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They Used to Call Me G-Bomber
Maybe there was,
Maybe there wasn’t,
But I can still remember,
When life had pulled up for me,
Waves of smoke and dust,
As we rode through the blinding canals of a black river,
“I cannot breath” I said,
But I was ignored,
So I explored,
And found their names on the walls,
I found their lives on the walls,
They who had risked so much for a name,
My name will not be up there,
You will find my name on papers,
And you will find them beaten by the colorless,
And you will choose to look away,
And freedom will have felt like a memory,
But I will look toward the sky,
And the smoke will eventually rise,
While I wait for life,
While I wait to ride on the canal,
One last time.
Review Request (Intensity):
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction):
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Editing stage:
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Comments
wesley snow
Mon, 2011-12-05 21:50
This is really mysterious.
I must apologize for being so obtuse, but though I was mildly enthralled by the language I don't truly understand what the poem is pointing out. It's one of those times when one knows he's going to be pissed off when understanding comes because it was so damn easy, but for the life of me I'm pretty much clueless.
Perhaps a helpful hint for the poor, slow poet that he might enjoy this better?
W. H. Snow
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley
Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
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Search
Sat, 2011-12-10 14:12
I wasn't approved
Dear Wesley snow,
Thank you for taking and interest in my poem. I had written you a analysis of my poem for you to better understand. However since I am new to the site I wasn't yet approved. So I do not know if my reply reached you or not. If you would like I would be more than happy to write you another analysis.
Regards,
Search
author commentwesley snow
Sat, 2011-12-10 16:07
I got this one.
Give it a go. I would like to know. wesley
W. H. Snow
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley
Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
http://www.neopoet.com/mentor/about
Search
Sat, 2011-12-10 17:55
Poem Analysis
So the poem isn't particularly about a certain group or cause, I left that to be ambiguous because I want the reader to fill that part in. The ambiguity of it all serves a purpose, some people interpret things a different way; by leaving in a blank space the reader can put in whatever He/she finds dear or interesting in life and witness it being affected in the poem; by doing so I intend for people to better understand what the world has become and quite possibly where it is heading. At this point I apologize if you are confused. The poem itself is supposed to show how people in life will try to make things colorful in life but end up being beaten and rejected by a society that does not see creativity and imagination as proper. The narrator is watching all of these people fall and fail from trying to create change. In the end the narrator is continues to wait for something or someone who will come to bring change and color in the world so that he can progress to the future. That is the best I can explain it. It is difficult even for me to explain the poem in words; the reason being that I was experiencing a great clash of emotions as I was writing this. I hope this helps.
regards,
Search
author commentthe_fool
Sun, 2011-12-11 04:42
analysis aside...
the line 'As we rode through the blinding canals of a black river,' didn't quite fit for me. you already use 'when' a little above it, so maybe tighten it up a bit like
'we rode blinding canals of black rivers, '
then there was the repetition of the word 'walls'. maybe change the second 'walls' to 'written there', implying the walls?
lines 15-19 repeatedly started with 'and' (and one 'but'), disrupted the flow for me and sounded like a long run-on sentence. play with it a little-
And you will find them beaten by the colorless,
you will choose to look away,
for freedom will have felt like a memory,
But I will look toward the sky,
then the smoke will eventually rise,
then at the end, take out the second 'while'
While I wait for life,
I wait to ride on the canal,
this piece has great imagery and flows very well but, like all my own pieces, still needs a lot of work. can't wait to see what you do with it.
wesley snow
Sun, 2011-12-11 14:05
Your analysis made the poem clear to me.
Now my problem. I have always held to the maxim that "if the poet must explain, the poem did not." When I read Hamlet's soliloquy I am quite comfortable looking into various discussions on its meaning because the thing was written centuries ago and needs a little explaining. Not many people know that a "fardel" is a bundle of sticks that Bill used to denote a burden. However, a new poem should not suffer from this. Not that I feel a poem must be written "down" to succeed. I use an unwieldy amount of archaic language in my poetry and if you can't hang... tough shit. Never feel a need to explain everything. It was said once (and when I remember the name of the poet I will credit her... sorry) that "when a poem is read it is not the poet that is being judged, but the reader."
Still, I believe that clarity must be central to poetry or the point is missed and then... why do we write?
I guess what I'm saying is a functional medium must be achieved. If the language in your poem had not impressed me, I would not have cared to understand. It did though and I had a need to know. Personally, I would not change this poem (except perhaps to take the fool's advice which I agree with), but keep these thoughts in mind as you move forward. The language is exemplary, now help us understand from the beginning.
Hope this wasn't too pedantic or rude. If I wasn't impressed with the poem to begin with I would not have taken the time.
wesley
W. H. Snow
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley
Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
http://www.neopoet.com/mentor/about
Search
Mon, 2011-12-12 01:06
Thank you for being the critic.
Dear Wesley,
I did not in any way take your comment to be rude. As a matter of fact I'm glad you told me all of this. I do admit that I am new to writing poetry and I am prepared for the judgment many may give me. Showing me my problems creates a challenge for me, and if it were not for the challenges in life then we would never move forward in history. However I would like to explain to you and anyone else who reads, the direction I am intending to go with my poetry. I am familiar with many different styles of poetry which contains one meaning, one moral, one story, and drives the reader mad by presenting its logic for the reader to decipher. That kind of poetry frustrated me. So for everyone who reads this, try not to logically understand my poetry but rather emotionally. If I am wrong then I apologize, but Wesely, I believe this is why you might have been confused whilst you were reading my poem. And I myself must apologize for not asking the readers beforehand to emotionally understand my poem.
If what I just said confuses you even more, then I don't blame you; I am having some trouble understanding myself. But here is some help as you read the poem. Think of the life as constantly moving forward, and think of the color in life. Follow the poem from there. Honestly I'm sorry if any of this doesn't make sense, it really late right now and I guess I'm just tired.
author commentwesley snow
Mon, 2011-12-12 18:36
Not at all.
You made excellent sense and your pen name is "Search" after all. Continue to write, I will continue to read, comment and occasionally... ask. wesley
W. H. Snow
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley
Learn how, teach others.
The NeoPoet Mentor Program
http://www.neopoet.com/mentor/about