[Glenn Wright]

The Writer to His Poems

You homely children of my witless brain,
brought forth into the light with labor and pain,
all well-deserved, considering my sin.
Still, I feel my shame in burning skin.

I stood upon the scaffold holding you,
and let the judging mob give their review.
I tried to dress you all in decent garb
to shield you from the sting of each sharp barb.

I trimmed the toenails of your little feet;
limping and bloody you waddled down the street.
And when I cleaned you up in face and limb,
I threw you in the pond to sink or swim.

Some readers shun you in mute disapproval.
A few express a wish for your removal.
More find a way, by asking thoughtful questions,
to offer useful help and kind suggestions.

Most of you sink into the workshop mire;
deprived of air and light, you soon expire.
You few, bumped to the surface, find your breath,
escape the Slough of Despond and wretched death.

I send you out to little magazines,
as do a million author-Magdalenes,
hopeful that you will find a loving reader
whose day your words will render a bit sweeter.
————————————————
Edits:
S1L4: yet, still, I feel your shame in my thin skin. > Still, I feel my shame in burning skin.
S2L1: I’ve > I
S3L2: waddle across > waddled down
S3L3: have cleaned > cleaned
S3L4: throw > threw
S5L4: certain > wretched

[Matt Q]

Hi Glenn,

Ha, even more meta than poetry about poetry: a workshopped poem about workshopping poetry. Will it swim? Will it sink?

I wonder a bit about the tenses in the poem. We start in the past perfect: "I have stood on the scaffold" then move to the perfect "I trimmed", "I tried". Then mid-S3 we move to present: "I have", "I throw", and we're stay the present from then on. But it's not clear to me how that the tenses match the temporal progression of the poem. I wonder if the poem should stay in the past ("I threw" ... "" . Or maybe you should try moving the whole thing to present. Or find a way to transition that's clearly flagged and so makes sense in the content of the rhetoric.

I don't think the title is doing much beyond making it very clear in advance what the poem will be about. I wonder if there's something a bit more slant?

A few other thoughts:

all well-deserved, considering my sin,

for me, this raises the question: what is the N's sin? It's hard to consider without more information. Of course, if it's just there for the rhyme, then I guess that's the sin

yet, still, I feel your shame in my thin skin.

"through" instead of "in"? Though maybe not. Maybe "in" is more interesting.

limping and bloody you waddle across the street.

"down", maybe, instead of "across"? For the metre, and for the sense of being paraded? Though maybe the idea is that they're only posted for critique if they make it across the street, so it isn't a public parading?

When I have cleaned you up in face and limb

Seems awkward in its construction ...

escape the Slough of Despond and certain death.

Maybe avoid the cliché of "certain death" by using a different modifier, one that adds something. "lonely" maybe, or "airless", "shameful", "unmourned" or something else ....

hopeful that you will find a loving reader
whose day your words will render a bit sweeter.

The final line is a bit of an odd place for a slant rhyme after so many perfect ones.

It also has a somewhat inverted/awkward feel to me (though it's not actually inverted, I think). It might be a bit more natural sounding if the construction were more like, "and render their day a little sweeter", albeit in pentameter.

best,

Matt

[Mary Boren]

Hi Glenn,

Your title is a dead give-away to writers' incest. I'm not saying that's a bad thing if the target audience is fellow poets — no doubt each has an arsenal of tributes to the process, and where else but a vibrant workshop can one find emotional support for the addiction? Poking fun at ourselves is thoroughly enjoyable therapy. That's what keeps pulling me back here in search of community where familiar language is spoken, without which I've succumbed to the muse only twice in the past year-and-a-half. Believe me, it's a barren desert out there on the other side of the fence. Just four more critiques to complete my internship here.

All that simply to assure that I hear you. My favorite bit is the image of trimming their little toenails. We lovingly groom each child sent out into the world infused with a piece of our own heart that soars or shatters in direct relation to how they are received. And, with luck, they make friends to invite home for supper.

But since nitpicking is obligatory in a proper workshop, I have to add that your toddler still bleeds a bit around the feet with the abundance of willy-nilly trochaic and spondaic substitutions. While modern poetry largely rejects the monotony of immaculate iambic pentameter, I submit a few ways to tiptoe firmly through the blandscape without loss of musicality. Enjambment, caesura, judicious *occasional* attention grabbing sidesteps, and even punctuation can be used to effectively control pacing and keep those couplets from clanging singsongily along. Conversational tone can be achieved even with elevated figurative language, which you've done here for the most part, but this line, for example, suffers remaining small word choppiness ...

yet, still, I feel your shame in my thin skin.

Yet and still are essentially interchangeable, "I feel" adds nothing to the confessional, and the predictable "thin skin" is not worthy of metrical interruption. How about something like ...

your infamy still burns my paper skin.

(Or better in your own words.)

I hope this might be useful as well as empathetic.

Mary

[Max Goodman]

The fresh interesting part is the swimming metaphor. Consider focusing on that, how the writer teaches/trains the poems to swim.

Ending with the hope the poems will make readers' days sweeter doesn't suggest the speaker has a very serious goal in their writing. A good poem can certainly sweeten a day, but without being more specific about some of the ways it might do that, it doesn't sound like a serious or worthwhile goal.

FWIW.

[Hilary Biehl]

Hi Glenn, I know you're not fond of Plath, but I couldn't help thinking of her poem "Stillborn" (it's about poems, not babies). It's not one of my favorite Plath poems, but might be worth a look. One notable difference between her poem and yours is that she is frustrated with the poems themselves rather than with other people's responses to them.

I agree with Max that the most interesting part of this poem is the writer throwing his bleeding poems into the pond to sink or swim. That's a visceral image that a poem could be built around.

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, Matt, Mary, Max, and Hilary—

Thanks to all for your encouraging and helpful comments. The author’s apostrophe to his poems is an old device, used by Chaucer in his envoy to Troilus and Criseyde, “Goe, litel booke,” and by Anne Bradstreet in “The Author to her Book.” I was afraid that the smell of mothballs would hinder the reception of my poem, but you all seemed open to the form.

Matt—Your point about verb tense was very helpful. I revised so that the first half is in simple past tense, the last half in present tense, and the last two lines in future tense.

The “sin” is partly a reference to Hester Prynne in Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter, suggesting that the poems were illegitimately conceived through intimate contact with numerous other writers, and partly a reference to original sin which explains the pain in childbirth (or authorship).

I took your advice and substituted “down” for “across” in S3L2. I had deliberately loaded the line with anapests to suggest the scurrying of a toddler, but I think I overdid it. Your spotting the cliché “certain death” was helpful, too. Good catch!

Mary—Welcome to the ‘Sphere! I’m looking forward to reading your original work. I’m glad you liked the toenail bit. Your point about the choppiness of the meter is well taken. I revised S1L4 to attempt to remedy the defects you mentioned.

Max—I’m glad you liked the swimming bit. I think, though, that wanting to sweeten the reader’s day is a noble goal for a poet. A poem need not be saccharine or trivial to contain nectar. This poem is pretty slight, but I think a serious, thought-provoking poem can sweeten the reader’s day.

Hilary—Thanks for the Plath poem. I was not familiar with it. I’m glad you liked the swimming bit, too. I might try using the image of throwing a bleeding, surgically altered poem into the pond of workshops/publication to explore the requisite cruelty (or, at least, callousness) that serious poets must cultivate to be able to murder their darlings and ruthlessly use scalpels and sometimes bone saws to create worthwhile poems.

Again, all, I appreciate your generous gift of time and consideration.

Glenn