[Quincy Lehr]

This is my favourite thus far, but I've known it for a while. As for Hutchcraft's point about the 'we', I don't think it's a real problem. One gets the general sense of outsiders. And in the poem's context in the chapbook in which it appears, it is quite clear that the 'we' would be an English family on holiday.

[Roger Slater]

I like this very much, as well. It takes a long time to "get to the point," yet manages to hold our interest through painting an interesting picture with such restraint that there's almost an element of very quiet suspense as we begin to wonder what the pay-off will be.

I might quibble with what strikes me as an excessive reliance on modifiers, many of which are very effective in isolation:

caged giraffe
pubescent prostitutes
Lurex boots
odd pink light
patched Baroque arcade
doomed saint
sallow beauty
drab parade
faded square
strangely phrased
veiled regret
quietly deny

Two of them in particular, "odd" and "strangely," strike me as somewhat evasive, since I would prefer to know how the light was odd and how the song was strangely phrased, not simply to be given the conclusion.

Yet having said this, much of my complaint is redeemed when I learn "what's really going on," which, I take it, is a couple on vacation trying to salvage a doomed relationship. They sought European beauty, but what they found were prostitutes and doomed saints. It might be unrealistic to expect the N, who is by his own admission still somewhat in denial, to understand the nature of the strangeness or why the light is odd. In fact, this may not even be a real vacation, but a dream or a nightmare.

I spent far too long on my "quibble" to give proper balance to my reaction to this sonnet, which is overall positive, and I wouldn't be suprised if, like Rose, I remember the sonnet for years to come.

[Tim Murphy]

I dislike the enjambment to "upon," a preposition for which I have limited tolerance, especially in such a position. Also bothered by the lack of indefinite article. Why not just "on an accordian and clarinet?" But this is a very fine, wistful and wise sonnet. Second place on my list. Is the last phrase from the song?

[This message has been edited by Tim Murphy (edited May 05, 2008).]

[Quincy Lehr]

Rogerbobby's point on adjectives is an interesting one, and good solid orthodox workshopping, but in this case, I think the relative lushness of modifiers is a smart move. A caged giraffe has a very different physicality than a giraffe, the implication being long neck, low ceiling, and the image wouldn't work without the adjective. A prostitute in boots could be a 45-year-old Texas hooker in ropers (not likely in Barcelona, I know, but you get my drift). I like the oddly phrased music as it implies a certain lack of precision, tells you something about the narrator. He's apparently a non-musician. The music sounds 'foreign', but he can't quite say why. And 'patched Baroque' is pitch-perfect.

Quincy

[David Anthony]

This is a long-time favourite of mine.
Talk about atmospheric.
I think this is one of those rare poems that justifies its generous modifiers.

David

[Tim Murphy]

Oh shit, David, I thought you wrote it!

[David Anthony]

Originally posted by Tim Murphy:
Oh shit, David, I thought you wrote it!

That's a nice compliment, Tim, but no I didn't enter this year--or more specifically, withdrew my entry when I realised it wasn't finished.

Barcelona's one I wish I had written.

Best,

David

[Carol Taylor]

I, like Simon, have no sense of the narrator or what he's doing in the poem. The first 11 lines are magnificent, with the exception of "upon." The scene is beautifully set, we are breathless waiting for the action, and then somebody from the audience suddenly leaps upon the stage and steals the limelight. There needs to be a way to tie regret and stubbornly maintained dreams into the rest of the poem and into the ambience of Barcelona, and there isn't. I tried to force the concept that "we" were the prostitutes themselves, but couldn't. The poem is too short.

Carol

[Anne Bryant-Hamon]

This one is easily my favorite of the 6 poems posted. It so captures the flavor of Barcelona which I was lucky enough to visit some ten years ago. There were a lot of exciting things happening there - street artists displaying their creations, musicians performing and inviting people to dance in the streets, exotic aromas of food I'd never smelled before, even exotic caged birds for sale on La Rambla. The most delicious meal I've ever eaten was in Barcelona - tomato bread, rabbit and lobster stew, champagne, and even iced tea made especially for us because we (Americans) asked for it! And we visited the Zoo which put any zoo I've visited in the U.S. to shame. How I wish I could return to Spain. If I could, I'd spend my whole life traveling wherever I want, whenever I want. But alas, I am just a commoner who must get up and report to work everyday.

I was pleasantly surprised by the prostitutes/boots rhyme (don't think I've seen that before), and while I don't recall the prostitutes in Barcelona, I'm sure they were there among the hustle and bustle of the city along with all its fascinatingly gawdy architecture.

[John Hutchcraft]

Anne, yes, the architecture is terribly Gaudi.