[Catherine Chandler]

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?

[Catherine Chandler]

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.

[Philip Quinlan]

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

[Spindleshanks]

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.

[Shaun J. Russell]

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".

[Tracey Gratch]

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

[Shaun J. Russell]

Originally Posted by Tracey Gratch

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.

I was wondering that as well, and nearly mentioned it...but ultimately I don't buy it. It's feasible, sure, but if it's meant to be ironic, I think it misses the mark.

[Petra Norr]

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".

[Maryann Corbett]

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.

[Tracey Gratch]

Shaun, Petra, you raise a valid point. But in the end, this one redeems itself, for me anyway.

Tracey