Feminist poetry. And literature. There seems to be a lot of it out there …. judging by my feed, anyway. (For Christmas gift ideas, look no further than here) …. And it comes across as somehow above criticism – as though the sensitive subject matter places it in a file labelled ‘protected species’.
So when somebody (who chooses to remain nameless) throws one into my inbox I’m not entirely sure how to react (or how not to react).
So I throw it into the air and give it some space without commenting one way or the other ….. allowing others to judge her, but not me.
*
Tiptoeing alone
Prone.
God forsaken
Taken for granted
The world a long dark corridor
Nothing more
The eyes of the monster
Messing with light
Undressing me
Why fight?
Caressing me
With a cold hand
And colder heart
Why start
To understand
This dance
No chance
Of escape
When life itself
Is rape.
*
Richmond Road 
This poem creeps me out, but I agree with what it’s saying! 😮 It’s creepy-good, though!
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Hmmm ….. well …. as I say, I am disinclined to comment – at least beyond suggesting that a description of all of life being rape seems just a bit negative to me.
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Well, just in a symbolic sense, life is forced upon us. Fortunately, not all life is bad, whereas all nonconsensual sexual encounters pretty much are. So there’s that!!
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Fair comment
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Can we ever really judge someone else’s truth? Someone else’s inner landscape? We can choose to dive deeper because it calls to us or decide that someone else’s writing does resonate with us, but that, I think, is different from judging.
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I agree with you, of course, in terms of truth. My only concern is that sometimes art that speaks of personal pain and hardship is somehow protected from artistic criticism. I think that our natural tendency for kindness can sometimes interfere with our judgement.
But I honestly don’t know if, in terms of poetry or art, this piece is good, bad, or somewhere between.
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I know I said I would not pass judgement. But I think the poem is too long – the first bit just an attempt at imagery that really doesn’t say anything.
I think that just …
Why start
To understand
This dance
No chance
Of escape
When life itself
Is rape.
says enough
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Your revision is tight and focused but you are assuming that the other themes the writer touches on- feeling exposed, isolated, under examination- are less valid or important. I have always said that I am a selfish writer- I DON’T write for an audience, I write for myself. Survivors, particularly when they are just starting to process their experiences can find a lot of power and validation from the process of itself. The polish of the final result may be less important that the experience of finding their voice.
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Point taken
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Poetry is so inherently subjective! What is the purpose of artistic criticism unless we are specifically asked to help someone polish a piece of work? Perhaps you were- I don’t believe you stated WHY the writer specifically sent the piece to you. Artistic criticism itself is inherently subjective- one reader may be a stickler for form and tradition while I, on the other hand, place value on rawness and authenticity.
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Oh yes. I am all for rawness.
Friends of mine formed a band about 100 years ago. They were raw and technically rough around the edges. They played in small venues. Eventually they reinvented themselves, polished everything up, and became one of the most popular bands in the country.
I always preferred the earlier stuff.
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I would argue that an hour on social media belies the idea that people have a ‘natural’ tendency for kindness! But I do agree, that when someone asks us for feedback on writing we don’t want to squash them.
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Powerful writing!
Sent from Yahoo Mail for iPad
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I’m not a critic but I thought it was pretty powerful and captured thoughts that I don’t want to think. I may have removed some of the extra words but aside from that the poem succeeded in taking me to a place. Do you know why it was emailed to you?
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Hi Michael,
It was just one poem in a bunch of unrelated material from a friend – I don’t think that I was a target, as such. I get all sorts of bits and pieces arriving here.
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I’m with you, but what is poetry if not an attempt to express the strong feeling of a moment?
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