Braving the harsh light of critique with this one...

PRISON

I can not feel…

Summer
Sand between toes. Gulf sun soaking into my cells
Hot beach breath pushing and pulling, ratting stringy, auburn hair
Pastel shells tumbling in a wave’s retreat
Shark teeth – triangle treasures to snatch at and capture in delight
Late tide, dragging stringy, auburn seaweed ashore.

Spring
Grass beneath my soles. Overcast sucked as strong drink into my lungs
Cool gust brushing me to a chill, swirling linen dress.
Crayon azaleas fluttering in early, orgasmic bloom.
Pear blossoms – snow shimmering from thin branches to ground
Light morning frost quickly sublimed.

Fall
Puddles underfoot, lightning prickling my neck
Raging storm slapping with hard drops
Tiny ices biting arms, bouncing off shoulders
Bold thunder punches then fades.

I can not feel
Winter – Cold.

Cracking.
Dead.

Yet it fills me from bowel to breast.

Copyright: K. Lee Dockal Mar 24, 2002 (third draft)

Wow - heavy...

The emotions you picture are enormous...

I'll have to let this work in my mind for a few days.

Love, Wim

I almost titled it "Lupus" - then decided people would relate more to it if they thought of it as any prison of their own making.

This calls for several readings. Very thought provoking.

Dense... I can't really offer any comments on the composition, as reading poetry in a language that is not my native one is simply impossible for me.

I have to admit (this is me braving critisism) that I often don't "get" poetry. In school I used to rant and rave that if a poem needed that much explaination that it was useless. I found your poem very emotional and it touched me. Thank you.

lonnnng booooring response:

actually - as someone who writes poetry now and then - i have a similar opinion. To me, there's a line to be drawn between the poem I don't quite understand but enjoy, and the poem that is obviously written just to sound "artsy". I've seen a lot of the latter in recent literary journals. Somewhere along the line someone said "how cool would it be to put two totally unrelated words together and pretend like it means something."

But by and large - poetry is much more "for the writer" than just about any other form of writing, IMO. Still - i do want to convey a thought or image as most poets do. I think understanding poetry is a lot about spacial relationships with language and letters. Some people need the "the" and "and" and other direct transitions between concepts. Just like I learned in college that the people who "got" Organic Chemistry were the people who could visualize molecules in 3-D. If you couldn't get to the 3D image, you were stuck trying to figure out what the heck a left-handed vs. a right-handed molecule was and so on. It seems to be something in the wiring and isn't related to any level of intellect or sensitivity, IMO.

As evidence that it is hardwiring to some extent - you know those pictures that are seemingly all dots and squiggles but if you get your focal point just right you can see a 3D image in them? Well, a college friend who couldn't get organic chem and said that she couldn't imagine the molecules in 3 dimensions, also could not see the 3D images in those pictures. My genetics prof explained to us that the ability to see those images was probably hard-wired as there seemed to be a small percentage of the population that simply could not do so.

I suspect for language there is at least one similar aspect of comprehension that would make it harder for some to grasp poetry than others.

I remember loving the poem "Anyone Lived in a Pretty How Town" but couldn't make much sense of it. Until a English teacher took us through each line. I doubt some of her interpretations - but it did start making more sense to me as I examined it line by line. Still, even before I understood that "up so floating many bells down" meant "cows in the field with cowbells bobbing." (supposedly) the general feeling of the poem - of not fitting in to a community, of finding only one person who could possible relate to you... that was there even if I didn't get all the imagery. I think that is what most poets strive for - a feeling vs. full understanding. Songwriting is usually a little more transparent but even so, there are a lot of lyrics that leave one thinking

As long as you don't tell me a poem has to rhyme to be a poem, you're doing just fine by me, Elaine. Someone snagged one of my poems off my desk in HS and started reading it aloud to embarrass me. Got through the first 3 or 4 sentences and announced that "this isn't a poem. Poems have to rhyme." I patiently explained free verse and blank verse but of course she waved me off as a moron. Another tiny trauma in youth that makes divulging my secret writings all the more difficult

Hi KCat,


Hence my boring reply .

I do think so, also because you don't want to give away the exact feelings you have. That's scary. It must strike a chord, with oneself, without revealing too much, of the inner self. Strangely enough, by being vague, you give other people the possibilty to link to the imagery with their own imagination and experiences, of their inner selves. It does help, though, IMO, to know at least a little of the context.

And the lyrics that leaves one thinking, are the strongest, IMO, they come closest to, or just are poetry...

It does, doesn't it? Similar experience here...

I do find, though, for the first time in a very long period, that I can share my writings, here, and feel not threatened somehow. I normally do, even knowing I write for myself in the first place. And the absence of threat, the trust, that's a nice feeling.

Warm regards, Wim

What a shame. Because, based on the handful of writing that you've chosen to show us, these are more than quite good, they're excellent.

To me, a piece of writing is really good if it makes me want to read it to the end when I first look at it, and then actually do so. If I want to re-read it, then it has qualities that make me categorize it as excellent.

I won't even pretend to have such talent.

Thank you KCat for the insight of a poet. It makes sense, but I never thought about the fact that poets write for themselves. I guess that's why so many people I know (like someone's favorite aunt) who write poetry are very reluctant to share I suppose it can be like revealing too much.

I think I'm going to start a thread on "Why do we write ?". I don't buy the "write for myself" thingy people. It's not because you become shy after it's done that it means you wrote for yourself...

Hi Denis,

You don't have to buy it, Denis. There is a slight difference between poetry and prose. Of course, if you've done a good job, in your own opinion, you're proud and would like some recognition, yes.

However, poetry is pure emotion, IMO, which means it is very personal. Maybe it is easier for some than for others to show them or let people read them, but doing this for many is revealing your deepest inner self. This doesn't come naturally to most of us. And it is a process of growth, and maybe detachment, too.

When it comes to prose, read the 3 books I mentioned, and maybe you'll understand what I mean. I found them to be a revelation regarding my own way of writing, and why I hadn't done so for many years, prose that is. And if you don't write for yourself in the first place, you'll never do it.

There is shyness and shyness. People who may seem extrovert at first, may actually be very introverted when you get to know them a little better. Just my observation. And just my 2c.

Kind regards, Wim

Hi Wim,

I don't see that we disagree violently. I still think that even the most personal writings are fundamentally meant to be shared. I think this is the root of the writing impulse. But this is the subject of a new thread now

Warm Cheers !
Denis.

Hi Denis,

Yes, I continued my ramblings in the new thread...

Warm regards, Wim

Vivid, immeditate, and accessible on many levels...love the breakdown of seasons with emotions and weather. Here's my favorite line:

Crayon azaleas fluttering in early, orgasmic bloom

Lovely work - enjoyed it very much - thank you for posting it

Good call. I don't have lupus, but I certainly identified with the poem out of another life-affecting struggle. Spoke right to it. I think that's one of the marks of a good poem: it speaks to a human condition so basic and universal it transcends the specifics (even if/when the poem is clear about the specifics).

The imagery is, of course, strong and vivid, evocative and beautiful. Maybe it's the contrast of the last season with the lushness of the first three that make the "winter" section my favorite. That last line really caught at me. I had to remind myself to breathe, as immediately after reading it, I found myself holding my breath in a funny mixture of pain and admiration.

A foolish question about the thread you all started on why people write... I'm missing it, I guess, although I've looked. Help! I'd love to read people's further thoughts on the matter.

In a backchannel discussion i added this to my feelings about poets/poetry.

Lucinda touched on something that I am trying to verbalize with some effort.


There is a feeling for the poet to reveal much and yet conceal much by using few words to express not only several depths of meaning, but also to allow the reader to put the poem into the context of their own lives/emotions. That said - I'm not sure we approach a poem with that purpose in mind - perhaps it is a goal we set in general and perhaps even subconsciously it is there every time we write. It does allow us to say things that have great meaning to us, that the reader may or may not ever grasp. And does offer a bit of a safety net in that respect.

But as you note, there is still so much intimacy in poetry that sometimes it just isn't something we want to share. And this is true, IMO, for any kind of creative writing. Unfortunately, this sometimes brings out the internal editor who will totally screw up a piece by saying, "No, you can't say that!" - the work becomes stilted, even dishonest. So better to ignore the internal editor and write what you need to write for you, then decide if it's something you want to share.

Thank you Kelly and Lucinda for your recent input. I appreciate it very much and am glad that it had emotional impact when you read it. This will sound a bit vain perhaps but it still points to the "writing for yourself" thing: When I wrote the poem, I think I was holding my breath on those last lines. At least figuratively if not also literally. The emotion at the time was very raw.

again, thank you for your opinions. I'm working hard to climb out of a pit right now and with the help of my husband and someone here that knows how dank and dark that pit is, i'm slowly getting there.

by the by - this is the "why we write" thread.
http://www.fountainpennetwork.com/forum/in...?showtopic=1881

I just reread your poem again, KCat: goose pimples were the result...

Thanks again for sharing....

Wim