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This Poem was Submitted By: Terrye Godown On Date: 2005-11-07 20:57:15 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Smoke Dancers

Trapped behind the hazy glass They beckon to the passers by Lulled by the concourse bustle En route to far corners Dancers in misty mourning Captive in their chamber Shadows swirling miserably Around their life forms Aroused by the tiny flickers They tango in the pungent air Then fade in silent eulogy Consumed by fresher exhale In a rhythm of rejection Forming auras round the weak They sway with culture’s scorn Their affliction is addiction So… They must dance until they die

Additional Notes:
It gets pretty boring during a layover, waiting for your flight - especially late at night . Happened to be sitting within view of the "smoker's lounge" which inspired this piece. I think I had some jet lag, because the smoke wreaths in there appeared to assume lives of their own.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2005-11-30 19:45:57
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.85714
This is the 4th crit I've tried to get to you on this poem, Terrye. And I nearly cry when I lose one because I'm sure you've heard, I'm ill and the ctd affects my ability to type or write. To go to this much trouble...I like your piece! The 1st line is a great hook: "Trapped behind the hazy glass". Who? Why? We must find out, Watkins. The mysterious, arcane images are perfect, especially in Stanzas: 2, 3, 4..."Dancers in misty mourning" "Captive in their chamber". The utilization of alliteration makes the poem for me because it woos me with the sounds. I live to hear those sounds like the hard C, the duplication of a fricative F five or six times, the reiteration of key sounds such as susurration....Ssssssssss. I have far exceeded my "up" time and now bed rest. Must note great line: "Their affliction is addiction." If there is a local poetry reading group, you must read this at performance poetry. If you don't read well, get another entertainer to read it for you. Bye.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-11-24 19:44:16
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.73333
Terrye, I think some of the best poetry comes from sitting quietly observing. They do have a life of being smoke. The burn from tobacco leaves, and trees paper, turned into smoke. Their last bit of energy released into the air. Like the spirit of them leaving the body. Trying to rise into the beyond. See what you started? And we all dance on until we die. Fun poem with potential to mean anything you wanted it to. Good Dellena

This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Andrew Hislop On Date: 2005-11-18 00:23:13
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.03846
Terrye While I smoke, I hate those smoking rooms. Strange, I prefer to smoke in the open air. Go figure. I think your images are clear and accurate: "trapped" "captive" "consumed" "addicted". "Auras round the weak" ... yes, it is a weakness. I actually gave up for 10 years, started again with a vengeance 2 years ago, almost trying to catch up for lost time. Only to find I have to fight my way out of the smoking room all over again. Mark.

This Poem was Critiqued By: Kelly J Pionek On Date: 2005-11-15 11:09:18
Critiquer Rating During Critique: Unknown
I can visualize the people smoking in the lounge very well. "Captive in their chamber" "Forming auras around the weak" Of course, I would probably be one of those people, being a smoker myself. It makes you think twice about how non smokers view the smoking world. I also noticed the specific word choices to portray death through the poem. (Mourning, Eulogy)

This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2005-11-10 14:50:35
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.77778
I must say, a delightful change from the New Age fascination with the mystical and its fastening on sublimation of such experience. Yours is pure fancy and your own notation on it is regarded. Comparing smoke wreaths to dancers is inspired and anyone can place themselves in your vision with little effort. Most certainly when we tire and are more susceptible to allow our imagination into our thoughts. "Shadows swirling miserably" is your best image, bringing with it the play further fulfilled in, "They sway with culture's scorn". By now the reader must have guessed the situation, amusingly...without benefit of your note. Because you poem is elegant, the following line, "Their affliction is addiction", seems a bit trite. You don't need it. Leave it with the superb ending, "They must dance/until/they die." JCH

This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2005-11-09 00:32:11
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Terrye, Very unusual poem, and what’s more I have to admit at first I thought this was going to be one of those poems about sordid places with exotic dancers…LOL. Seriously, I know I haven’t had the honor of reading any of your writings before however this is a very intriguing offering. First, I’ll tell you that I’m not going to delve into the mechanics of your poem, I fear my limited knowledge would do you a disservice. With that said and out of the way let’s proceed to your poem. Smoke Dancers [very fitting] Trapped behind the hazy glass They beckon to the passers by Lulled by the concourse bustle En route to far corners [this takes your reader in, curious to see if it is a transportation terminal or something other] Dancers in misty mourning Captive in their chamber Shadows swirling miserably Around their life forms [here, I began to suspect that by chance you might be talking about tobacco products] Aroused by the tiny flickers They tango in the pungent air [definitely had to be ciggs, {pungent air} and your tiny flickers] Then fade in silent eulogy Consumed by fresher exhale [I had to chuckle for I could envision myself sitting in one of those little smoking areas, totally absorbed in the process of smoking, and how fresh a statement, “fade in silent eulogy….consumed by fresher exhale…great line] In a rhythm of rejection Forming auras round the weak [hard to read this, guilt set in and I hated to admit being a smoker] They sway with culture’s scorn Their affliction is addiction So… They must dance until they die [pray tell, I truly hope that this line is not true, that the demon can be subdued before the final call, but you are oh so correct about the affliction being an addiction…..tobacco- just another drug although a legal but deadly one] I think you have addressed this subject in a very creative unusual way, one that makes an imprint. Now I catch myself watching the little streams of smoke coming from my ash tray on my desk, mesmerizing and so deadly….and do we look so foolish, us who are sitting in smoker lounges…….we probably remind others of cheap entertainment. Quite a picture you have painted here., The way you have visually formatted your closing brings the point home. Thanks for sharing this with us, I now view all of us who have to go to the smokers lounge; in a different light. Always, Lora

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