ron
Blue Demon77
There's slight changes I
There's slight changes I would make---like wrong-sized wrench
but I think the last paragraph needs an I--- such as I, the green man.... and I think the last 3 words are crucial.
I am
forming
(both, eh?)
I really really like this poem, Ron.
Hi Anna!
I'll give your suggestions some thought. The wrong-sized wrench I can see, as it is the only image drastically out of place (nature, forest, woods, wrench?). I can see I am forming also, though it was conscious to go for a uroborous, snake eating it's tale symmetry. The green man doesn't fit for me because the green man is empowered and I, in the poem am not. Thanks very much for the great ideas for improvement, the wrench is gone for sure.
Ron
Blue Demon77
However, green man is
However, green man is synonymous with his environment... the last stanza, even if you don't recognize it, IS you transforming, being empowered, "where truth coalesced"...your *I am* IS definitely forming. No matter which way I may read your last paragraph, it's all about the power of words, no?
Just my thoughts as an *observer*.
~A