moaned in anguish, uttered in agony, cried out in hurt. stuttered sorely. with a wince
2007-01-15 17:55:56
·
answer #1
·
answered by msmaryanne3 4
·
0⤊
0⤋
I too was affected by Sue's Bukowski poem. It didn't just evoke very well the familiar image of the drunk on the park bench, but spoke to me of how heroes, gurus, cult writers and so on can let you down (as they have every right to do). But for you the let-down and neglect was more specific and personal. I found it quite chilling how the 'selfish drunk' lives on so powerfully in your family mythology. Like Self. I wondered if you had ever met the guy. A very powerful poem, and so well-written that I hesitate to criticise at all. Just the last line. The last two words have to be 'no more' fair enough. But the cumulative power of the coldness in the second stanza - the corpse, the pond, the family emotions, and then the curse is so relentless that I felt the last line or two should continue to build on it, driving an icy shard of hatred through the poor old guy's frozen heart. So a minor improvement perhaps - a lot to suggest in a line and a half, and very easy for me to say, very hard for you to write. If it's not too painful, I would like to hear you return to the subject and explore why it still means so much generations after the event. As Adeline says, that's another poem. I hope so.
2016-05-24 19:57:39
·
answer #2
·
answered by Anonymous
·
0⤊
0⤋