the dance

[amanda_isabel]

I hear cries for help, I hear the screams,
There’s a tragedy somewhere it seems.
My eyes are glared by a bright light
Coming from a horrible sight.

They are pounding on the door
Yet I watch the dance upon the floor.
In a circle I am trapped,
While someone on the door rapped.

He told me to escape while I could
Yet I did nothing and there I stood.
It came closer; I could not bear the heat.
I glanced again at the dance upon my feet.

It moved as I never saw,
On my flesh it began to gnaw.
My deep breaths were my final,
Filled with poison to my lungs.

I stood motionless
In the middle of my final trial.
I felt the burn as the fire around me loomed.
I was finally consumed.

-please give in comments, suggestions, etc... i'll be waiting!-

[Foxvoices]

An interesting dream (?) that would have had me waking up real quick. A few suggestions--in the third line, maybe "seared" would be a better choice than "glared". Also, first you watched the dance upon the floor, and later upon your feet. Did you mean to say you watched the "fire" dance on the floor, and then on your feet? I just need a little clarification, John.

[amanda_isabel]

foxvoices,
thanks for the suggestion.

for clarification,
i use 'i glanced again at the dance upon my feet' to mean it's starting to crawl on me. did it manage to make sense?

thanks

[kathycf]

I like it, but I was wondering who the "he" is in your poem, and am I correct in assuming that he is judging you and somehow you are found lacking?

i use 'i glanced again at the dance upon my feet' to mean it's starting to crawl on me.
Are there actual dancers who are crawling upon your feet, or some type of general dance? Sorry if I sound a bit doofy...just need a little clarification.

[Juarez Fialho]

I really like it amanda, i could really get inside it!
I thought the tragedy was actually happening though, like a car wreck... and you are lying in shock and somewhat conscious of what is heppening. I thought the "he" was someone trying to get you out of the car before the fire took the whole thing but you were trapped.
"People pounding on the door", "crying for help", the "circle" seems like the gathering of people around the horrible scene...
Does this make any sense?
Great job!

[Jarndyce]

Just a quick comment (and I should probably make this a sig line or something): Lose the simple rhyme, it just diminishes the work. It's not hard to rhyme. Third-graders and bad pop stars do it all the time on the playground.

When you use simple rhymes, the reader begins to look for the next rhyme, and stops looking at the work itself.

[Juarez Fialho]

Just a quick comment (and I should probably make this a sig line or something): Lose the simple rhyme, it just diminishes the work. It's not hard to rhyme. Third-graders and bad pop stars do it all the time on the playground.

Strongly disagree.

I love rhymes; poetry is “more than words”, its music and its style.
More than everything, poetry is putting feelings, thoughts, dreams or facts on a form that is pleasurable to the reader, that can make the reader experience something through what is says and HOW IT SAYS as well.

As a matter of fact, some poems describe stupid trivial things and, at the same time, are considered (and should be!) huge influence on poetry all around the world, and more than that, influence on people’s lives! (Frost, for exemple)

Keep rhyming, counting syllables, making pretty text arrangements and trying to make music with your words amanda! Personally, I’m a poem metric enthusiast and I really enjoyed your work...

p.s. I wish I was not a stupid third grader and could make some bucks singing some rhyme full songs and dancing sexy!

[Jarndyce]

Strongly disagree.

I love rhymes; poetry is “more than words”, its music and its style.
More than everything, poetry is putting feelings, thoughts, dreams or facts on a form that is pleasurable to the reader, that can make the reader experience something through what is says and HOW IT SAYS as well.



Rhyme is hugely important in poetry, and by no means should it be ignored. However, simple rhyme detracts from the music of the poem. It's like the differece between square dance and ballet. Yes, square dance can be nice, but it lacks the grace and subtlety of well-performed ballet. If you insist on rhyming each line, then rhyme each line. But when you do, make it interesting and new. Don't bring "fire" and "higher", and don't bring "dead" and "bed." The rhyme should support the poem, but be indistinguishable from the language, as if by just rearranging the lines, the rhyme would disappear.

Here's just one example of what I mean, and notice that it's in villanelle form, which is even more impressive:

One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.


--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

That is beautiful writing. Perfect, precise, subtle and practically invisible.

[Juarez Fialho]

Amanda, tell us: was it a car wreck or not? Is it a dream or did it really happen?

p.s.: Now who’s changing speech, huh Jarndyce? First you ask her to drop the rhymes, than you come back to cite Elizabeth Bishop and the master/disaster/vaster poem… Better drop the argumentation…

[Jarndyce]

Now who’s changing speech, huh Jarndyce? First you ask her to drop the rhymes, than you come back to cite Elizabeth Bishop and the master/disaster/vaster poem… Better drop the argumentation…

You seem to be missing my intent, Juarez. I'm trying to illustrate through example that rhyme needs to be subtle and fluid, almost subliminal. What Elizabeth Bishop did in that villanelle was impressive. Villanelle's are difficult forms because you have to repeat entire lines throughout the work, yet she does so with grace. There's a big difference between inverting sentence structure in order to catch a rhyme:

"It moved as I never saw,
On my flesh it began to gnaw"

And the natural flow of:

"Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster."

Don't believe me? Let's try something here:

He told me to escape while I could yet I did nothing and there I stood. It came closer; I could not bear the heat. I glanced again at the dance upon my feet. It moved as I never saw, on my flesh it began to gnaw. My deep breaths were my final, filled with poison to my lungs.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

Notice how one of those paragraphs just flows naturally, while the other one is choppy and problematic. There is incredibly beauty in well orchestrated rhymes and structure, but like an music, poorly tuned instruments and misplayed notes can make a mess of the best piece.

[amanda_isabel]

thank you all for your comments. this poem was one of the first i wrote; i wrote this more than a year ago but decided to post it to get some feedback.

when i wrote this i was thinking of it superficially. for clarification, it's about a guy who is trapped-in a burning apartment building. he is awakened by the sounds of people screaming but does not realize that the fire is closer than he thinks. eventually the fire reaches him and he does nothing to escape until the fires engulf him.

now that i read it again however, i realize that the poem can also be about being locked up in yourself, and eventually it engulfs you but i don't think im making sense right now.

juarez's idea could work too. his idea even makes more sense than mine. (i definitely like his idea better than mine.) the poem can represent a lot of things that vary from reader to reader, although on the other hand i understand that it could be really unclear too.

again, thank you for reading and commenting.

a final note: i don't write in rhyme anymore, i haven't for a year. just so you know :)

[Jarndyce]

a final note: i don't write in rhyme anymore, i haven't for a year. just so you know :)

Hurray!!!!

Now, find really clever and sneaky ways to work rhymes back in...

[spacetoon]

I am not much fimiliar with peoms but when I read your poem I liked the musical tones. It's really amazing. I liked especialy "My eyes are glared by a bright light" line. Could it be that you meant by bright light is hope. Yeah we need hope to go on living . Am I right ?

[Juarez Fialho]

I thought the bright light was god! The eyes were glared by the supreme call, something like that.

Have you ever seen the movie Ghost? Remember when a good person died and a bright light came from the sky?

Analyzing poetry is so fun, the author himself finds out new interpretations for it… =]

Jarndyce, I see your point… 2 choices given, we either write as good as elisabth bishop or we are prohibited of rhyming. If we do, we sound like 3 graders or pop stars. You could be right; thou a little bit too radical.

[amanda_isabel]

Hurray!!!!

Now, find really clever and sneaky ways to work rhymes back in...

ah, jarndyce, that is the hardest part!

im working on it though.

[Jarndyce]

Jarndyce, I see your point… 2 choices given, we either write as good as elisabth bishop or we are prohibited of rhyming. If we do, we sound like 3 graders or pop stars. You could be right; thou a little bit too radical.

I wouldn't go that far, but since you seem to like music, perhaps this will work better to explain. Poorly chosen simple rhymes in poetry are like one mistuned string on a classical guitar. The song can be beautiful, the musician unparalleled, but everytime he plays that string, "PLOING."