Poems, Poetry, Poetics, Cats

My regular readers will know that I rarely talk about my poems, or poetics --  I just post the poems and move on. Last night, in my usual waiting- for- sleep place, I began to prepare a post about The Ledge, and my surprise at its reception; I woke this morning to find that an anonymous and (I think) deliberately illiterate troll had found that very poem (and that spammers had found my GMail address.) So, lots to talk about. But first things first:

• the basement tapes is a new audio blog, an open-mic space for poets, set up by ray sweatman. I've posted one poem there, and will be posting more; if you would like to participate (and please do!) email ray. Go have a listen.

Now, about The Ledge:

• I may be the worst judge of my own work. I don't understand why people like this poem so much. I posted it only because I discovered it had been bookmarked on del.icio.us (of course, I can't find it again; I find searching on del.icio.us extremely non-intuitive and frustrating.)
• I share the troll's doubts here, if not his vernacular: yea but is it apome . . . why u callin that a verse? Well, I could argue that it rhymes (slant rhyme, admittedly.) At one point it was, technically, a sonnet, but a less successful poem. Revisions brought it to this, which I consider a still-too-prosaic poem. But good question: what makes it a poem, rather than a story in lines?
• The story elicited a very strong reaction from me, which is why the memory of that afternoon is so clear in my mind (this is one of those yes- it- really- happened poems.) Though others have expressed anger about it, I am glad that my friend left out the reassuring end; as he told it, it was a koan-ic moment for me -- many things came together in a way that is impossible for me to articulate. Those things included, as Anne points out, faith, friendship, and letting go -- and how one must let go in order to be caught.
• Troll says jes a bunch of emotional blather? Well, this is a rare criticism of my work, so rare that I think I'll ignore it this time -- especially since this is about as understated a poem as I can manage. Perhaps even too understated?

And about Watermark, and me, and Troll:

• Mr. Troll  (I am going to reveal my sexism, and assume this is a man, since, in my experience, it is usually men who use this kind of aggressive, patronizing, language -- especially with women) says:  change myy mind after reading yer things and yer boring repasted reviews like you is selling the obvious gueiness of your site . come on sis, do it. cut the cats and the slop! i am the onle one beeing reel honest to ya --
• Someone is sure to remind me Don't Feed the Trolls, with which I generally agree -- I am even asking myself why I am bothering with this. I do feel awkward about the Kind Words section of the sidebar, and remind myself that women often feel awkward about promoting themselves and their work. I could write a lot about this, but I'm tired.

About Cats:

• cut the cats!! Heh. I refer you to the tagline of this site. This is not a poem site, or a poetry site -- this is A Poet's Notebook. Troll seems to have bought the sad belief that poets must be focused and serious and poetic at all times. My life may have become limited by circumstance, but I do still have one, and it includes cats, and frivolity, and silliness, and other non-poetic trivialities. Poets without lives don't have poems. You fool.
• And -- this Sunday's Carnival of the Cats will be here at Watermark. All cats welcomed -- serious cats, poetic cats, frivolous cats, silly cats -- get your entries in! A bit early, if you can -- that non-poetic life intrudes and I must be elsewhere at 5:00 pm, so the Carnival will be posted a bit earlier than usual. Late entries will be added the next day.
  

I suppose I could consider it progress that the Trolls have found me?

Comments

[Dick Jones]

I thought - think - it a damn fine poem for the reasons I gave.

And DON'T feed the trolls...

[Patia]

Silly troll. I feel sorry for his lot -- they obviously don't have anything better to do.

[Dave]

Trolls are kind of useful. They help keep us humble, and they force us to call on reserves of humor - because if there's one thing that distinguishes a troll from an ordinary commenter having a bad day, it's the lack of a sense of humor. My advice: play cat-and-mouse. Have fun!

(For the record, I was not crazy about "The Ledge." I mean, it was O.K., and very well crafted, of course. But you've done much finer work, IMO.)

[Pearl]

Let's here it for soul-edifying frivolity! And diveristy of life.

Pity its easier to complain in general than compliment in particular. It slants the world in a most discouraging way some days, doesn't it?

Had heard the word poetics before and I still don't grasp it fully.

[Jazz]

That was simply beautiful. I have nothing else to add.

[Kate S.]

What's the opposite of progress? We are in a kind of kaleidescope in this cyberworld. The infusion of trolls is the sand making pits in the glass at the end of the cardboard tube. Only the kind and gentle spirit of a poet would lift him up and make him the star of the post.

I would have barbecued him slowly over open coals. A kind of poetic justice. Sheriff vs. varmint.

[Greg]

I don't usually comment on people's poem especially if not asked. But I will say why this one did not work for me. I knew the joke already so the ending couplet was just a let down. I was looking for something, I don't know, that played a little more with it. Because I liked the idea that he left off the ending. As for trolls, anyone not willing to own up to their own identity is just some poor lost soul. There's a ring waiting for them.

[Lynn S]

I hadn't read The Ledge before. That's a great poem. I shouldn't even bother to say 'ignore the trolls.' You know that, but I know they're hard to ignore. I don't get many but even when they're trolling someone else I often want to be face to face with them just so I can... oh, I don't know. I just want to punish them somehow. Severely.

About your not understanding why people like the poem... I think it's partly because it reminds us of something we have experienced.

I know more about music than poetry (and not as much about music as some people think) so I can more easily use music as an example. A lot of composers hate their own most popular works. It's often said that Tchaikovsky hated The Nutcracker. I read somewhere once that Chopin begged on his deathbed that his Fantasy Impromptu be destroyed. So who is most qualified to judge the greatness of a work? The artist is almost always self-critical but the reader or listener has no idea what the artist had in mind - what he or she was really trying to say. No answers. Just something to think about.