[Carol Taylor]

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<tr><td>Stuck Life — 2004

Whoever made this unsigned, clumsy work
laid out these fruits, these flowers, arranged these jugs
of water or wine (I cannot tell) in such
an artless disarray as I must judge
his passion by the passion of his brush.

I see him in his studio; backlit, slumped
outside the frame of what he’s painted in.
How easy to imagine him at ease,
perhaps his mistress at his side, his pipe
sparking ashes across his spattered breeches.

His tinctured fingers coil, comb out his beard;
a last, vague curl of smoke hangs in still air.
And she, perhaps, looks up past him, admiring
what must, to her, seem magical affect,
the living flesh of fading fruit preserved —

Lemon and orange, persimmon, tangerine,
more vivid each than the gnawed melon she sees
rotting on the table at his knees.

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[center]<table bgcolor=white cellpadding=25 border=0><tr><td>Curious, packed poem, a parable, like the miracle of Cana raferred to in line 3 as a metaphor for what the artist does. The questions I'm left with seem to be: Does the artist alter the essence of things? Is the art in the passion or in the brush? Is art superior to the reality it portrays? Or does the model only think so because she loves the artist?

In a couple of places the syntax is unclear because of one word: should "as" in line 4 be "that"? And in stanza 3, line 4, should "affect" be "effect"? I suspect those are typos.

I like the way 4 of the 5 lines in stanza one end with the same dull vowel sound, as if to convey the dullness of the real world with which the artist has to "work"--the last word in line one. The next stanza shifts to him, and ends with another word using that dull sound, "slumped"--seeming to equate him with his surroundings, all equally routine and unexceptional and "outside the frame" in which the miracle takes place. That's very subtle and deftly done, and so is the introduction of that imaginary mistress who provides another point of view when she looks at the artist.

And then there's the view of the poet, who looks at the whole scene and reports to us, and then there's ours! Like boxes within boxes. And finally the only rhymed lines in the poem, the last two, which return to the ugliest stuff in the studio. And they have no point of view at all. They can only be looked at. Very smart, challenging poem!

~Rhina

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[Janet Kenny]

Like Rhina, my response to this poem has always been complex. I have always felt pity for the two characters in the poem. They both seem to be rather unsympathetically drawn. He seems to be an untalented mediocrity who is adored by his (imagined) stupid mistress who knows no better. Then there's the transcendental aspect of the image on the canvas--whether actual or in their minds--and the dying vegetable matter in the room. The gnawed melon seems to be a metaphor for fading powers. Memento mori includes the humans as well as the painting.
The pentameter is nicely sustained and there are interesting near rhymes which disappear then return and finally perfect rhyme.
A good poem that makes me feel very sad.
Janet

[Rose Kelleher]

Thanks for that analysis of the poem--I'd have missed some of those details if you hadn't pointed them out, and whoever this poet is, he or she deserves to have them fully appreciated. The poem doesn't make me sad--I don't see the characters quite the same as Janet does, though I do have a vague sense of their being the object of some sly joke by the author. It's that rotting cantaloupe at the end, a slightly ridiculous object, and a reminder of what's since happened to the man and woman.

[Margaret Moore]

Like much, but the first glitch for me was the 'passion'/'passion' repetition which seemed somehow a bit too glib.

Margaret.

[nyctom]

.

[This message has been edited by nyctom (edited December 07, 2004).]

[Maggie Porter]

It appears that this poet is adept at creating a lasting image using the metaphor of painting (great), one that is sustained throughout the effort. The poet versifies well if Rhina's comment is proof of that (mine certainly isn't as all I know is what my ear hears and in this case it hears nothing out of tune).

Definitely a poem I'd read again and probably enjoy even more the second time around.

An A-plus last line finalizes the cohesive effort.