30 Poems in 30 Days 2009: Day Twenty-One
September 21, 2009 by J.C. Hewitt
Today I received a nasty email about my site. It was a short, condescending note about grammar and spelling errors that the person had found in my articles. The person gave no examples. I can only assume that the errors that person perceived are actual errors. The main thrust of the note seemed to be that if I can’t write perfectly, I shouldn’t dare write about writing. It was a hurtful note, and the main reason why today’s post is a little late. I’m more sensitive than many people think, and it is hard for me to easily shake off such a nasty start to the day.
I am thankful that the people who follow this blog are generally kind. They are supportive of writing, of me, and of each other. This is especially true of the poetry project participants. I normally write a post at the beginning of the poetry project telling people to be kind and helpful in their criticism. This year I did not, and to everyone’s credit, no one has had a harsh word to say. I should point out that the person who wrote the nasty note was not here for poetry or this project. Still, this seems like a good time to discuss the difference between helpful criticism and hurtful criticism.
Helpful criticism focuses on the problem, not the person. Remember that people are proud of their creations, even when they say they are not. It is human nature to take pride in what you create. People make errors. People have different styles. People have different subjects that they like to write about. None of these things makes one person inherently better than another person. If you have advice to give, be sure it is advice that is based on their work, not their lifestyle.
Helpful criticism is specific. If you spot a misspelling or a typographical error, tell the person what it is. Don’t just tell the person that there is an error. If you think someone used a cliché or that a line in their poem is poorly written, tell them what line did not work for you, don’t condemn the whole poem. If you do dislike an entire poem, don’t expect to fix everything. Point out one aspect of the poem that can be improved and (if you can) give an example of how it can be improved.
Helpful criticism is not a demand. No matter how important you think it is that someone does things your way, be prepared for them to take their own path. Human beings are like that. Even you are like that.
Thank you for your understanding today.
Today’s Poetry Prompt
September 21st is the last day of summer in the northern hemisphere and the last day of winter in the southern hemisphere. With that in mind, write a poem in which the seasons play a role.
The Last Day of Summer in Red Rock
It is still hot
It will be for a while
Maybe on Halloween
I will need a jacket
At night
Today I am sweating
Walking a desert path at noon
The flies and gnats
Sniffing but not tasting
My bare legs
As the temperature
Plays with an even
Hundred degrees
I keep my mouth clamped closed
To maintain the moisture
There is dust in the air
Keeping down the other smells
Drying out my nose
And tickling my lungs
My new white walking shoes
Aren’t quite as pristine
As they were out of the box
A few minutes ago
Clean and firm
I don’t feel the rocks
The way I did last spring
Before I gave in
To temperatures well above
Even this
I have eight months now
To walk the desert
To stare at blue skies without dread
To leave the house
Whenever I feel like being outside
Oh, forgive me if I use my Tuesday Tanka to do double duty again. You time things so sweetly coincidentally for me, Maestro! (And life is busy … if I get a chance, I might come back and write a brand new one … but these are in fact brand new … you know, I bet your gratuitous critic would say all these ellipses inside parentheses are incorrect. LOL.) Oh and btw I make no claims to be expert nor traditional in tanka – I am a beginner, and write them to explore and learn.
it’s Spring Equinox
here in the South of the world
a time of balance
between the light and the dark
then new life starts as light grows
sunshine and thunder
wind and the smell of new rain
from a warm blue sky
and the blind vine thrusting up
seeking light and sustenance
(It being Tuesday 22nd here.)
Sept. 21: Last Day of Summer
It is a good thing I won’t be awake
When my true year, my new year passes on
And green leaf turns to gold and red passion
On the trees so far above my head
I’d much rather read a book
Than picture their dramatic postures
Perfect as they may be, despite all definitions
Sometimes you can’t help hating
People like that, and these flamboyant trees
Aren’t going to help me forget
That I wake up each morning to numbers droning
And instruments squawking, and teachers talking
And everything fading away into rhythm today
That is completely meaningless
And all others care for is who cares for whom
And why I skipped school today
It was to look for the stars
In a sky drunk and obscure from city light
And lingering sun rays
That stretched out to me, in one last
Parting glance of warmth
Before the earth rolls on
And presses uncaring winter upon us
PS, this is fictionalized I would never skip school. I’m one of those people who like to write persona poems.
i don’t have a poem in response to today’s prompt but i wanted to say that i just found your blog last night and have read through the last 21 posts of the 30 Poems Project. after doing so i wrote a poem that i am so happy with and i think it’s safe to say that my temporary ‘poetry-block’ has been cured.
i hate that person for sending you awful remarks. their creativity must suffer immensely from their negative attitude, not to mention the rest of their life. anyway, i promise, the hurt you received by that person is MINUSCULE to how much you’ve helped me in just one day. keep it up – you’ve inspired me so much!!
thanks!!
<3 Erin
Erin´s last blog ..You Are Beautiful Button
Season-less
I would like to bemoan
The passing of time
As the autumn leaves fall
But I live in the land of perpetual sun
Unless rains count
As passing of seasons
In which case
Every other day
Seasons pass
I would like to claim
Melancholy as the
Seasons pass
As summer fades
And winter comes
But alas there are only sunny skies
To greet my eyes
Beyond my window stills
I would like to be as sentimental
And wax lyrical about the
Seasons moving on
In a relentless beat
Time passes on
But what happens if seasons
Remain unchanged
In the land I live in
Perhaps it is best that
I am not born melancholy
Otherwise imagine my disadvantages
Compared to the poets
Who has both the temperament
And the right temperature
For inspiration.
Hate
Hate is such a strong word, a strong acid of thought,
no less strong than hydrochloric acid on metal.
Shall we reserve it only for actions and not people?
Is it OK to hate a person’s actions, yet still love them?
Is it possible to segregate our thoughts in such a manner?
Our attitudes? Our words? Our actions? Our beings?
For surely our thoughts lould who and what we are
and whatever we are is shown by our very words.
@All,
The comments above ‘inspired’ the reaction just posted.
It being a response to the conversation.
Now for my actual response to the prompt.
It runs deep.
Seasons
I remember spring,
with its hope, its youth,
the unending possibilities,
with imortality felt
coursing through the veins,
Spring was good.
Summer was the season of work.
Early to rise late to bed,
long long days and short nights,
chock full of life
and unending activities,
Summer was vibrant.
Autumn cooled the air.
The shortening days brought
less work and more rest.
The harvest begins and joy abounds
as one sees the fruits of summer
Autumn was gloruous.
Winter came silently
barren, dry, desolate,
with Die-back personal,
and I, a daffodil planted
in the grave to wait
the spring of afterlife.
Thank you to those of you who who wrote in nice things today. I appreciate the support.