Poetry Contests Online at The Poetic Link

This Poem was Submitted By: Regis L Chapman On Date: 2004-01-22 16:52:51 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!

Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!

Black and White

dealing in the dull the soul a trench to dig masters of mud not unlike the pig chewing upon the very thing I mull only we call it a cud slow, slow slow, humble as a master's chant and hum almost permanently bowed in search of another one- blade of grass wind blown as glass blank stare at interesting without a mumble and you there administering India has it right, I see then, and even now the master, black and white that we forget to be not a farm, not a chicken, not a man not even a sow can

Additional Notes:
This was written, clearly, when I was in the middle of my time as a yoga student. I had so many struggles when I was there. I began to feel so much the disparate elements of my personality becoming more and more and more markedly separated. My ego from my soul, so to speak. I began to go a little mad- after a fashion- working out in the garden for 10-12 hours a day, meditating for 2 hours a day, getting 5 hours sleep- all the things that go with that. I wrote this when I was at the height of that confusion, that ultimately resulted in my leaving. It was during this time, that Swamiji told me about how in Indian ashrams they have to shovel shit every day for a couple of years, so I should feel grateful... I can still feel that schism to this day. Now all I have left is to do something about it...

This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2004-02-07 12:03:32
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.62366
Well poet it is good that you were able to see where you were at that time of your life and what it might have been doing to you.....interesting piece to say the least....good structure and word flow which does allow the reader to perhaps become a part of your surroundings. Thanks for posting and for the explanation after it sometimes help to better understand what might be going on within.......I hope you have cleared your mind of the portions that remained with you......be safe, God Bless, Claire You certainly have much to write about in your short life......Thank you for sharing this with us....very interesting indeed.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2004-01-28 17:30:24
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Reeg: I'm glad you put data in additional notes for it helps clarify the situation and the sense of the poem. Otherwise, it feels as if written under the influence of something....and in this case, your self-search of yoga studies. I was puzzled by the title until line 18 shed some faint light on your selection. While usually intrigued by your obscure pieces, this seems such a disjointed theme and explication, it is like quicksilver...too elusive to be captured. You begin with a dull life, a trench to dig as soul, and masters of mud chewing their cud about the ideas churning in your brain. I know nil of yoga but masters being porcine- like and black and white do not fit my magery of same. To imagine that which is black and white denotes a number of ideas: there are no gray nor unanswerable areas in their make-up. Now that would be boring for half the enjoyment of life comes from trying to sort things thru, examine the possibility of classification, and if so, where to locate same. "India" has it right...never more than now as the NY critics herald the new schools of thought and writing emerging from the country. But I think you refer here to their philosophies...many are attracted to the so-called Eastern religions/ideaologies. Your ending is as enigmatic as your poem...all the possibilities of negation of what we cannot be. And "not even a sow can." Had i been working that many hours daily as you were when this was composed, I doubt I could have summoned a lucid thought. I think you have us all fascinated with your poetry, frequently over our heads, but give us efforts for trying to sort it out. Okay? You are now a tried and true TPL member, clearly above most of whom write about love, disaster, and especially a dastardly deed regarding a child. Keep plying us with poems and we'll figure them out one day! Best, Mell

This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2004-01-28 16:09:41
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.48276
Hi Regis, I read this poem twice yesterday and two more times today and even though I am sure I cannot give you the type of critique you deserve I do want to comment. I am glad for your post script as it did clear up the disconnected thought process of the entire piece. "Dealing in the dull...the soul a trench to dig" I was hoping the next few lines would explain your meaning here..."masters of mud not unlike the pig" but I just could not get inside your mind, which frustrates me as I always try to do that when I read the poets words. Throughout the entire piece I find some very interesting and profound statements and have decided some puctuation would help it read better...for me anyway..."blade of grass wind blown as glass"..I especially like this thought. Since you are not involved in yoga now you may want to re-think this piece and do a re-write. I do believe this poem has merit and with a little work could become a very worthy piece of writing. Sorry I am just not smart enough to dig deep into your mind at the time you wrote this and give you a comprehensive critique. Peace...Marilyn

This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2004-01-24 18:58:44
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 7.63636
But I am sure you gained immensely from this experience. I would suggest to look at it in a positive light for everything has value. Is this an expression of too much meditation? And therefore you were humbled right down there with the pigs. I guess that was a lesson in itself so that only one could rise above it. I almost went to an Ashram in the 60's, and am glad I didn't...although I did have the chance to meet and be blessed by the Dalai Lama. It truly is black and white.Thanks for presenting this.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2004-01-23 15:27:15
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.93750
Reeg: I enjoyed this poem immensely - and found the additional notes enlightening. I think that your observations could wisely serve as a caveat to all writers: keep the poetry you have written at varying stages in your life. It is a wise person who continues to learn, building on past perceptions, weaving insights into the present. I think you captured a mood in this piece. I have reread it numerous times, and found myself involved in examining my own disparate parts. I love that about a poem - (this one especially) in that it provides not only a reading adventure, but an experiential one. No experience is wasted, you show us keenly here - we learn something from everything - and everyone. dealing in the dull the soul a trench to dig masters of mud not unlike the pig The heavy 'uh' and 'd' sounds in "dull/mud/cud" weight the poem with the "slow, slow slow, humble" rhythm of "a master's chant and hum" in a way that deftly brings the reader into the mood of the piece. Ilove these lines especially: "blade of grass wind blown as glass" The 'bl/gl' sounds and the combined sense of "wind blown" and "blown as glass" give it a bit of an arcane feel, and also a lot of movement and imagery within a few words. There is a bout these lines a sense of 'rightness' if you will. Surrender to a thought process, or nonlinear thought. then, and even now the master, black and white that we forget to be not a farm, not a chicken, not a man not even a sow can Enigmatic and fascinatingly complex. I reveled in the sounds. Thank you for giving us this extremely interesting look at what it felt like to be a yoga student. The sense of detachment is compelling and well-portrayed. My best to you, Joanne

Poetry Contests Online at The Poetic Link

Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!