Michael Cantor suggested over on the "Bake-Off Completed" thread that each of the participants re-open the threads on their own poems. As I said there a few minutes ago, I'll do that in the hopes it will break the ice and the other participants will say something about their own poems. Among other things I'd love to hear Catherine tell how she came across that painting, and how she hit on the decision that it could best be described in accentual verse; Alicia describe whether "Aftershocks" had its seed in an actual earthquake, and if so, how long it took that experience to coalesce into the poem; and Michael let us know how he'll top last year's mouth-watering villanelle about villanelles (and gourmet cooking) that ran in The Lyric and this year's outstanding sonnet about writing sonnets--perhaps a sestina on sestina-writing?
As I said elsewhere, I was honored and delighted that Tim included my quiet "tone poem" in company with so many remarkable, multi-layered sonnets. It was fun, too, to see the comments and critique by three poets whose work I admire, Rhina, Tim and Michael.
Rhina and Michael, I agree that this poem lacks an element that one would expect of a sonnet--a second level that resolves itself at the end in a turn or twist (or a "bite in the ass" as Michael said in his sonnet). Still, for this poem, I'm good-naturedly unrepentant. For better or worse, this was an attempt to write something in the spirit, though not the form, of some of my own favorite poems in the Shih Ching (Book of Songs). No clever meaning or startling diction; no "inner weather" beyond what shows clearly on the surface. Just the simplicity of a small part of life...what can be seen and heard at a particular moment.
Not very sonnet-like, I admit. And as reflected by the comments, the challenge in finding a few simple notes is to maintain interest. (Darn those ancients with a 2,500-year head start on us! How did they do that?)
Rhina and Michael, your comments were both perceptive and appreciated, and I'll keep them in mind the next time out.
Tim, I'm twice grateful for your good words--first, because of who they're from and, second, because of your kind reference to Tim Steele, whose work I very much admire. I wrote poems, many of them in rhyme and meter, for twenty-some years out of college, despite constant assurances that there was to be no more meter, and certainly no more rhyme, now or ever. In the mid-90's the L.A. Times ran a big write-up on Tim Steele, and I was shocked to learn that anyone living in L.A. (or anywhere else) was using meter and rhyme and getting away with it. Later I had the good fortune to meet him at a reading he gave the Times/UCLA book festival. He graciously looked at a few of my poems, and later dropped me a note with some kind words. (Some of them on the descriptions in this sonnet!) This was pretty much the first encouragement I'd received in those 20-odd years for writing anything in meter and rhyme, and it was greatly appreciated.
Tim, as I've said elsewhere, I equally value your encouragement this week. 'Glad I stumbled on to Eratosphere last year!
'Hope to hear from everyone else!
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