Afraid

Excellent, Tom! Those last two lines say it all....

Yes Tom, an excellent conclusion to this really wonderful poem. Though strongly entwined, each stanza is like a rocket of its own streaming high and arcing overhead. each one ends with a powerful punch. Bravo.

Tom I like this easy flow of words , going from a dramatic, galactic view to a philosophical reflection. Aiming high and reaching the stars!
Just one place where I need your help to understand something..

" Distance the flawed

So easily identified

Shrink"

Are we looking at Time as a healer, here? Or is it something else?

I´ll be honest, Tom, I just didn´t ´get´this poem on a feeling level, though I too liked its flow of incendiary metaphor very much in the first half of the piece, and having read the tag realize that it has to do with self-criticism, gleaned that it had to do with one´s braving the hurdle of fear to enact a literary performance, take criticism (sometimes pejorative) and put this feedback for one´s work into perpective. What I didn´t understand was the arc of the poem: Is it critical of those who simply say like a meaningless bromide,´great work¨to every piece of writing proffered, as a safe way of commenting so one will comment in return, quid pro quo, whilst extolling those who genuinely reach out and help one improve one´s writing?

I sort of intuit this, but it could also be entirely an intrapsychic exercise, where the creative part of you is at odds with the inner critic. I do feel this particular poem, since it is intending to approximate a sequence of emotional states based on one´s goals and one´s criticism of one´s achievement of goals, could use a little bit clearer language in a couple of spots.

But then again, maybe I´m just being incredibly dense on this Wednesday morning.

And maybe it´s that you want this poem to yield many alternative meanings since on one level it speaks for the fearful self that yearns for fulfillment and yet shrinks back, precisely because of the gap between being and doing.

Having read your tag and the other comments, I'm getting the idea that this poem addresses how one can or should give, and take, artistic criticism. The fireworks represent the poems or writings thrown up by all of us, from every which way, and the question then becomes how to respond to them? Do we simply 'ooh' and 'ahh,' or do we try to look at strengths and weaknesses. Are you suggesting in the last lines that if we can distinguish between ourselves and our work, we won't take such criticism personally?

I like where this piece is going, Tom. I suspect you might be able to clarify this if you let your 'crowd under the fireworks' metaphor play out a little more; you cut it after the first stanza and move into more abstract reflections.

Thanks to all who have shared their reactions and comments. Seems like a unanimous mandate - try harder to make sense! :-)

Cheryl and Atticus, yes, the last lines were a key part of the motivation to write this piece. I'm glad you both recognized the value I have for this sentiment, even if my emotional configuration means it's only intellectual value.

Minnie - The entire second stanza is actually an observation my own behavior.

John - Thank you for the criticism and questions. I'll have to remember the "I intentionally wanted the poem to yield many alternative meanings." :-) I think I could lean on that one relentlessly. This spawned in an ongoing introspection of my issues with self-criticism, which lead to a severely skewed attitude of exception-based perception, to the unwanted and unhealthy point of discrediting supportive comments as mere "courtesy." Ironically, I give freely to friends and family, with no concern for their "product," only for themselves - the unconditional acceptance I can't allow myself. John, I am always eager for your suggestions and tutelage. Please be free with any thoughts you have - At this early stage in my writing, you are my primary trellis.

Ed - Thank you for the specific comments. I had actually thought about numbering these to set them apart, even though they have a central theme for me (see my comment above to John) but don't know anything about what makes that appropriate technically, so I just bagged the idea. In reading your comments and rereading my own work, I can see how the second stanza could rewritten with a better view toward some things I thought were implied, but in retrospect probably aren't. As with John, I value any suggestions or comments, and consider your writing part of my self-study (even when I don't get it).

James - you slipped. Thank you so much for reading and bringing your reaction and insights to my attention. You see some splendid things I didn't intend. :-)

My point withg the first part was probably equally abstract - I was contrasting the crowd, taking the glitz with them as the point, while for me, it's all about the negatives, the smoke and residue that eventually overwhelms the sky. I think when I write about myself, I get too abstract, and so it's really good for me to hear these comments. Devising the appropriate vehicle to convey my thoughts with more clarity might be my biggest task right now.

The metaphor and descriptive scene could fit a whole list a characters from the soldiers in battle to the person watching the carnage of war on his TV. The second stanza is a disturbing look at the psychological cost of a war again from two perspectives. One being the soldier not knowing what carnage he has wrought with his long range weaponry and you seeme to suggest this could cause him/her to feel cowardly, but the real cowards are those not in the fighting who glory in such bloodshed knowing this will never disrupt their own personal life: a callous attitude. The last stanza seems to question the reason for war and for false patriotism. Your last two lines sum this up beautifully.
(I purposefully did not read the other comments because I found this poem rather difficult to interpret. I may be somewhere in left field, but I just wanted to give my opinion unmodified and without influence).

It's definitely too early for me to engage this fully, Tom, but for my reading it would break more easily so:

BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!


Rockets launched in sync
Tracking private zenith's
Panorama of heaven's whole

Each share an equally coveted canvas
Intransigent goal worthy of my
Guns

Fire and powder
Throw nets of glittering color
As the volunteer catch
Flash freezes its latest thrill

Now the show must end
For darkness may only hide
So much smoke and ash


Distance the flawed
So easily identified
Shrink
Like a coward
Amid those mocking
Surety of subjectivity
Disrespecting "courtesy"
Safely aligned
Smart decisions avoid
The risk of being


Compassion glows
Touching a heart at once
Catalyzing love and kindness

Soul's soothing broth
Given freely in the throes
Of emptiness for lack of
The recipe

Which could be this:
What you are and what you do
Are not the same


That central part (S3 originally) is making pretty heavy demands. It's like a collage of phrases -- cut off? Illustrating how fear breaks in? How the gut wrenches? I need more help, with spacing or punctuation, to be sure I'm following there.

4th of July
show is over
rejection
dejection
introspection
reflection

Then revision
New vision
True fision
Boom

wow - last two lines - very strong. Salud.

Tom,

Readers care about your work...all these in-depth comments!
You have told me how you feel in this poem and I understand.
(Been there.) I find the last two lines circle around each other
and worry me somewhere on a personal level. Good you could
do that!

I thought about the colors in the air and
Blew my finger off
My friend Chuck laughed

Nathan

William - Thank you for your unaffected reaction to my work - it really is the most helpful. I won't repost all I said earlier, but simply point you to my earlier remarks to John and James. Having said this, I know realize how inaccessible this was due to my own failing in terms of clarity. Thanks for struggling through it.

John Beck - Thank you, too, for wrestling with this mess, and for your suggestions re: breaks. As I mentioned to Ed, I had thought about numbering these stanzas to separate them, but in the end did not. Your reaction to S3 was also more evidence on a massing pile that I needed to rewrite with more of an eye toward making sense. Thank you, again, for your willingness to spend time offering your thoughts for improving my work. This is perhaps the most substantive reason to interact on Gather.

Jan - you mistress of the penetrating word. You have managed again to convey my thoughts in 1/20th the words. Thank you, dear friend, for your reactions - they are as true as they are beautiful.

Mariana - Thank you for reading and for your compliments. I'm not sure my entire meaning is conveyed there, but I do appreciate the aphoristic quality that makes it a little more dramatic. If only life could be boiled down to some rules.

Amy - I'm happier to have you read without comment, than not read at all. When you do, you always offer value and focused engagement, even when dealing with the unintelligible. You have touched on many of the key issues in this work, criticism and compassion, and how those are or are not available for others or for self. In this case, it's two one way streets, compassion out, criticism in. Unbalanced to say the least. Thank you, Amy for the engagement, the time taken to react and share honestly. This is the compassion and kindness that I recognize and value so much.

Barbary - You are too kind. The warmth I feel from your connection in this comment is deep. You are such a talented writer, I admire you in many ways, but your humanity, and your sense of others comes across clearly in your writing and in this connection. You worry re: the last two lines was justified - I'm not 100% sure I believe it myself. Thank you for the gentle prod to reexamine that message, and also for the your wonderful words.

Nathan - LOL. There are some deep implications here regarding compassion and criticism, but I'm not totally certain you aren't describing a "Schedule I" celebration. Thanks for joining in, and feel free to elaborate. :-)

Rose - yes, that is the crux of the issue for me, and for many writers, I fear. As are you, my edges are softening and occasionally a compliment worms its way into my brain, unmolested. Those are the brightest of days, when I realize the truth and integrity in the thing, that it is genuine, and this makes the blood run to my head, and I sit up straighter for a few moments, and smile at nobody, or the empty room, or whoever walks in. As Martha would say, "It's a good day!"

Thank you so much for your kind words, Rose, made more precious in that they came from the fingertips of such a wonderful storyteller as yourself.