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This Poem was Submitted By: hello haveaniceday On Date: 2005-03-06 11:11:45 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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This Fast Window

I see your life, through this fast window Rooftop chairs Frozen clotheslines Gritty sidewalk stares I think that you like me Are stuck here in a random place No roadmaps showing blue routes What’s that joke about the rat race The evening light is dusky now You drink coffee in the kitchen And the phone it rings and rings and rings Lovely glow of television I see your life through this fast window Passing trucks obscure the view Receding snapshots of a gray life I could so easily be you

This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-04-01 13:40:35
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Barbara: I think that this poem is one of the most remarkable of the ones I have encountered on this site, because it brings me into the immediacy of the speaker's experience so vividly that it has become part of my own memory since I first read it. It's a rare thing -- to view scenes "through this fast window" and actually see them as the poet does. I think that the sparsity of the words chosen allows for this expanded experience. Either through the windows of a car, train or other moving vehicle, the speaker notes the connection-disconnection with observed others. How often I have reflected upon similar scenes. You've captured what must be a nearly universal experience, at least for poets, and though it is wholly yours, it becomes the reader's. Those observed, those objects seen in passing are given a kind of immortality, as if painted and preserved for future viewers. My thought is wonderment, as to how they might be surprised, gladdened or dismayed were they to know. I am 'in love' with what might be termed 'ordinariness' -- objects of great beauty, in my estimation. And in a sense, it may be easier to love people one may not likely encounter, at least for this reader. But I digress. Exquisite assonance in "frozen clotheslines" and "chairs/stairs." The single image per line simply arrests my attention for that fleeting moment. The "gritty sidewalk stares" are what they are. Moments encapsulated for contemplation. What will be the yield? I think that you like me Are stuck here in a random place No roadmaps showing blue routes What’s that joke about the rat race The hard 'k' sound in "think/like/stuck" is surely onomatopoeia as one cannot but be temporarily "stuck" while pronouncing these words' final sounds. Another gem is "blue routes" as one can visualize maps and sorrow as well. The idea of randomness (or existential dilemma) in place of meaningful order is a rich part of the apostrophe. Are we randomly 'stuck' wherever we happen to be -- if so, that is a great equalizer-- how alike we are to strangers viewed from a "fast window" of time. Time seems to speed the viewer forward without meaningful purpose. There's no "roadmap" to a life which is random, as it would be essentially meaningless, aside from the meaning one chooses to attribute to it. How best to live in such a chaotic universe? The poet demonstrates one way: recognizing the humanity in others. Viewed from afar, the coffee, kitchen, phone ringing and "lovely glow" of television seem inviting, and yet somehow futile. The phone "rings and rings and rings" all to what purpose? Will the words exchanged be as inane as the fare with which the television lights the room? A temporary false hearth, which glows with artificial warmth, I think. I see your life through this fast window Passing trucks obscure the view Receding snapshots of a gray life I could so easily be you Again, the hard 'k' sound in "trucks/obscure" -- and the apostrophe ends with "snapshots of a gray life" spoken to one or ones who could "so easily" be the speaker. If those ones depicted in the gray life were to look out their respective windows at the passing scene which includes the writer, would it occur to them that the face in the window could "so easily" be them? As a personal aside, I so often look from the train window, looking at homes and people in passing, wondering at the similarity/dissimilarity of our common human experience. What is it about writers and artists that makes us want to capture the ineffable in our work? Is it the need to attribute meaning? I think that perhaps we write or paint because we must, to give meaning to experience. This is an excellent poem, in my view, as it stimulates emotion and thought, reflection and reverie. I particularly like "this fast window" as it captures the fleetingness of time in an original way. Overall, I've enjoyed reading and commenting on this piece enormously. Kudos, once more. Brava! My very best wishes, Joanne

This Poem was Critiqued By: Nancy Ann Hemsworth On Date: 2005-03-27 21:14:35
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.44444
Your poem for some reason brought back all kinds of childhood memories for me..I remember sitting in the park at dusk and looking over at the houses on the next street , the windows lit and tv on..also on the bus watching through the window as people and the world passing by so quickly..and wondering, is this real or a dream, what are these pictures about and how is their reality..not necessarily in the specific way, but with the child eye. always a dreamer , thinker and observer. The neighborhood, "Rooftop chairs Frozen clotheslines Gritty sidewalk stares" all brings back my early life, and thoughts..you have done this for me, and I thank you very much, haven't thought about this for sometime now. But now life itself is going by so quickly for me!! I love your last stanza. seeing someones life, the view obscure at times, in time frames of memories perhaps "receding snapshots of a gray life", and then your last line "I could so easily be you", seems to breathe a sigh of relief when read.I enjoyed your poem very much, and decided to just give you a glimpse of what you have given me in the reading of your words..take care, and thanks for sharing!

This Poem was Critiqued By: Rachel F. Spinoza On Date: 2005-03-14 14:16:22
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.33333
This Fast Window I like the intersting pun of the title I see your life, through this fast window Rooftop chairs Frozen clotheslines Gritty sidewalk stares you set the scene admirably I think that you[,] like me Are stuck here in a random place No roadmaps showing blue routes What’s that joke about the rat race[?} indeed the despair is thickening with each carefully sculpted rhymed and/or near-rhymed stanza The evening light is dusky now You drink coffee in the kitchen And the phone it rings and rings and rings Lovely glow of television television/kitchen wonderful slant rhyme I see your life through this fast window [interesting - shads of Rear Window - but more tragic than sinister Passing trucks obscure the view Receding snapshots of a gray life I could so easily be you and the narraror ends the tale in a splash of empathic angst. Neat poem

This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-03-10 08:53:27
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Indeed poet.....are you able to see within the privacy of another's life so easily? Seems to me you are so perhaps you might find this setting within the city limits with taller then tall buildings......the gentleman who lives nearby, alone and perhaps lonely as well.......close enough though to hear his phone ring and ring and ring some more.......good structure, word flow, images that present themselves....love the clothesline effect along with the rest........the glow of the television, good projection there as well......wonder if he considers his life as gray as you might see it through that fast window....thanks for posting, God Bless, Claire

This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-03-07 18:50:01
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
There are laws against Peeping Toms you know?! At first I thought it would be a fast food place...but no you got me in another direction. Are you that close that you can hear the phone ringing? I liked the way you drew this to a logical conclusion. I wonder if you really wished it were you. I don't think I know you, however I will say that my preference is not to have a title that also fits in the poem. Something I learned at poets conventions. Think about it. Thanks.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2005-03-06 11:35:12
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Barbara, at first “sight” attributing speed to the window, like the parallax of a vehicle moving making the world seem to be actually moving, is excellent. I wondered as I read your piece if that same type of comparison would be expanded, so that the closest seems the fastest, and the distant, moving more slowly. I guess, I’ll have to discover your intuitions. This Fast Window I see your life, through this fast window Rooftop chairs Frozen clotheslines Gritty sidewalk stares – For me, this reminds me of those days gone, when the condition of living was not so tied to the wealth of living. When there was “a certain”, tranquility, whereas, now, this would be seen as “failure” after a fashion. Some may ascribe this to a low rent tenement, but it used to be, a close communal atmosphere. I wonder, of this fast window, and how the world outside travels. I think that you like me (that you, like me) Are stuck here in a random place No roadmaps showing blue routes What’s that joke about the rat race – There are two aspects that catch me in this stanza, the one of the “blue line”, that traveling requires access, if you will, but moreover, that the “rat race” belies the “metaphor or amplifier” embodied in the word “stuck”. You place a variable to living by being stuck “randomly”, as if the choices we make have an affect, but that effect is minimized by external randomness. “Rat Race”, is it a joke, or is this an attempt at cynicism? The evening light is dusky now You drink coffee in the kitchen And the phone it rings and rings and rings Lovely glow of television – I spent some time rereading this stanza. To be “stuck” and why, is it societal or from this side of the window? Is it the purpose to ignore the passing world outside the window, and not answer the phone, or is there a malady, a sickness involved that has cause the writing of this entire piece. Then there is the “television”, and an ahhhh... and groan.... is elicited, caught and held by the fast window, of scenes seen within the confines of the “boob tube”, more important than the real world passing outside the real window. I see your life through this fast window Passing trucks obscure the view Receding snapshots of a gray life I could so easily be you – There is a sound of relief in this stanza, but a localized perception, as if you are seeing the banker or cafe owner, each day, and as you watch, every so often the trucks block your view, and the monotony of the same scene, day in and day out, the “gray life”, is almost pitied by the watcher. There seems to be two windows, the television, and the window, and the person who presumes to know those outside the real window, is caught within his/her own “localized” window in a “rat race” of a different ilk. Barbara, I once told everyone how I critique, and it is always the choice, write what I see and risk being wrong, or avoid being wrong, and be dishonest about what I see. My decision is always to take the craft, and let it invade me, and live it, for a moment. There is the story to be found. Your verse has so many aspects, I probably belabored too much, but it did cause a thought, of life, living, and “fast windows”. Thanks for sharing, I appreciate it.

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