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A draft of a poem I'm writing for a contest. I do not hope to win, duh.
Snowflakes
+ Show Spoiler +
I start with the title.
Still playing games. It's all a play.
But look around: the audience is empty.
Everyone's sold their tickets for costumes.
The players look up to show that it's snowing.
Quick! Catch one on your tongue.
Chase it, catch it, lick it - no time to taste it.
Just catch as many as you can.
That is success; this is my crazy.
Gazing on a transient snowflake, they live on its drift.
With eyes blindly transfixed, they run in circles, not going anywhere.
Ironic: craving what they're made of - couldn't find snow in Siberia.
Their spirit dissipates, whispering away, dancing, like smoke into the night.
When their sun sets, they're just out of breath.
In shy darkness, melancholic air, my time sails on blue skies in crisp, icy intimacy.
"Nice weather"? No! Not just Maxwell, Joule, Kelvin having tea!
Breathe in the air; it soothingly brushes your soul. See its beauty; hear its wisdom.
With a shift of perception, stars come within your reach - they are your eternal snowflakes.
A life devoid of this is cursed:
If it be, then only as you die --
you will see with eyes unfocused --
You've completely missed the sky.
Version 2.
+ Show Spoiler +
I start with the title.
Still playing games. It’s all a play.
But look around: the audience is empty.
Everyone’s sold their tickets for costumes.
The players look up to show that it’s snowing.
Quick! Catch one on your tongue.
Chase it, catch it, lick it - no time to taste it.
Just catch as many as you can.
That is success; this is my crazy.
Transfixed on a transient snowflake, they live on its drift,
Running in circles, not going anywhere.
Craving what they're made of – couldn't find snow in Siberia.
Their spirit whispers away, dancing, like smoke into the night.
When their sun sets, they're just out of breath.
In shy darkness, my time sails on blue skies;
crisp, icy intimacy. Shift your perception,
let seas be your snowflakes. No “Nice weather”
No! Not just Joule and Kelvin having tea!
Breathe in the air; it soothingly brushes your soul.
See its beauty; hear its wisdom.
Look up before you die
and unfocus your eyes, you'll see:
You've completely missed the sky.
 
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since you dont hope to win..
Pussy
+ Show Spoiler +but really this was a nice poem, hope you do great!
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Siberia was spelled like so in the original qrs linked, so I assume you'd want to fix it here. It's been years since I frequented poetry forums, so I can't provide good critique. I will note that I felt a lack of flow. Imagery was rare and disparate, and the stanzas failed to actually converge on a theme.
I don't know what you're looking for in this blog, but if you want to improve your poetry I'll recommend that you solidify what you plan to say with each poem. You may originally have a point, but if it fails to translate to others, your poetry can only act as introspection.
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A lack of flow is clear - but no theme? Really? I'd ask a re-read and careful thought. 22 minutes is an awfully short time.
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In case this seems much too disperse, here is a very quick and rough guide to the ideas presented in the poem. This was written in minutes and provides a small track of points you should hit upon while reading the poem. I let you fill in the blanks.
+ Show Spoiler +
The first stanza describes the morally and ethically superficial state of affairs. A slight reference to Shakespeare, and denouncing the selling-out of integrity for profit. This presents clearly the focus of the poem and what it aims to denounce, prove, and correct.
The linearity of people and simplicity of thought is then explained in the second stanza. I won't bother going into the nature of snowflakes, but I find represents easily gratifying pleasures nicely. Societal success is basically how much money you've made, what status you've achieved, how many hot girls you've fucked, popularity, etc. These are all very easily satisfying pleasures that do not necessarily build you or make you any happier - and this can easily be observed in society. The rhetoric of the poem is within the observation.
Subsequently, I aim to prove that this is pointless, since your happiness and peace of mind depends on these trivial affairs. Of course you have to bend integrity in order to bullshit girls into sleeping with you, and you have to become insensitive to ethics in order to make more profit. But of course, by seeking these things, you accomplish nothing - you're still just on dependent on them as when you started; you just want more. Thus, happiness comes from within, not without. In losing your integrity, you simply strive to achieve something that is innately worthless and will not bring you happiness. Happiness is not a state to arrive at, but simply a manner of travelling.
As taught by Buddha, Jesus, other religions and philosophers alike - savour every moment of life; cherish it. You are alive, enjoy the isness of life. Consciousness requires awareness, which can only be achieved through self-knowledge and introspection, and much, much time in thought. In being critical with yourself, you chart the maps of the world and become open to challenge; you then act with certainty, and know that anything you want is within your reach, it simply up to you to work for it. This certainty gives greater satisfaction than any easily gratifying pleasures (money, fame, power, etc.)
The last stanza is simply meant to reverbrate the importance of consciousness and perspective, as the entire poem has kept emphasizing the attention given to these simple things by society, when they do not matter at all for your happiness or peace of mind (what really matters). In getting so wrapped up over these trivialities, you've missed the essence of being.
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NEVER explain your poem :/
Otherwise, I liked it. I'm not sure you exploited your conceit to its full potential, but the meaning was focused and well-expressed.
Certainly better than the last tl.net poem I reviewed.
I still have that one:
Kati's Poem
Kati my newest friend
elegent as the wind.
Can you ever be more than my friend?
I promise not to cheat.(referring to her ex)
I promise not to lie.
I only want your heart with mine.
We couldn't go to the dance.
But maybe we will share romance.
You might love me
If you just give me a chance
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Exactly what Moltke said. If people don't get it/enjoy it reading it on their own, then it's not worth anything. The people you submit it to aren't going to have your running commentary, and even if they did, it's still demeaning to your work.
The only rule in writing is that you must write to your audience. If they don't get it, then it's not good. Obviously if you're just writing to yourself, you're your audience, but here you're sharing with people, so you can't act defensive when they say "I don't get it." Maybe there is a niche of people who will enjoy your work, but don't be frustrated with people who aren't in that niche.
+ Show Spoiler +I know you haven't said anything harsh yet, and you've been polite... I'm just saying watch out for this pitfall
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"That is success; this is my crazy."
""Nice weather"? No! Not just Maxwell, Joule, Kelvin having tea!"
screw moltke, pm me what these lines mean
liked the rest of it btw (except maybe the last 4 lines, i found those a weird change of pace)
i LOVED the first... stanza? is that the word for what that is?
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lol nice find
Also, lol at the responses.
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Thanks for the responses.
(Chef/All), I'm not in this to be right -- I'm just trying to offer insight and improve the poem, so I want people to know what it's about. There is lots to be said about it not hitting my audience: I want to know whether it's a matter of people not taking the time to think about it, or me being much too disorganized. I enjoy all comments, ridicule or not, I was simply surprised by EchOne (he knows something about poetry and missed the point ...).
Moltke - I've thought about conceit. The problem I have with exploiting it further is it turns the poem into a spiteful lament. If I take the poem's advice to heart, there is nothing to whine about. Thoughts?
Travis - I want the entire poem to sound like the first stanza, but I can't get it to work and there's a 24-line limit.
qrs - not sure what you're trying to imply. I wrote both, and I just picked that one up because I find the snowflake metaphor very suiting.
arb - thanks.
Cheers rest, hope to get more critique.
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Oxygen, he's implying that both are fundamentally the same.
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Well... yes? I still don't understand. They have the same title, it's the same poem.
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New version.
+ Show Spoiler +
I start with the title.
Still playing games. It’s all a play.
But look around: the audience is empty.
Everyone’s sold their tickets for costumes.
The players look up to show that it’s snowing.
Quick! Catch one on your tongue.
Chase it, catch it, lick it - no time to taste it.
Just catch as many as you can.
That is success; this is my crazy.
Transfixed on a transient snowflake, they live on its drift,
Running in circles, not going anywhere.
Craving what they're made of – couldn't find snow in Siberia.
Their spirit whispers away, dancing, like smoke into the night.
When their sun sets, they're just out of breath.
In shy darkness, my time sails on blue skies;
crisp, icy intimacy. Shift your perception,
let seas be your snowflakes. No “Nice weather”
No! Not just Joule and Kelvin having tea!
Breathe in the air; it soothingly brushes your soul.
See its beauty; hear its wisdom.
Look up before you die
and unfocus your eyes, you'll see:
You've completely missed the sky.
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On July 09 2009 16:41 kefkalives wrote:
Oxygen, he's implying that both are fundamentally the same.
Of course, they're fundamentally the same: this is obviously a revision of the earlier version. I wasn't trying to imply anything beyond giving the link, as a matter of general interest.
As for the poem itself, I decidedly don't like this style of poetry, being a formalist at heart. It's hard for me to trust a form with no rules (free verse), because that makes it so much harder to tell if a piece contains anything of value. For that reason, I didn't comment on your poem, Oxygen, but I see that Moltke liked it, and he is a man whose opinion I respect immensely.
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That's unfortunate: form often masquerades as substance. Read Robert Pinsky to improve.
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On the contrary, I find that form makes substance (or lack thereof) much easier to discern.
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Running in circles, not going anywhere.
This line is horribly cliche... and really shatters the flow of the poem. It's out of place and devoid of the beautiful imagery you attempt to convey in the rest of the stanza/poem. And the "running" kills the passive action, etc. It's just overall complete bleh, and you'd do much better to just take out the whole entire line, even if you don't replace it with anything. You wouldn't lose a bit of the poem's meaning either; the adjacent lines really convey it well.
But I like this poem. The imagery's nice and the message is well delivered, though the flow still feels a little bit rough. You kinda shift around too much between a commanding tone and a peaceful, observant one. And sometimes the thoughts are a bit too fragmented in between punctuations, even though you may doing that with pace in mind.
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thanks Insane. That line has been bothering me a for long time too, but I don't know how else to phrase it; it is too accurate. I can imagine getting rid of it entirely, though.
The running, I think, is wholly important.
I've re-written this as a short story, for which I think the style is much more suited. Could you check that out? http://www.teamliquid.net/blogs/viewblog.php?topic_id=97444
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EPT
