FanStory wrote to viking: Angry spirit finished third in the contest "An Encounter with the Supernatural " |
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FanStory wrote to viking: My father in Heaven finished third in the contest "Today is Your Day, Dad" |
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viking: I have always loved writing poems to express what I feel in my heart and soul |
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To say that our American world is shaped by money is to speak a commonplace. However, the extent to which this shaping influences the values of our world is often not carefully examined. About forty years ago, a friend suggested to me that I enter a poem contest advertised in a magazine she read. And I did, picking a favorite poem I had written about love a few years earlier. Then, like all writers with a piece under consideration, I waited and waited. My first notice from the contest's admins informed me that I had won "honorary mention" - at least! I might still win (which bestowed a cash prize), since the winning three poems, third, second, and first, had not yet been chosen. Again I waited. Finally, an answer came: I hadn't won, but as an honorary mention, I was to be published in a hard-covered book entitled "Great Poems of the Western World." Well, that grandiose title should have warned me, but the only way I could see what other poets had submitted, and read the poems that had won, was to buy this wonderful tome. So I did, for about $50 in around the mid-eighties. Again, I waited. I received mailings that informed me that I could add things like photos, dedications, and inscriptions to my poem-to-be published for sums of between $10 and $30. I didn't bite; I waited for the book. After about a year (and a handful of ads to for ways to buy enhancements to my presence in the book) I receivedthe volume. Ponderous! With a fairly hard red cover! Entitled in gold letters on its spine and cover! Well. It took me half an hour to find my poem. Why? Because there were fifteen-thousand-plus poets on the thousand plus sheets of this book. It turns out that virtually everyone who entered got honorary mention, and was thereby not only exalted as the author of a great poem, but was published! And, was thereby encouraged to buy this book, and perhaps dedicate the poem to a friend, family member, or pet - which in fact many did. How does the expression go? Kaching- kaching? I'd like to be civil in my language, but I can't. Most of this poetry stunk on ice, at best. This is what capitalism does: it makes the ordinary or even the incompetent seem marvelous and worthy when money is the outcome. After the internet became the everything, I discovered that there were sites where you could submit poems, with the potential to be read by.... millions? Billions? Hah. No - because these sites were clogged with thousands of poems daily, poems like "I sure love you Billy/Even if it's silly." These fat-as-a- cosmic-pig websites made their money by being advertising space, and they mainly advertised not to readers, but to would-be poets inchoate. So. Our culture, having brought forth Emily Dickinson, Walt Whitman, Edna St. Vincent Milay, and hundreds of other great poets, has become for poetry, as for every other art, skill, or capability, a celebration of whatever, anthing, ME can provide. And, AREN'T I WONDERFUL!!! Poetry is a great art. I would never discourage anyone from entering the waters of creative writing, but I would suggest to them that reading, study, reflection, and practice are central to the mastery of an art, to achieving excellence or exceptionality within an art. I think niceness is a virtue. And I think it is reasonable to expect civility from people who review things that represent an individual's work. And I don't think that "exceptional" means likely to be selected for Norton's Anthology of Twenty-first Century American Poetry. However, I also think that being nice doesn't mean "I sure love you Billy" is even good, not to mention excellent or exceptional. I know I risk charges of arrogance and unworthiness by some of my reviews. I uphold standards because they must be upheld, or we sink into a great clot of mediocrity (and worse). Sincerely, Frank Malley - | ||
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