[Len Krisak]

Fire

Imagine that first fire, the doubletakes
Among the vegans, cold, dark, wet: Cave guy
Strikes flint and, boom, you're grilling mammoth steaks,
You're holding hands, you're hooking up, you're dry,

And (years of R&D) it catches on,
Brick ovens, candlelight, of course appalling
Losses, but still, fondue, filet mignon,
And the three-alarm, fanned fire of your first calling

Until there's no more call for you, you box
Up your life's work, archive the ardencies,
The once hot, test-tube topics, and retire
To country climes, keeping an eye on the phlox
In your old field, avuncular now, at peace
With not quite having set the world
on fire.


I admired this poem for its brash humor, its wit,
and its breezy tone, as if the sonnet were simply
an unintimidating poetic form—a suggestion,
a gesture. No dearth of puns here.

But then it swivels on that amazing, buried
volta of “your” and begins its movement
toward seriousness. It catches one off-guard,
for which one is oddly grateful. Comedy that
turns and bites is a time-tested strategy,
and this sonnet employs it nicely.

[Carol Taylor]

I just love this, my kind of poem (to read, not write, though I would if I could). The comma splice is a problem, and I blame it on those initial caps that keep you (and sometimes even the writer) from knowing he's come to the end of a sentence.

Carol

[Tim Murphy]

The last word, "fire," should be dropped down a line as it is here but commence at the end of the above line.

[Richard Wakefield]

There's little that gives me more pleasure in a poem than hearing a cliche brought to life, and what life! This is a wonder.
RPW

[Jim Hayes]

This is my poem, no, not mine- I wish, but I think I know who wrote it. Rose ?

Jim

[This message has been edited by Jim Hayes (edited June 30, 2005).]

[Tim Murphy]

I discussed Fire and its author at Alan's weblog: http://bilge.seablogger.com/archives/003831.php

[Terese Coe]

Yes, this is first-rate. Lots of verve, and phrases like "cave guy" make one sit up and take notice. I might have wished the other five lines of the sestet could continue the fire metaphor in some way, but the final line is aces and the entire performance is enticing.

[Rose Kelleher]

I LOVE the un-sonnetiness of the octave. "boom, you're grilling mammoth steaks, / You're holding hands, you're hooking up, you're dry" - hee. I don't know why, but I keep hearing this in the voice of my brother-in-law, who has a really strong Boston accent.