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This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-04-03 17:14:26
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Barbara: There are several things that occurred to me when I read this for the first time. One is that we all subvocalize when reading. Another is, that it isn't unusual for us to read poems aloud for the sound. I think a lot of critiquers do that, as they've mentioned it often. So as I read this, I really did a double-take, as I realized that, quite cleverly, you were doing exactly as you've stated in this brilliant piece. You moved my lips, not to mention my eyes, synaptic neurons and currently, fingers. This may be an original way to show, with irony, the subtle or not-so-subtle power of speech to shape the speaker. I wondered at "elvin echoes" because this is just the type of 'trick' a mischievous elf or gnome might play. Then, the elf becomes a bit more sinister, with the following two lines: Trust the twisting tentacles I’ll tell you when I’m done I thought then of a shape-shifter who might enjoy tormenting the reader by controlling the speaker/reader with hypnotic suggestions of trust. Open wide my hydra smile And sneer in "meek decree" --is this in submission to a cleric? Let me hold the reins of sound Your breath is all I need The undersea references of "tentacles" and "hydra" give the piece a bit more 'grip' so to speak, an almost Poe-like morbidity. Who is the speaker, then? Perhaps not the playful poet, but a speaker who forces words from the one addressed, perhaps someone with intent to control the thoughts as well as the speech of such a one. "Your breath is all I need" elicited for me the image of breath as spirit. I think of 'inspiration' from Latin 'inspirare' --quite literally 'to breathe'. I thought of evil entities like incubi and succubi. Faintly weigh the measures Accentuate success Touch the tips of tiny twigs That glad and happy mess Of hard cored words to crunch And swallow, swift this sweltering line --here the sense of oppression grows Take a sip and start again Pink drinkers of my wine At first I thought this to be a clever parody of what playwrights and poets cause those who participate in their works to do. Then, with further consideration, it seems to me that the poem refers to forced speech and ritualized behavior that may be part of a formalized rite or cult which feels oppressive and controlling to the speaker. There is a sense that the reader becomes part of a dyad of persecutor-victim. Over time, the identity of the latter becomes subsumed in the former. I have traveled from one extreme to the other -- from jocularity to the much more difficult situation of oppressor-oppressed. This is a poem to make one think deeply, a shiver a bit in the process. Well done! Best to you, Joanne

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