[Maryann Corbett]

My favorite so far too, though like others I'd like to iron out the last line.

[Petra Norr]

Fun and delightful. I love lines 3 and 4. I also like the enjambment at the stanza break. That enjambment is a typical stand-up comedian's device and the line itself feels very familiar, but in the context of a sonnet it feels fresh.
I agree with Sam on "reservoirs"; I could have wished for another word. The irregularities in the meter work well for the most part, except in L7, at least in my opinion. There is some nice alliteration and nice assonance in the poem; and I was delighted with the internal rhyme of "comfor-TED and "bed" -- maybe more of a sight rhyme to some, but I could hear it.

[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

[Petra Norr]

John -- I don't know what the poet intends, but I can tell you how I saw it.
I think what the men are laughing or scoffing at is the narrator's easy ability to show her feelings -- she has no problems embracing love, talking about it, and showing her emotions. This type of man, on the other hand, cannot show his feelings easily let alone talk about them. So, if you have a kind of relationship with a cold-window man, how do you take it "to the next level" and deepen it when the man is so closed up and wary? He wants you, but he doesn't, and above all he doesn't want to talk about it. You feel the attraction between the two of you, you know he does it too, but how can it "get a move on" and develop when he's stuck in his cold window? The poem is about cold-window men in general, but it seems to zoom in on a particular man at the end, one whom the narrator is involved with -- hence the message.

[Adam Elgar]

I think the octave blows hot and cold – hot in lines 1, 3, the Wyatt allusion and again in lines 7-8. Rather a bumpy ride, but the good bits are very good. And then in the sestet I feel I’m in very good hands. Bitter and sweet. Yes, “off” should go in line 14. Metrically better and just punchier.

[Cally Conan-Davies]

I am truly sorry I couldn’t participate in the bake-off – unexpected and unavoidable travel and tumult kept me off-line.

Before the next event takes over, I want so much to thank everyone who commented here, as well as those who voted for the sonnet. I only entered it when Cathy made a plea for more women to send sonnets, and never imagined ‘Men’ would make the finals, let alone win.

The last line’s meter has been the talking point, and all I can say about it is, well, frankly, I’m not going to change it! Sorry! When I say it out loud, it sounds so right. That’s one ‘reason’. It sounds to me like FREEZE ya ARSE off – and then there’s a subtle tone shift and pause - the last part of the line almost sounds like she’s calling him a ‘romanticising sleet’, like an epithet, as well as what he’s doing – making something romantic and high-minded out of sleet.

I’ll let Mark Twain express the other reason I can’t change it: “You can straighten a worm, but the crook is in him and only waiting.” All those of you who have been frustrated by my metrical irregularities – I need you to know that I do understand what you’re saying, and I could do it, but the crook is in me. I just love it when the meter runs away. I can’t help it. I just do.

And I’d like to thank you, Petra, a lot, for being so accepting of the irregularities this time, because I know how much I’ve frustrated you in the past, and I don’t mean to. Truly. I am so glad you like those internal rhymes. The slant one I like most is “gall” and “girl”!!! Also for your explanation to John, which is spot on, and to which I would only add that I really hope readers can see that this sonnet is having a go at the ‘sweetheart girls’ just as much as the ‘cold men’! It’s a game of personas, an eternal power game, seducing personas, and it’s so funny! Really – when you get to a certain age, it’s such a giggle! And great fun to play the game once you’ve seen through it – seen through the self-images we identify with and present to the world. There’s nothing stable about it. It’s theatre.

Which brings me, finally, to Michael Cantor.

Michael, late one night, I did manage to grab a few moments at the computer, and read your original comments. I wish you hadn’t deleted them. They were deliciously cruel and outrageously misguided. It must have felt good to have a go at me. “Look at me, I’m free and I have emotions”? That’s how you see me? Hilarious. And when you said that my “body of work” is basically one-dimensional, well – firstly, I never thought I had a ‘body of work’, and so the really great thing you’ve done for me is make me do something that several people have been asking me to do for ages: look for the poems I’ve written so far, and keep them in one place. So after reading your comment, I did. And I can see small groups, three at any one time, that are clearly drawing inspiration from a particular experience, but then it all changes – suddenly I’m writing about dead dogs or whales or fishing or daughters or glass or Mark or just death. And the forms I use are always changing. This “Men” sonnet – god, it’s …what …the third sonnet I’ve ever written?

I do write from experience . I truly don’t know what else there is – I am not inventive. But it isn’t the actual experience. It’s transmuted experience. I see the poems I write as language objects. They are made. And any “I” in them is made, too. It’s a persona. The “poet “who steps in is a persona, too. My biggest fun in life is having fun with personae. If you believe I am some free-wheeling emotional hippie thing, you couldn’t be more wrong. If you are referring to my life – well, what can I say? It’s my life. I am homeless and un-housed. I wander about. I am almost always alone. I’d love it if someone loved me and let me share their roots. But nothing about my external life makes me “free”. The more I learn and learn is that the truest freedom, the only freedom with meaning, is ceasing to care what other people think of me.

So you are free to perceive me however you want. I love what you bring to this Sphere. I love your work. I used to be terrified of you, and would freeze when your name appeared on a poem thread of mine. And I am grateful for your original comment, because it showed me that things have changed. To use another fine Australian colloquialism, I couldn’t give a fat rat’s clacker what you think of me now. And thanks for overcoming your prejudices, and giving the poem a vote!

Thanks, everyone!! For all that I've learnt here at the Sphere. I can't know for sure, but I doubt I would ever have started writing if this supportive community didn't exist.

To personae!

Let seem be finale of be.


Cally

[Philip Quinlan]

Dear Cally

Well said you.

And contra David Mason's comment above, I liked the damned poem, whoever it was by.

On the other hand, high time the Aussie Sheilas got a fair suck of the pineapple.

Philip