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This Poem was Submitted By: Sandra J Kelley On Date: 2004-09-09 21:06:01 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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A Fragment

All day long, chained to his chair, he types pages of his novel, a story he is telling to no-one. The ice cutter (my great grandfather) walked delicately across the blue St. Lawerence. Long pole stretched across open palms... delete Sitting around the dinning room table I ask for a memory of my father like asking for the salt to be passed I'm told "There isn't one." He is afraid it will be good. At the end of the day he presses delete. A group of orphans are ice skating A seven year old in a blue dress (my mother) Falls, her arm is broken in two pieces...delete The same stories, calculated to reveal nothing, are told over and over, even the words are the same. Freed from his motion control system he begins by erasing himself, In the watertown jail a sheriff pronounces "too many drunken Irishmen anyway" and locks the cell containing a man who may be (my grandfather)...delete I wrestle with silence, contend with my family for the stories they refuse to tell the top half of his lip, a chunk of his wrist, the tip of his right ear. Three girls (me, my sisters) watch stars emerge as my uncle assembles the swing. In joy we stretch out toes to the moon while...delete, delete, delete

Additional Notes:
With thanks to Joanne U. and to all of those who read and commented on the earlier drafts. Sandra

This Poem was Critiqued By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2004-10-07 19:37:49
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Sandra: Here in the waning moments of the ending of the contest, I see your poem at the bottom of my list. My comments will be brief in keeping with new rules and the problems I have typing/sitting up long. I love narrative poem and while yours is lyrical, it still has traces of the narrative form. The story you tell is akin to that of numerous families no doubt. The denial you portray herein reminds me so much of my sister who allows nothing "ugly" to come within miles of her family. My son says she rationalizes and that's likely true but she also reminds me of the Scarlett O'Hara syndrome: "I'll worry about that tomorrow." If you don't talk about things, they disappear. I really like your format: a mixture of couplets, tercets, quatrains, each perfectly selected for the content conveyed. The entire work is most intriguing and lovely; I missed its debut. The deletions at the ends of your paragraphs or couplets or wherever...that device plays well. The denial by your gramps or failure to discuss with you the fate of your father seems unusually bitter and most of his ill-will seems directed solely to your father. Okay, Sandra, you've really piqued my interest (another aspect of professional writing), and all readers will want to know why and when and what occurred. {I am not suggesting you provide this data; it's likely better leaving us in the dark). There is an undercurrent of a totally dysfunctional family but uncle seem healthy as do the poet and her sister who, in the ending, in the loveliest of gestures, in JOY stretch their toes to the moon. Tiny, trivial point but in the last stanza "me" should be "I" as it is written as the subject of the sentence, ergo, the nominative case. The sole reason I mention it is I've encountered editors who toss a mss. because of one error. This is truly a joy for poetry reading and I say Brava! for the accomplishment! Best wishes, Mell

This Poem was Critiqued By: Latorial D. Faison On Date: 2004-10-06 00:24:45
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.80000
Sandra, The whole while I was reading this poem, I thought "this would be an interesting movie." (smile). This poem has wonderful complexities, and I think that it's such an undertaking of creativity and strength. With your poetic talents you bring together the physical and the mental as they coincide in and through these people and things of which you speak. How hard was it to write this poem? I'm currently teaching an interpersonal relations course, and this poem would fit under the listening barrier as an "information overload." This is a strength of your poem. Because you have so many points and pieces in each line, the lines go right on by. Your style causes readers to read this poem at a fast pace, and you almost have to come back to make sense of what you just read. I like poems that are able to do that. It means that first the poem sounded lovely, lovely enough for the reader to go back and really discuss what it's about. I hope that you are proud of this one because it is a good poem. Thanks for sharing it at TPL. Latorial www.latorial.com

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2004-10-03 21:23:50
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Sandra: This is a stunning revision! It's perfect! I didn't really have suggestions for change in the first version I recall. But it's what you've added that gives extra punch and opens the cosmos to the reader. My eyes are literally filled with the imagery of the final stanza. We are expanding with you and your sisters as you "stretch out toes to the moon" and then! The word "while" followed by "delete, delete, delete..." seems to suck in the sense of time-expansion into a whorl of ...time denial? It's like taking a trip out to the moon and then WHAM, being sucked back into the vacuum of family secrets. I am still in this 'altered state' as I write. I LOVE IT! I hope you will send this to a literary journal. I can't think of a more original piece. You've accomplished great things with this poem, whether or not it receives the approbation it deserves in the contest here. I want to suggest "The Family Therapist" or similar publication. I recall the gist of the ending of the last version --- 'if the stories are erased faster than we can tell them' --"how will we breathe" -- I think that you've given us the breathless feeling without using those words, with the expansion/contraction of "toes to the moon, while...delete, delete, delete" --and I think the lack of a period makes it an endless retraction. Love it! Did I say that? <smile> Thank you for your 'thanks' to me -- be assured, it's really my pleasure! Magnificent! Kudos, once more. My best always, Joanne

This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2004-09-24 11:10:04
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Sandra, What strikes me most of this verse, beyond the obvious meanings, is that the style is perfectly tailored to the message. I am not sure you choose a style and write to it, or write and then stand back and admire the style, but they is a good match in this verse. Each glimpse into a memory, to be deleted, was a snippet that drew us more into the mystery. You were able to capture a certain, wry humor while at the same time maintaining a background of frustration. The line that best defines your verse is "I wrestle with silence". I seldom deal with structure, am far more interested in capturing the beauty and passion, in that stead thought, unless Lawerence is an alternate spelling the actual should be "Lawrence". One other, I am assuming you left Watertown uncapitalized because it is not a formal name, or you wish to de-emphasize the town to appeal to a broader view of your audience. This was a very touching piece. Thank you for sharing.

This Poem was Critiqued By: cheryl a kelley On Date: 2004-09-13 13:30:22
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
I love this poem. I have lots of favorite lines, but number one would have to be I wrestle with silence, contend with my family for the stories they refuse to tell I also love Sitting around the dinning room table I ask for a memory of my father like asking for the salt to be passed I'm told "There isn't one." and the stories of your mom? and grandfather? love the disjointed fragments I love the last one you added about the 3 girls... it brings it home to how your own stories are disappearing. I'm not sure that I would have deleted the last stanza about once the words fill the air... how will we breathe. I might have tried editing it ... like The stories, faster than I can write them are being erased Once my words fill the air will there be anything left to read?

This Poem was Critiqued By: Gerard A Geiger On Date: 2004-09-10 09:11:52
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Dear Sandra; I enjoyed this piece immensely. Often it is what you don't write that tells a better tale in the mind of your reader. A Fragment combines the Poet as jouirnalist, researcher,artist, and reporter. Searching the memories of her loved ones for the stories of their lives...Finding snippets... which for some reason "too painful, faulty memory, too tired to relate,etc." are not completed. This work is not diminished by this...as you bring it into your story as portions of a novel which will never be completed...A great idea.. and a great delivery of this theme in this succinct poetic style... Thanks for sharing this work... Gerard

This Poem was Critiqued By: James Edward Schanne On Date: 2004-09-10 08:57:46
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.00000
chained to his chair- a slave to his labor, doing what must be done because it is what he must do, knowing no matter how much is put into that first draft most of it never touches another soul, and thats just what I get from the first three lines, every fragment tells much more then what is eyed. Thanks for letting me read and comment on a fine piece of work.

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