[Trevor Conway]

Wildebeest always look so ragged,
as if freshly flung from a fight.
Here, they face another,
swelling the moment with fear.

In this lumpy river, a rough shape
might be a crocodile’s cobblestone back.
It might be just a cluster of rock
or the black flank of a restless wave.

One leaps, yearning for pasture –
with such vigour it seems to dream
of cleaving the river’s width in two.
Thumping hooves, gallant splashes,
a riot of water – some are gripped,
dragged away to a hideous Hades.

Others feel they’ve steered clear
till the lateral gravity of the river
gives them cause to think again,
pulling them closer to jaws that,
a moment before, seemed too slow.

A stalemate unfolds in the shallows:
a leg clamped in gaudy teeth.
Neither advances – a still life,
each imploring the other’s fatigue.
But the reptiles are in cahoots:
another looms, and with a snap
quick as a reflex, the head is under,
with nostrils burning inches below
a vast redemption of air.

The bank delivers rich relief,
weary hope, to those who clamber,
dogged and drained, back to grass,
only to face new traumas
across the lumpy plain.


[Is there an argument for switching the order of the first 2 stanzas? Or even removing the first? Thanks.]

[Jayne Osborn]

Welcome to your first thread, Trevor; it's good to see your own work.

I like this poem a lot. It's so visual, and you have some lovely turns of phrase. Please don't remove the first stanza - it really draws the reader in! The alliteration is natural, not forced.

There's only one thing I would change, and even as I'm writing this I'm sure others will disagree with me. It's the two appearances of "lumpy": The lumpy river and the lumpy plain. I can see why you might have considered switching stanzas 1 and 2, so that "lumpy" appears at the beginning and ending of the poem. Rounding off in that manner often works well.

Here, though, I think its use is better in stanza 2. Lumpy is the right image for both a crocodile's back peeping out of the water, and/or rocks.

In the last stanza you have the ideal chance to introduce another adjective - a more compelling one - that we haven't seen before. The repetition of lumpy made me feel just a little disappointed.

That's my take on it, FWIW, but all critiques are only advisory of course. Lovely work, though. I felt as if I was there, actually watching the unfolding scene.

Jayne

[James Midgley]

Hi Trevor, nice to see you here.

There are some enjoyable descriptions here, like the 'black flank of a restless wave', though occasionally the piece struggles for tonal consistency. Lumpy vs vigour/yearning for pasture, e.g..

A bigger problem is that the poem seems to lack necessity; because the poem seems to quite directly describe wildebeest crossing a river at the mercy of snapping crocs, there's a sense it could just go on either forever or for very little time at all.

What happens if we end up with this, for example? --

Wildebeest & Crocodiles

A stalemate unfolds in the shallows:
a leg clamped in gaudy teeth.
Neither advances – a still life,
each imploring the other’s fatigue.
But the reptiles are in cahoots:
another looms, and with a snap
quick as a reflex, the head is under,
with nostrils burning inches below
a vast redemption of air.
The bank delivers rich relief,
weary hope, to those who clamber,
dogged and drained, back to grass,
only to face new traumas
across the lumpy plain.

I'm not suggesting to just cut and be done with it, as above, but it's worth considering why we're looking at this situation. Is it a metaphor for struggling in life? If so, what is needed to turn that situation/metaphor up to the light for a better look at the subject-behind-the-subject? That kind of thing.

Anyway I hope this is helpful. Thanks for posting.

[Jim Ramsey]

Hi Trevor,

I think I sense something similar to what James is saying. It's a well-done description and a worthy poem in that sense but it could be more ambitious. For me the ending line implying there're always more trials and tribulations to come is too much of a wrapped up resolution in symbolizing the struggle and competition of life.

We've all seen the documentaries and You-Tube pop-ups of crocs going after baby elephants or hippos or zebras, so in that sense your piece is an ekphrastic. Rattle, the poetry journal, has a monthly competition of creating an ekphrastic poem from one selected piece of art. Tim Green, the editor has often said (in different ways which I will only roughly paraphrase) in explaining his selection of winner that he looks for poems that go well beyond what everyone can easily see for themselves. I'm sure that he doesn't mean the other poems submitted in the competition were bad poems, but just that they lacked an extra takeaway moment to make them special. This is not to be critical of your piece, but just something to think about. We all want to write great poems, not just good ones—I'm still waiting to write my first one.

All the best,
Jim

[Nick McRae]

Hi Trevor,

You've gotten some good comments that I agree with for the most part. The poem is well executed, just not overly differentiated. Which is pretty common.

If you were trying to sell a poetry book to someone who'd read hundreds of poets, what about your poetry would interest them, and not just fall into the fray of thousands of other poets? Finding the intersection between originality and your personal style/personality is what you want to aim for in the long run. What is your particular bent on poetry? When you dig into your passion for writing, what kind of art do you want to create? That's the target, IMO, and not just executing well.

In my experience there are generally a few ways to differentiate, exceptional and original use of imagery (writing a stunning poem), doing something interesting with the language or structure of the poem, wisdom, or a combination of these elements. My take is that the goal is to figure out what you want to do with your writing that's a little outside the norm. Once someone who's seen it all gets a kick out of your poetry, you'll have hit the target.

Hope that helps

[Hilary Biehl]

Hi Trevor, this isn't really working for me. Partly perhaps it's that I don't understand the "why" of the poem. Is it about wildebeest being eaten by crocodiles, or something else? It seems to me to be the former, but I'm not sure why it needs to be a poem in that case.

I also felt that it was overwritten in some places. Maybe that's not the right word, but there are an awful lot of adjectives, not all of which seem necessary. "Hideous Hades," "weary hope," etc. I'm not sure what "imploring the other's fatigue" means. I agree with Jayne about the repetition of "lumpy."

That said, there are things I like - the crocodile's "cobblestone back" is great, for instance, as is "the lateral gravity of the river," "a riot of water." It's just not working for me as a whole right now.

[John Boddie]

Trevor -

You have a good start here but there are some specific areas that need some attention.

Consider removing S4. You have vigorous action before and after it, but S4 seems to be a placeholder where none is needed.

In S3 you start with one wildebeest and suddenly move to "some" of them. The poem is stronger at this point if you keep the focus on the single animal. In keeping with that focus, you should consider exchanging "those who clamber" with "others who clamber" in S6.

JB

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, Trevor—

Welcome to the ‘Sphere!

I enjoyed your poem, and agree with most of the comments already posted. You include some vivid and memorable images, but I agree with James that the tonal consistency varies between florid (“yearning,” “vigour,” “gallant,” “hideous Hades,” “imploring” “new traumas”) and pedestrian (“ragged,” “cahoots”). You might replace “hideous Hades” with something less self-consciously poetic like “murky oblivion.”

Unlike Hilary, I saw the “why” of the poem as a presentation of the idea that life demands us to move on, take risks, and suffer. I wondered if the complete detachment of the speaker to the position of a god-like spectator lessened the impact of this. What if the speaker were one of the wildebeests who survived the encounter with the crocs?

I’m looking forward to seeing how your piece develops.

Glenn

[Hilary Biehl]

Originally Posted by Glenn Wright

I wondered if the complete detachment of the speaker to the position of a god-like spectator lessened the impact of this. What if the speaker were one of the wildebeests who survived the encounter with the crocs?

I think a detached narrator can be well done and effective, but maybe you're right that there is some emotional connection missing here. Not that the poem needs to be emotive, but we need to feel that there is something at stake for us in this poem. I hope that makes sense.

[Bill Dyes]

Mr. Conway;

I feel that this poem must beigin with the word "wildebeast". For your
poem it is an absolutely wonderful word.
If only because it seems a composite of "wild" and "beast".

This poem has the patient, dramatic observation of a naturalist.
It reminds me of Loren Eiseley's writing, both of his poetry and the poetry
of his essays. I think you've pulled off a very diffiicult kind of poem
simply by valuing the word and the eye in unison.
For exampe the "lumpy" water and the "lumpy" plain
and the "stalemate" between life threatened and life ending.

I think S4 changes the movement somewhat (I think Mr Boddie may be refering to that).
It could be done away with but I also think it could be absorbed
somehow into the stanza before and after it.
That is my 2 cents worth on what you and others may not really see as a problem.

I admire this both as a whole and in its details.
A pleasure to read.
Thank you.

Bill