This Poem was Submitted By: Latorial D. Faison On Date: 2005-03-11 12:52:59 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
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Alignment Cues --for too many dead poets--
I listen
and my ears ring
to a silence so noisy
that my inner child
can't even dream
of places she will go
people she'll never know
or the best sex
a woman
ever had
They call it
crazy
so don't go
bringing any guns
home for safety
or sanity
because
some days
I'm not afraid
to die
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Copyright © March 2005 Latorial D. Faison
This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-04-06 17:14:32
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.42105
Whoa...where did that come from? Are you trying to tell me something? You seem to be in a dark
space. Are you referring to yourself?
P.S.: Maybe you're not afraid to die, but to be honest, I am.
Well, this poet ain't dead yet. I have a lot more living to do. Don't scare me! This is one
very sad piece, and I wish I knew what was going on (for you). The title doesn't give away
much except perhaps to tell me the mind and the body aren't working well together.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Nancy Ann Hemsworth On Date: 2005-03-24 06:41:01
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.44000
To me this poem spreaks of being numb!! frigid and suspended emotionally from "a silence so noisy" that the joys of life, such as "the best sex a woman ever had" is not conceivable , or "the places she could go". Because of the constraints of this world and the stresses etc. of life, the inner child has been silenced, as if punished for being a dreamer, a lover of life, a free spirit, to dare to take the soul and body to places of pleasure and wonderment, etc. I have been there.."when somedays I am not afraid to die", and that is a scarey place to be. I really enjoyed your short powerpacked poem, the best kind as far as I am personally concerned. It takes the reader right there to feel the emptyness that you describe, and I don't know anyone who hasn't at least visited that place once in their lives. Thanks for sharing this.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Troy D Skroch On Date: 2005-03-20 20:24:06
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.92308
Latorial,
It's been awhile since we last talked. It's good to see your writing again, even if it scares me just a little. I'm glad I don't have a gun in the house. LOL!
First of all, as a reader, because I still don't understand what a "critique" is, I want to support your writing with my first impressions; the most honest feelings I can give back to you before I start "intellectualizing", another word that I'm not sure I like. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I want to try to write my first impressions of your poem before my consciousness took over. Try to hear my voice and be patient with the broken thoughts and run on sentences. Thanks=)
Alignment Cues
The title makes me think of putting a piece of furniture together, a roll top desk for example that has small pins that fit the top to the bottom; how an archer stands with his feet and shoulder parallel to the target; how I shovel snow lining up the end of the shovel just right. "Alignment Cues" brings the image of a pool stick to mind and the holding of it just right. Latorial must be aligning something here. Bringing something into focus. Showing something that brings something into focus.
--for too many dead poets--
Latorial dedicates this to dead poets? What does that mean? Is this hinting at natural death or something more tragic like self assisted slayings of the I. I remember two of my friends who shot themselves 6 months apart. It was a bad year. One of them was a poet. I think of Virginia Wolf, Hemingway and Jack London. I don't know where this is going. What are we aligning too? I read on.
I listen
and my ears ring
to a silence so noisy
that my inner child
can't even dream
of places she will go
people she'll never know
or the best sex
a woman
ever had
Listening but can't hear. All is silent, so silent that I can't even dream, the silence is overpowering. What can this mean? Contentment? No, I think not. It feels lonely, profoundly lonely. To not be able to visualize the places unseen, or people unknown, or best sex to be had or dreamt of. Perhaps the first person voice can't see beyond the time present? Perhaps it's a comment on a state of mind of somebody else. Yes, perhaps this is commenting on the state a person reaches after life does something to them or they lose something or they are just tired? I don't know. I read on.
They call it
crazy
so don't go
bringing any guns
home for safety
or sanity
because
some days
I'm not afraid
to die
"Crazy" This is a state of craziness. So crazy that guns no longer intimidate, because there is no fear of death. There is nothing to live for so why should the narrator or the person the narrator is commenting on or the state of mind the narrator is commenting on be afraid? There is no safety from the insane? But what does this have to do with poets? What are poets? I see poets as people who look hard at life. Who observe everything to the point of, of what, of burning out. Is this poem about poets who have focused so much on life that they've in some way burned out their own? I don't know. And what of the title. What are the cues to align to? Is it the cues to align to or the lack there of? I don't know.
Latorial, I'm not sure I can be exact about my thoughts concerning this poem, but it does make me think. It's always a pleasure to read your writing, because you do it so well.
Best,
Troy
p.s. Sometimes you call me Tony, but you can call me Troy. LOL! Take care and thanks for being understanding to my somewhat unorthodox approach to this poem.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2005-03-19 21:03:39
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 8.75000
Latorial, unless this entire piece is rhetorical, I don’t think I understand:
• inner child can’t dream
• places she can’t go
• people she won’t know
• or the best sex she’s ever had
I don’t know whether I’d call it crazy, but I am pretty sure that for the promise of perforation, I’d rather drown, but then, I really am not afraid to die, too much, even without all of these matters.
--for too many dead poets-- maybe in the mix of it all, the crux is the cue, that what we see, isn’t really a pertinent part of what actually is, unless we write it in passion. To be lightened of that passion, maybe better off dead, at least for the poet.
This piece made me think, but usually that is not unusual when you write.
thanks latorial!
This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-03-14 14:59:00
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.00000
well constructed poet, word flow does just that it flows with style along with rhyming.......and allows each reader to perhaps bring up images you have created with the flare of your pen........
that inner child in all of us certainly has a way of coming to the surface now and then.......a silence so noisy you cannot dream past the ringing........heard that ringing more then once in the still of the dark, late at night when all is well with the world asleep....or so it seemed.....thanks for posting, God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: Duane J Jackson On Date: 2005-03-13 00:15:06
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Latorial,
Once again, a very well-written piece that is at once misleading in its outward simplicity and engaging in its inherent depth :-)
I believe this is what sets poets and regular book-writers apart. Poets are able to say so much under the greates of constraints and still add a touch of music to their works.
What drew me to this piece besides it deep under-current was the use of rhyme that makes this write very lyrical (go/know; crazy/safety----nice slant rhyme; days/afraid) and the well-constructed flow. The poem skates, making for a very comfortable read.
'They call it
crazy
so don't go
bringing any guns
home for safety
or sanity
because
some days
I'm not afraid
to die'
The above verse would have to be my favorite. I see a young lady (and her inner child) throwing her arms up in the air with an air of refusal to go through the pressure of protecting herself. Do I see a 'live and let live' hint here.
Take care,
Duane.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Lynda G Smith On Date: 2005-03-12 22:12:38
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Latorial,
The simplicity of the beginning caught my attention right away. I read through this work and I was blown away with its power, its strength...I know THAT silence! A silence that is so deafening, that it blocks out thoughts and hopes and dreams and yes even memories of good sex. What has caused this ringing... something so loud in your head or your soul that it resonates within pushing you to the edge of a precipice....This noise of silence places some kind of audio blinders on your being but you tear them off, refusing to go quietly... The audio blinders have not affected your mental acuity and your own sanity is not endangered here, simply we see the power of clear thinking and the courage to meet what comes before you.
They call it
crazy.... You have given them your limits... whoever they are... no matter what they say..
You recognize the dangers, but also your own strengths and your own passions. I appreciate the terse brevity of the phrasing, the simplicity of the words. They work here as an explored thesaurus would not.
congratulations... a wonderful work.
Lynda
This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2005-03-11 18:39:38
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.70000
Latorial--An enthralling enjambement and big departure from your 'normal' caustic
social rant-smile. My favorite verbiage is the solitary rime phrase;
"...my inner child
can't even dream
of places she will go
people she'll never know"
In my opinion, both stanzas are combinations of oxymoronic phrasing and sauciness
which makes this an attractive read while being the second post to remind me of
"Ego Tripping" (there may be a reason why) by Nikki Giovanni. Hope to see more of
this! TLW
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