This Poem was Submitted By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2005-03-24 11:05:42 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Judging By the Cover

I find it interesting in which clothes writers chose to wear when they put pen to paper, transforming ideas to words. Enjoying scandals or sandals, Norman Mailer refused to shed his old, common- man threads. For a formal, important event, perhaps as recipient of some grand award, he wore tee shirt and baseball cap. A few might find this topic unsuitable for William Blake since he was often seen in the nude in his garden, pen and notebook at hand. In a fit of originality, he called his  green retreat "Eden". Writing unclad could mean a free spirit, in touch with his inner child, "Piping Down the Valleys Wild". Plath wore an apron after she wed Ted and life was exciting but Kitchen mitts on her hands precluded further writing. Good writers may appear any time, not by creed nor couture bound. Clothes make the man some say but for me it's all about the sound they bring. Poe with bells and tinnitus, Hopkins with his shook foil and the spoils of Heaney's poetry...going down, down digging, digging, no matter their rigging. But oh, how they sing!

Copyright © March 2005 Mell W. Morris

Additional Notes:
Norman Mailer won the 1968 Pulitzer Prize for "The Armies of Men". William Blake (1757-1827) illustrated many of his poems. At times, he would devote himself solely to painting. Ted Hughes was married to American poet Sylvia Plath. He was Poet Laureate of England until his death in 1998. This position is for the entirety of the poet's life in England.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Nancy Ann Hemsworth On Date: 2005-04-03 09:24:43
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.56410
This is so so true Mell...the poet, free spirit! society would have us all in its uniform of conformity..I applaud the differ. It takes being true to yourself and courage to make your statement and you are so right, "Clothes make the man some say but for me it's all about the sound they bring" it is all about this for every man! it is just that we and I am not putting me in the GREAT POET catagory..lol..but we get the chance to jot it down and bear our souls (bare) being the grand word here!(smile)to the world or whom ever chooses to open their ears. Love the last of this poem as well.."But oh, how they sing!" wonderful way to finish your thoughts is such a rejoiceful way!! I loved all the information within this poem, I really enjoy it when I learn something new and this was great!! oh yes, and I so agree with William Blake , not that I dare the nudity..lol..in the garden at least!! (0', but one should run with ones inner child..too bad about the oven mitts eh!! we all make choices! thanks so much Mel for this , I agree whole heartedly!! ......Nancy

This Poem was Critiqued By: Elaine Marie Phalen On Date: 2005-03-30 15:42:58
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Well, Mell, this poem is #50 on my list!! I'd wait eternity for it to rise so I'll just skip down and respond now. Whenever you inject that touch of wry humor, your work takes on a quirky and entertaining personality that's quite unique ... nothing like it on TPL or elsewhere! I always read with a big grin but under the levity, you deliver important messages. In this case, instead of discussing books you are tackling writers of books, and their "covers", or lack thereof. The gist is that outer trappings don't signify either quality of work, or absence of such quality. This could be true of many aspects in life, but one may not often associate the idea with your particular choice of topic - very fresh approach. Enjoying scandals or sandals, Norman ... neat internal rhyme here! Kind of a Nero-esque image comes to mind Mailer refused to shed his old, common- ... great place to break this line man threads. For a formal, important .... more internal rhyme with shed/threads event, perhaps as recipient of some .... and again with event/recipient grand award, he wore tee shirt and baseball cap. .... endearingly modest! You're definitely the internal rhyme queen of TPL. I love looking to see what you'll come up with. It never sounds forced, either. The diction in this poem is very accessible, not complex and fancy. It aptly suits its subjects. You're not discussing gowned academics, but flesh-and-bone people with the usual complement of limbs and skin. Perhaps this is why their work resonates with us normal readers. A few might find this topic unsuitable for William Blake since he was often seen in the nude in his garden, pen and notebook at hand. Oh my, that's hilarious! (I must confess, I was looking for "naked" since "Blake" would go with that term, but "nude" is elegant and sounds less strident). I take it his garden didn't have much of a privacy fence. Then again, Blake was unencumbered by social constraints, I suspect. Both his writing and his art are in a class of their own. In a fit of originality, he called his green retreat "Eden". Writing unclad ... what lovely long-e assonance here! could mean a free spirit, in touch ... another great line break with "touch" in the spotlight with his inner child, "Piping Down the Valleys Wild". ...... child/piping/wild ..... nice!! Love the sardonic "fit of originality", especially since the man really was an "original", but sometimes the most creative people will name their own possessions something quite prosaic. "Eden" seems a bit of a given if one is roaming around the flowers and trees with nothing on but a pen and notebook. Your assessment of the possible significance of being sky-clad is probably right on the money. He's a wild child indeed, a true Adam. Nobody copies Blake successfully. Plath wore an apron after she wed Ted and life was exciting but Kitchen mitts on her hands precluded further writing. Okay, here's a somber note. The confinement of Plath's intellect and energy to a domestic role was a minor tragedy, and her marriage to Hughes a restriction that - in my opinion - nearly decapitated her imagination and certainly shortened her productive career as a poet. Those "kitchen mitts" (nicely suggestive of an oven, in fact) stifle sensitivity; unlike Blake, she can't be openly "in touch" at all. Of course, we know she actually WAS well aware of her own life's ironies, and she could skewer her subject with a single well-aimed phrase. But then again, nobody who ends her days with her head stuck in a gas oven is going to be remembered for her happy disposition! The int. rhyme of exciting/writing is also ironic, because when the writing fades, the excitement also loses its allure. Good writers may appear any time, not by creed nor couture bound. .... I like the creed/couture thing. It suggests so much. Clothes make the man some say but for me it's all about the sound they bring. Poe with bells and tinnitus, Hopkins with his shook foil and the spoils of Heaney's poetry... The allusions to their work are cleverly done and appropriate to the context here. "The Bells" is arguably Poe's poetic masterwork, and "tinnitus" suggests both a physical infirmity and a ringing, ringing, ringing. Hopkins' "shook foil" is representative of his magnificent - and unusual - imagery. You're now describing words, not garments. These are people robed in language, sharing it like a warm blanket around their readers. "Spoils" goes nicely with "foil" and leads to the conclusion, since spoils are both reward and remainder. "Digging/rigging" add a final rhyme and a burst of energy. The writer's task is to delve into the roots of psyche and human condition, regardless of personal appearances and choices. (Right now, I'm sitting here in my pale green barn-stained sweat pants and mismatched socks; it's a good thing I live too far for people to casually drop in and catch me by surprise!) going down, down digging, digging, no matter their rigging. But oh, how they sing! ........Yes, indeed they can, and do. Can one separate singer from song, poet from poetry, novelist from novel? I think the works stand on their own merits, but knowing the person behind them is always a bonus. Sometimes, though, the mental picture differs from the reality. You've definitely stripped away (no pun!) a few of my own illusions today. Even though I'm a Blake buff, I had no idea he himself was "buff", so to speak. Eeeek! Much enjoyed, in every way. You sure know how to catch the reader's attention and hold it. Brenda
This Poem was Critiqued By: Troy D Skroch On Date: 2005-03-30 00:59:40
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.94737
Mell, I couldn't pass up this opportunity to stop by and say hi. This poem is so well penned with such a clear voice that is serious and smiling at the same time, I couldn't resist the urge to say something. This comment I usually only use to impress Brenda with the depth of my response, but throwing caution to the wind, without spilling my water glass on the keyboard, I must say, "you are so cool!" LOL Sorry, I just thought I'd give you fair warning that you are reading the words of an emotional rather than an intellectual. HEHE! I will try to respond now to your writing and keep my roguish humor in check (by the way, I really do hear your voice smile=). And now on to the title. Judging By the Cover This of course directly relates to clothing or the lack there of described in your poem, but it also raises the questions, "is there some sort of correlation between the clothes and the writer?" or, more importantly, "what lies beneath the cover?" Also "cover" can be thought of as the cover of a book of writing. I just like the title, it's clever in it's possibilities. I find it interesting in which clothes writers chose to wear when they put pen to paper, transforming ideas to words. It is fascinating which clothes people choose to wear. Hey we all have our favorites. I only wear one type of blue jeans. Yes, I know, I'm unrefined, but I have a good heart. I actually save certain items of clothing and "retire" them to my closet. I still have the shirt that I met my wife in. My favorite sweat shirt that I built my house in. Ah...I wish they still fit. LOL I also view your reference to clothes here as a reference to the writer's voice or their emotional state. Don't you find the whole wide of reality analogous and full of multiple meanings? I think you do, but then I thought you were an Eskimo after I read one of your poems. Enjoying scandals or sandals, Norman Mailer refused to shed his old, common- man threads. For a formal, important event, perhaps as recipient of some grand award, he wore tee shirt and baseball cap. A few might find this And I just think that's great. Was he saying that the clothes didn't make the poet or exactly the opposite? Was he just being honest? topic unsuitable for William Blake since he was often seen in the nude in his garden, pen and notebook at hand. In a fit of originality, he called his green retreat "Eden". Writing unclad could mean a free spirit, in touch Yes, well, writing in the nude. Oh, how I do remember an experience, let me describe the event while remaining clothed. I once was of the state of mind that I was going to go unclothed for a day, at least in the house. So with the good intent of cooking a lunch and reading a book, I set out to accomplish this very "in touch" task. With lunch on the table I went to attend to some music, turning back I could see quite clearly that my chocolate lab, Sunshine, was helping herself to my tuna sandwich and chips. I let out a loud yell and chased her through the house, balls out and slapping, and through the door only to meet the lady who reads the gas meter. For a second I thought she was going to pepper spray me, as meter readers often carry those sinister little metallic tubes of eye burning agony, unfortunately she was the one who got the eye full. I shut the door quickly with a blink not a wink and a quick smile and left her laughing all the way back to town to tell her friends. There's just nothing you can say in a situation like that. LOL! All I have to say is, "free spirit my ass", no pun intended. God bless the nude poets and worshipers of the sun, but count me out. with his inner child, "Piping Down the Valleys Wild". Plath wore an apron after she wed Ted and life was exciting but Kitchen mitts on her hands precluded further writing. Good writers may appear any time, not by creed nor couture bound. "Kitchen mitts on her hands", that's a great way to say it Mell. I just like that a lot. Clothes make the man some say but for me it's all about the sound they bring. Poe with bells and tinnitus, Hopkins with his shook foil and the spoils of Heaney's poetry...going down, down digging, digging, no matter their rigging. But oh, how they sing! What a perfect ending. There's so much more to talk about and celebrate about your writing here. Your words, so carefully chosen, build lines that wrap themselves together-fluidly, thus, raising stanzas that transition with a smooth rhythm to complete the whole of the poem. All this said, I'm better for the experience and left wanting more. Thanks Mell and goodnight, Troy
This Poem was Critiqued By: Paul R Lindenmeyer On Date: 2005-03-26 12:57:44
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.20000
Mello, love the free verse style and flow of the haute couture selected by such an august group of writers. It imparts a view into their essence and attitudes towards outward appearances vs. the content of their creations. Love the alliteration thruought, but especially in the final two stanzas. Great story line and easy verbiage, and indeed, "how they sing!" Hope we all join in this chorus.. My best to you, Peace, Paul
This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-03-26 08:21:33
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.29730
Judging by my cover its no wonder the words no longer come........ Good morning Poet, may your holiday bring you much peace of mind, joy in the Lord, and love of family and friends along with renewed health and strength. Really enjoyed reading this one for once more you have structured it very well and your words have brought forth images from many different souces........my brother in law, if a poet, would be naked on his back porch, no doubt about that.........the kitchen mittens and apron are a nice touch as well for how many today even have one at home......apron that is......the T shirt, baseball cap giving such a relax mood for writing......when I wrote my words jumbled about inside my head, late at night, causing sleep to be very sparse at times.......... Thank you for once again sharing with us and for allowing me to find it........God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2005-03-25 04:34:08
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.61905
Mell--This is downright clever! Apt combination of verbiage/interior rhymes not only witty, but relates succinctly candid aspects/signatures of selected artists'lives/careers/artistry. This of course is more than 'insider' infor- mation, it is mainly acquired through astuteness of the well-read and the well-roundedness of scribe. Duality of the title serves to enhance/emphasize theme/listed characterists and create colorful/vivid imagery. You're still 'Queen' of the tributes. TLW
This Poem was Critiqued By: hello haveaniceday On Date: 2005-03-24 19:29:00
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Ah Mell this is great, it moves along so brightly. Truthfully I often lose interest in things that are long winded these days... chalk that up to cyber conditioning maybe... anyway, yours I read with glee and pleasure. What this means to me is that the content threaded so nicely together that the reader, me, was drawn delightfully along in enjoyment, laughter, and even in serious consideration. What should I wear tomorrow when I sit down to write?? Fa la, Barbara
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-03-24 15:29:05
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.23077
Mell, You turned something interesting, into something glorious! Oh happy day! I sing/you sing/they sing/we all sing! Absolutely brilliant! Clothes make the man some say but for me it's all about the sound they bring. Poe with bells and tinnitus, Hopkins with his shook foil and the spoils of Heaney's poetry...going down, down digging, digging, no matter their rigging. But oh, how they sing! And you made this ring/sing/rock n roll. Clothes certainly didn't make this man! You always bring a GREAT sound. [darn/you are unequaled to me.] You have impeccable taste I can tell. And you brought the sound! Ciao good buddy. Dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-03-24 15:14:06
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.33333
Very very interesting bit of history here Mell. You never did say what clothes you wear when writing. I think that would have been a better finish. As for myself, well, anything goes and I have been know (to few) to write in the all together at night but it's gotta be warm! Anyway, thanks for this delightful piece. I loved the title.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-03-24 13:37:50
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Mellifluous-O, Ms Nekk: First, the happy surprise of a new creation by your pen, and the delight of opening it, as a 'new book' whose cover is mostly unseen, but can be surmised by the small picture of you on the Forum or many of your poems ("Autograph"-wise) as I can't help but see you in Della Robbia blue (or sometimes in my head, Della Robbia aubergine). And your Native American heritage makes me sometimes imagine you in buckskin or a red Cherokee tear dress. For every day, I suppose we dress more alike than not. I'm usually wearing some version of flannel pj's or jeans + tee- or sweat- shirts. It'd be interesting to know the typical attire of TPL poets, and of our preferred poets. Three of my own favorites wear the plainest of garb: William Safford, Mary Oliver, and Stanley Kunitz. I think one of the points you make in your title ("Judging By the Cover") has to do with what we learn of artists and each other by manner of dress or the lack thereof. Enjoying scandals or sandals, Norman Mailer refused to shed his old, common- man threads. Ah, yes, the "common man threads" -- clever juxtaposition of "scandals/sandals" and the 'common' sounds of "Norman/common" here. "The Naked and the Dead" comes to mind immediately. You tie (no pun) this in nicely with William Blake in his Eden-esque attire. Of course, my associative mind comes up with "Dead Poets Society" quite naturally. And I am speculating all over the place. Your poem made me aware that I have images stored of various poets which may or may not have much to do with their typical attire, but of the limited photographs of them, or their cultural background and the times in which they lived. "For a formal, important event, perhaps as recipient of some grand award, he wore tee shirt and baseball cap." Another image pops up on my mental screen -- Michael Moore in his baseball cap and typically slouchy apparel. Of course, he isn't a poet, or is he? "A few might find this topic unsuitable for William Blake since he was often seen in the nude in his garden, pen and notebook at hand." When I memorized "Tyger, Tyger Burning Bright" I never thought of Blake's apparel. I didn't know then, either, that he was the son of a hosier. Probably that meant itchy hose and knitwear, which as one of five children in bleak, chilly London he was forced to wear. Now who is it that presents us with images of a naked man, pottering about in his garden, 'pen' in hand? In those days, pens had very sharp points and could certainly have caused scratches had one not been cautious and careful of where one rested the pen when not writing with it! The notebook might have come in handy should someone approach, as it could serve as 'leaves' to cover certain areas of the body usually considered inappropriate for public viewing. In a fit of originality, he called his green retreat "Eden". Writing unclad could mean a free spirit, in touch with his inner child, "Piping Down the Valleys Wild". Slightly TIC, am I write? In the days before TV, Dr. Phil and Oprah, Blake's propensities would not seem almost a caricature of the way we expect artists and poets to behave -- I am thinking of the Beatnik era and the black beret, for example. Since he was not a poseur but the real deal, his manner of undress was likely less and affectation and more connected with his mood disorder, now thought to be bipolar. The idea of creativity and extremes of mood or dress is a current that runs throughout this piece. How we do judge the so-called "mentally ill" particularly in their manner of dress or lack thereof. What might they write or paint if given the opportunity? "Plath wore an apron after she wed Ted and life was exciting but Kitchen mitts on her hands precluded further writing. Good writers may appear any time, not by creed nor couture bound." Cannot help but think of her choice of the gas oven in her kitchen. Of how hindered she became after her marriage to Hughes. And what she wrote about her own mental illness: "When you are insane, you are busy being insane - all the time... When I was crazy, that's all I was." But of course we know that she was much more as her writings prove. I think the point which you make brilliantly here Mell is that "good writers" are not bound "by creed or couture." Of course "couture" sounds much like 'culture' and the point is made, doubly strong, that we ought NOT to "judge a book by its cover" and you have driven this home with wit, ironic humor and compassion. "it's all about the sound they bring" -- I love this! You bring us these remarkable sounds to illustrate the sounds you mean. This is a sublime example of onomatopoeia. "Poe with bells and tinnitus" -- neurological or addition-caused? Self-medication side effects? I think the point is made -- listen to what the poet has to say, his dreams. Poe wrote "All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream." Forget the labels, I think you're saying. Forget the diagnosis. Allow the sounds to work their magic, you imply here. We are more than our mental or physical ills or predispositions and in fact great writers are often informed by them, as in the examples you've given artfully in this work. "Hopkins with his shook foil and the spoils of Heaney's poetry...going down, down digging, digging, no matter their rigging. --WONDERFUL But oh, how they sing!" And so also do you, dear Mell. This is a winner, without a doubt! Brava! Kudos for a greatly enjoyable, euphonious, Mell-O-dious work. 'Digging' it, Joanne
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