This Poem was Submitted By: Mark Andrew Hislop On Date: 2007-05-15 19:46:00 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Porcupine

I bristle. You approach too near if you are not a porcupine you will get stuck. Each quill, rigid with ink, barbed and cued to the beat of the post-modern eye, eyes your flank, franks ego and id con staccato. The wound deepens, the infection may kill, and you and I are brethren, no longer, still.

Copyright © May 2007 Mark Andrew Hislop


This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2007-06-04 17:21:52
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
My Dear Mr. Hislop, I attempt this with trepidation- for it seems what I hear in your writing is seldom close to what you are saying. Yet, I will try, once more to reach that pinnacle that is your craft. At first impression, we come to know the porcupine. I will say it is a classic porcupine, with the same insecurities and over reaction as all porcupines. I will say that the “post-modern” view in regards to “barbed and cued to the beat” stains the rhythm section within me to place the reference. I get protecting the “flank and franks” then onto ego and id. Porcupines are known to cause fatal wounds simply by imbedding their quills/ which are sans poison. It is, indeed, the depth and placement of the quills that cause the injury. Me, as always, I spend my time looking for the angle in verse. That said; the metaphor I find in this piece is that injury is relative to intimacy. The closer one gets, the more the barb hurts. There seems also to be a theorem that as one approaches and opens up, it is inevitable that hurt (whether by will or reaction) will be exchanged. The finale shows us that the discomfort/disagreement can not alter the bonds that are innate to the relationship/family. Then again, I may have completely missed your point; suffice to say- and found the only the value of what this verse means to me. I did enjoy the read.


This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2007-05-27 22:27:16
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Mark, You porcupine you........ I've always wondered how porcupines relate? And if not related how can anyone get close to them? And if you always stood back a bit, how would you learn? You my dear pricky one are one of few.. I love your 'stuff', it's great fun. dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2007-05-26 15:59:06
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.84615
Howdy Mark....I swore I would not crit another poem of yours until you returned the favor..but here I am. I hate it when I cave in that easy. I know this porcupine is a metaphor...a friend, a wife, and old love or maybe even a new one? Who is it that makes you bristle so? "ego and id con staccato"...getting off the track a bit...I worked for a doctor for many years and had my own little lab. Somewhere (don't remember where now) I found a little soft, squishy, toy that was mostly a head with little legs and in a sit down position. I perched him on one of my lab machines and when the doctor asked me why I did that I said it was my id and it needed a place of its own. For some strange reason he just smiled and walked off to see another patient. So my id sat there until the day I quit working or him. What does all this mean? Hell if I know I was just reminded of that when I read your words. Back on track now...your last strophe is the strongest in my humble opinion. One of those endings that makes you sit upright and go ahhhh. Exceptional. I would have reversed the last three words and made it....still, no longer. But that's just me and don't pay attention to my insane ramblings. A very thoughtful piece with melancholy overtones....superb. Hugs....Mazza
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joan M Whiteman On Date: 2007-05-18 11:03:28
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Mark - Intriguing bit of word-play. Sounds like a battle of the pen is impending. I like the mystery you impart here. Your poem is open to many interpretations. Each read tells a different story. VEry enjoyable! Joan
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2007-05-16 09:24:01
Critiquer Rating During Critique: Unknown
Ahh, yes, young man, we are painfully reminded so often of the tenuous connections we have with others, and of the brittleness our egos make of them. It is interesting, already knowing your abilities, that here you begin clumsily and end with a stanza turned so well. Although I have one issue, "...no longer, still.",...a contradiction in terms, or a sideways slap at the mere notion that connection is even possible? The quality of that first stanza is not in keeping with the rest. JCH
This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2007-05-16 06:52:17
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Good Morning Mark........ouch........they are slow walking critters and curiosity might get your attention but indeed they are the worst enemy another animal or human may have once those quills are let go. My poor dog got into a tangle with one and the vet had to help........dog stayed overnight he was so badly hurt. The images you created with the flare of your pen are so right on. Thanks for posting, this time of the year the porcupine walks the woods searching for new life........God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2007-05-16 00:18:23
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
MAH, My favorite of yours this month. And history has shown that my judgment tends to make bigger waves than yours. I've had those franks. They sell them at Wrigley. Pardon me. I'm arrogant, and American. You probably come as close to the meaning of that last line as those German generals did when one of ours told them "nuts" upon being requested to surrender during the Battle of the Bulge. And I'm always remembering the Alamo. So . . . get an American dictionary, my Aussie friend. Or roll your eyes and quietly humor me. Shit, it's only Tuesday night. What the hell was Hislop doing here? MSS
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