Spring's Palettes
 

Yet another take:

Spring’s Artist

April rainbows are spring’s palettes
for painting over winter’s whiteness,
bliss for bees and humming birds
that sip the season’s wildest brews,
sweet nectars deep in blooming flowers.
His humans mime birds’ mating songs,
but spring’s Artist renews details,
admitting yearly errors, and alters
the energy of flora, fauna, people;
shifts light and shade, colors warm
to hot, those cool to cold, the strong
to weaker, then White—that unseen prism’s
power, the paradox of light,
from the Artist’s pentimenti palette.



Rev 3

Just a quick take on something taught in grad school:

The Artist’s Edits

This is the best of all possible worlds
Pangloss after Leibniz

Our Artist repaints what He’s made
as if each season’s just a test
and is not yet impeccably remade.
But He is perfect, uses the best
plans to make a perfect world?
The myriad worldwide miseries
that human history’s unfurled
due to the Artist’s uncertainties
is like a poet’s reprising old themes
only best within spring dreams.


Rev 1

The Rainbow's Reasons

Spring’s Artist reviews details
(pentimenti?), each season alters:

chiaroscuro, colors warm
to hot, those cool to cold, the strong
to weak and white—that unseen prism’s

tints, the essence of life’s light,
are every spring’s immortal palette.


Spring’s Palettes

April rainbows are spring’s palettes
for painting over winter’s whiteness
with yellow, orange, green and violet,

indigo, red and blue, all drawing
bees and hummingbirds to sip
the wildest liquors (never brewed!),

those nectars deep in blooming flowers.
But our Artist reviews details
(pentimenti?), each season alters:

chiaroscuro, colors warm
to hot, those cool to cold, the strong
to weak and pale—then, unseen prism

tints, the essence of life’s light,
are every spring’s immortal palette.

This subject matter has a higher-than-usual bar to meet, since so many readers will have memories of having been assigned to write something on a similar theme themselves in grade school, along with (perhaps exaggerated) memories of having done it better.

Listing the colors by name doesn't do the poem any favors in terms of not making me think "grade school", and the Emily Dickinson reference just makes it suffer by comparison with her.

Overall, this poem needs to be more unexpected.

Hi Ralph,

I like the idea here, of life's light passing through a prism and generating the colours of spring, and the idea of painting over (pentiment) as the seasons change.

I wonder about the repetition of "spring's palette". It's in the first line and the last. And in the title. Were it to only appear in the last line, say, it'd have an element of surprise to it, and consequently more impact, I think. I'd consider looking for a replacement for "palette" in L1 and a different title.

Do you need to list the colours of the rainbow? You've already said that rainbows are spring’s palette and we already know the colours of the rainbow, so for me it doesn't really add anything and makes for a very predictable two lines. If you cut the list, then for me the poem improves (albeit loses it's sonnet shape).

"unseen prism tints" confuses me. I take it that the prism is unseen, but the tints, the colours are not. But currently it seems to say the tints themselves are unseen. I see you originally had "unseen prism's tints", which makes sense to me.

Or maybe I'm misunderstanding. Because on that reading, I also wonder a little at the logic of the close. The poem says that each season has its colours. So are only the colours of spring caused by light passing though a prism? What causes summer's colours, for example?

Should "pentiment" be in italics? I had to look it up, and I like the how the sense of it fits, but it seems to be an English word, and as such wouldn't need italics. Whereas pentimento seems to be the Italian word. EDIT: sorry, I misread. You do have the Italian word. I overlooked the final 'i' because it's not italicised like the rest of the word.

best,

Matt

Ralph, I like the idea here and how you can proceed through the colors. My issue with this is I can't help but see Newton poking his eye when I think of the prism. But that being said, I like what you're out to do. As Julie says, it's a tough topic to make new.

My issue is that for a short poem, it feels as though it goes on too long. It doesn't actually, but listing the colors with modifiers gives that feeling. My suggestion is to take some colors out of the palettes and do more with the ones you use. Maybe instead of liquors and winter's whiteness and blooming flowers, some less expected comparisons could be found. That could help with the listing effect. But then again I could be wrong.

Thanks for reading Matt and John, but as Julie noted, I know nothing about what has been taught in grade schools, which I haven’t been near in eighty years.

I apologize, Ralph. I was clumsily trying to make the point that seasonal poems make the reader look extra hard for something surprising in the treatment, since we've all seen (and written) so many of them, starting from our earliest encounters with poetry.

Comparing Nature/God to a human artist is not a revolutionary idea, but it doesn't have to be new if there are enough surprises supporting it. In this case, I would have liked a lot more surprises in the content, especially since there are no surprising rhymes to appreciate. And I must say that the poem's focus on colors doesn't do anything to convince me that I should be in awe of this particular artist. Among human artists, using a lot of colors does not necessarily correlate with accolades for skill and taste.

The pentimenti image as applied to seasonal changes was new, at least to me. I would have liked a bit more development of that idea, especially since "pentimento" derives from "repentance." What are the theological implications of a supernatural Artist who makes mistakes, or changes his or her mind? Would the death and destruction of the Flood (of which the rainbow is supposed to be a reminder) also be a horrifying sort of pentimento?

I hope some of these thoughts are useful.

I see where Julie's coming from, although I'll admit that I found the treatment unexpected on first read.

As far as poems about Spring go, I enjoyed this, it reminds me of the poem you wrote in non-met about Fall recently. Trying to slap fresh paint on an old topic.

But to quote Wislawa Szymborska:

I wonder if there's just an innate tiredness in the subject matter that's near impossible to get around, no matter what you do. This poem strikes me as a pretty good attempt, all things considered, but I don't know what one could add that was both interesting and not overly contrived.

I think this is a good poem, but Spring just doesn't resonate given where poetry is as a genre. It makes me want to see you take a stab at a more interesting topic.

Hi Ralph,

This one doesn't fly, I'd say.

What is now the opening:

Spring’s Artist reviews details
(pentimenti?)

is, to me, unparsabe. reviews details? Then hitting us with one of the two fancy (Italian) terms used to describe elements of art that appear in the poem. Not that "pentimenti", in particular, needs to be avoided in poetry. But I don't think they (the other is chiaroscuro) do much for you here. They interfere, in fact, with what would work best in the sparest of language.

And keep Newton's prism out of a poem about the sensual impact of spring. It's science. Meh. Nobody sees a prism in nature.

The other problem has to do with trite expressions. Primarily the two in the last two lines, "the essence of life’s light" and "spring’s immortal palette".

In all, not much feeling comes across through all the description and analysis, which I think is a result of letting those last two lines carry all the water for feeling.

Rick

Thanks for the additional comments Julie, Nick and Rick. It may be for my drawer of incompatible darlings.

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Is this even possible? Could there ever be a topic/subject that is no longer fodder for poetry? Are dogs verboten, too? Death? Love? Poetry? (Well, maybe poetry.) I object to that. I could be wrong and understand the thrust of Szymborska's quote, but I'd rather consider them as having an exceptionally high bar. The poet may fail repeatedly at clearing it, but it's understandable why such topics continue to produce poetry. Beauty is truth, truth beauty.

Ralph, I've always enjoyed your affinity for nature poetry and your allegiance to Thoreau. Because of your Thoreau praise awhile back I decided to revisit him. I picked up his travelogue book entitled Cape Cod and fell in deeper love with nature than I had already been. It's a gorgeous read. A "life imitating art" kind of read.

But yes, let this distill into something more interesting, with a lighter touch (Spring begins with the lightest touch) in terms of metaphor and imagery. I like the meaning of pentimenti but I don't think it aligns well with the poem's conceit. A starling murmuration or something that alludes to migration might work to tell of the constant change of seasons...

(I'm rushing to write this so forgive me if it comes out half-cocked. I've so many things to do today.)

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