Sonnet-14; or, Crush #1

[Leaf]

Update: poem has been placed.

The '14' in the title refers to my age and it's part of a series, although I've only written three in the series so far, lol. I think I workshopped 'Sonnet-2' here, which was about the birth of my younger brother, my earliest memory. This one could be described as a coming-of-age poem


Sonnet-14; or, Crush #1

The bus is late again. I stand and shift
from foot to foot, arthritic and alone
among my cliquey classmates, cast adrift
and old before my time. A teenage crone.
I try to travel elsewhere in my mind,
a place without this puberty-and-pain.
I don't succeed. I'm twinging. I can't find
a way to leave myself. It starts to rain
and suddenly my science teacher's face
appears. I gasp and blush. He smiles. I fight.
I shake my head and, limping, start to pace.
My classmates point and laugh. She isn't right.
But once I'm on the bus, I don't resist
the fantasies. Just one stop in, we've kissed.

[ray miller]

Very good. I like the volta and the final line is very sweet. The rhythm is fine. The rhymes are a bit too pat, too bland for my liking, but that's no big problem.

[Macavity]

You're good at this poetry lark Fliss. Excellent r&r. Sounds so natural, tone just right, uncontrived.

The bus is late again. I stand and shift.................great opening grab to key into the past (those late buses!!!)
from foot to foot, arthritic and alone
among my cliquey classmates, cast adrift..........................school days and cliques! all that rejection/isolation
and old before my time. A teenage crone....................love the age mindset
I try to travel elsewhere in my mind,...........................that refuge
a place without this puberty-and-pain..........................yep, those transition years, loss of child, confusion of adult. Bloody hormones!
I don't succeed. I'm twinging. I can't find...............not understanding that Fliss
a way to leave myself. It starts to rain.....................like the weather inside
and suddenly my science teacher's face........................did he teach biology...
appears. I gasp and blush. He smiles. I fight...................conflict, out of depth, education of life experience
I shake my head and, limping, start to pace.....reminder of physical, great contrast limp/pace
My classmates point and laugh. This isn't right.................again that group, peer review! the moral dilemma
But once I'm on the bus, I don't resist..................................fantasy world allows that, reality, of course, as consequences!
the fantasies. Just one stop in, we've kissed.

As usual, so much to engage. Clever in understated ways.

cheers

Phil

[NotQuiteSure]

Hi Leaf.

I'm rather in agreement with ray (about the 'blandness' of the rhymes), and I think the 'puberty-and-pain' section (lines 5-8) is spelling out what is already abundantly clear from the opening (lines 1-4).
If I might suggest, ignore the narrator for those four lines and just describe the (clearly quite dull and grey) scene, the traffic, the locale, pedestrians hurring by, whatever. Just take a breather from the teenage angst.
Or, alternatively, paint a more vivid picture of the (excellent) 'teenage crone' image/idea (but without any self-pity).

appears. I gasp and blush. He smiles. I fight.
I shake my head and, limping, start to pace.

I don't think this is particualry strong, and why 'start to pace' - apart from for the rhyme?

It's a good beginning, a really nice final line, but a very, very 'soggy middle'.
(The poem takes me to 'Don't Stand So Close to Me' (The Police) and the title to (Garbage (#1 Crush). )


Regards, Not

.

[Leaf]

Thanks, ray, Phil, Not

I'm rushing off to bed now, but all being well I'll be back to respond properly tomorrow.

Phil, excellent reading, as always

Best wishes,
Fliss

[Leaf]

Very good. I like the volta and the final line is very sweet. The rhythm is fine. The rhymes are a bit too pat, too bland for my liking, but that's no big problem.

Thanks, ray; I'm glad you found things to like here

[Leaf]

Your're good at this poetry lark Fliss. Excellent r&r. Sounds so natural, tone just right, uncontrived.

The bus is late again. I stand and shift.................great opening grab to key into the past (those late buses!!!)
from foot to foot, arthritic and alone
among my cliquey classmates, cast adrift..........................school days and cliques! all that rejection/isolation
and old before my time. A teenage crone....................love the age mindset
I try to travel elsewhere in my mind,...........................that refuge
a place without this puberty-and-pain..........................yep, those transition years, loss of child, confusion of adult. Bloody hormones!
I don't succeed. I'm twinging. I can't find...............not understanding that Fliss
a way to leave myself. It starts to rain.....................like the weather inside
and suddenly my science teacher's face........................did he teach biology...
appears. I gasp and blush. He smiles. I fight...................conflict, out of depth, education of life experience
I shake my head and, limping, start to pace.....reminder of physical, great contrast limp/pace
My classmates point and laugh. This isn't right.................again that group, peer review! the moral dilemma
But once I'm on the bus, I don't resist..................................fantasy world allows that, reality, of course, as consequences!
the fantasies. Just one stop in, we've kissed.

As usual, so much to engage. Clever in understated ways.

cheers

Phil

Thanks, Phil; I do like my R&R, lol. I appreciate the time you've taken with the poem. The bus from Winchcombe was always late, unfortunately, making for more time to be among the cliques. Another poet picked up on 'twinging' too and suggested 'twinge-ing'. Do you think that would help? Biology, lol; chemistry, actually! He paid me a lot of attention, and it was some time before I twigged he was just trying to get me to stay for sixth form, for the league tables, not that I excelled in his subject. Oops. I'm glad you find much to engage here

Best wishes,
Fliss

[Leaf]

Hi Leaf.

I'm rather in agreement with ray (about the 'blandness' of the rhymes), and I think the 'puberty-and-pain' section (lines 5-8) is spelling out what is already abundantly clear from the opening (lines 1-4).
If I might suggest, ignore the narrator for those four lines and just describe the (clearly quite dull and grey) scene, the traffic, the locale, pedestrians hurring by, whatever. Just take a breather from the teenage angst.
Or, alternatively, paint a more vivid picture of the (excellent) 'teenage crone' image/idea (but without any self-pity).

appears. I gasp and blush. He smiles. I fight.
I shake my head and, limping, start to pace.

I don't think this is particualry strong, and why 'start to pace' - apart from for the rhyme?

It's a good beginning, a really nice final line, but a very, very 'soggy middle'.
(The poem takes me to 'Don't Stand So Close to Me' (The Police) and the title to (Garbage (#1 Crush). )


Regards, Not

.

Hi Not,

Thanks for your comment; I'll give it some thought. Garbage, spot on

Best wishes,
Fliss

[bjondon]

Hi Fliss,
Really like this.
'twinging' is fine for me, I got the understatement there.
My only puzzle was 'This isn't right' - Is this the clique's reaction?
Or the Narrator? Is the not rightness her embarrassment/confusion? Because of the ambiguity it feels a bit of a forced rhyme.

Best, Jules

[Leaf]

Hi Jules,

Thanks! I'm glad you like this one; thanks for getting 'twinging' there.

'This isn't right' is the thought in my head, before I was taken over by things, lol. Do you think I need to bring that out? 'My classmates laugh. I think, This isn't right', maybe

Best wishes,
Fliss

[bjondon]

Hi Fliss, and apologies for my slow coach reply.
The 'change' for me comes with the word 'fight' which leads to 'pace' - an energised stepping-out-of-character. So actually it would make more sense to me if it was 'She isn't right' - Something about the N is disconcerting the clique (They're pointing and laughing but it's nervous laughter).

Yes the struggle is with embarrassment but it's mixed with pleasure and the sense of being valued. It's this shake up that changes the dynamic within both the group and herself. That's how the poem falls for me and what gives it that extra kick, but perhaps others are reading it differently.

Best, Jules

[Leaf]

Hi Jules,

No problem re. reply, not too slow coach at all!

I like the possibility of nervous laughter, so I've made that change. Thanks for your interpretation; I appreciate your insights into the struggle. It's quite a closed poem, I suppose, insofar as a lot of the action is happening in my head, but I did a lot of living in my head at that age, so it fits with how things used to be

Bw,
Fliss

[Lia]

Hello to you, Leaf. I enjoyed your sonnet. It's unexpected, particularly the ending. A science teacher, a?... mine had a face like a squid. I like the way your poem opens and closes, but I can't help thinking your missing a trick. it's right there in the poem and almost shouting at you. Look...

The bus is late again. I stand and shift
from foot to foot, arthritic and alone
among my cliquey classmates, cast adrift
and old before my time. A teenage crone.
I try to travel elsewhere in my mind,
a place without this puberty-and-pain.
I don't succeed. I'm twinging. I can't find
a way to leave myself. It starts to rain
and suddenly my science teacher's face
appears. I gasp and blush. He smiles. I fight.
I shake my head and, limping, start to pace.
My classmates point and laugh. She isn't right.
But once I'm on the bus, I don't resist
the fantasies. Just one stop in, we've kissed.

The area between these two markers could so easily be the elsewhere. And even the elsewhere of this crush, perhaps. Then the narrator can be brought out of the daydream when 'It starts to rain.' I'll give you a very rushed and grimacy(!) example just to show you what I mean.

I try to travel elsewhere in my mind,
where leaves are already falling in flames
as we sit at the river, side by side.
He leans in close, and he... It starts to rain

This would explain the inner world of that blush and the fantasy of the kiss. It would also break the telling of the poem and give the reader a bit of show. Just thought I'd say what I noticed. See what you think.

Lia

[Leaf]

Post updated; thread can slide. I'm not really here any more due to commitments elsewhere

[Lia]

Sorry Leaf, I've just realised that the poem was posted nearly four weeks ago. I didn't check.

[CalebPerry]

Gee, I was sure that I had commented on this poem. I remember reading it through several times. I think it is very effective insofar as it is very relatable and drew a strong emotional response from me. I have seen you write more lyrically than this -- meaning in language which, sonically, was more pleasing -- but I'm not sure this is a poem which lends itself to gorgeous language. This is hard, gritty stuff -- adolescent pain (yet adult pain too, given that your illness undoubtedly made you grow up faster). A poem like this shouldn't necessarily be pretty.

Since it has been submitted for publication, I'm not going to make any suggestions. I don't actually have any.

Well done.

[Leaf]

Thanks, Caleb

I'm experimenting with less workshopping at the moment; I have a reliable critter in John Isbell and a lot more time to write. I'll email you soon, just to catch up. I hope you're okay.

Best wishes,
Fliss