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This Poem was Submitted By: G. Donald Cribbs On Date: 2004-05-11 21:59:33 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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The Boy Who Played with Barbie

It wasn’t my idea to sort tiny clothes for hours playing Barbie with my sister. After all, she was older and only played with Star Wars toys after endless sequined outfits with small snaps and buttons bored me out of my male mind. At least I always played Barbie’s boyfriend, a woman’s trickery to get a boy to play with dolls. I’d imagine a wife who walked like a ballerina en pointe, ready for heels, or wonder if doll play was a fair trade. I made cities beneath the porch steps dusting off the window my soul lifts with the dirt we are made of. Later I came to my senses and declined all offers for a plastic wife finding instead a woman whose keen eyes peer into all the windowpanes I own. Our conversation is no language spoken, transcending any fantasy I concocted with pink plastic piled before me, as if marriage was merely fitting flesh together, and watching it divide.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Wayne R. Leach On Date: 2004-06-06 19:22:08
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.50000
Don, this is a well-told story in its free verse form. You have used many poetic tools very well, esp. the alliteration and assonance. Of course, the imagery is excellent, as is the cadence. In other words, there isn't much to recommend. The only place that caused me to hesitate a little was in S3 with: "beneath the porch steps dusting off the window my soul lifts with the dirt we are made of." It sounds like the "soul" lifts the window with dirt, and this seems a little puzzling. Or, is the "soul" dusting the window with dirt? Still difficult to envision. Hopefully, I am not mis-reading and misunderstanding your intentions for I think this is an excellent piece of art. The strength of the closing line, with its extra length, is outstanding and fully defines the objectivity of the poem. Best wishes. wrl

This Poem was Critiqued By: Jennifer j Hill On Date: 2004-06-05 10:37:20
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.92308
Hi Don, Love the title, drew me right in and I was very pleasantly surprised. This is a wonderfully nostalgic piece for this reader as I used to make my brothers play house, barbie and anything else I could extort them into. *smile* But I realize this poem is about more then just what we played as children. This set of four quatrains with the one line at the end to clarify the truth of the poem, flows nicely and use of enjambment works well also. lol, yes we did have our tricks to get what we wanted, and still do, actually, although our means are a little more sophisticated we hope. Also I used to hope my feet wouldn't get stuck that way from wearing high heels, lol, kinda like our Moms always said our eyes would get stuck crossed. I love the transitional stanza four with it's powerful observation. My favorite line is: "I made cities beneath the porch steps dusting off the window my soul lifts with the dirt we are made of." ...Or maybe it's the whole last stanza that I love. At any rate you did a fantastic job showing us (seemingly effortless)how little boys and girls grow into such spiritual beings. I truly enjoyed this work. BLessings, Jennifer

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2004-05-31 17:11:28
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.96000
Hi Donald: This poem certainly seems timely in terms of the recent upset in Barbie's world - or I should say, Ken's. Mattel announced right before Valentine's Day that Barbie and Ken would be no more. Ken, Barbie's steady boyfriend, now is being recast in toyland as just a 'friend', with a NEW male friend being introduced: Blaine, an Australian boogie boarder. I personally wondered why Barbie's experiences with Ken as Prince Daniel and Eric, respectively, in Swan Lake and Nutcracker, didn't seem to influence the decision. I would think that she would definitely prefer these two elegant incarnations of the formerly 'boring' Ken to someone without the career goals Barbie has been notably embracing. Enough about me! My granddaughter hasn't liked the Barbies I've given her - with both princes, Daniel and Eric. The dog ate Barbie's head and Ken's expensive, princely clothes. Your poem is light-hearted but contains a cogent message, at least for this reader: Manufactured toys do not reflect reality. Your "cities beneath the porch steps" were far more representative of you (of any child) as a soulful being, looking to realms beyond plastic commercialism for inspiration. They (the plastic toys) do seem necessary, at least to a certain extent, to flesh out the imaginary worlds children inhabit to a great extent before they must occupy adult bodies. "sort/sister/Star Wars/endless/sequined/small/snaps" Enjoyably composed - this poem's sibilants, for example, above - lend a deft touch to the narrative. And the plosive b's of "Barbie/buttons/bored/boy/ballerina/beneath" lend a lot of strong sound, suggesting the small boy's need to assert his boyishness. Also deft, playful plosive p's in "playing/porch/plastic/pink/peer" noted and enjoyed. "I’d imagine a wife who walked like a ballerina en pointe, ready for heels, or wonder if doll play was a fair trade." I've always been disturbed by Barbie's feet. It seems they would hamper a woman from any healthy activity, not to mention, hinder her ability to flee from pursuers. My favorite line in the poem is these: Later I came to my senses and declined all offers for a plastic wife (would 'bride' here add a playful note?) finding instead a woman whose keen eyes peer into all the windowpanes I own. Our conversation ---WONDERFUL! is no language spoken, transcending any fantasy I concocted with pink plastic piled before me, as if marriage was merely fitting flesh together, and watching it divide. Though this is the 'lightest' poem from your pen I've read so far, it, like your others, contains soulful wisdom and delightful craft. Well-said! Kudos, once more. All my best, Joanne

This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Morales On Date: 2004-05-26 22:24:10
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Damn! This is good poetry! Haven't seen this type of new talent around here in a long time. I have to admit, however, I was looking for a "pinker" ending. Still, I was by no means disappointed. My only suggestion is to lose the last coma for sure. Consider two lines: as if marriage was merely fitting flesh together and then watching it divide. Just a suggestion for a fine piece. Best, Mark

This Poem was Critiqued By: DeniMari Z. On Date: 2004-05-16 20:38:03
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.00000
Dear Don, It was the title of this poem that caught my eye, (I used to throw my Barbie Dolls off of a diving board, then dive into rescue them - ha!). I like the deeper message that comes through in this piece, not just about childhood play, but what the reality of marriage can be. Two people meshed together, dividing? Children? That would be my first guess. I like the whole structure of this poem, it's neat and precise and easy to read. Your last verse had the most impact - "transcending any fantasy I concocted with pink plastic piled before me," very good line, very deeply stated. There's nothing I would change in this, I enjoyed it immensely - because it brings up so many emotions for the reader to feel. Good luck and just wanted to know I read your bio - don't regret missing out on Princeton, I live close by to it, and I think the choices offered to you after that - gave you so much more to be thankful for. Sincerely, DeniMari

This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2004-05-12 05:15:32
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.85714
Donald- You were seduced into Barbie Land, too! I don't know if you've read Denise Duhamel's totally hilarious Barbie pieces, but I would strongly recommend them if you have not... The strength of this piece is in the last two stanzas, with the window treatment, the concept of opening one's soul to another, in truth, spilling everything for another to see. We all, too often and too well, close the blinds. As if marriage were merely fitting flesh together, and watching it divide - Another outstanding piece. Thanks for sharing. tom

This Poem was Critiqued By: Jillian K Sorenson On Date: 2004-05-12 00:01:22
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
G. Donald, nice to meet you. You have read mine, and well, your poem was at the top of the list. I haven't critiqued in quite awhile so I may lack proper terminology. :) I was intrigued by the title of this poem, and I enjoyed the first two stanzas quite a bit, especially the links to popular culture. I can imagine the woman who walks en pointe, and it made me giggle. You, like myself, are a fan of non-rhyming poetry, that is, poetry that actually says something rather than trying to fit the thing that must be said into a pattern. One thing that could use improving is the part about "I made cities beneath the porch steps dusting off the window my soul lifts with the dirt we are made of" is a bit difficult to understand, that is to say, is the boy making cities with the dirt or lifting the window with the dirt, or is the soul itself being lifted with the dirt? See my dilemma? Perhaps rearranging the words or adding punctuation here to express further meaning would be of value. Also, flesh dividing in marriage gives a reader like me an image of divorce, which I'm sure is not your intention. Perhaps watching it multiply? Perhaps I don't know what the heck I'm talking about? Overall, a lovely poem, if a bit confusing to my previously uninitiated mind. Thank you for sharing this poem.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2004-05-11 23:08:59
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.75000
Ah, I have just recently had an impassioned Barbie debate with my daughter-in-law who has been known to dress my little granddaughter and her Barbie doll alike; in sequins and pink aprons. Awk. This poem also put me in mind of “Williams doll” a delightful song on the vintage, and still marvelous, Marlo Thomas album: “Free to be you and Me.” But I digress…. The Boy Who Played with Barbie Captivating title and wondeful introductory line which draws us right into the room. It wasn’t my idea to sort tiny clothes for hours playing Barbie with my sister. After all, she was older and only played with Star Wars toys after endless sequined outfits with small snaps and buttons This enjambment does not work for me as the subject/object is only sorted out after the first line of the new stanza… bored me out of my male mind. At least I always played [Ken, ]Barbie’s boyfriend, a [girl's] trickery to get a boy to play with dolls. I’d imagine a wife who walked like a ballerina en pointe, ready for heels, Wonderful leap! [so to speak :}] or wonder if doll play was a fair trade. I made cities beneath the porch steps dusting off the window my soul lifts [marvelous] with the dirt [of which we are all made.} Later I came to my senses and declined all offers for a plastic wife BRAVO! finding instead a woman whose keen eyes peer into all the windowpanes I own. “Into “ the window panes – not through or out of them...as if she is musing? Interesting. to all the windowpanes I own. Our conversation is no language spoken, transcending any fantasy I concocted with pink plastic piled before me, or perhaps: [...I concocted out of pink plastic] as if marriage was merely fitting flesh together, and watching it divide {Wonderful and sensitive affirmation of the depth of on actual relationship vs pink plastic superficiality ] Delightful piece.

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