[Glenn Wright]

Hi, Alessio—

I was able to understand from the title that the N was asking Robert Southey or Samuel Taylor Coleridge for permission to join the utopian commune they were planning to establish in Pennsylvania. I had many of the same problems understanding the language, starting with S2, that other posters identified.

I think the fact that the whole poem is written as a single sentence would be the best place to begin revision. Get rid of the hyphens at the ends of stanzas and group your clauses, separating them with end punctuation.

I had prepared a longer response, but many of the critiques about inversions, diction, and clarity were addressed by others before me. I do wonder, though, if this isn’t a poem that wants to be a short story. This often happens to me. I will write a poem and realize that what I want to accomplish could be much better done in prose.

Could you write an epistolary short story in the form of a series of letters between the N and Samuel Taylor Coleridge in which the N asks permission to join the Pantisocracy project? Would Coleridge and Southey welcome an Italian Catholic to their utopian commune, or would they betray prejudice and reveal the shallowness of their aspirations? Perhaps Southey and Coleridge would have opposite reactions. Just a thought.

Hope this is helpful.

Glenn

[Alessio Boni]

Yves,

I have to agree that distorting the format of phrases, as an imitation of the early English Romanticist style, does kind of add a cheapness to the rhyme itself, almost as if it just has the sentence moved for that sole reason right?

I don't understand what you mean by abstraction. I can see that the second stanza is very unclear in its form of communication, but nonetheless, despite its lack of clarity, there is a meaning in that phrase which goes along the lines of (starting from the fourth verse in the 1S), "I seek escape from the monotony of our life with its only excitement (split) being the vices that superfluous commodities can give to us, then connecting the last verse of the 2S to the first verse of the 3S in which we live in a time of war but are sane amidst this bloodshed as it never effects my 'ethnic creed', western Europe.

Maybe I misunderstood, and by abstraction you mean the words I used may seem grandiose together but, in reality, are just unnatural forms of making a sentence without actual order, and, again, clarity?

Maybe my technique does stay below my tastes, however, I must stress that many of my poems are not all written with some indication to archaism and this rigid thwarting, so maybe the next one I'll share, after revising this one per all you guys' helpful comments will be of that type to see some further feedback.

Thank you very much!

Hi Glenn,

The single sentence problem of this poem, as you point out, reminds me of what D'Annunzio says about preaching in his Libro Segreto; "Un Focoso nemico dell arte, Savonarola, disse che il poeta deve sapere di logica." It makes the poem seem as if its just a sort of manifesto with an ideological logic behind it, as Yves said in her first comment. I'll definitely work on dividing some parts for the revision.

About your idea of a short epistolary story, I am intrigued by it, however, I am extremely ambitious on trying my best to always improve my verse in every way, so for now, as was for the last two years, I'm dedicating myself to verse.

Also, Coleridge would most likely accept an Italian Catholic (although I'm not catholic myself) due to his sympathy for the numerous catholic populations of the time such as the Ticinese, and also a huge portion of course of the French Jacobins who opposed the Cult of Reason. Southey would not, as he himself showed to not be a Pantisocrat when he proposed bringing slaves as their servants in the planned commune.

Thank you for the comment!

[Yves S L]

So the thing is folk rarely write in the idiom of "early Romantic English poetry"; they most often make up an idiom that has never existed based on what they can currently grasp of how that English and verse works, and what such folk who have recently started writing poetry do is make many characteristic beginner mistakes that those learning writing in rhyme and meter make but with an additional fake English idiom on top. It is not like I am calling poets from that era unskillful because their grammar is more fluid and allows more possibilities for and end-rhyme: there is simply more to it.

Abstraction in poetry: https://www.google.com/search?q=abst...hrome&ie=UTF-8

Having said that though, the style of "early Romantic English poetry" does loves its abstractions:

No more my Visionary Soul shall dwell
On Joys that were! No more endure to weigh
The Shame and Anguish of the evil Day,
Wisely forgetful! O'er the Ocean swell
Sublime of Hope I seek the cottag'd Dell,
Where Virtue calm with careless step may stray,
And dancing to the moonlight Roundelay
The Wizard Passions weave an holy Spell.
Eyes that have ach'd with Sorrow! Ye shall weep
Tears of doubt-mingled Joy, like theirs who start
From Precipices of distemper'd Sleep,
On which the fierce-eyed Fiends their Revels keep,
And see the rising Sun, & feel it dart
New Rays of Pleasance trembling to the Heart.

Yeah, but Coleridge is still writing English though! He speaks the language of "early Romantic English poetry" not that of 20th century political manifestos. There is no reason why one cannot write a response in the language of
20th century political manifestos, it is just that you have not made it work.


I am trying to be polite, but the stanza I was referring to sounds like garbled English, and it does not matter if I can parse its general rhymned statements of how the N perceives life and society. But even with your explanation "Imprinting all our life with vanity/And chains of sanguine sanity" is pretty darn meaningless. and does not connect the way you think it does.

There is no need to put pressure on yourself to prove to a bunch of strangers that you can "really write", since each poem is viewed on a case by case basis.

[Hilary Biehl]

For what it's worth, Alessio, I would be interested in a poem that engaged with Coleridge but in a contemporary idiom, in your own voice - without trying to imitate an older style of poetry.

[Alessio Boni]

Yves,

Thank you for the clarification.

Although I wouldn't go as far and say that I 'created' a language of my own due to its immense gibberish (as suggested by your comparison with Pantisocracy itself) I can see that the not so minute traces of cheap imitation, mixed with the lack of clarity, is in both of the versions.

Believe me, the last thing I'm trying to do is "impress strangers." The only reason as to why I'm putting effort in trying to 'reform' this poem is because I'm simply keen on trying my wit to work something faulty into something pleasureful to read, not for the sake of anyone else but myself and my passion.

Hilary,

I'm about to post my last attempt of rewriting this poem in regards to you guy's comments, and in regard to some thoughtful changes of my own which I personally believe have my own saying in it, in a more contemporary language, even If I think that the first two versions had some sort of personalism (though archaic and unclear) in them already.

Thank you both.

[Glenn Wright]

Hi, Alessio—

I like the final version for several reasons. First, you divided the clauses into grammatically logical sentences, so the whole poem is much easier to read and understand. Second, you use precise tetrameter quatrains that improve the musicality of the piece. Third, you give a more layered personality to the N.

I did not understand S5. It seems that the N is confessing to having a drinking problem and that he wants to come to America to indulge this vice. I don’t see how this could help him in his attempt to persuade Coleridge to let him join the utopian commune. Was it intended as humor? My advice is to delete this stanza.

Most of the rhymes follow the ABAB pattern you establish. I like the slant rhyme “even/Eden” but would encourage you to find alternatives to “enveloped/ethos,” “Susquehanna/go,” and “wine/tools” (if you keep S5).

I hope some of this is helpful.

Glenn

[Yves S L]

Hello Alesio,

For me there are significant conceptual problems with this poem apart from technical rhyme and meter issues.

The narrator is talking about wanting to join an 18th century poet's idea of utopia from the perspective of the 21st century, but it is really just a sequence of vague and generalized complaints about modern living that have nothing to do with Coleridge, in that, there is no reason why his specific green utopia is desired amongst any other green utopia, and there is nothing very specific about the narrator's hand-waving about the ills of modern life.

Take two readers, and ask them to interpret the phrase "linear models of our living" and see how often they form a similar interpretation. Sure, it might hint of profit margins, mechanization, endless consumption, going against the patterns of nature, but it is all vague pointing, and it can be vague because the poem is saying stuff that has already been said in a similar way.

Because of this lack of substance, I feel the stanzas are unnecessarily drawn out, that is, they are not saying much, but the poem has to fulfill pre-established rhyme and meter constraints.

As you did too, but I for different sake
Portray the wish adjacent to my will,
That is the need to flee modernity,
And find a transatlantic home or dell -


Prose translation: I too, but for different reasons, wish to flee modernity, and find a home in America.

The prose is better than the poetry.

Yeah!

[Chelsea McClellan]

Hi Alessio,

There has been much feedback already, most of which I agreed with, so I will not add to that. I just thought I'd pop in to mention one thing I thought about while reading the most recent version, that I didn't see mentioned yet. And that is, just be careful not to lean on adjectives and adverbs too heavily. Spread the interest out between all types of words... and let the verbs and nouns do some of the work as well! Just something to keep in the back of your mind while you're writing in the future.

(The second half of the poem did not lean as heavily on the adjectives.)


When I can wake to sounds of kin,
And rise to see the radiant vale,
With such demulcent breeze within,
Without the bane of savage gale,

When I can see myself enveloped,
In every morn, by rays of light,
I come to know a sylvan ethos
Wraps your commune in delight.

If I could roam an endless field,
Outstretched aside the Susquehanna,
And build a shed, with rest to yield,
O bless me Coleridge! Let me go!



I look forward to reading your next one.


Take care,
Chelsea

[Yves S L]

The latest version has me circle back to my original comments: it all sounds like a man addressing his yearned for lover: take me with you! take me with you! It is not so much the particular details of this or that philosophy or this or that way of life that comes across, because all of that is vague and generalised, but the yearning for Coleridge.

It is a love letter to another poet basically masquerading as textual intercourse.

[Trevor Conway]

Hi Alessio,

The first three lines were engaging, but then, the language you chose just disengaged me, keeping me at a distance from the material. It feels very antiquated, which might work if it was for a specific reason, but I'm not sure it is, and it definitely doesn't fit with the first 3 lines. Hilary has provided good examples.

All the best with this.

Trev

Originally Posted by Alessio Boni

This is my first poem posted. I wrote it about two weeks ago. I'm quite the amateur in poetry since I've only been writing for 2 years, so please be brutally honest.

This poem is loosely formed of tetrameters and pentameters as I think some verses were made more solemn by extending them slightly.

(First Version)

I’ll follow you to mountain beds,
To shores, or plains, or farmer’s sheds,
And leave the material – rotten world.
I seek escape, and that is said, -

From all the linear models of our living,
Split by vice commodities are giving;
Imprinting all our life with vanity
And chains of sanguine sanity -

At length foreseen, but never to I,
Nor all the members of my ethnic creed,
But nonetheless, as loose the metric lays,
Dislodged by state, I search for better days -

As you did too, but I for different sake
Portray the wish adjacent to my will,
That is the need to flee modernity,
And find a transatlantic home or dell -

Within a woodland biome far from all,
And far from those who travesties foretell!


.................................................. .........................

(Revised Version) - I put a couple of anapaests and tried applying the corrections in regard to clarity and naturality as suggested by the critiques.

I’ll follow you to reedy beds,
To rills, to mountains, farmer’s sheds,
And leave this idle place behind.

I seek escape, and that is said,
From all the linear models of our life,
Just blessed by vices commodities give.
For such has spurred our lives with vanity,
And kept us chained to a sanguine sanity.

At a foreseen length, there’s violence and fear.
Not for the members of my ethnic clay,
But nonetheless, as flimsy metric’s here,
Conventions void of rule have marked my way.

As was for you! But I, for unlike sake,
Have found your dictum within my will.
My will that longs to flee the modern state,
And find a transatlantic home so swell
Within a woodland biome far from all,
And miles from those who scorn the 'cottag'd dell!'

.................................................. ............................................

(Final) I played around with Glenn's suggestion of adding some sort of lore so I put the poem in the guise of an Italian Jacobin simply asking to come to Pantisocracy.
The only archaic word I kept was 'oft' as I believe it fits.

When I can wake to sounds of kin,
And rise to see the radiant vale,
With such demulcent breeze within,
Without the bane of savage gale,

When I can see myself enveloped,
In every morn, by rays of light,
I come to know a sylvan ethos
Wraps your commune in delight.

If I could roam an endless field,
Outstretched aside the Susquehanna,
And build a shed, with rest to yield,
O bless me Coleridge! Let me go!

Although our creed might oft’ diverge,
I think it's good we flourish even.
In Buiano I had the urge
To build, with care, a second Eden,

But found myself debased to wine
For sires met but only twice.
And since my vineyards turned to tools,
I seek a plot of land for vice!

For virtue, love, and all I’d hook,
And all I’d feel for only me!
For man’s not man without his nook,
So take me with you S.T.C.

- An Italian Republican, 1795.