This Poem was Submitted By: Jana Buck Hanks On Date: 2004-08-06 14:45:10 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
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Unspoken Alice is not the only little girl who stepped
through the looking glass into a world
of self, and mixed messages, inside her
mind. I do not know the exact time
my journey into twilight began.
The memories still come in bits and
pieces. There is a strangeness in certain sounds,
smells,
colors,
snatches of conversation and old photographs,
which key vivid recollections, for an
instant. Often, later in deep sleep, the
remembrances of childhood so long ago,
are knit
together. Somewhere, among the billions of clichés,
someone said that children read between
the lines and hear the unspoken. What they
perceive is in fact, their reality. My past is not
viewed through rose-colored glasses. I wish it were so,
because the color rose represents, happiness,
all my life I have searched for that elusive feeling.
The earliest memories are jumbled. I cannot be sure
if they even belong to me. Perhaps they are
collections of conversations held by adults in my presence,
faded sepia photographs In dusty albums, and/or stories told
in litany. Regardless how acquired, they are the fabrics
of the crazy quilt that makes up my psyche. As I remember
the tunnel, maybe I will find the light at the end. Adele
Stephenson’s famous quote:
“In the twilight of our times, there are no quick paths
to the light-switch,” could well speak for my entire life.
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Copyright © August 2004 Jana Buck Hanks
This Poem was Critiqued By: Wayne R. Leach On Date: 2004-09-04 20:53:23
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.91667
Jana, hi! I like the form you selected for this piece, and the enjambment is very effective, but here's a few suggestions for your consideration:
Alice is not the only little girl who stepped
through the looking glass into a world
of self, and mixed messages, inside her - [delete both commas? I see no need for them.]
mind. I do not know the exact time
my journey into twilight began.
The memories still come in bits and
pieces. There is a strangeness in certain sounds,
smells,*
colors,*
snatches of conversation and old photographs,
which key vivid recollections, for an - [delete comma? again I see no need.]
[*I think I'd simply leave these on L2 of this without the extreme spacing, only commas or hyphens.]
instant. Often, later in deep sleep, the
remembrances of childhood so long ago, - [another unnecessary comma?]
are knit
together. Somewhere, among the billions of clichés,
someone said that children read between
the lines and hear the unspoken. What they
perceive is in fact, their reality. My past is not
viewed through rose-colored glasses. I wish it were so,
because the color rose represents, happiness, - [delete comma after "represents? then semi-colon or period is needed after "happiness", I would say.]
[A]ll my life I have searched for that elusive feeling.
The earliest memories are jumbled. I cannot be sure
if they even belong to me. Perhaps they are
collections of conversations held by adults in my presence,
faded sepia photographs [i]n dusty albums, and/or stories told
in litany. Regardless how acquired, they are the fabrics - [maybe "they are fabrics/in the crazy quilt...?]
of the crazy quilt that makes up my psyche. As I remember
the tunnel, maybe I will find the light at the end. Adele
Stephenson’s famous quote:
“In the twilight of our times, there are no quick paths
to the light-switch,” could well speak for my entire life.
Very intriguing read, and with a little doctoring, should be an extra special poem. Hope I have helped with my suggestions. Thanks for sharing. wrl
This Poem was Critiqued By: James Edward Schanne On Date: 2004-08-27 14:23:06
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.17857
reading this poem inspired me to quickly make one up, I titled it transparent and submitted it.
Actually its inspired by the lines:
Somewhere, among the billions of clichés,
someone said that children read between
the lines and hear the unspoken. What they
perceive is in fact, their reality.
I like the reference to alice as a way examining aging. thanks for letting me read your poem.
This Poem was Critiqued By: DeniMari Z. On Date: 2004-08-21 20:07:10
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.42857
Dear Jana,
This poem is full of fragmented memories and unpleasant feelings. It seems the writer is looking for justice to
something that happened in the past, and if I can be honest here, it usually never comes. I'm speaking from experience. I feel, sensitivy, insecurity and low self esteem as the main message in this piece. It's time to pull up and pull out of the past - and live for the moments in each new day. I hope that the writer is doing that now.
Good read, easily comprehended, thank you for giving the opportunity to read it. I had never heard that quote at the end of it but I really like it.
Sincerely,
DeniMari
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2004-08-21 16:27:44
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.91667
Hi Jana,
I am not going to comment on the machanics of this piece I just want to tell you
how it affected me....besides I see nothing wrong in the way it is composed. In the
begining stanzas you prepare the reader for what is to come...you are musing about your
life...trying to sort out the truth from bits and pieces of information that filters
its way into your psyche. Your are confused as to what is real and what is imagined or
even spoken by adults when you were not supposed to hear. You recall colors, sounds,
spoken words, pictures, but in the deep of night, as you dream, the remberances of childhood,
so long ago are knit together....I love this thought..then later you connect the thought of
knitting with...the crazy quilt that makes up my psyche...amazing and well done. Then you
let the reader inside your mind...my past is not viewed through rose colored glasses..I
wish it were so as the color rose represent happiness..this line makes me sad but then...
all my life I have searched for that elusive feeling. I really did know that line was
coming even though I hoped it would some how turn around and happiness would find its way
into your words and thoughts. However, I was encouraged by...maybe I will find the light
at the end. Here the poet makes it clear she has not given up and is still looking for
the elusive happiness she craves the most. I don't know if this is a look into your own
mind or perhaps is written to capture the attention of the reader...either way it is a
haunting piece and one that I am so glad I found on my list. Very well done!
Blessings...Marilyn
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2004-08-16 14:37:25
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Jana,
If what I've copied below were the entire poem, this would be one of my best of the month.
Alice is not the only little girl who stepped
through the looking glass into a world
of self, and mixed messages, inside her
mind. I do not know the exact time
my journey into twilight began.
The memories still come in bits and
pieces. There is a strangeness in certain sounds,
smells,
colors,
snatches of conversation and old photographs,
which key vivid recollections, for an
instant. Often, later in deep sleep, the
remembrances of childhood so long ago,
are knit
together. Somewhere, among the billions of clichés,
someone said that children read between
the lines and hear the unspoken.
This is magical, full of mystery. You seem to have gone through a secret door into some incredbile revelation of things. A great poet once said, maybe it was Berryman, that a good poet is one who spends his or her life standing out in a field during thunderstorms and gets hit by lightning once or twice, and that a great poet is one who spends a lifetime standing in an open field during thunderstorms and gets hit by lighting maybe a half dozen times. I'd said you capture in these lines one of your moments of being hit by lightning. It's such moments that make poetry worth it - the rest of the moments are just getting wet and waiting.
This will be on my list because of the majesty and sacredness of such moments . . . despite the rest of the poem, where you draw the "conclusion," as it were reflecting in the ER after the lightning hit is over. I think the latter half of the poem is unnecessary. I mean this part:
What they
perceive is in fact, their reality. My past is not
viewed through rose-colored glasses. I wish it were so,
because the color rose represents, happiness,
all my life I have searched for that elusive feeling.
The earliest memories are jumbled. I cannot be sure
if they even belong to me. Perhaps they are
collections of conversations held by adults in my presence,
faded sepia photographs In dusty albums, and/or stories told
in litany. Regardless how acquired, they are the fabrics
of the crazy quilt that makes up my psyche. As I remember
the tunnel, maybe I will find the light at the end. Adele
Stephenson’s famous quote:
“In the twilight of our times, there are no quick paths
to the light-switch,” could well speak for my entire life.
I'd cut that. I think the fault of the poet who hasn't reached the height of his or her power is tendency to tell us what the point is, tell us the "conclusion." That's a fault. Poetry is not a telling, a giving of information, but an experience, an aperture in the looking glass that brings us magic and a sense of defying the world with its three dimensions - because the poet has created something within those very dimensions that transcends them. It's also playing - and we're the only creatures who can - God.
I'm privileged to share in, and witness, your moment of insight in this poem. A remarkable gift (which I thank you for) and moment.
Mark
This Poem was Critiqued By: Robert Wyma On Date: 2004-08-14 15:52:49
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
This is very much a questioning poem that takes the reader through a personal journey that can be shared perhaps in experience, perhaps compassionately. Personally, I prefer a regular font, but I am a traditionalist in this regard, preferring the emotional textures and context to emerge in the words. This is a personal preference however. There is an abundance of honesty and self reflection in this poem that took me through a similar process of drawing together "bit and pieces" of a long distant time. Every moment a truth, every experience a journey, and all of it fragmented in the mind of an adult in spite of its original coherency. Very brave, and very honest.
Robert
This Poem was Critiqued By: Lynda G Smith On Date: 2004-08-10 19:20:30
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Jana....
this is my kind of poem, a dive into the subconscious from a five metre spring board, cleaving the surface without splash, a clean clear cut. You have me wanting to read Alice again with some of the perception that you point to in this poem. Your opening lines take us into the nebula of self exploration, where the dynamic is anything but quiet.
There is a strangeness in certain sounds,
smells,
colors,
I particularly like how you emphasized the distance of these qualities that catalyze distant memories, connecting to thoughts and times past. The physical distance you effect with your line divisions is used to great effect, as if the sounds, the aromas and the hues surround themselves with bubbles of imagery. I wonder if the break after happiness would be better served with a period. "All my life.... seems to start a new thought. I like the brevity of the phrasing in this section as if your mental eye is darting around the corners of your mind taking us with you as you travel through these possibilities.
It's amazing isn't it how our memories are formed by so many extraneous forces. One last suggestion; I wonder if you even need the an/or in the phrase , 'In dusty albums, and/or stories told' It reads quite well without and there is no dividing our attention. The memories as fabrics in a crazy quilt is exquisite. 'As I remember the tunnel, maybe I will find the light at the end.' This would make a powerful ending, and they are your words.
Good words indeed!
Lynda
This Poem was Critiqued By: Elaine Marie Phalen On Date: 2004-08-08 10:56:00
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Hi Jana,
This is heartbreakingly honest writing. The journey - the development of awareness, the recognition of factors that have shaped your psyche and even your spirit - has clearly been difficult and harsh by times. It takes courage to pursue it and to write about it as you've done here.
Line breaks signal early on that the past is fragmented, and that the mind still struggles to impose some sort of order on it. This is an impossibility when past events have been stressful, and when experiences have followed an erratic course of highs and lows. I know that among abused children, memories come in clusters, like shards of broken glass - and sometimes the mind makes a frantic attempt to link the clusters, even by filling in details that aren't 100% accurate. It must be terrifying to face this! "I cannot be sure if they even belong to me" is a poignant comment on the whole process of remembering traumatic situations. There's a dissociative instinct, to protect the undefended self against a flood of pain. Perhaps, the mind reasons, if it removes itself from the cause, then it can escape the effects. Of course, this is not the case. The imprint of pain lingers a lifetime. It is how one manages to deal with it in later life that marks one's "success", or lack thereof, at achieving personal balance.
The memories still come in bits and
pieces. There is a strangeness in certain sounds,
smells,
colors,
snatches of conversation and old photographs,
which key vivid recollections, for an
instant. Often, later in deep sleep, the
remembrances of childhood so long ago,
are knit
together.
This speaker is still trying to deal with the "bits and pieces"; the line breaks and spaces visually reflect this. Sleep permits the subconscious to emerge, sort the facts and connect them. Probably a dream is the closest to truth that memory can become, at least for a long time. It is also the only way the dreamer can accurately interpret her own history. Eventually, the waking person must learn to cope with these images. This can be true for anyone, not only victims of childhood abuse or members of dysfunctional families.
Somewhere, among the billions of clichés,
someone said that children read between
the lines and hear the unspoken. What they
perceive is in fact, their reality.
I do find this passage a bit "telly"; "read between the lines" is a rather expected cliche, as your lead-in suggests it will be, but I do like "hear the unspoken". I sense that a tumultuous childhood is very much affected by the voices and noises swirling around the family (more than by any written words). I wonder if you could cut the former, and maybe also "somewhere" because it's not really a matter of location.
Among the billions of clichés, someone said
that children hear the unspoken. What they
perceive is in fact, their reality. [This, to me, is the telly part]
To shift into metaphor, here's an illustration - not meant to be used, but by way of example:
Shouts mold them into broken shapes,
screams curl them out of reach, like snails.
We still get that they're translating what they hear into what they understand, and attempt to hide from it or deny it or judge themselves by its effect on them. Of course, this is my own diction, not yours, but I've long admired your wonderful abilities at figurative language and right here, to me, you need to use all its power. This shifted "reality", even though others might question it, is the core of the poem. It is what takes so many years to change into something bearable. I believe you can give it a more dramatic punch.
I like the references to the sepia photos, the conversations, the crazy quilt. The tunnel idea, with the light at the end, treads awfully close to cliche though. Could you maybe connect this part to looking at the old albums and so on? Maybe "I remember the parlor shadows, but stare toward a bright window"? Or something else suggestive of darkness/light/hope without spelling it out directly?
I think I'd also omit "Adele Stephenson's famous quote", just give the direct quotation, and then reference it in a footnote. You don't want to divert the reader by including any personal name, because the poem is very much "I" and the first-person responses to her situation. The footnote would credit the author and avoid any interruption within the poem itself.
These are only my personal takes on possible revisions. The poem's authenticity and power to move the reader are undeniable. I feel hesitant to suggest tinkering with it at all, but sometimes a poet is still searching for a "jell", for a few suggestions that will click. I know that you do edit, revise and welcome critical input. We've exchanged that often in times past.
Congrats on the great response to "Atelier's Prayer", by the way! Good job.
Brenda
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