Garden
I have my gardens recite to me
In many tongues of flowers
In their poppy-seeds
i see sweetness and life without bearing judgement.
For i have learned enough
of my share of my own existence
in the melodious names
of a hundred fragrances
And fruits.
And in their sweetness,
I will buy back something of their Composure
which holds me here for a while
under the scorching skies.
For such bitterness would not chill me
half as much as these mute pleadings
Held with so much promise and wealth.
For that is what i understand:
Ripe fruits and flowers held in their own poetry
Dripping with bolus colours
Set before a thousand canvas
Arrayed in the sun
Exhausted by their own beauty and plight
Copyright 2011 by Kelechi Aguocha
Critique by Tracy Koretsky
For the last two months, this column has considered how and why to add complexity to our poems. This month, with the help of Nigerian poet Kelechi "Kaycee" Aguocha, let's reverse that trend by demonstrating one of the most simple—yet infinitely likeable—revision strategies: "generosity".
Here at Critique Corner we regularly receive poems from all over the world. Although I enjoy reading these, I will confess, I do hesitate to select poems for this series from places truly foreign to me. I cannot write about them in relation to contemporary American poetry, because that is not what they are.
For example, were I to see an American poem with capital letters beginning every line in one, unbroken, stanza, I would suggest those as areas to be questioned in its revision. But such formal conventions are cultural, even, I dare say, fashionable, and I find that I am not sure what is appropriate to recommend.
Another example: if a poem that I believed to be by an American had sloppy spelling, or truly confusing grammar...well, I'd think less of its author. Yet, seeing the same mistakes made by someone very far away, often writing in their second language, I am charmed—and impressed. They're doing way better in my language than I am in theirs. Surely there's more to offering a revision than cleaning up some spelling. It would not make an essay worthy of your attention.
But there was something about Mr. Aguocha's poem that stayed with me. Likely it was those inviting first lines:
I have my gardens recite to me
In many tongues of flowers
It occurred to me that those lines would be evocative to any person anywhere in the world. And that made me think of a revision strategy I have always wanted to share, something I learned in a lecture by Pulitzer Prize–winning poet Carl Dennis. He called it "Generosity".
It's wonderfully simple. Take the first person pronouns—I, me, mine—and turn them into third person pronouns—we, us, ours.
So here's the poem again:
We have our gardens recite to us
In many tongues of flowers
In their poppy-seeds
We see sweetness and life without bearing judgment.
For we have learned enough
of our share of our own existence
in the melodious names
of a hundred fragrances
And fruits.
And in their sweetness,
We will buy back something of their Composure
which holds us here for a while
under the scorching skies.
For such bitterness would not chill us
half as much as these mute pleadings
Held with so much promise and wealth.
For that is what we understand:
Ripe fruits and flowers held in their own poetry
Dripping with bold colours
Set before a thousand canvas
Arrayed in the sun
Exhausted by their own beauty and plight
Now the poem is about me and about you and about humanity and about Kaycee—which is what the poet asked to be called.
Now the garden is a garden, but also our collective gardens, and the EARTH, as a collective garden and each of our personal ones.
As for:
For we have learned enough
of our share of our own existence
in the melodious names
of a hundred fragrances
And fruits.
What a lovely sentence. It's a much bigger poem, and I simply find it makes me happier to read it.
Part of what makes me happy is that this poem sings. The sudden change of rhythm in the phrase "For such bitterness" is a sort of key change, perhaps with "would not chill us" to a minor key. With the change of pronouns, it becomes a beautiful song about "us".
If the poet were to make those changes, I'd suggest removing the first two words.
The poem is already generous. One way that poems communicate is to share our common humanity—for example, our common celebration of the natural beauty around us.
Everyone has a poem in his or her file that will fly with just a touch of generosity. Find it, revise it, and share it with the world.
Where could a poem like "Garden" be submitted? The following contests may be of interest:
Founders Award
Postmark Deadline: October 31
Georgia Poetry Society offers top prize of $75 for poems on any topic, up to 80 lines; no simultaneous submissions
Soul-Making Literary Competition
Postmark Deadline: November 30
Prizes up to $100 for poetry, stories, prose poems, personal essays, humor, and literature for young adults, sponsored by a chapter of the National Association of Literary Pen Women; contest looks for original, freshly creative and finely crafted work that embraces all creative interpretations of English poet John Keats' statement: "Some say the world is a vale of tears,/I say it is a place of soul-making"
This poem and critique appeared in the October 2011 issue of Winning Writers Newsletter (subscribe free).
Categories: Poetry Critiques
