PERMISSIONS: To view the blog, post on it, and comment on posts, you must be invited. I will send you an email invitation to join the blog, and then you must follow the instructions to join up and begin posting. You can't join the blog without first creating a Google account.

POSTING: Post your poems by clicking "New Post" at the top right of the page. Paste your poem into the window.

LABELING: Then label the post with the assignment name (i.e., "confessional poem," "sonnet," etc.), your name (i.e., "Tony Barnstone," etc.), and the week (i.e., "week one," "week two," but not "week 1"--spell out your numbers). If you post a poem in week two that is due in week three, label it "week three." When you begin to type in a label, the program will fill it in for you, so your post will be labeled with the rest of the poems in the same category.

COMMENTING: Afterwards, you can "comment" on the posts of your classmates. Post "group one" and "group two" one-page critical responses as "comments" on the posted poems, but also print out copies for me and for the poet and give them to us in class.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Critical Response to "Come One Come All" by Alex-Celina

Alex, this is a very beautiful and intriguing poem. The language gives it the jumbled feel of a circus, yet meanwhile there’s a darkness looming over it. Very beautiful. As for some more technical things, the line “The men and women of the show did so much else than perform feats and tricks” could be worked on a little bit. It seems as though the line is more for moving along the story, than for lyrical aesthetics, however, it should contain both because I noticed it seeing as it is a major turning point in the poem. I realize this is hard considering the meter, but if you wanted to keep it a simple line, make the idea of revealing something about the performers even more simple and blunt, creating a haunting effect. I do however like the “feats and tricks”; I suggest you keep that in there.
I like how you take a subject so magical and fantastic and hit it with splashes of reality like the line “they would play the songs of home – of Spain, of Sweden, of Utah” and “Hidden from paying eyes, the people under the grease-paint and top-hats, stage lights, leotards and glitter, lived in trailers cracked with rust.” You play with an interesting idea by describing such a mystical place and bringing concrete and almost humorous light to the scene. The end lines “and whisper tunes in French and Gaelic over tinny sounds of mandolins and banjos under the deflated Big Top and ice-white moonlight” are magical and haunting, tying in all the different tones of the poem.

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