I have two poems on Radiant Turnstile at
http://radiantturnstile.com/Radiant%20Turnstile/Current%20Issue.html
Both are excellent! You really do have a way with emotional imagery, my friend… “Car Wreck” is very, very moving.
The second one is very visually and vicerally intriguing… I want to be there for a moment to see how it feels.
I always like the sense of the enigmatic in your writing, Dale.
‘Car Wreck’ is an example of what I really like about poetry. It’s visceral and it doesn’t make you guess what it’s about.
Someone needs to tell Lyn Lifsong that less is more when it comes to bios.
Got a point there on that bio. Who would read that? Answer: Lyn Lifsong.
Thanks for appreciating “Car Wreck.”
I believe it’s true that I’ve never written a single poem that required the reader to guess or figure out what it’s about. The 2nd poem – I don’t know what it means either-- so there’s nothing for the reader to figure out.
I’ve written a few of those and I want to kick myself for being hypocritical. But other people seem to like them so maybe I’m just too dumb for poetry.
Goes to show we all have different tastes. I loved “Car Wreck”, but I also do enjoy poetry that has some level of ambiguity, where the reader needs to do some work. Often there are different ways the words can be interpreted, and that makes it interesting to reread, ponder and discuss.
Since we’re out on a limb anyway, here’s one of mine:
Something So Different Here 6/21/2007
Some days shimmer and sparkle like rain
While some most glacially trudge
I call the blurring of twixt and twain
Good holdings for a grudge
A chiding for all who won’t be back
Yet have business among us still
With what they know this ship could tack
But aid they never will
And news that’s news is news once more
Though adjusted for replay
We owe to bless not the teeming poor
But the side that’s right today
Two things more daunting than counting through
The compromises this world wants
Are fingering the inside screw
That leads the jeers and taunts
And finding heartfelt praise and prayers
For those so all-immune
All blank like stares from the trapper’s snares
Though the piper calls a tune
But worst, the glance from a newborn slips
Accusing, gray and steely
And leaves this question on my lips
I ask it. Is there really?
I’m not a great hand with poetry, as I’m usually writing something far more prosaic, but I can appreciate it. I liked “Car Wreck” of course, and the others listed. Anyways, since I’ve not tried to write any poems since grade school here’s something my uncle John penned a while back:
The Spare Tire Squad
The gym is used to exercise
To limber up our bones
And when I drag mine home at night
They squeak in ghastly tones.
I sometimes wonder if the time
At the gym is wisely spent
For when I stumble home at night
I need much liniment.
A day of exercise is said
To loosen up the shoulders
But when I touch my legs they feel
As hard as granite boulders
Now I’m supposed to exercise
To strengthen up my legs
But when I’m through my elbows feel
As strong as broken eggs.
The other men have aching muscles
And at home they stay awake
I’m glad that I am never bothered
I have no muscles left to ache.
John G. S. Abernethy
I think, in this sense, poems are similar to jokes. If the twist is too quick and easy to comprehend, it’s not funny. If it takes too long to get–also not funny.