[David Callin]

Fifteen years on
from that melancholy weekend,
the muted celebration
of your fiftieth birthday
when fifty-one
was not on the agenda,
if the doctors were not wrong,
I am laid low
by the memory of this song
or that
that led us on
through our teenage years,
Dylan’s soulful drone,
the mysteries of Astral Weeks,
the joyous explosion
of sound and speed
that started Born To Run ,
the healing lucubrations
of the saxophone
on Backstreets,
its fat and tender tone,
and then
that one
by Hall and Oates you liked,
She’s Gone.

[David Callin]

I think this one is probably too self-indulgent, and should have been suppressed, but I am putting it out here to see whether I've got that right or not. I might as well know, one way or the other, rather than keep wondering.

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, David—

I don’t think this piece is too self-indulgent, but it is very much turned inward. The loss of a loved one is the most personal of subjects and makes the writer most vulnerable. You do a fine job of remaining controlled and composed. However, as a reader, I want a bit more in the way of images to hold onto. It seems to me that the N is focusing on the technical considerations of the music in order to avoid directly confronting his grief.

The last line is a bit set up, but I was surprised at how well it works.

One thing that struck me was that no detail of the departed loved one is shared. Could you help me to imagine her by giving a unique characteristic detail (an expression, a gesture, a garment) or two? I also wondered where the N is during the poem. Is he at her grave? The restaurant where they quietly celebrated her fiftieth birthday fifteen years ago? The house they shared?

Glenn

[Roger Slater]

I wouldn't call it self-indulgent at all. My problem, though, is that the line breaks do not seem to be pulling their weight, which for me means they are not guiding or assisting the reader in terms of pace or phrasing or visual comfort. In terms of content, I think maybe you rely a bit too much on song titles and you are counting on the reader to know and feel the same way about the songs and what they evoke as you do, and you don't tell us enough about the I/you relationship for us to really get a sense of what they mean to these particular people.

[Nick McRae]

IMO, this poem is a pretty good example of what's essential for poetry to resonate. You've achieved a pretty strong punch with this one with fairly subdued and modest language, and the reason for that, I think, is that your feeling is really coming through. It's emotional content like this where poetry shines.

I agree with Roger that it could be tightened up a bit. But honestly, most of it worked reasonably well for me except the last four lines. The lines themselves have the core of a good close, but the rhythm and execution felt a little off to me.

And I'll just add that my wife and I are coming up on 40, and 50 is feeling uncomfortably close after reading this.

[James Brancheau]

Nah, not too self-indulgent, David, though I am one who has been known to indulge. But, in my view, that’s one of the beautiful risk-opportunities of poetry. Test them emotional walls. Anyway, I noticed how out of 25 lines, 15 of them end on “n” (or “ng”) sounds, and I like that here, that echo. Just some more thoughts...

Before I even got to the poem, reading the thread title immediately played the song in my head (and I still can’t get it out, haha). I didn’t get all the references, but I don’t mind that and I don’t think it’s a problem. For one, there’s nothing wrong with a more select audience, and, two, all kinds of (sometimes obscure) references/allusions pop up in poetry and I don’t see why they can’t in this case.

However, I’m not sure that you should bookend the poem with the title of the song. It takes some of the umph out of the close. And keep that close—it works very well for me. I’d be tempted, though, to lift another lyric from the song and make it your title. Like “I’d Pay The Devil to Replace Her” (if that’s how it goes—I think it is…) or some such. (Though now I'm thinking that that line doesn't hit the right note for this poem. Hmmm.)

Another (very small) thought is that I see the required repetition of “that” as an opportunity for a small stuttering gesture. As a line of its own, “or that” is, imo, a bit weak. However, if you don’t break on the first “that,” you’d have “or that that led us on.” It gives the line a stuttering uncertainty, which works in both the smaller context of the line and even more in the larger context of the poem. Again, it’s a minute detail, but that’s how I’d do it.

I really like the poem.

[Jim Ramsey]

Hi David,

I agree with everyone, not self indulgent at all. As a poem, it's not your best but it's still good. My one overall crit is that like nearly every poem by anyone, it probably started with one thought or phrase, and then fretted over how to make the poet's connection to the moment clearer, or better felt, and I think the necessary artifice of that process shows a little more than it should. On the other hand, would-be poets like I look between the lines more than average readers do. A couple particular nits are noted below.

All the best,
Jim

Originally Posted by David Callin

Fifteen years on
from that melancholy weekend,
the muted celebration
of your fiftieth birthday
when fifty-one
was not on the agenda,
if the doctors were not wrong,
I am laid low

("laid low" does not fit for me with the descriptions given of the songs remembered, although it certainly fits with the event recollected. You might think of something that captures a sweeter pang of loss.)

by the memory of this song
or that

("that" here seems to imply a memory that was occurring in the past. you might consider "those" instead to make the reference to "song" clearer.)

that led us on
through our teenage years,
Dylan’s soulful drone,
the mysteries of Astral Weeks,
the joyous explosion
of sound and speed
that started Born To Run ,
the healing lucubrations
of the saxophone
on Backstreets,
its fat and tender tone,
and then
that one
by Hall and Oates you liked,
She’s Gone.

[John Riley]

David, I also see little self-indulgence. Writing a poem about losing someone is a classic theme.

You’ve received some good notes. The only one I have, and it may have been suggested earlier, is that calling the weekend “melancholy” is classic tell instead of show. That’s often a weak suggestion but in this instance it is a good one. “Melancholy” isn’t necessary. The poem is melancholy.

It may be inevitable that framing a poem about losing someone to death with a pop song will create a pop song-like poem. There is nothing wrong with that. It seems to fit the past relationship well.

I hope this helps.

[Max Goodman]

Some reactions:

Originally Posted by David Callin

the joyous explosion/of sound and speed/that started Born To Run

brings that beginning to my ears. None of the rest of the talk about songs strikes me.

I wonder what's gained by keeping me confused about when she died. I'm told she was expected to die within a year of her 50th birthday, but the poem seems to intentionally leave me in doubt about whether she did die then.

That muted celebration I'd like to see, in a glimpse if not in detail.

As soon as the poem turned to songs, I knew the title had told me exactly where the poem would end.

My biggest take-away is that this intrigued me enough to think about it, but that, with the exception of the lines quoted above, the poem keeps me at a disappointing distance from these people and their experience.

[David Callin]

Thanks all.

Originally Posted by James Brancheau

Anyway, I noticed how out of 25 lines, 15 of them end on “n” (or “ng”) sounds, and I like that here, that echo.

That is the very thing, Jim. Three lines in, it occurred to me that ending every other line with a similar sound might resemble the tolling of a bell. (I think of Hardy's bell of quittance heard in the gloom.) So it may be a poem where the form has taken over the content. Or the form is the content. But that's what I was going for.

I agree it needs a different title. I am toying with other titles (not the bongy one). So far I have got "Moving on", "Do you remember the fabulous seventies?" and (probably my favourite so far) "The beat goes on".

Cheers all

David