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And in These Fields

And in these fields, tall blue grass far off.
Clouds graze on eastern currents like new kites.
And in these fields, children lean over a pond with their jars,
black tadpoles rising like the fresh germs of alchemy.
Goal posts drawn in with felled branches
for the games we play with flags and footballs.
And in these fields, many sovereign trails
dug by wind and hoof, paw and foot.
A rusted shopping cart broken
upon a boulder next to handfuls
of spread-out campfire ash
with the most ingenious language fingered in:
         J and R were here.
Wildflowers the colour of August
waver in the hum of birds and insects.
Blackberry thorns shelter the new homes of mice and voles.
And in these fields, mud-prints of plastic chairs
watch cleated footprints among orange rinds.
Distant grass pressed into yellowed geometry
under an old tent site, the smell of burnt sugar on the air.
And in these fields, no fences.
Even the trails thinning like spring
picking at old winter forts, forming vegetation deeper in
with the shape of someone lying down last night,
watching heaven drift west under the weight of the world.
And in these fields, headstones raised
by and for the living.
a form of human sacrifice,
how the dead are lifted by kin,
laid to rest,
And in these fields, relinquished.

13 Mar 07

Rated 8.6 (8.8) by 15 users.
Active (15): 4, 5, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 9, 9, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10
Inactive (12): 1, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10

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all my senses have been raised like lasarus. so delicately constructed, the imagary is other worldly. i  like line 25 especially.  10
 — bowiegirl

yes - beautiful - mesmerising - simply drawn in place yet open and clear and does well to capture the endless open space

i agree with Bowiegirl - line 25 is wonderfully created - to me the real 'Turner' (the painter) moment of this imagery

i will come back to this piece several times today to enjoy it and these fields

wonderful stuff
 — Mongrol

This poem is.   Why?
Line 1: What do the grasses do?
2: Try “Clouds graze…”
5: fell is used incorrectly, should be felled or fallen
18: why would you want to personify mud-prints of plastic chairs?

You’ve got some really good potential images here, but I can’t see them clearly yet.  Maybe the relentlessness of incomplete sentences is blinding me.  

Verbs are at least as important as adjectives—more, I think—so please complete your sentences with some strong verbs.

I won't rate yet.
 — wily

i so love how poetry doesnt have to conform to grammar structure or strict representations of language
 — Mongrol

I like the way that this is composed. The imagery is fine. I can feel the landscape with all senses, and it is alive.
You could remove your voice further by replacing 'we play' with 'played' in L6. This is the only place where you are included. But it works fine either way IMO.

L19, supposed to be 'Far off'? If not, I'm lost there. If so, that phrase was used in L1. Something new would really spark here. An internal rhyme, perhaps, to tie L19 & L20 more tightly.??
Just suggestions. This is very good as is.
 — Nerva

wow, so much feedback. thanks for all of you visiting and caring enough to critique.

wily, thanks for catching lines 2 and 5. I recognize that verbs are important, and will try and work more in as of now. the incompleteness of some of the parts (like line 1 and the title) is supposed to be suggesting something. for line 18, it's not the mud-prints specifically that are being personified there (though, superficially, it is)-- it's the past.

nerva, thanks for pointing out the repetition. i took care of it.

 — unknown

anything else?
 — Virgil

This is exquisite.
 — unknown

nice, best line "black tadpoles rising like the fresh germs of alchemy."
You captured the childlike country experience awesomely.
 — SenorSin

Line 32 - summarizes wonderfully the human condition after a poem that roles through some wonderful imagery.
 — dia

i love the imagery. i love poems about fields
 — infinity

Why can't you just say 'In these fields' at the start? It gets repeated so I couldn't appreciate the beautiful imagery and subtle phonology of the rest properly.
 — opal

beautiful images.

very nice poem.
 — varun

I'm still wrestling with the repitition of "In these fields...." It works for the last line of the poem as the end, but I'm not so sure about the rest. Everything else is beautiful, though; fantastic piece!
 — BrideInBlack

good god that was beautiful

'watching heaven drift west under the weight of the world'
 — unknown

i like it, a lot.
 — brittany16

germ of alchemy is not a whole of parts

im not crazy about the repetition
im not
im not crazy
but the rest is pure
 — jumpoline

For some reason for me anyway, this poem does not quite gel.

The repetition does little for it by way of enhancement.

The poem starts of badly with regards the first two lines,

“In these fields”, indicates the fields at hand, yet you have tall blue grass far off.

“Clouds graze on eastern currents” Quite a mouthful, and quite meaningless without an indication of resistive force.
Only those grass-eating animals graze on.

I sort off lost interest after this; it is after all a mundane dialogue of little merit.

I have no idea why it is in the top rated.

However, I do not rate poetry, so nothing I say will make any difference to the scoring.

 — Mor

Mor is very boring - it's best to ignore his continuous refrences to himself and what he does and doesnt do.

His critiques are empty, lack understanding of license or artistic love.

The one question that applies to Mor is...  who cares? Really, who cares wether he rates poems or not? Or makes comments or not?
 — Mongrol

Thanks for your comments so far, all. I know the repetition gets most of the heat in the reviews here, and I'm still divided on whether to trim them or not. But I can say that the poem didn't exist without the repetitions. Whether it remains, or is simply a medium or midwife, I'm unsure.

Jumpoline, I'm unsure what you mean by the germ of alchemy not being "a whole of parts," could you clarify?

Re: Mor, it'll take a bit longer to digest what you've said...

“In these fields”, indicates the fields at hand, yet you have tall blue grass far off.
Yeah, I'm drawing the eye to the fields at hand, then to the far off elements in the rest of the stanza. Somewhat like looking near, far, then up. Sorry if that wasn't evident.

Only those grass-eating animals graze on.
Why can't animal attributes be applied to clouds? It has to be "graze on" and not just "graze," otherwise it runs into the question of resistance that you mentioned earlier.
 — Virgil

Well, the mong has taken upon himself to be judge and jury of poetry, despite his total inability to produce a single piece of poetry on PC worthy of any form of attention.

I merely hold an opinion nothing more.

Regarding the first two lines, no amount of poetic licence or love of art, what ever that may, be, will alter the fact one iota.
Line one and two in their present format are nonsense.

Yet by the simple use of enjambment, they could take on a semblance of sense.

And in these fields, tall blue grass. Far off
clouds graze eastern winds, like new kites.

Which, of course is hardly poetry by any stretch of the imagination, even the mong’s claim of exegetical expertise would have great difficulty proving otherwise

The central focus of attention appears to be “And in these fields” everything appears to centre around or on these fields.

“These fields” indicate fields that are within the vision of the writer, therefore the allusion to great open spaces does not arise.
These open spaces can only be suggested at by reference to far off clouds. Which according to the writer and for some strange reason behave like new kites? Why especially new kites? Does it have some significance to the story
Has any one ever seen a cloud that behaved like a kite, especially a cloud that has merely been grazed by an eastern current?

Line three begins to irritate, we are to all practical purpose already in the fields.
Along with the children, who for some strange reason are able to lean over a pond with their jars, whereupon they are able to witness an amazing phenomenon?
“Black tadpoles rising like the germs of alchemy”

No doubt, the mong was with them, he did not appear to notice anything wrong either.

May be he was so enchanted by flowers the colour of August that waver in the hum of birds and insects

By line sixteen interests had definitely waned to zero.
It just does not seem worth the time or effort reading further.

I will leave the accolades to mong; he is always wise after the event. Never before.


 — Mor

i say the same
 — sing

Hi Virgil,
I am sorry I did not notice your reply. I rarely read other comments.
I have my own opinions, others are entitled to theirs.

Regarding grazing on, which it now appears was your implied intention to convey.

It is a dangerous precedent to pursue; one should always consider the etymology of any word one wishes to use out of context.
Graze is from the Anglo Saxon – grasian from groes –grass.
Therefore, all grazing refers to grass, hence the noun graziery.

The metaphor that you implied grazed on, simply does not work in that context.

It could work quite well if it implied grazed by eastern currents, in affect brushed by those currents though not however cropped by them.

There are many means of assimilation why not be more adventurous.

 — Mor

L21-25 simply beautiful, and so real. i tend to lay in the trails watching the sky myself.
 — humblebee

it honestly the best advice i can give to simply ignore Mor, i'll say no more on the matter ... as this isnt the place for this spar, nor a platform for Mor's tedious ramblings.

 — Mongrol

love the duplicity of meaning and intention, innuendo of metaphor, double meanings, plays on words, and open spaces between words filled with the imagination.

to create a literal referance as cemented thought incapable of using language in its dynamic is to kill those spaces between the words.

a real writer allows their audience into those spaces, not instructs those to adhere to rigid and intransigent 'rules' that are spouted simply to critique, and offer no real guidance.

this is still a lovely piece Virgil, your use of multiple meaning and prosaic charm is still a delight to read.
 — Mongrol

Isn’t it marvellous how the mong delights in making himself appear a bigger idiot than he already is.

In his final conclusion,  he suggests that the posted piece is full of prosaic charm.
Well that may in fact be true, though I never suggested it as such.

The adjective prosaic relates to prose, that is to say un-poetic, dull, commonplace, unamaginitive writing.

The mong has never once made a constructive criticism; he merely fills the air with rhetorical nonsense..

As I said previously I will leave the accolades to the mong he is so much better at it than could ever wish to be.

 — Mor

like i say - best just ignore that imbecile Mor.

 — Mongrol

Come to think of it, a line further down stuck in my mind as something of an oddity, a bit like the mong. Line twenty-two is a nonsense “thinning like spring” spring is a period of emergence. Of growth and thickening. Where does the analogy of thinning come in?

 — Mor

Mor has no idea of complex ideas involving contradiction - balance - the placing of form/image into a shape his mind cannot possibly make it fit.

it has to follow that literal rule - his mind cannot dance with or between the words... his mind does not dance at all.

the spring is indeed a 'thin' season - as there are no fruits on the trees, no crops in the fields, the larders are a lot emptier than they were after the harvest, and the heart of one who may be reposed in grief or sadness sees life renewing all around them and reacts with even greater grief.

i do not find it in the least 'odd' that Mor cannot grasp these simple human things.

 — Mongrol

The trouble with the mong is that he uses words that are not related to their intended purpose.
He quotes spring and appears totally oblivious to the use of thinning, as an on going situation.
Which is exactly the obverse of spring? Spring is from the Anglo Saxon –springan meaning to burst open.

Therefore, “Thinning Spring” is a total nonsense, in any sense of the word.

Gibberish is gibberish, thinning or other wise.

The mong applauds illiteracy like a schoolchild.

 — Mor

lol Mor give it up - you imbecile.
 — Mongrol

thing the Mor will never ever understand about poetry is ....

it allows you to use words 'not related for their intended purpose' ... once the oafish troll gets that he may actually understand the very first stages of that thing we call 'art'.

language is dynamic Mor - the english language is especially dynamic - evolve please from that rigid classroom rule structure and stroll merrily into the bright lights of reality and the living changing world around you.

 — Mongrol

Go back to school you ignoramus, you talk like a schoolchild, you act like a schoolchild. In all fairness, one must conclude you are indeed a schoolchild.
If, somewhat retarded, unfortunately...

 — Mor

give it up you imbecile - there's a very good reason why Mor rhymes with bore...


 — Mongrol

this moved me and seemed very spiritually based. it was beautiful.
 — Reverend

I suppose there is an equally valid reason as to why; “mong rhymes with pong.”

 — Mor

There is so much nonsense in this poem; its incomprehensible language distracts the mind
Take line sixteen for example;
“Blackberry thorns shelter the new homes of mice and voles”.

Do they really? Bramble is the bush upon which the blackberries grow.

Mice and voles live in the roots of such protection, why would they be having new homes. It makes little sense.

 — Mor

you're boring Mor - go away - you dullard :)

you have nothing of any value to impart here, or anywhere else come to that lol

 — Mongrol

Continuing to look at this sorry spectacle of poetry.
Let us look at line 25.
Watching heaven drift west, under the weight of the world.

Does the heaven drift west? under the weight of the world, or any other weight for that matter, the sun and the heavens are stationary, what we see is are sections of the heavens exposed in a  eastwards direction

However, the writer states that the person observing the heaven was lying down. There fore the visible heaven would appear to be moving in an anti-clock wise direction that is from west to east, though as every one knows it is the earth that rotates not the heavens.
The North Star being the pivot point of all observations, all readings are taken from the North Star

So there again in spite of the mong’s ascertains, line 25 is total nonsense. And the mong likewise.

 — Mor

You Mor are a lot like NetskyIAm...you give long responses much like he does, you write poems in response to statements much like he does, and I noticed that you sometimes write as if it's being spoken, (Ey ain't speekin' to yar...something like this) much like he does. You sign your name at the bottom of each critique even though you are signed in...hmm are you and NetskyIAm the same being? I know you'll respond to this with wit. Just like with Isabelle...I know your real identity.

Oh...and the poem isn't too bad really. Not my type, but it's not bad to say the least. 8/10
 — Henry

Well if you know my real identity, then there is little problem

When winter time comes creepin’ on.
An the neets they growing dark
When trees are bare an’ birds are gone
An life’s all bed an’ wark
When frosty blizzards leawd an’ripe
How reawnd mi cosy nook,
It feels so nice ti charge mi pipe
An’ sit an’ hae a smook.

I really don’t think you are bright enough to guess who I am.

 — Mor

it is good to make fun of Mor being a pompous oaf - it's an extremely easy thing to do - his so called 'arguments' and 'critiques' are so eaily countered and revealed to be the work of ignorance and self-absorbtion.

but i find myself not having the energy to do such a thing - as Mor is a blank wall made of very thick bricks - it simply best to observe this jack-in-the-box for the clown on a spring that he is.

pop the lid and youll see him spring up!

 — Mongrol

Well, let us proceed on to the last stanza. This in my opinion is pure unadulterated nonsense.
It refers to kin, what kin? The nonsenseical and metaphoric kin of idiotism the type that the mong professes to understand... Therefore if the mong understands it so well, what does the last stanza mean in real terms- it means nothing, it is an exercise in total nonsense.
Let the mong do his party piece, I await his deliberations.

 — Mor

Mor is bore
there is no score
thats the law
of the bore

Mor loves to get the last word - in fact his petulance wont let go when it thinks its got its teeth into something - that really is nothing

Mor is too easy.. waaay too easily to rile

You're an imbecile Mor - you cant see the obvious nor can you understand art. Go away now. :)

 — Mongrol

Well, as usual the mong evades the questions by engaging in a series of insults.
This is the mong’s chance to shine, to show, that he has an understanding of the great art form he so enthusiastically champions.

All his meaningless rhetoric has proved nothing, excepting that he is an illiterate spouting words from another’s text.
The mong is undoubtedly an uneducated moron, blissfully happy in his ignorance.

 — Mor

you hypocritical imbecile Mor.


 — Mongrol

What a shame, I was looking forward to another diatribe of the mong’s hypothetical nonsense.
What is up, can’t he find any text to copy on the subject. I was quite looking forward to his namby-pambyism,
It is quite humorous reading his rather pathetic efforts to imbecilitate the Mor.

May be he is wandering around the fields looking for headstones; but he doesn’t know what a headstone looks like, in his ignorance he thinks that they are placed at the head of graves but there is no deceased, not least until the sacrifice has been completed, and that itself might be nothing more than a sacrifice of labour.
And the mong has no kin that would wish to acknowledge him by any means or form.
Therefore the headstone must be one those essential architectural devises securing the castles in the air, we did after all have sovereign trails why not castles too
How the dead are lifted by kin, JCB perhaps. A strange sentence indeed.

Never mind it is all nonsense anyway.

 — Mor

this is poem is nonsense to those without art in the hearts or minds.

imbeciles like Mor here... trying ever so hard to dissect something that he has no idea what it is he is dissecting.

it's a bit like telling Turner that the shade of green he has used in the rendering of one of his skies is all wrong.

Mor has no idea at all, but then he is an imbecile. :)

-Mong- (the pong)
 — Mongrol

The mong as usual steps straight into a trap of his own making.
The uneducated moron could not wait to show his ignorance.

He quotes Turner’s green skies as though he was an authority on art.
Turner the greatest English Artist and pioneer in Water Colour techniques
Never used a mundane colour like green in his skies, his paintings were a mass of colour washes, layer upon layer of colour brushed on and sponged off to give a translucent effect of multi colours that defied description, the nearest description is ultramarine, not green that is for idiots like the mong.
For the mong to say that Turners skies were green shows what a moron and philistine he really is.

Go away mong you are a lair, a cheat and a total fake, you are wasting my time and I am getting extremely bored with you.

 — Mor

Mor you bore, tut tut

come back to me when you have something of more weight to hit me with  :)

and use verbal devices of your own Mor instead of copying the Mong!

you silly little man you

 — Mongrol

The mong stands condemned by his own efforts. Not even his fawning solicitation to other poets has returned any worthwhile comments to his poetry and self-proclaimed understanding of art.
One would find great difficulty in summiting any comment on his work, the standard of his poetry being no more than abysmal nonsense at best and putrid nonsense at other times.

The mong lives in a world of make believe and deceit, fortunately the only one he deceives is himself.

 — Mor

Turner's skies are 'aquamarine'!

Makes me laugh everytime i read that !! :D

you imbecile Mor.. make me laugh again .. go on ! amuse me some mor!

 — Mongrol

'ultramarine' - even funnier !


 — Mongrol

you'll need something a bit more weighty than 'insulting' my poetry too Mor :)

you just dont cut it there

 — Mongrol

I never insulted your poetry, I merely stated it was nonsense, your poetry insults intelligence.
You have no concept of poetry whatsoever.
Your nonsensical arrangements are precisely that, arrangements in the art of nonsense.
Without any sign of artistic merit, you are a fool who deceives himself greatly.

You are the poetic joke of PC, to stupid to see how others are laughing silently at your pathetic efforts of poetic excellence.

Again, and again you show your ignorance I never said Turner’s skies were aquamarine, I said they were ultramarine.
You are a total ignoramus of the lowest order.

Go away you pathetic creature.

 — Mor

you've never seen a Turner (late period as compared to some of his earlier works) painting in the flesh have you Mor?

Ultramarine! makes me laugh!

now... run along little man... you have much to do..


(you need to read reposts and edits Mor... you also need to re-read your own posts ... oh the lies you tell yourself are very revealing :) ... clear as the words on this page)
 — Mongrol

Let me educate you in the art of reading what was written Mor ... i'll allow you this gift just this once.. here is my quote from what i said about Turners 'skies'.

> it's a bit like telling Turner that the shade of green he has used in the rendering of one of his skies is all wrong.

Ok, so to the first part - 'it's a bit like' - implying suggestiveness - not exact but insinuation - you need to understand subtely here Mor - the presentation is quite clear.

Then we have 'the shade of green' - note the word 'shade' placed in there Mor?
Colours come in many shades - and i believe to date there is in paint production many thousands of shades of all 3 of the primaries, as well as the entire visual spectrum of colour, and these shades and tones can be mixed to even greater complexities of light and shade and texture on a thing a painter calls a palette Mor.

At best this was an off-the-cuff remark to illustrate your inability to comprehend art in a simplistic phrase Mor.. i could have been much mor verbose but as i have said i do not choose to waste energy on you.

Let us move then onto the final part of the quote - it is the part which reads 'one of his skies' - and i'll allow you to continue to think you know which one i refer to but you certainly do not have the wit to know which.. nor have the wit to realise this is the cement of the remark which again simply illustrates your lack of any interaction or life knowledge of art.

So now Mor.. you may consider yourself slightly less of an imbecile now you have been allowed to understand the subtle and mighty workings of the Mong.

Shoo now.. run along ... go to a gallery or something..  :)


(i am willing to lay money down that Mor will describe in painful detail just how intimate he is and has been with the great galleries and collections therein - any takers?)
 — Mongrol

all this rhetoric to prove what, the mong does not have a clue who mor is.
and i don’t suppose mor cares one iota who mong is
 — unknown

well you're right unknown - it means very very little if anything at all  - i know that - you know that - i suspect Mor is the only one here that believes it has any merit at all

i'm just having fun with Mor - he is the intransigent last-word type - and i actually enjoy calling him an imbecile - as childish as that sounds :)

and yes again you're right - i dont care one iota who Mor is or indeed thinks he is

 — Mongrol

it appears to me that you are the one on the string, not mor.
he does appear to be right about your poetry, it is pretty awful, and you being so arty and all that.
 — unknown

you're entitled to your opinion of course - but being a Mor fanboy only points you out as a sycophant

you actually read his posts and the horrendous hypocrasies and inaccuracies of them?

be brave my fawning friend and post in your logon
 — Mongrol

And in this comment, nice words.
 — chuckles

See how easy it is to trap the mong. His lack of knowledge is appalling.

He laughs hysterically in his ignorance at the word ultramarine.
The fool on the hill has most probably never used ultramarine has no idea of it composition or the metallic elements it is compounded from.
One of the characteristics of ultramarine pigments is unless sealed from oxidisation will over a period of time change from a bluish grey to develop a green patina a form of verdigris
Take the Mona Lisa; its skies too have a green tinge due the oxidation of the pigments in those extremely expensive colour mediums such as orpiment and ultramarine.

I have a workshop full of rare compounds used in restoration work.

The mong is nothing more than schoolboy rhetoric, spouting college text as though he understood a word of it.

 — Mor

has it never occurred to you mong that mor is the unknown as well? Enjoy your banter with Van Gogh's butler by all means but don't justify yourself to his alter ego.
Fine poem - too many ands though.
 — unknown

Mor you imbecile - stop playing catch up to me

stop searching the internet for information to reference here... why not actually go and learn about the oxidisations of pigments depending on their base components - which the processes of manufacturing paint are extremely different to Leonardo's day as it is to modern pigments in Turners day. Yes oxidisations occur, but comparing the Mona Lisa to a Turner in regards to environmental and temporal effects is plainly ignorant.

Mor ... you're an idiot... it really is that simple

- and no - im not the alter-ego of unknown - :)

 — Mongrol

> I have a workshop full of rare compounds used in restoration work.

There you are - the evidence of Mor's intimate knowledge and relationship - thus claiming mastery of experience - about the very subject being discussed - i knew he could pull something as authoritative as this out of his hat - after all it has to fit a very big head :)

i wonder how Mor does on Bee Keeping, Jam Making, Silk Weaving, Boat Making, Cello Case Making and the finishing polishing processes of marble carving - i wonder

 — Mongrol

In deference to the author of this of this ill-fated exercise, I have moved the subject to the notice board.
The mong may do what he wishes.
My apologies are tendered to the author for the intrusion; it was not my intention to despoil his poetry.

 — Mor

You're such a kind and considerate person Mor. Perhaps you should have considered this at the very beginning instead of flapping your yap on endlessly for no purpose?

 — Mongrol

Amazing imagery and wonderful composition. This poem flows together almost perfectly! L26 - L31 lead up to the end so well that they made me hold my breath. 9 from me.
 — bbucsis

 — wordman

most experienced readers of poetry with know Bolognas comments are subjective and have no relative meaning to anything else.

it is most likely this poem works on sublime levels that Bologna has difficulty reaching.

in the UK black ants are bigger than red ants.
 — Mongrol

Absolute everything.
 — Isabelle5

Let’s take the mong’s advice, and indulge in sublimity

And in these fields, tall blue grass far off
Clouds graze on eastern currents like new kites
to give green milk, as their rudimentary stomach fights.
from having to eat the many dried raisins,(amps) they’d scoff.

 — Mor

As usual, the Mong talks out of his arse,
In the UK the red ant is the biggest ant, in fact the raider ants attacks the colonies of black and yellow ants and carries off its ants to act as slaves for it.
Isn’t the mong a total fool, and midget of intellect?

 — Mor

So the bore Mor returns with ill-informed knowledge to this comments section that he so graciouly apologised to the author for invading with his perpetual and unending complicity of pomposity.

I will conceed that Mor, and Bologna is correct about the red ant - that being the Red Wood Ant - and not your more 'common' garden/field species of which the Black Ant remains the largest of the species - but yes I had not considered the woodland species.

I am glad to see Mor's internet browsing skills havent let him down this time :)

Well done Mor. You have learned something about ants today.

 — Mongrol

> a cotton candy flavored blunt is godliness.

you didnt need to write that to tell me your are a stoner Bologna.

rambling disconnected poorly visualised attempts at discourse do that for you already.

 — Mongrol

“You didn’t need to write that to tell me your are a stoner Bologna”

How wonderful is the gift of intelligent communication.

However, no one has indicated that Mongrol actually has a brain.

 — Mor

"In deference to the author of this of this ill-fated exercise, I have moved the subject to the notice board.
The mong may do what he wishes.
My apologies are tendered to the author for the intrusion; it was not my intention to despoil his poetry.


Perhaps you should re-read some of your own posts Mor - you would at least have some consistancy after all.

As for intelligence, I have yet to observe the slightest inclination that you yourself Mor hold anything mor than loaning wit and profundaty from others in classic and modern literature... as when you do try to be 'original' in your slurring insults it comes across as awkward and banal.

Yet again you fail Mor. An enduring quality from yourself.

 — Mongrol

And PC’s cuckoo clock chimes on regardless.
Chime on mong, chime on
Beware the ants don’t get you.
What on earth would they do with a rusty tin can.?

The answer is obvious; they would call for Rin Tin Tin.

 — Mor

Mor's 'tin' motif attempt at insults... lol... try another one Mor... something a little mor profound perhaps?

lol .. you're a hoot Mor!

 — Mongrol

This poem has had affect on me like no other poem has, ever.

I felt a swelling in my chest. It was amazing.

Thank you.
 — Rixes

Incredible. Quite literally brought tears to my eyes. I wish I could say something more intelligent but all I can think is of the feeling in my chest when I read this. A swelling up.

The kind of writing I aspire to.


 — musicwords

Looks like those Gypsies have been back again, they leave a terrible mess behind.

 — Mor

I can't seem to find the one you said you wrote for me today...
I am missing it.  It's prolly real obvious, but go figure--I'm TERRIBLY tired out today.  (Imagine that)  >>it's homeward bound for me--5pm ^Quittin' Time^
 — aforbing

if you haven't read it you need to read death of a naturalist by seamus heaney. some of this sounds too familiar ( i'm not suggesting anything untoward). This is solid but grazing kite clouds seems too much. If the clouds are grazing then how like kites? Thanks for posting
 — Trish77

Everyone on this site seems to have something against repetition, but I must say it's a bit ironic in itself they keep repeating the same criticism. I love the repetition, and the poem.
 — unknown

dull and far too verbose to be considered a seminal piece of work
 — unknown

Some good imagination but the unknown comment that this is too wordy is spot on. The repetition of 'And in these fields' works well and reminds me of Paolo Cuehlo's work a bit. It definitely has imagery and a message that would be far better delivered if it wasnt show whimsical.
 — Caducus

Thanks for your comments.

Unknown, could you expand on that?

Caducus, thanks for your consideration, but I'm wondering what you mean by the deliverance of the message being too whimsical. Further comment? I'm open to anything, and any suggestions would be really appreciated.
 — Virgil

this is still a great read and a personal favourite of mine on this site
 — Mongrol

Images and emotions evoked are very powerful and somewhat sad.
Beautifully said.
 — tricia

For what it's worth, Mor is an idiot.  If not for his inability to critique like a professional, than for his continuous childlike badgering of this poem that screams a need for attention.

But you, Mong, should never have encourage him.  You're about as bad he is.  It's this sort of bullshit that keeps me at a distance from this website.

I like the imagery of this piece, not so much the diction.  Mor is right in regards to some of the metaphors not making sense.  It's a pretty piece, but stops there -- it lacks the personal element that would make it a favorite.

What amuses me is, Mor's work is strong in tone and content -- quickly divulging intimate details about personal trauma and triumph -- but lacks the poetic frosting that you have with diction.  

That is to say, both of you would be stronger poets if you learned from each others' work.  But you wouldn't see that, hung up as the two of you are on petty rivalry.

Grow up.
 — aurelius

Aurelius, thanks a lot for your comment. I have some questions about some things though. what do you mean about my (my? because your comment's somewhat ambiguous re: if you're referring to me or mong) poetic frosting? Do you have any suggestions to improve the diction (or at least a push in the right direction?)

Also, I'm wondering about which metaphors you're referring to as being nonsensical. I'd be happy to explain anything you're perplexed about. I just didn't respond to any specific criticisms of mor because, despite my reasons for certain things, mor gave me the impression it'd just be wasted breath; so I didn't bother.

Another thing re: personal element. What exactly are you looking for? Because it's meant to be mostly objective (with an semi-occluded voice/persona) so I'm not sure where the personality is supposed to enter in such a piece.

I thank you again; constructive criticism is rarer than it ought to be on this site.
 — Virgil

Well, apparently Mor isn't the only idiot.  I scanned the commentary without looking closely, and thought this was Mong's poem for whatever reason.  Dumb ass.  My apologies, Virgil.

Your diction is evocative.  You don't need a push in the right direction, you're there.  What I consider "frosting", though, is August-colored wildflowers and  current-grazing clouds.  They sound pretty, but they're a tad superfluous.  Sometimes simple is better.

Your metaphors are fine.  It's just a matter of taste.  I don't buy it with the blackberry thorns and the heavens drifting west.  They seem contrived instead of intrinsic to you.  But hell, I don't know you.

Lastly, and in my opinion most importantly, what I'm getting at with the desire for personal versus objective poetry is this: "And in These Fields" is like watching a play with nothing but backdrops.  You've got this gorgeous setting, with all this intricate design indicating its history, but no actors.  No drama.  No pain or enlightenment, except possibly the last line, "relinquished", which to me is narrative selfishness because we've no idea what was there to BE relinquished.

Take a look at Sharon Olds' "After Punishment Was Done with Me" from 'Blood, Tin, Straw'.
Also Pascale Petit's "Self-Portrait with Fire Ants" from 'Zoo Father'.  

I think you'll like them, and you'll get an idea of what I mean.  These two poets combine intimate personal experience with provocative diction.

You're an excellent poet, Virgil.  Much respect.
 — aurelius

I just realized neither of the poems I suggested is at all similar to yours, but fuck it.  They're good.
 — aurelius

And in these fields of mediocrity I vent with the poets of PC, this is maybe, maybe a 5, a 6 at most, and really BORING. “Too many notes.” Please someone write something original for a change.
 — unknown

please log in to your account and comment under your 'name' and stop being a coward for a change.
 — Mongrol


Stop logging into your account and save us all from your worthless speeches. I have no account to logon to, I am The unknown.
 — unknown

lol yeh ok - whatever you say ...
 — Mongrol

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