[Catherine Chandler]

I Need Men


Cold men who frame themselves in cold windows,
seeing reservoirs as sheets of lead,
who beat their hearts with black winds and bare trees
then bury them in books, or bury them
beneath their feet; who run from love and moan
it flees from me, then settle back in bed
just the same, comforted, grim as stone.
These men, who hide behind the furniture
when a real wind blows in, I need these men

like a horse-kick to the head! They have the gall
to laugh at girls like me who laugh and sing
sweet love-heart things—but now I’ve learned to say:
Move from the window, mate, and cop it sweet,
or freeze your arse off romanticizing sleet.



Comment by Mr. Gwynn:

This has a funny delayed volta across the white space which is very clever; it should be a crowd-pleaser when read aloud. The touch of Wyatt is also funny. Word choice bothers me a little, especially “reservoirs” so early on, a word that brings to mind things other than lakes (and usually not very scenic ones at that): “lakes’ surfaces”? The alliteration in ll. 3-6 is also good, so over the top that it sounds like a curse when read aloud. “comforted” and “grim as stone” seem a little off to me when set side by side. I don’t know that the repetition of “laugh” is good. Since the poem rhymes off and on, the closure of the couplet is necessary, but I wonder about the extra syllable in the last line. Maybe the “off” could go for the sake of metrical regularity as tight as the rhymes are here.

[Catherine Chandler]

This sonnet is a hilarious and incisive take on Heathcliff wannabees, and those dark, byronic, Jimmy Dean poseurs who never tire of taking pictures of themselves, or looking at themselves in the mirror, or posting new profile pictures on Facebook every day or so.

N leads us merrily along for six lines, giving us a hint at what’s coming next in lines 8 & 9, and then hits us with the walloping volta in its classic place, line 9.

I have no nits whatsoever with this sonnet and I’ve even learned a new phrase, “cop it sweet”. I still chuckle as I type this critique.

[Philip Quinlan]

Yup

I know exactly whose this is, too.

Even if the first 12 lines were no good, the closing couplet would redeem it.

Very accomplished, and takes liberties with what can be a safe form.

My fave so far.

I hope we are going to see some more liberty taking in the sonnets to come...

Philip

[Tracey Gratch]

I remember this one, and the poet. Loved it then, and now.

The colloquial language works well - I would love to hear this read aloud by its author.

Very funny. An early favorite!

Tracey

Catherine - I like the way you have paired the sonnets thus far.

[Gail White]

Hoo ha, I love this. Unlike everyone else, I don't know the author, but it must be a woman and I wish it had been me.

[Jean L. Kreiling]

I remember this one fondly.

I do wish there weren't an extra syllable in the last line, and I'm not sure about the white space before L10--it creates a bit of a sledge-hammer effect, when the words alone make their point with brilliant force.

I just love these keen observations: the way men run from love and then mourn its fleeing, the fact that some men find "comfort" in being "stone," and that picture of them hiding behind furniture when a real wind blows in.

Well-crafted and fun!

Best,
Jean

[Carol Taylor]

I had trouble with "these men," couldn't place them until I realized they are probably bloodless poets or intellectuals.

Carol

[Michael Cantor]

Well done, except for the bumpy last line - which really has to be fixed. I'm almost certain I know who wrote it and, despite the skill, the ending didn't work well for me - too expected, the poet steps in too intrusively - and yes, I realize that's the point of it all, but someone has too stick up for cold men who frame themselves in cold windows.

(Re David Mason's comments below, I slept on this one, decided I was being too broad and making too many assumptions in my approach and initial reaction, and rewrote it - not directly in response to David, but it makes David's comment seem slightly misdirected. Apologies, David.)

[David Mason]

Friends,
I took an interest in this poem right away because of its wit, whatever the merits of the last line. I thought it was wonderfully fierce in its turning. I've also noticed that in this Bake-off there is a wee game being played of "guess the author" and letting judgments be based upon such speculations, which don't seem to be all that fair in the broader scope of things. I'd like to suggest that we stick to the merits of the poem at hand in each of the cases in this Bake-off and not resort to ad hominem or feminem (sp?) commentary.

Best,
Dave

[John Beaton]

This one has an arresting concept and grabs attention right from the title.

The development is strong with a great, self-descriptive turn at L10.

I particularly like “who run from love and moan it flees from me” and “Move from the window, mate”.

The ending is striking and I don’t have a big problem with the extra syllable in the last line. It works well enough with a pause after “off”, and this one isn’t strictly rhymed and metered.

However, I’m not sure about the way the ending ties in with what goes before. In the penultimate line, I understand that “cop it sweet” is Australian slang for “to make the best of a bad situation”, usually applied to someone who isn’t accepting it well. So the ending seems to say “stop acting like a jerk or you won’t have a woman (i.e. me) to romanticize”. But, earlier, N has accused “these men” of ridiculing her, not of attempting to woo her.

John