The silent moon

I find this distinctly overwritten. Unless it's a parody of Tennyson.

I must admit that the punctuation is erratic at places, but "overwritten"? I don't think so. And by no means a parody of Tennyson.

It's pretentious, over-ambitious, incomprehensible, immature, shoddy, clumsy, rhythmless, badly-written crap. You must be under 20 years old or only starting to write poetry. If so, you need to think about poetry in a completely different way. If not, if you are older and have been writing for years, then please stop.

You wanted honesty.

Let he who writes the perfect verse cast the first aspersion.
Jesus Carpenter,
Adverbs 9:17

Bollocks. If something's shit, it's shit. If people are going to write poetry that's *that* atrocious, then they need to wake up. They won't improve by having pansy little liberals do a pansy little liberal dance around them, saying "Ooh, this is nice", which is how things like UKAuthors happen.

Especially when the author can't take even mild criticism of a staggeringly bad piece, dismissively saying "Overwritten? I don't think so. Whatever."

Hey NaziWifebeater

well, I quite get it that u hated it. Would rather appreciate for being bluntly straight-forward and seriously I don't need someone who only keeps telling me " Oh this is nice" but rather someone who spills it out. One more thing. Be more specific while you criticise. I mean just goin' about saying it's shit or bullcrap doesn't make you sound someone to believe. I would rather think you're some cynic.So,mention what made you say so, if you will.

Well, I think the exercise is misconceived. It's the poetic equivalent medieval reenactment.

Dressing up in medieval clothes and running round fields reenacting historic battles is - so I'm told - great fun for those involved but it's of limited interest to anyone else.

Producing pastiches of 19th century romantic poetry has the same problems, with the additional one that anyone who wants to read 19th century romantic poetry can still read high quality examples of the real thing.

Ah, Mac, Mac Mac - still bloated with sour grapes I see.

You seem to have had a couple of useful pointers under your piece, Hellbent, notably by Ewan, who is a kindly chap.

NaziMac could give you some excellent advice, of course (he's an outstanding poet), if he wasn't...er...hellbent on being obnoxious :-)

http://www.ukauthors.com
http://www.ukapress.com

Hi everybody...ooh shit! Bye everybody....

I *will* give the author some constructive criticism once I have the time and effort, which will have to be in a day or two. The thing is, this will take a lot of my time because there is simply *so much* wrong with the poem.

I'm not hellbent on being obnoxious at all. If someone asks for my honest opinion on something as minor as an amateurish little poem, I don't see why I shouldn't give it. I think it's obnoxious to think that honesty is obnoxious.

I'm telling the man what I think about his poem, not what I think about his mother.

His mother??? You mean to say that you've met his mother? Does she write poety too?

OK. Here we go. First off, there is no kind of metre in this poem. Metre isn't always necessary, but when you write a rhyming poem as opposed to free verse, you normally have to have some kind of rhythm, or it just sounds shoddy. Particularly in a poem like this, which has classical allusions as well as rhyme, you need to have an iambic or anapaestic rhythm of some kind, because it clearly isn't a modernist poem.

This poem does not even scan:

"That looks singularly tranquil despite the longing within
Seems to wait for the dawn, always is, yet serene."

Is that deliberately clumsy? Are you trying to stuff as many unnecessary syllables into one line as you possibly can?

Also, it doesn't even make sense grammatically.

Also, within does not rhyme with serene. And moonlight does not rhyme with night, because the stress is on 'moon'. Endymion certainly doesn't rhyme with clarion.

'Singularly' is a crap word to use in just about any poem. It's vague and doesn't really mean anything. You should always try to avoid adjectives and especially adverbs, because they tell rather than show. But 'singularly' doesn't even tell, it's just a waste of syllables.

"The shredded cumulus tries to mist but the silver shine
Exudes and the enchanter with it in fit of dark wine."

This just doesn't mean anything. What enchanter? What wine? How can you have a fit of dark wine?

The whole poem is full of things that don't make any sense.

Why use a word like 'ken'? Is this poem written in Scottish dialect? No. Are you 500 years old? No.

And mentioning Endymion and Cynthia is plain pretentiousness, showing off your own classical knowledge for the sake of it, when they don't need to be there. All it does is accentuate the huge gap between your classical knowledge and your prosodic knowledge.

I could probably say more, but I can't be bothered.

I've always been a great admirer of your emotional intelligence, NWB, and it certainly shines forth in this thread. You are starkly on show, so no need for me to tell.

I could probably say more, but I can't be bothered.

Real emotional intelligence is to do with important emotions and important issues like friendship and loyalty and fear and love. It's not about being firm with someone who has written a very poor poem.

I don't expect you to understand the difference. After all, you're middle-class.

Carry on farting.

Whereas you are aristocracy, sir. You wouldn't catch me working for the middle classes!

Emotional intelligence is about understanding when people are in real pain, it's not about saying "I'm not going to tell this guy that his poem is awful even though he's asked for my honest opinion."

Why do you need a bloke in his twenties from Walthamstow of all places to tell you that?

Carry on farting out your insipid, bloodless thoughts on life then, go on.

Well, thank you so much for your time and views NWB.

regards,
hellbent-savage

No problem, Hellbent-Savage. I hope I've been useful.

I've been watching this thread and it is amazing how heated it can get...and why?
1. Someone produced a piece AND put it in the Forum to attain maximum exposure, then pleaded for HONEST opinion.

2. The first reply carried two points, which the writer immediately shot down - disagreed with.

Now that - to me - is begging on your knees for a reaction and informs me that the only thing the writer is interested in, is a positive analysis telling him/her how wonderful the piece is.

NWB gave his opinion and the only thing wrong with it may have been the fact that he wrote it like he thought it and said some very rude words like 'shit' and 'bollocks' - which shocked me and made me blush terribly; (I was OK after a nice hot cup of tea and chocolate McVitie!)

The point is, if you are so desperate for opinion on something that you have written, that you have to put it in the forum, then accept what you get and move on; don't get out the hanky and start crying like a big pussy (that's a cat) and hope the troops will rally to your defence.

One other point; I have not heard/read anyone who said that they actually like the piece or say anything positive about it.

I am not going to comment on the piece because I don't feel qualified to do so and, I don't think the writer is REALLY interested in hearing it anyway; other than I tell him, that he is the reincarnation of Shakespeare AND I couldn't be bothered feeding this debate. But Jaysus lads; get a grip!

I'm also totally unqualified to offer any significant critique. In fact, the spirit doesn't move me in that direction. I thought the piece contained a lot of very good words... but I didn't think they were in the right order.

Amongst the servant classes, 'your poem is shit' doesn't really count as constructive criticism. But then I'm just NWB's butler, so anything he does is okay with me.

I'm reminded of an old John Cleese sketch in which he pays to have an argument, and all he gets is contradiction. "I've come for an argument." "No you haven't." etc. I'm beginning to wonder how many people can tell the difference!

To be fair to Hellbent-Savage, after I gave my opinion he didn't "get out the hanky and start crying like a big pussy".

Somebody else did though.

I'm afraid the servant classes just enjoy teasing you, NWB. You rise to the bait even when it's inedible. Unfortunately your responses are too limited and predictable to make it very interesting. What a dull boy you are!

does anybody mind if I just drop in for a minute to thank you all for making me laugh exactly when I needed to? You can carry on now

ps I think your user names are stunningly appropriate in this thread - they make it even better to read

Care to step inside my new gas chamber, Footsie? It's nothing fancy, just a simple balsa wood one that I got as a Christmas present from my Uncle Hermann. Skunk is welcome to have a go as well. Then I can start wiping out the middle-class untermenschen, twat by twat.

Make sure you get Crackersville too. They breed under his trailer.

No, Crackersville is ok. He's not 'that sort' of Jew.

I don't know about that. He watches old Kirk Douglas movies.

Does that mean I'm no longer your butler, NWB? It's so hard to find a position these days.

Don't blame you for wanting to do away with the middle classes, old chap. Grammar school boys, squiffy little oiks to a man.

I'm starving. Why did you stop plaiting your hair son for that NaziNazibeater girl?

He watches old Kirk Douglas movies.

Correction my friend, I watch NEW Kirk Douglas movies.

I'm a squiffy little oik, because I went to grammar school, but my dad was a motor mechanic. So, I'm a working class oik, with middle class attitudes. I know, because Mac told me.

My dad was a merchant seaman and self-proclaimed cockney, when he wasn't Crackersville; my grandparents on my father's side lived in a terraced house with an outside loo; and I'm just an unemployed butler. 'Middle class' means anybody who wasn't born and raised in Mac's house, as far as I can see.

OK, new old Kirk Douglas movies.

Is that the working class Kirk Douglas or the nobby one?

As always.

Kirk the slave and Kirk the slave trader.

The gravely disappointed slave trader as a matter of fact.

I'd like to Kirk a few slaves but the flesh is weak these days. Is that a photo of mum, btw?

Here's mum and/or my father-in-law and/or your grandpa.

Please don't remind me...

In front of others, never again son. That's before the sex change surgery, by the way, or didn't you know you now have three grandmas? (And two dads but that's another story)

I've just had a pilchard sandwich for my tea. Surely life has more to offer the aristocracy than that?

Oh, I wish I was unlimited and unpredictable enough to join in with this hilarious banter.

But you are, my dear. Never let those bad boys tell you otherwise.

Life offered the aristocracy the limited and predictable proletariat. In Rome. Ancient Rome.

Will somebody close the door? We have a pair of painted lips and a naked female forehead here...

Will somebody find me somebody who will close the door?

Door is closed...

Anyway, the point is, the poem was shit.

That's your poem, that is.

The point is: I want her, I'm in love, let me out son! And I hope she's not my father-in-law this time..

Jean Simmons grand daughter!

The point is, I has a pilchard sandwich for my tea. It's an outrage.

Was it cook's night off? Mine usually leaves me a haunch of Tennyson.

Conversation between man in costume and man who has been drinking drugs, just overheard in twenty-two second visit to ITV reality show:

"If you swear again, I'm going to arrest you for disorderly behaviour."
"It don't mean nuffink, it juss comes out in anger, like."
"Right, that's it, I've had enough of you now."
"Wotcha doin'?"
"I'm arrestin' yer, mate. Disorderly conduct."
[Man in costume recites memorised 'caution' as he places handcuffs on man who has been drinking drugs.]
"Wotcha arrestin' me for?"
"That sorta language, mate. It's disorderly."

The last line, absolutely brilliant, is also 100% accurate. "That sorta language, mate. It's disorderly." Who could make that up? One of these days I'll use it. On ABC it's worth any number of cherries!

I say, that tin of artist's shit was rather amusing. But how does one paste pictures into other people's comments?

You are right Mac, it's overstepping the mark. What you could do but don't is just as important as what you do. I could make the excuse that it's harmless in this case, but good principles can be eroded by increments. My apologies.

In a way, he's just saying he agrees with you Mac. It's difficult to understand my son. I may be wrong even in this case, in a way.

Jean Simmons grand daughter!

Well, Chuck, that's what he said the first/last time! Now I wonder, have I ever really met, had sex with and married his real daughter? Where did he/they find the baby? *Not you son, we all know you're Superman-ftse, hiding this fact and many other facts with your dad's help* *Not you Jor-EL*

Skunk?

To put it plainly, it ain't right to interfere with other peoples posts, even in fun. I am guilty as charged and won't do it again. How's that, dad?

Mind you, my posts are lucidity incarnate in comparison with the above...

In a way, yes.

Have you been at the raccoon juice again, dad?

That's, in a way, a predictable yes. Will somebody find me somebody who will find me somebody who will give me a hamburger? *Not you Ewan-EL*

Chuck-EL?

A distinctly oversized hamburger, I don't care whose parody it will be as long as it has meat in it and no shit, although I've tried to eat shit but that's another story from the Assorted Tales of Hungry-EL.

Eggs over easy, pancakes and hominy grits. Hold the sauce. No, make that eggs over-simplified, potholes and slop. Keep holding the sauce. Don't let it run through your fingers. When you see an opportunity, pounce! Alright, this is my final offer, eggs, sunny jim up, crackers and a malt milkshake salad on the side. No phlegm. Keep holding the sauce. Don't lick your fingers. Ready? Pounce!

Breakfasts with Obese-EL, reproduced by permssion of a homeless orangutan.

at last - burgers. Now can we all go home?

Factions, fictions, bloomin' splitters :-)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anti-Burgher

Taxi for littleditty! Anyone called littleditty here? Taxi for you ma'am.

A distinctly tangential discussion. Unless it's a parody of venison burgers.

I must admit that there are some mild digressions and erratic punctuation, but "tangential"? I don't think so. And by no means a parody of venison burgers.

Radial? Asymptotic? I vote for an asymptotic discussion with erotic puntuation. That should get a few fajitas.

Son= based on theological grounds such as ^ Skunk's taxi-reply= ^Ewan-EL's taciturnity= and ^littleditty's appearance= I decided to call you Baron of Fajitas = from now on #

Benny of Anti-Burger Synods

Ewan-EL trembles in fear before the NaziWifeBeater, he keeps his counsel and prays his silence is mistaken for deliberation or wisdom.

That's a terrible thing to happen in any Synod. If we all trembled in fear and prayed our silence is mistaken for deliberation or wisdom, we wouldn't be having any proper meta-nihilist dogma! Join us, believe, yes you can in a brainwashed way, Ewan-EL, and stop trembling, one of these days you're going to scare a scary taxi driver!

I have still never meta-nihilist I didn't like. Even Crackers.

I don't like these Synod things, they had one in Whitby, look at all the trouble THAT caused!

Anyway, leave me alone, I'm deliberating.

Fajitas-EL welcomes you to the elastic convocation of the world taxi synod. How strange that enough butlers and typewriters can produce fajitas that look almost edible. Greetings to Ewan-EL of the Mistaken Deliberations Faction. Let us hear him out before we poison him. It is the meta-nihilist way.

Fajitas-EL, Baron of Fajitas,
Synod Monkey of the Third Realm.

Fajitas-EL,

I desist from my deliberations to enquire if I have blundered into Herbertland or Heinleinworld? The meta-nihilist way is in fact the subject of great debate on Firstworld, formerly known as Earth. Consult the works of Crackersville, an honoured poet without profit in his own land.

Ewan-EL,
High Priest of the Ecumenical Communion of Deliberators,
Forbidden Planet.

Excuse the interruption but would that be the well-known blogger Benedict Crackersville?

http://benedictcrackersville.blogspot.com/2009/03/one-word-meta-nihilist...

= correction = That's a terrible thing to happen in any Synod. If we all trembled in fear and prayed our silence is mistaken for deliberation or wisdom, we wouldn't have any proper dogma in meta nihilist progress! Join us, believe, yes you can in a brainwashed way, Ewan-EL etc etc = addition = and now Chuck-EL, what is a "well-known blogger"? Explain as vaguely as possible.

What is a "well-known blogger"?

Good question. Bloggered if I know.

Ewan-EL,

Hah! Dare you quote the works of the profits? Dare you claim to have quelled dem dragons, den? Dare you dare to make daring meta-meta-nihilist statements and invoke the Name of my dad? Thou shalt forever be a stranger in a strange hat. Go now, take thy poison with thee, and drink it at thy leisure.

Fajitas-EL,
Ringer of the Taco bell,
Bringer of good fortune cookies.

Bringer of good fortune cookies? You have to audition first!

I ken you, Fajitas-el, bringer of darkness and undercooked omelettes; for was it not you that suggested a side order of pituitary gland of nameless slithering cthulan horror to cure my insomnia.

I want my money back sir!

Is that Lena-EL, otherwise known as El-lena? I didn't think you'd recognise me in this beard and tentacles. These days I only deal in meta-insomnia cures, all approved by L.P.Hovercraft. Please don't bring up my murky past!

A well known blogger is someone who does not yet Twitter and therefore is less of a Twat.

'Silence, intellectual midget!' Humble apologies for my acolyte Maw Fath; he is as yet unschooled in meta-nihilism. He is merely an existentialist convert, as yet. He converted readily after the deliberators deliberated strongly on his person with the coals and tongs.

Apologies again,

Ewan-EL
High Priest of the Ecumenical Communion of Deliberators,
Taw Kay Madda House,
Oliestovolies,
Forbidden Planet.

I always thought a blogger was some kind of blumberjack. You learn something new every day...

Ignoramus-EL,
Terpsichorean Mews,
Londonshire.

Dear ladies and gentlemen,

IV. ......
VII. .......
XII. .......

These three points of our meta-nihilist dogma in progress don't make sense. Care to fill them out before Asterix arrives?

Yours ecumenically,
Hungry-EL

IV. For four forfeits four foremen fought formidable forthright foresters.
VII. Is the number after the number of the bees.
XII. Carries the drinks if he is a man in white.

Clearly this is a job for Tom Handkerchiefs, not Asterix the Gallstone!

Daniel Moreno

Applied numerology Ewan-El?....£2.75 well spent at a charity shop purchased my soothing muse, with corroded battery contacts.

'Good Morning, Madam'
http://www.voco.uk.com/

Nowt that a little sandpaper couldn't fix :-0)

Fajitas-el, hah! you develop your exponential freebie-nachos theory under the guise of meta-nihilism, come out from Hovercrafts' skirts, we know you are Thinking.
<:-)
(mono-browed in delight, in need of Tea)

Your dogma has just eaten my catma. That doesn't seem fair.
Fajitas-El