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This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-07-01 15:20:56
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.88372
Timothy: This poem gets right down to the important stuff in life. Your form is flawless. The message is what blows me away. You get to it immediately. Beginning with your title, you pull the reader in, inexorably, to face what is often ignored to denied or repressed. The ugliness of human behavior towards our fellow beings. It is a vision from the standpoint of someone who has nothing left to lose. And yet, with a small act, we could, with little effort, extend a bit of dignity and kindness to him and others in like situations. Easily, with reversals in fortunes, or unexpected illness any of us could trade places with this man. We keep that thought back in our minds, as it is, IMO, the reason we avoid contact. Perhaps we know how close we may be to living as he does. Perhaps there is even a sense of contagion in the recognition of this fellow being’s estate. That’s why I think that this poem does important work. If only a few are moved to look with different eyes, with an expression that does not give the impression that we have ‘stepped in dog shit’ much good can be accomplished. Simply from the writing and the reading of your words. Compassion is the one thing that costs nothing and means everything. You don’t know my name, but you know where to find me. I could tell you why I sit upon the street, a shadow of the life I left behind me, An example of the well-written poem above. Metered, rhymed, the pace exactly right. Formatting such that each line is easily read with one breath. Dialogue words authentic. The question posed to the reader – would you, reader, wish to know the name of this man? Would you listen to a fragment of his story? It is in the telling and the listening to one another’s stories that healing is to be found, IMO. You allow us to pause here and consider. So small a moment to spare. “I am ever so slightly broken.” So poignant and evocatively stated! Understatement makes this all the more powerful. But you’ll never know if I’ll mend, as we have never spoken. It'll be hard for readers to walk along as oblivious as before. Not that we are hard-hearted, but we surround ourselves with a bubble, semi-transparent, placed there for protection. Maybe not much gets in or out, but it is our bubble. You show us that it might be better to let the bubble drift away, and look at what is before us. Perhaps another being, feeling as keenly as we feel about our needs, but none of his are met. On days with the strength to only mutter Got any spare change, brother? I speak to the wingtips, the pumps and the loafers. on and on you march so close to the gutter. The specificity of the three kinds of shoes gives this stanza an extra punch. Which of those shoes do we wear? Or are they running shoes, with which we can more quickly outpace our fallen brother? I defy anyone to read this and not be moved. regardless of the shoes worn this day or others. I am your father, I am your son, Care for me for I am you. Love me for I am. You completely pull out all of the stops in these last lines, by showing us the identity of the man. You ask nothing, but everything. All that is truly important, is here in those last four lines. We needed the preparation of the entire poem to arrive, at last, at where we need to be, always. Magnificently done. Bravo!! Kudos for a heart-filled work of significance, once more. Great stuff! All my best, Joanne

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