Check on General Talk for what to do.

(Just for a week.)

TJ

(eaf,
That is a great idea. So, experiment for awhile!
(But not the PM part)

I'll start a thread on TDE, title the poems "anonymous," and people can respond anonymously.

1.) Either use your own e-mail or set up a wild non-de-plume at hotmail or yahoo.

2.) E-mail a poem for crit to tomjardine@wwdb.org
and I will post it under a new thread. (put "anonymous poem" as subject. I won't know who anyone is, or if you use your own e-mail I won't copy it to the TDE.

3.) Send crits to tomjardine@wwdb.org "anonymous crit" as the subject, in the body of the e-mail put the crit and which poem it refers to.

I can do this about a week or so, and check every four hours.

Then, after a week, people can come out and say whatever they want here at talk, or even on the thread.

Thread Started!

TJ)



[This message has been edited by Tom Jardine (edited September 18, 2004).]

Why are you putting this on the Deep End? You have no idea what kind of poems will come in in response.

Do you intend to start a new thread here every time somebody submits an anonymous poem, regardless of content, etc,, etc.? If you don't, it gets confusing. If you do, it hijacks the Board - not just Carol's thread - and, if a number of poems are sent and you post them on individual threads - has the potential to screw up the normal function of the Deep End.

I urge you - and the Mods - to delete this post and get the "experiment" back on General Topics.

Tom, I'm moving this to FunExcise. I know you won't be able to create multiple theads here, but I don't think we can have anonymous posts and critiques on the Deep End.

Carol

Michael,

Relax. It would have been there for a week or so. When you are right all the time, nothing ever happens.

I thought it would have been an interesting idea.

I'll see what happens.


TJ

By Anonymous:
__________________________________

To A Creased Snapshot of Us

Of you and I,
photography
will always lie.
The pictures try
but fail to see
how you and I

would smile to cry.
But misery
will always lie,
and won’t supply
the history
of you and I:

my hand, your thigh,
the bed where we
will always lie,
snapped only by
my memory
of you. And I
will always lie.

By Anonymous:
______________________________________

Private Mann

After Reading the Diaries of Thomas Mann

Have you called on Thomas Mann at home?
Writer, hypochondriac and doer,
great-hearted snob, gourmet, a vain coxcomb,
thinker, self-absorbed, but still with fewer
faults than most, a real celebrity
who boldly faced down Hitler with direct
instinctive, unabashed integrity,
which places him among this world’s elect.
Atrocities aroused great consternation.
When possible he tried to save his friends
and Jung’s essays earned downright condemnation,
he said, for passive aid to fascist ends.
“Disingenuous self-justification”
exposed, he said, Jung’s real affiliation.


[This message has been edited by Tom Jardine (edited September 18, 2004).]

Reminder;

If you want to crit, just send me the crit with "anonymous crit" in the subject, either your own e-mail or get one from hotmail or yahoo, such as "critter123456@hotmail.com" It doesn't take long to do one, (and can be handy when some sites request an active e-mail address and you think they might send spam.)

Same thing to post a poem. Put "Anonymous poem" in the header so I know it is a poem. Send to tomjardine@wwdb.org

Same usual rules apply, you know, meaningless ad hom, etc.

TJ

I, myself, won't post an anonymous poem or crit until much later, that way people know they are dealing with others, not me.

Fair enough, so far?



[This message has been edited by Tom Jardine (edited September 19, 2004).]

By Anonymous:
_____________________________


No Movies of Me

Think of the movie stars that were --
their heydays brimming with hormones,
then their relentless public ageing:
a bloated Brando, a withered Bacall,

a Groucho shifting his dentures in a shriveled mouth,
a crumbling, leathered Moore,
a doddery Hope, no hope left,
gazing into the distance, or the past.

How lucky there are no movies of me
on my Road to Anywhere, only stills:
no home Super-8 replay of someone past,
fresh-featured, lithe and limber, playing the fool
forever in a ski-sweater of Norwegian style,
splashing water at the camera lens,
or taking a loving glance for granted.

Or maybe just one. Somewhere in a tin trunk
stashed in the lumber-room of a childhood friend
now gray or gone, there may survive a short trick sequence:
thirty grainy seconds of me at ten or eleven
climbing out of the same cardboard box
again and again, before fading out.

Crit by anonymous of:

To A Creased Snapshot of Us

Of you and I,
photography
will always lie.
The pictures try
but fail to see
how you and I

would smile to cry.
But misery
will always lie,
and won’t supply
the history
of you and I:

my hand, your thigh,
the bed where we
will always lie,
snapped only by
my memory
of you. And I
will always lie.

This is a very skilful dimetric poem. The ideas are deftly presented
with with perfect aim.

I like the economy of words which reveal so much in stanza 2.

The end is positively brilliant, especially the last “and I, will always lie." Elegant word play.

Crit by Anonymous:
___________________________________


Private Mann

After Reading the Diaries of Thomas Mann

Have you called on Thomas Mann at home?
Writer, hypochondriac and doer,
great-hearted snob, gourmet, a vain coxcomb,
thinker, self-absorbed, but still with fewer
faults than most, a real celebrity
who boldly faced down Hitler with direct
instinctive, unabashed integrity,
which places him among this world’s elect.
Atrocities aroused great consternation.
When possible he tried to save his friends
and Jung’s essays earned downright condemnation,
he said, for passive aid to fascist ends.
“Disingenuous self-justification”
exposed, he said, Jung’s real affiliation.

Critique of "Private Mann"

There are some good historical and character observations in this poem but the poem is half developed. Apart from the misspelling of the final word, the punctuation leaves much to be desired. There should be a period after "most" in line 5.
This poem needs work.