Life is made of puzzle pieces–
some events, new thoughts about them,
memories of things that happened,
schemes and dreams that never did.
As each die-cut shape flips over,
future gray to brilliant present,
there’s a moment to consider
where to place it in the past.
Sometimes it’s a straight-edged border
or a corner setting limits;
mostly it will join a pile, once
judged by color, image, kind.
Then, with many upward-facing,
understanding, meaning, slowly
forms but gaps remain, demanding
search among bits pushed aside. … could be cut out or combined with the strophe above. It’s two stropies about downward facing pieces and one of upward facing ones.
Often missing pieces turn out
to be, not still face-down, waiting,
but a person met, discarded,
for her color or his shape. …. This is the best part of the poem, and makes good use of the life metaphor
In the end, some puzzle-solvers
know beforehand what their final
panorama will portray: they
saw the box-top, read the Book.
Others will delay that closing
recognition of the picture
they’ve assembled, but it finds them
for no life ends incomplete. …too strong a closing statement, and evidently wrong given childhood deaths and deaths in youth. “For their lives to end complete” or something like that would be less problematic
I think there may be an idea trying to get out here, but this version seems clunky and unsatisfactory. Advice would be appreciated.
It’s a good read, but one or two strophes too many IMO
Life is made of puzzle pieces– I feel like if you're going to start a poem with a universal declarative, it has to be a home run. This one's more like a slow dribbler to short.
some events, new thoughts about them,
memories of things that happened,
schemes and dreams that never did. nice dichotomy, well executed. I was going to accuse "schemes and dreams" of being too cute but actually I think it just works. Maybe because it picks up on a kind of homespun, classical directness of form & philosophy that I associate with that rhetorical tradition.
As each die-cut shape flips over,
future gray to brilliant present,
there’s a moment to consider
where to place it in the past. a pretty forgettable stanza, lots of plain language that mostly fails to elevate its subject. Direct reporting of the speaker's thoughts on the topic. "where to place it in the past" is interesting; I struggle to get much from the rest.
Sometimes it’s a straight-edged border
or a corner setting limits;
mostly it will join a pile, once
judged by color, image, kind. Getting bored now
Then, with many upward-facing,
understanding, meaning, slowly
forms but gaps remain, demanding
search among bits pushed aside. It feels like the speaker is determined to quash any suggestion of imaginative space between signifier and signified. We badly need off the triggering subject, IMO
Often missing pieces turn out
to be, not still face-down, waiting,
but a person met, discarded,
for her color or his shape. Agreed with Busker before reading his comment; was also planning to highlight this figure the moment I got to this stanza. Still plenty of stagey cruft holding it back: first two lines are comparatively uninspired, they do little to challenge my understanding of the images and ideas at hand
In the end, some puzzle-solvers
know beforehand what their final
panorama will portray: they
saw the box-top, read the Book. By now the conceit is well and truly starting to give "I'm tired, boss"
Others will delay that closing
recognition of the picture
they’ve assembled, but it finds them
for no life ends incomplete. Stretching for the universal in an unsatisfying way that seems to have little to do with the preceding philosophical journey
I think there may be an idea trying to get out here, but this version seems clunky and unsatisfactory. Advice would be appreciated.
I think the approach to form here is difficult. It strikes me as a bit of a dated mechanism for delivering truth: the extended metaphor that produces a series of didactic generalizations/appeals to the universal. Not very fashionable these days - I'm inclined to admire the decision on that basis alone. But then, I am also afraid that it is no longer fashionable for good reason. I think for this to succeed we need to either feel "holy shit he's serving straight high-octane truth!!" or else it needs to be made personal, or a little weird, or both.
One easily begins to yawn, really. There is not too much evident movement in the poem; the ethos seems well-established after the first stanza or two, and then we kind of rinse and repeat until the end. At which point there is a bit of a grasping reach for a grand gesture.
Rhythm is satisfying. Sound is fine. Image is lacking. Sense is weak, IMO: what do we ultimately say here? Life is uncertain? Life is what you make of it? I have trouble pinpointing much notably sharp or canny insight. Like, my response to the poem's argument is more or less "sure."
I think the other two commenters effectively covered any issues with the delivery of the message in more detail than I can. I agree with them in that the concept has a lot of potential but becomes dull/abstract at many points. Do some cleaning but keep the sharpest and most specific metaphors. Ask yourself how you can become more personal and specific.
What stood out to me the most is meter - it's done effectively. I can almost hear the metronome ticking behind it. If you edit the piece, I wouldn't lose that. I think it's a major strength of your writing, as it sounds intuitive and not forced.
Life is made of puzzle pieces–
some events, new thoughts about them, Possibly "past" instead of "some", for its balance with "new".
memories of things that happened, I'd like something other than "memories".
schemes and dreams that never did.
As each die-cut shape flips over,
future gray to brilliant present,
there’s a moment to consider
where to place it in the past. Strong lines.
Sometimes it’s a straight-edged border
or a corner setting limits;
mostly it will join a pile, once
judged by color, image, kind. I could go for a paring down like:
The straight-edged border
or corner setting (or "sets") limits;
most join a pile once judged
by color, image, kind.
Then, with many upward-facing, possibly "fragments" instead of "many", something for more interest in sonics and meaning.
understanding, meaning, slowly again, maybe something more novel here.
forms but gaps remain, demanding
search among bits pushed aside.
Often missing pieces turn out
to be, not still face-down, waiting, I'm not sure if this means waiting or not waiting.
but a person met, discarded,
for her color or his shape. Quite the turn here, sharpens the subject to active choices.
In the end, some puzzle-solvers
know beforehand what their final
panorama will portray: they
saw the box-top, read the Book. Strong lines.
Others will delay that closing
recognition of the picture
they’ve assembled, but it finds them
for no life ends incomplete. I'm okay with the idea here but the phrasing of the last line is cliche. I might be okay with just "nonetheless".
I think there may be an idea trying to get out here, but this version seems clunky and unsatisfactory. Advice would be appreciated.
An interesting read. Possibly a little more reach for bits of metaphor within the metaphor might help. It suffers from a bit of a drone (not in meter but in language) instead of the chaotic feel of shaking the puzzle box. Thanks for posting it.
Life is made of puzzle pieces–
some events, new thoughts about them, Possibly "past" instead of "some", for its balance with "new".
memories of things that happened, I'd like something other than "memories".
schemes and dreams that never did.
As each die-cut shape flips over,
future gray to brilliant present,
there’s a moment to consider
where to place it in the past. Strong lines.
Sometimes it’s a straight-edged border
or a corner setting limits;
mostly it will join a pile, once
judged by color, image, kind. I could go for a paring down like:
The straight-edged border
or corner setting (or "sets") limits;
most join a pile once judged
by color, image, kind.
Then, with many upward-facing, possibly "fragments" instead of "many", something for more interest in sonics and meaning.
understanding, meaning, slowly again, maybe something more novel here.
forms but gaps remain, demanding
search among bits pushed aside.
Often missing pieces turn out
to be, not still face-down, waiting, I'm not sure if this means waiting or not waiting.
but a person met, discarded,
for her color or his shape. Quite the turn here, sharpens the subject to active choices.
In the end, some puzzle-solvers
know beforehand what their final
panorama will portray: they
saw the box-top, read the Book. Strong lines.
Others will delay that closing
recognition of the picture
they’ve assembled, but it finds them
for no life ends incomplete. I'm okay with the idea here but the phrasing of the last line is cliche. I might be okay with just "nonetheless".
I think there may be an idea trying to get out here, but this version seems clunky and unsatisfactory. Advice would be appreciated.
An interesting read. Possibly a little more reach for bits of metaphor within the metaphor might help. It suffers from a bit of a drone (not in meter but in language) instead of the chaotic feel of shaking the puzzle box. Thanks for posting it.
Yes the drone is really holding this one back right now. Your comment made me reread again: I noticed almost every stanza follows the same structure. There's lots of enjambment but it doesn't really help break the monotony, as even that effect is used in consistently parallel ways. Shake the box sounds like great advice
Life is made of puzzle pieces–
some events, new thoughts about them, Possibly "past" instead of "some", for its balance with "new".
memories of things that happened, I'd like something other than "memories".
schemes and dreams that never did.
As each die-cut shape flips over,
future gray to brilliant present,
there’s a moment to consider
where to place it in the past. Strong lines.
Sometimes it’s a straight-edged border
or a corner setting limits;
mostly it will join a pile, once
judged by color, image, kind. I could go for a paring down like:
The straight-edged border
or corner setting (or "sets") limits;
most join a pile once judged
by color, image, kind.
Then, with many upward-facing, possibly "fragments" instead of "many", something for more interest in sonics and meaning.
understanding, meaning, slowly again, maybe something more novel here.
forms but gaps remain, demanding
search among bits pushed aside.
Often missing pieces turn out
to be, not still face-down, waiting, I'm not sure if this means waiting or not waiting.
but a person met, discarded,
for her color or his shape. Quite the turn here, sharpens the subject to active choices.
In the end, some puzzle-solvers
know beforehand what their final
panorama will portray: they
saw the box-top, read the Book. Strong lines.
Others will delay that closing
recognition of the picture
they’ve assembled, but it finds them
for no life ends incomplete. I'm okay with the idea here but the phrasing of the last line is cliche. I might be okay with just "nonetheless".
I think there may be an idea trying to get out here, but this version seems clunky and unsatisfactory. Advice would be appreciated.
An interesting read. Possibly a little more reach for bits of metaphor within the metaphor might help. It suffers from a bit of a drone (not in meter but in language) instead of the chaotic feel of shaking the puzzle box. Thanks for posting it.
Yes the drone is really holding this one back right now. Your comment made me reread again: I noticed almost every stanza follows the same structure. There's lots of enjambment but it doesn't really help break the monotony, as even that effect is used in consistently parallel ways. Shake the box sounds like great advice
I have full confidence that the poem can work within whatever form duke chooses to write in. My paring down notes are meant as suggestions to be edited into the form. It is the language and thought path I’d edit if it was mine, the fun challenge of puzzling within form and/or meter and suitable for this poem, imo. We all know poems that soar within guidelines, worth it when it works.
An interesting read. Possibly a little more reach for bits of metaphor within the metaphor might help. It suffers from a bit of a drone (not in meter but in language) instead of the chaotic feel of shaking the puzzle box. Thanks for posting it.
Yes the drone is really holding this one back right now. Your comment made me reread again: I noticed almost every stanza follows the same structure. There's lots of enjambment but it doesn't really help break the monotony, as even that effect is used in consistently parallel ways. Shake the box sounds like great advice
I have full confidence that the poem can work within whatever form duke chooses to write in. My paring down notes are meant as suggestions to be edited into the form. It is the language and thought path I’d edit if it was mine, the fun challenge of puzzling within form and/or meter and suitable for this poem, imo. We all know poems that soar within guidelines, worth it when it works.
I don't mean to suggest we abandon the meter, to be clear - just use it more dynamically
Life is made of puzzle pieces–This line makes me giggle profusely. Puzzle-piece is slang for autistic---controversial slang, bordering on slur, but I as a puzzle-piece myself don't mind. Also I admire the use of trochaic: it's not a form that's used much in English, I think.
some events, new thoughts about them,
memories of things that happened,
schemes and dreams that never did.
As each die-cut shape flips over,
future gray to brilliant present,
there’s a moment to consider
where to place it in the past.
Sometimes it’s a straight-edged border
or a corner setting limits;
mostly it will join a pile, once This line trips me. Because "once" is separated by a comma, it naturally reads to me stressed, regardless of if I adjust my reading to the meter, and I don't think this line justifies such standing out.
judged by color, image, kind.
Then, with many upward-facing,
understanding, meaning, slowly Too many -ings and commas here: the sense too easily gets lost. Maybe
Then with many upward-facing understanding comes, if slowly, specked too much with gaps, demanding search among bits pushed aside.
forms but gaps remain, demanding
search among bits pushed aside.
Often missing pieces turn out
to be, not still face-down, waiting, One of the most famous lines in the English language insists that this begins iambic and, again, I don't see a reason why this line should so stand out. There shouldn't be a comma after "be", either.
but a person met, discarded,
for her color or his shape. Color and shape here suggest race, gender, levels of ability. If the comment is intentional, the poem either doesn't built to it at all---before it's just "events", "thoughts", "memories", "schemes", "dreams"---or it makes "puzzle pieces" especially funny/wrong.
In the end, some puzzle-solvers
know beforehand what their final
panorama will portray: they
saw the box-top, read the Book. The allusion to Holy Scripture here (which Holy Scripture is of course left to the reader to decide, as the piece doesn't lean towards any religion) kinda makes my eyes roll, largely because it sets up too 'clean' an ending I think.
Others will delay that closing
recognition of the picture
they’ve assembled, but it finds them
for no life ends incomplete. At least this final stanza leans back out of religion again, but it feels....wrong. Like the sort of ending you come up with to end a piece, but you know it isn't strictly true. Because if "no life ends incomplete", then tragic losses wouldn't be so tragic, would they? Death would not be something for which we have to continually assert, "Death, where is thy sting?"
I think there may be an idea trying to get out here, but this version seems clunky and unsatisfactory. Advice would be appreciated.
Lives are made of jigsaw pieces–
fresh events, late recollections–
chronicles of things that happened,
schemes and dreams that never did.
As life’s moments fall and scatter,
future gray turns present-colored
flashing opportunities to fathom
where each fits within one’s past.
Rarely, there’s a straight-cut border
or a corner marking limits;
otherwise it joins a slack-pile
judged by color, image, kind–
yet the long-sought part may turn out
not to be a future fortune
but a person once discarded,
for her color or his shape.
In the end some puzzle-pilgrims
know beforehand what their final
panorama will portray:
they saw the box-top, read the Book.
Others will evade a closing
comprehension of the image
they’ve assembled – yet all finish
for no life ends incomplete.
Thanks to all critics - I didn't mean to leave this one out there that long, but there was a slight medical moment. Always a good excuse... And the accumulated critiques are very rewarding.
I've tried to work in as much of the criticism as possible, but stuck with blank verse and the final line - knowing both are disliked by many. I still think the line has its place (maybe not in this poem, though).
Non-practicing atheist
Thanks for posting it.
