This Poem was Submitted By: Mark Andrew Hislop On Date: 2004-04-18 10:09:47 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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On similarity

Here’s my sketch, then, of one of whom I know more through knowing little than those I should have known more through knowing much. I begin with a guess at essence: “Uncomfortable with strangers.” Not because of imagined harm, but of the certain fear: “What mental gauntlet must I run, how contort myself to gain moderate acceptance here, when,  rather, silence and aloneness were my room, away from those who do so proudly for all selves remark, ‘That’s far too deep,’ or fearing criticism of their friends, say, ‘That’s altogether far too much refined,’ and cannot, will not bring to bear on depth or refinement the energy of their mind?” Oh, I know these folk too, for they have laughed and made small all those thoughts and words that spring like grasshoppers across the savannah of my mind, crushed them as a sport between their goals, their instant replays and their wine. One more guess, aroused by your thinking kind what I may say of you, when it’s nothing but a daisy dappling your hair that I chance to remark upon. My guess is this: In feeling undeserving of anything that exceeds our fellows fates, we stand bowed against the measure of another’s rule, when all poets decree we should use our own. I believe in these and similar things our similarity lies, a winking hint of more common thoughts and moods that we, unknown to each other, by nature share. But even similarity must reach  its end, as bodies by space delimited and defined must all by their nature be. What is that end, and how defined for us? The fundamental natural difference, the volcanic action of primal force, male, whose field of action can only be the permanence of eternal female time.

Copyright © April 2004 Mark Andrew Hislop


This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2004-05-02 09:57:10
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.52632
On similarity Wonderful, thoughtful, self-reflection in which the narrator reaches touches or sensibilities in carefully constructed quatrains. I have made some suggestions to tighten it up. Here’s my sketch, then, of one []I know more, [ knowing little,] than those I should have known more, [] knowing much. I begin with a guess at essence: “Uncomfortable Fine, fine enjambment here and I love the repetitions with strangers.” Not because of imagined harm, but of the certain fear: “What mental gauntlet must I run, how contort myself to gain moderate acceptance here, when, Interesting distinction. If harm is imagined. Is that not, in some sense, as “certain” as fear itself? Perhaps instead of "certain" - “specific” fear?” rather, silence and aloneness were my room, [wonderful]laway from those who do so proudly for all selves remark, ‘That’s far too deep,’ or fearing criticism of [of or from?} their friends, say, ‘That’s altogether far too much refined,’ and cannot, will not bring to bear on depth or refinement the energy of their[ minds]?” Oh, I know these folk too, for they have laughed and made small all those thoughts and words that spring like grasshoppers across the savannah of my mind, crushed them as a sport between their goals, their instant replays and their wine. That is my favorite quatrain! It would not look out of place in an Eliot poem. One more guess, aroused by your thinking kind what I may say of you, when it’s nothing but a daisy dappling your hair [great!} that I chance to remark upon. My guess is this: In feeling undeserving of anything that exceeds our fellows fates, we stand bowed against the measure of another’s rule, when all poets decree we should use our own. More's the pity, yes! I believe in these and similar things our similarity lies, a winking hint [great phrase!}of more common thoughts and moods that we, unknown to each other, by nature share. Yes yes – that is it exactly! But even similarity must reach its end, as bodies by space delimited and defined must all by their nature be. What is that end, and how defined for us? The fundamental natural difference, the volcanic action of primal force, male, whose field of action can only be the permanence of eternal female time. Female time! I love this ending with its powerful allusion and strong consonants. Excellent, masterful work, Best Rach


This Poem was Critiqued By: Thomas Edward Wright On Date: 2004-04-20 22:14:11
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.43902
Mark- Sorry, I intended to follow up on these last two pieces, but had to deal with some issues... This poem can be read in several different ways. The first time I read it, it assumed that you were speaking to a lover. The second time, I still felt that way, but began to have doubts. The third, I was convinced your audience was much broader: the general readership. And I think that is how the poem works best, as a poem from the poet to the reader, or readers and poets like yourself - you point out our similarities nicely and uniquely, I enjoyed the daisy in the hair, a nice touch, and one of the reasons I tried to make this a poem to a lover. It's just that your ending is so dramatic and "all encompassing" that I rejected that approach/direction/bent So I think your message is one directed to (us) poets (I would have to be very liberal to put myself in that category) and that the fundamental differences between us are really not differences at all, but less than similar, or, oddly, the same. But even similarity must reach its end, as bodies by space delimited and defined must all by their nature be. What is that end, and how defined for us? The fundamental natural difference, the volcanic action of primal force, male, whose field of action can only be the permanence of eternal female time. THis one will be chewing on my boot for awhile. Very unique. tom
This Poem was Critiqued By: Wayne R. Leach On Date: 2004-04-18 13:31:24
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.84314
Mark, After almost passing on this, I re-read it several times, liking it more each time. My thought, at first, was due to the complexity of S1's message - its almost contorted discourse, but after "sticking with it", I got it. Then I became so involved with your message, I couldn't leave it, and actually enjoyed the strength and the sincerity of what you conveyed. The lines pasted below are the most succinct and poignant lines, I feel, and the grasshopper simile is excellent. Then the "slamming" of those who play at this "sport" of crushing another's ingenuity really struck home, for I am sometimes guilty of that, too, I fear. [I am attempting to really appreciate and adapt to the fresh and inventive talents being displayed throughout all fields of artistry.] Oh, I know these folk too, for they have laughed and made small all those thoughts and words that spring like grasshoppers across the savannah of my mind, crushed them as a sport between their goals, their instant replays and their wine. In feeling undeserving of anything that exceeds our fellows fates, we stand bowed - [Should fellow(')s be possessive? maybe just a typo?] against the measure of another’s rule, when all poets decree we should use our own. Your form is excellent, the rhythm great, the message powerful. Your use of alliteration is also well done. I see nothing else wrong with this, and thanks for posting. Peace. Wayne
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