This Poem was Submitted By: Mark Andrew Hislop On Date: 2008-09-21 19:03:23 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
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Debugging
Is the shipwreck then a harvest, does tempest
Carry the grain for thee?
- Gerard Manley Hopkins
The soul’s circuitry is too complex, foils
Itself with its plenitude of paths. Love,
Respect and beauty—all it wants to have—
It abstracts, like Zeus from a seismogram,
A compass from life’s hieroglyphic coils.
One odd robot won’t accept its program
And instead dreams of agency to live
Unenlivened by strictures and controls.
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Copyright © September 2008 Mark Andrew Hislop
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2008-09-23 09:19:13
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
MAH,
This has meat, and voice, and is in the attire of the high poet you are.
"It abstracts, like Zeus from a seismogram" - wow. Splendid,splendid, splendid. Ditto to "[a] compass from life's hieroglyphic coils." Noteworthy.
I believe we (or at least I) have a winner. But I must revisit JCH's "Blue Suits and Bibles" and vet that offering from Dixon. But I think this will withstand those.
MSS
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2008-09-22 16:09:26
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.77778
Hi Mark..I have read this poem several times and each time I feel like cheering for the robot. I went from a sheltered home right into a sheltered marriage where there were so many strictures and controls. It is amusing that now when I find myself alone I still adhere to those controls...conditioning I guess. An easy poem to relate to...for me anyway. I must quit before I give you a 'fluff critique' and get arrested by the critique police (grin) By the way, my friend and I are planning a trip to New Zealand in Nov. 2009 with a three day trip to your neck of the woods. What city do you line in? Who knows I might be close enough to call you on the phone...
Hugs....Mazza
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2008-09-21 23:45:58
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
A poem of indefinite aloofness, allowing its reader vast license. Something poets do on the fringe,
coming to terms with either the Muse or those around them that interfere. Showing you believe in not
just the soul but that cognizance/inspiration and perchance that "odd robot" even, are its components.
Treasured lines from Hopkins that pull the teeth from dispair and raise concerns beyond the mundane
in appreciation that nothing in nature need be thought devastating. Your poem does those lines service.
"Debugging", or just cleaning out the attic?
(Careful with your answer.)
JCH
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