This Poem was Submitted By: James Edward Schanne On Date: 2008-08-04 11:46:50 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
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The nervous question
She moves I move interpretations dance
before eyes shaded from within
immediacy of waves make up chance
to be caught by decision or just grin
faint smiles put off action till the when
in the labyrinth halls of portraits past
is left for fresh canvas more mirror then
detached frames of brushed doodles built by cast
on the lips leaping off the tongue wanting
to be aired, to be eared, out and in both
shared, private, so elegant yet grunting
spontaneously planned a carefree oath
roaring in your throat yet it whispers out
once again you try this time in a shout
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Copyright © August 2008 James Edward Schanne
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2008-09-04 20:19:43
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
James,
What? Oh dear what to ask?
Very sensuous lovely poem.
Love the wonderful rhyming.
I think you completely captured the moments.
I'm sweating.
Love this piece.
Dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2008-08-29 21:35:39
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Not being certain of the nervous question I am just assuming from what I am reading that we have a very nervous groom to be perhaps......like the presentation, the rhymme, the flow of words that do created images which allows one's imagination to go with it......actually it brings a smile to my face as it tugs at my heart. Should do well in the month's contest. God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: charles r pitts On Date: 2008-08-24 14:40:47
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
there's a lot going on in this piece. the nervous question--could be a marriage proposal-presented comically as the subject walks fine lines between awkwardness, indecision, and fear whose presentation could result in either utter devastation or realization of love's desire. or maybe not...that's what makes this an intriguing read. also-i'm a sucker for a nice rhyme...
charlie
This Poem was Critiqued By: Mark Steven Scheffer On Date: 2008-08-08 17:12:44
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
James,
Appropriate that you put a word kin to the word nerve(s) in the title.
I generally look for one of two things in poetry - with neither put in priority. The first - I only use it first because your poem has this quality; again, not in the way of priority - is a poem that seemingly emerges from the nervous system of the poet. A poem that is a release, almost an orgasm of everthing the human contains, mind, emotion, spirit. Not that that means the form must be anarchic; the work can be very controlled and well-crafted. But behind the craft is a rawness that bespeaks the release of which I spoke. Your poem contains that release. It therefore enlivens, and anything that makes one more alive in a real human sense is worthy. The poem contains in its essence what a monkey will never understand; unfortunately, alot of our species also. A poem of this quality will NECESSARILY have something of distinction in its form. If it does not, it will not be human, because part of our essence is mind, intellect. We are not mere passion and emotion. But in a poem whose main virtue is this characteristic, the craft will be secondary - if the poem is good but flawed. And this poem is good, and flawed.
In great poems, this quality of rawness is matched with technical precision, with superlative craft. Which is the second thing I looked for in a poem. Some poems are superbly constructed, but do not have enough of the first quality. If they are good poems, they have some - just as good poems dominated by the first quality have some meaningful form - because our essence is also spirit, emotion, as well as ordering rational mind.
You see poems here and elsewhere on the net with one of these qualities, with a rarity that goes hand in hand with the gift. Treasure is . . . rare, and treasure because it is. And only occasionally do you see a poet who captures both qualities, and even then that poet only grasps both in a poem rarely. The rareness, you see, becomes exponential.
The majority of poems are the net are "clever." If you take out your screwdriver and take them apart, you see how much SENSE they make and how "clever" they are in their phrasing. Most readers of poetry on the net are obsessed with "getting it," with poems that they can exercise their screwdrivers on, on poems that give them wonderful, efficient and workable parts.
Are you tired of the bullshit? Get tired of the bullshit. Remain tired of the bullshit. My poetic voice is coming back to me again for the first time in years, because I'm once again tired of the bullshit. Be true to your voice, follow it. Make mistakes with form. Screw it. Feel your way to harvesting this rawness, this voice. Read the poets who cherish the rawness, that essential human core, and who also have the craft to embody it in a work of art.
Never rhyme for the sake of rhyme, or use meter for the sake of meter - except in your exercises. Every athlete must exercise. Show us your exercises, by all means, we often help each other in sharing our exercises.
But don't lose this voice and start writing bullshit, clever poems for screwdrivers.
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to rant. I'll trying to get back to my rawness, my voice too.
Let us help one another.
MSS
This Poem was Critiqued By: James C. Horak On Date: 2008-08-05 09:23:51
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Mr. Schanne, have you been reading James Joyce?
Two ways of viewing your poem exist, one not gracious to you, the other
abundantly so.
Not crafted well, almost every line depends on enjambement to hold
together with the next almost like you are cascading meanings to all
converge at one point (as in Joyce's, stream of consciousness.) In the
context of craftmanship alone that would be taking poetic license too
far in depending upon device. When you do this with a rhyme scheme, it
causes the less penetrating reader to feel things a bit too contrived...
at least until they reap benefit from your splendid image-making.
So successful are you in that view that device is forgiven and the
visions you conjure of with the "indefinite" of the dance, juxtaposition
of canvas with mirror (gifted) and choice of terms in phrases ( I am quite
taken with "brushed doodles")progresses your reader to pleasure.
Your last lines, "roaring in your throat yet it whispers out/once again you
try this time in a shot" exhibits a profound ability with poetic language.
So one ends up readjusting a bit to admit, rules well broken.
JCH
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