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Sonnet #9
Bird’s Eye View As if I work for him—how could he know the weight of all my cares?—a robin hops towards me from the border; then he stops to watch me push my mower to and fro. He looks for worms along the fresh-cut line, while I seek inspiration for a gem to stun my critics—how I’ll dazzle them! The bird has his agenda; I have mine. My chore complete, I settle down to wring some moral from our interaction. Now a sharp deflating insight has unfurled its wings. (I had been contemplating how absurd it was for such a little thing to think himself the centre of the world.) Comment by Mr. Gwynn: A good, solid Italian variant with a clear-cut volta. My only real quibble with the diction is with “unfurled,” which I associate more with something rolled (like a flag) than folded (wings). But I suppose other poets have had wings unfurl (ah, “It Came upon a Midnight Clear”!). I notice that two sonnets have looked for rhymes with “world,” which is a fairly tough word to rhyme well, especially at a sonnet’s conclusion. Better here than in a couplet, though. “a gem / to stun my critics” seems a little defensive instead of just “readers,” and wouldn’t a gem perhaps “blind” rather than stun? “the weight of all my cares” sets up a slightly “heavier” preconception of the speaker’s cares than the whimsical nature of the rest of the poem can support. For no good reason, I’d probably say “the mower.” Overall, I like this for its ironic balance and sound analogy: bird is to man as man is to . . . God? |
This sonnet needs only a hyphen in the title (it should be "bird’s-eye”) to make it just about perfect. I am not at all bothered by the idea of unfurled wings. In fact, I believe it is not an uncommon expression. As well, it fits in fine with the bird metaphor.
Were I to say more, I’d be rightly accused of making a gushing gaga critique. |
This sonnet seems made in its own image. Neatly striped lawn and fresh cut edge.
Yet again, I'm pretty sure I know who wrote this. A person I'm sure I would like very much in real life. I have to say, though, that with very litle time to go I'm still waiting for something truly edgy. This one is way inside the sonnet safety zone. Philip |
If I have a quibble with this, it would be that it is marred only by its perfection. Exemplary in its structure, not a foot or syllable out of place, enjambements falling logically: no risks. I could wish for some small variation, but I won't quibble; my favourite so far, challenged only by #10. Both are refreshing in their simplicity, clarity and hold to tradition.
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My issue with this poem is that the sonnet form is probably too long for what the poem actually conveys. It does a delightful job of getting to its point (i.e.: good imagery etc.), but when the ultimate trope of this poem is, "Who am I to think I'm important", I think it can be done with a lot less chaff.
In a way, I think the poem takes itself a bit too seriously and is a bit too contrived for its own good. I'm also not a fan of the brackets across the last three lines -- it seems very untidy and wholly unnecessary. Surely a simple colon would suffice? There's a lot to like about this, to be sure, but something strikes me as a bit too inauthentic for me to call it a "great poem". |
I like this one, a lot. I wasn't sure I would until the end, when it brought a smile to my face.
Within the sonnet safety zone? Yes. But well-done. Simple? Maybe, in the sense that, simplicity is the essence of good design. My only very small nit, and it may be entirely personal is "towards" in L3. I prefer "toward". I know either use is acceptable and it may be a regional thing, but "toward" just sounds better to my ear. I wonder too, if the parentheses are necessary. Shaun says: I think the poem takes itself a bit too seriously and is a bit too contrived for its own good. Therein lies the irony of the poem, I think. Tracey |
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As was pointed out in a thread, we're not supposed to talk about the poet behind the poem. But I'm naughty. So I will anyway.
This poet writes the most gorgeous meter. It's not that noticeable in this particular poem, but certainly the meter here is excellent. Now for the poem... ouch. I have to agree with much of what Shaun said, and especially: "a bit too contrived". |
There might be days when I too would feel this poem spent too much labor on its thought, but not today. For me, one of the pleasures of poetry is spending time on a thought, exploring its complexities fully, complete with interruptions and returns. So I like this one.
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Shaun, Petra, you raise a valid point. But in the end, this one redeems itself, for me anyway.
Tracey |
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