[Carl Copeland]

Thanks for continuing to think about this, Susan. The parenthetical phrase in S4 varies it somewhat, but I don’t think I gave much thought to varying the syntax or rhythms of the shers. I hope I did some of that unconsciously, but the unconscious can’t do everything. I’ll keep it in mind.

[Matt Q]

Thanks, Matt. It’s very much a part of the narrative in my mind, so you may have liked it only because I failed to get the meaning across, but I’m glad you liked it, whatever the reason.

Carl,

I think partly it's the switch from "you" to "him" that made me it seem to come in at an angle from the main narrative/approach. If only in terms of pronouns, it's a change.

Having reread and thought about about it, I now realised that I've assumed that the N was male, and that the never-found "you" was female, which is rather heterosexist or me, and also why I saw this as a more of a departure from the narrative that I now take it to be. This may also part of the reason why I didn't get the AIDs reference. So, now I can read the "him" as a possible "you", one who might have become the "you" if the N had acted. And read that way, much more part of the narrative.

I guess what I most like about ghazals, what I think makes them work when I think they work, is the non-narrative -- or at least the non-linear/non-sequential approach, in which a series of facets of something are presented, that though connected and suggesting a narrative also seem to function independently.

I like the revisions you've made, and they seem to take your poem much more in that direction.

It might still be worth considering tweaking the ordering of the shers, where two consecutive closely related in subject-matter/situation. I guess I'm mostly thinking of 6-7-8 the moon followed by its silvery fingers, the dreaming form followed by a dream. Ha, though rereading my first crit, I'm realising that what I'm also saying is: you've addressed two of my points, now I'll double down on the third

Actually, it might be worth playing with changing the order of all the shers not just those -- assuming you haven't already done so -- and see what happens. You could even print them, cut them out and rearrange them even, maybe even face down (the paper, not you!).

On S1, each time I've read it, I've wanted it as two sentences.

I had to wait, but I’m the kind for love.
I knew that I was meant to find your love.

I think because it makes the second sentence more emphatic.

best,

Matt

[Carl Copeland]

Originally Posted by Matt Q

I guess what I most like about ghazals, what I think makes them work when I think they work, is the non-narrative -- or at least the non-linear/non-sequential approach, in which a series of facets of something are presented, that though connected and suggesting a narrative also seem to function independently.

If I do another ghazal, and I’d like to, that advice will be very much on my mind.

Originally Posted by Matt Q

Actually, it might be worth playing with changing the order of all the shers not just those -- assuming you haven't already done so -- and see what happens. You could even print them, cut them out and rearrange them even, maybe even face down (the paper, not you!).

That’s what Cally suggested. She even did it, she said, and got some interesting results, so I’m curious, but I’d rather let the poem blur a little in my mind before trying it.

Originally Posted by Matt Q

On S1, each time I've read it, I've wanted it as two sentences. … I think because it makes the second sentence more emphatic.

I’ll have to let that sink in, but I may well decide you’re right. I generally do.

[Alexandra Baez]

Hi, Carl. Since this thread has risen back up, I'll take this opportunity to hop on!

I was actually a little leery of using the word “love” twelve times in one poem.

Yes, my first reaction was that using “love” as a repetend is a trouble-courting move, since the word has picked up a rather banal taint over the centuries. Still, my rational brain knows it’s not fair to be prejudiced in that way to such an fundamental word, and your innovative constructions throughout this poem do a lot to alleviate my potential eyerolls. Throughout the poem, you create a strong sense of the speaker's character along with a potent hopeful/mournful mood, plenty of surprises, and a certain air of mystery that holds this reader. You do a dexterous job with the qafias, too.

The first sher could almost come from a hammy fifties song, but it's interesting how; that’s more a neutral observation than a criticism.

In the second sher, I see you’ve introduced a rose again! I guess this is becoming a leitmotif for you.

I initially tripped over “three hankies” because it’s such a sudden and unexpected shorthand for what you’re trying to say. I’d never heard the expression “three-hanky movie,” so it actually took me a while to figure out what you meant. Once I got it, my confusion seemed unwarranted. Still, I don’t know—there might be a way to make this clearer, smoother—and yes, I sympathize with Siham’s reaction to this word, too.

I also tripped a bit over “secret safe” because I construed "safe" as a noun rather than the adjective that you surely intend. I was inclined that way by the preceding “lock” and “key.”

A shooting star risks all to have the earth,
but in my youth, too many died for love.

Will no one catch on without a heavier hint?

I don’t know about all others, but your intended reference to AIDS here completely eluded me, although it's very interesting. My own thoughts were, Too many people? Too many shooting stars? If the former, is that really true, and how could it be? (I was picturing Romeo and Juliet type situations.) If the latter, how could it be true?

I like the following sher.

But I wondered why you introduced “mourning” in the sher following that. It felt jarring in the overall context of love—does this touch on some unexplained drama of heartbreak? How could there be a doubt whether a person had mourning or love on their mind, since these two emotions are so radically different?

And I was totally confused by the next sher, and why the perspective on the beloved changed from first person plural to third person.

But the sher after that is really nice.

The last one ties things up well enough, although lying beside one’s love feels a bit corny and cliché. Still, coming up with ten working qafias for a ghazal can be no picnic.

Along the lines of Siham’s thoughts, I can’t help but wonder if there mightn't be space in more people’s hearts for an offshoot of the ghazal form that is narrative, or semi-narrative in the way that she describes. I think your poem works very well like this, but that being said, it’s apparent that you want to experiment with a more traditional approach here, and I wouldn’t want to discourage that, either.

[Carl Copeland]

Originally Posted by Alexandra Baez

Hi, Carl. Since this thread has risen back up, I'll take this opportunity to hop on!

Welcome aboard, Alexandra!

Originally Posted by Alexandra Baez

In the second sher, I see you’ve introduced a rose again! I guess this is becoming a leitmotif for you.

It’s a nod to traditional ghazals, which Wikipedia says are often set in a “garden, where the poet often takes on the personage of the bulbul, a songbird. The poet is singing to the beloved, who is often embodied as a rose.” I haven’t found a place yet for the songbird.

Originally Posted by Alexandra Baez

I also tripped a bit over “secret safe” because I construed "safe" as a noun rather than the adjective that you surely intend. I was inclined that way by the preceding “lock” and “key.”

That’s a very useful observation, since the potential misreading never occurred to me. I’ll think about ways of preventing it.

Originally Posted by Alexandra Baez

I don’t know about all others, but your intended reference to AIDS here completely eluded me, although it’s very interesting.

I suspect it eluded everyone, though only you and Matt have questioned it. I was originally thinking of something like “but in the eighties, millions died for love,” but I’d probably have to mention AIDS specifically to make sure everyone got it. I’ll give it more thought.

Originally Posted by Alexandra Baez

But I wondered why you introduced “mourning” in the sher following that. It felt jarring in the overall context of love—does this touch on some unexplained drama of heartbreak? How could there be a doubt whether a person had mourning or love on their mind, since these two emotions are so radically different?

The person I’m thinking of tragically lost someone he had recently fallen in love with, but found a new and enduring love while he was still in mourning. It’s not something readers could possibly get out of these two lines, so I’m hoping they’ll tolerate a little mystery.

I might add that love and mourning are often mixed for me, since almost everyone I’ve loved, including the imagined ones, are now in my past, one way or another. It’s the wellspring of this poem.

Originally Posted by Alexandra Baez

And I was totally confused by the next sher, and why the perspective on the beloved changed from first person plural to third person.

I was worried about that. The poem actually has three characters: the first-person N, an imagined soulmate who never materialized (second person) and a real person who seemed for a while like a soulmate (third person). Matt got it, but not without help:

Originally Posted by Matt Q

now I can read the "him" as a possible "you", one who might have become the "you" if the N had acted.

Originally Posted by Alexandra Baez

Along the lines of Siham’s thoughts, I can’t help but wonder if there mightn’t be space in more people’s hearts for an offshoot of the ghazal form that is narrative, or semi-narrative in the way that she describes. I think your poem works very well like this, but that being said, it’s apparent that you want to experiment with a more traditional approach here, and I wouldn’t want to discourage that, either.

Thanks for the encouragement, Alexandra. I won’t rule out another “semi-narrative” ghazal. In fact, the narrative pull is so strong that I can’t yet think how to avoid it. I need to read more.

[Susan McLean]

Carl, I got the allusion to AIDS on my first read, but that is in the context of having read other poems by you, and therefore having picked up some details about you.

Susan

[Carl Copeland]

Thank you, Susan. I guess in the right context it will be understood, and that may be enough for me.

[Alexandra Baez]

I think readers would gain so much more from the poem if they were indeed able to discern this, Carl. Its twist on more ordinary ways that most of us think of "dying for love" is so intriguing and moving, especially in light of how you say this situation made the n reflect that oddly enough, he may have dodged a bullet by holding himself back from love. That's a complex paradox and a psychological puzzle that's really thought provoking to me.

[Carl Copeland]

You may be right, Alexandra. I wouldn’t mind simply naming AIDS, but I haven’t thought of an elegant way of doing that yet.