Some months ago, I wrote a poem that I put on this blog site. The poem was titled "Independence Day: A Requiem", and the truth is, I'm the least read poet on JoeUser, so I really don't know how it was. I've come to the conclusion that the consensus is my poetry sucks, so I don't even give it any effort anymore.
Anyway, I liked the piece, and that's what mattered. So I posted it to an online poetry site, both to reinforce the copyright and on the off, off chance that someone might find it substantial enough to actually pay me one of the prizes they offer (I can dream, can't I?).
Fast forward to this past week. I received the email that I knew from a few submissions to Poetry.com (I didn't submit it there because it exceeded their word length) would be forthcoming. The email that gushes about the quality of my work and offers to publish it in a poetry anthology.
Now, the truth is, I will probably purchase the anthology. I am proud of this piece even if noone else is, and I'd like to have a print copy of it. And if it sucks, well, it's just one more poem in an extensive buck full of poems, so it's not likely to be noticed. But it does raise an issue for me.
These poetry places are great for what they do, but I have to wonder if by praising every piece of poetry they aren't given false hope. Like the countless HORRID singers on American Idol who've been told all their lives how great they are only to embarass themselves badly on national TV, I have to wonder how many aspiring poets have been similarly embarassed by sites like these. They are great for giving an avenue for poets to express themselves, but it would be nice if they had a way to vette the garbage, to dump the truly banal, even if it's my work that ends up in the trash. The truth is, an honest critique will propel someone to improve their work if it means something to them, or to pursue other avenues if it does not.
I've shamefully copied/pasted the poen below just so that it gets one more once over. You don't need to tell me if it's not your style, but I WOULD like some input if you consider it to be truly, wretchedly terrible (Note: Not if you consider ME truly, wretchedly terrible; evaluate the poem on its OWN merits, please. Also, try to judge it on its merits, not on political agreements/disagreements). I'd rather hear it here than publish it only to hear someone else bash it:
She holds a cross in her left hand and a Bible in her right
And remembers the day that he went off to fight.
It was ten years ago to this very day
The air was still and silent and the sky was leaden gray.
She looked so proud, he looked his very best
So many handsome medals pinned upon his chest.
He said he's make her proud, then he turned and walked away
Left her standing with the bible that she holds in her hands today.
She watched the TV daily for the news of the fight
As they showed smoke trails by day and rocket flares by night
And the news stories crawled in their unfeeling way
Counting off the soldiers that had died upon that day.
And she watched the planes as they landed one by one
Knowing that each flag draped coffin was another mother's son
And she cried silent prayers as she knelt down to pray
Praying God would keep her own son safe through every day.
It was on some unknown battlefield where her son finally fell
She can't pronounce the name but she remembers it all too well
When the phone rang, she cringed, knowing what they'd have to say
And on that day she put her bible and rosary away.
Now the rosary's back in her left hand and the Bible in her right
As they send other mothers' sons away to fight another fight
She cries knowing too well the price they'll have to pay
And understands the meaning of Independence Day.