[stylist] Poem - "In Case of Falling Astronauts"

Wed Mar 19 21:32:22 UTC 2014

Bill and all,

I did enjoy Bill's poem. His style may not be for all, but that's okay.
As readers, were not committed into enjoying every piece of literature.
There's nothing wrong with this, and it's not necessarily a reflection
on the author either.

I'm all for constructive criticism, as I've said and proved, grin. We
all bring a unique perspective based on our education, background, life
experiences, interest, etc. I feel it's important to provide specific
feedback so we can better our craft.

I also feel it's important to share information about specific forms of
writing in order for us to provide the most constructive feedback
possible. I admit poetry wasn't always my thing. I didn't read it, I
wasn't often exposed to it, it rarely made sense to me. Then I studied
poetry, and a light went off in my head. I can't say poetry is my
favorite form of written expression, but I have an appreciation and
fondness for it now. I also have a better understanding of poetry and
the various forms. I've learned that you have to come at poetry from a
different perspective than prose.

This discovery about poetry has also helped me discover a personal style
and voice within my own writing. I've found a lyrical voice to provide
me with the most powerful voice when writing. It's my study in poetry
that has shaped, in part, this style for me.

There are invariably multiple ways in which to study and learn writing,
but my first poetry prof had us do an exercise where we took verbs and
nouns and made a poem by stringing them together. It didn't have to make
sense and the words certainly didn't have to compliment one another. The
point was that poetry is about painting a picture with words and not
necessarily creating sentences and making words connect by standing
alone. This concept of poetry actually helped me to better read it and
therefore better understand it. I'm not saying I get every piece of
poetry I read, but this study has helped me have a clearer idea of the
form.

So I see a lot of comments about certain words together not making sense
or this word or line not connecting to this word or line, and I wonder
if we are taking poems as a whole or trying to understand one word or
one line at a time. Again, it's okay to not get it or even like it, but
I think we do ourselves a disservice to comment when we don't fully
understand poetry or how to critique it.

This doesn't mean we can't have an opinion, but I think it's more
constructive when we have a fuller understanding of what we comment on.
It's sort of like discussing politics when we've only read blurbs of
what's happening in politics.

A little side note: I wasn't a huge nonfiction fan until I studied it
too. In fact, when I first went back to university, I was in the fiction
track. In my course of study, you are required to take at least one
class and one workshop for fiction, poetry and creative nonfiction.
After taking my first class on creative nonfiction, I fell in love with
it and switched tracks. Before this point, I rarely read nonfiction
unless it was about history, and I certainly never considered writing
it. Now I have a BFA in creative writing with my emphasis being creative
nonfiction, grin. Funny how life turns out.

I think high schools need to expose students to more contemporary poets
and nonfiction writers. Most the stuff I read at university, I had never
heard of. Back in high school, we mostly read the classics, which are
great and many I love, but young kids need a better appreciation of
contemporary writers, and I think many would enjoy modern poetry and
nonfiction.

Bridgit

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of William L
Houts
Sent: Wednesday, March 19, 2014 3:52 PM
To: stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] Poem - "In Case of Falling Astronauts"

HI Bridgit,

You've really articulated something here which I didn't feel it my place

to say.  You know how it goes:  you write something, you post it here, 
and you take whatever roses or brickbats which come your way; it's not 
really kosher to bicker with one's critics, LOL.  I'm glad you 
appreciate the poem, to which I gave so much thought and heartsblood.  
Thank you dearly, as I like to say.

--Bill

On 3/19/2014 1:31 PM, Bridgit Pollpeter wrote:
> Bill,
>
> As always, I like your imagery. An interesting look at the universe 
> and human's place in it.
>
> As I've said before, I don't think poetry can always be broken down 
> word by word; in fact, poetry is supposed to be taken apart by images 
> and metaphors, so I think some on the list are trying to analyze 
> without looking at the whole picture. The images here are intended to 
> contrast to paint a vivid picture, I assume, and to deconstruct word 
> by word doesn't give a clear definition of the poem. Poetry like this 
> is not meant to read like prose or look like it. Its driving force is 
> vivid imagery along with unique metaphors. Bill really knows how to 
> apply diction to his work. So we need to stand back and take in the 
> whole picture instead of trying to analyze each word and how each word

> connects to the next. Not everyone will feel something and have a 
> clear response, but I don't think we can try to make sense of it 
> merely by seeking out individual words.
>
> Bridgit
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of William

> L Houts
> Sent: Tuesday, March 18, 2014 4:17 PM
> To: Writer's Division Mailing List
> Subject: [stylist] Poem - "In Case of Falling Astronauts"
>
>
> Hey Peeps,
>
> Here's a longer poem I wrote some time ago.  It's a bit of a warhorse,

> from the days when poetry slams were still the fashion.  I think it 
> still might have legs.
>
>
> --Bill
>
>
> ---
>
>
> In Case of Falling Astronauts, Break Glass
>
> I.
>
> o heavenly desert for a wandering tribe, nazareth to astronauts;
>
> cradle of prophets with mirrored faces, our mystics of absolute zero,
>
> striding through hells of kelvin heat or leaping lead-footed for joy.
>
> we knew no domes of glass nor wise antennaed
>
> mayors would meet our traveling boys, flown so far
>
> from the roiling blue, flung so far into darkness and dust.
>
> but if a desert, still a place of birth, you anvil moon:like silver
>
> minted fresh, we'd shine our lives by the pure silent hammers of sol.
>
> this was our dream, our all-american dream of astronauts
>
> grave and poetic:faces full of infinity, minds on plans
>
> for compassionate cities, angelic hands at work in the vine-
>
> yards of science.the rocket packs and rayguns were toys,
>
> dolls in the hands of scheming boys we never thought they'd keep.
>
> what we were after, as always, was space:another place to go
>
> when nowhere was left
>
> a heavenly desert to a wandering tribe,
>
> second bethlehem to a dream.
>
> II.
>
> I wonder what plagues we gave to the Indians of the Moon,
>
> I struggle to remember which treaties we broke with the LunarSioux,
>
> the precise year of that famous ambush sprung by
>
> the cavalry of the American Third Orbital Marines upon the Lakota
>
> living by the shores of the Sea of Tranquility.
>
> And I forget exactly how many chiefs we lashed to the coils
>
> of fusion drives, or swung from rocket gantries
>
> or tumbled into void with a one two three.
>
> I get all the dates mixed up, but from where I'm standing
>
> I can still smell tipis burning on lunar prairies.
>
> III.
>
> When I still played hopscotch,
>
> when i knew just how to throw the stone
>
> and what these lines are for,
>
> I read about Laika, the dog in space,
>
> How the Russians loved their doggy cosmonaut
>
> (a snapshot from some grade school primer:
>
> white coated men and a scrappy mutt
>
> with a lolling tongue) and how she loved her cozy Sputnik, just enough

> room for her race.
>
> I imagined the husky steering her tiny craft:
>
> Adroit Captain Laika, the dog between worlds,
>
> equal parts Egyptian goddess and loyal pet;
>
> the constellation, drawn in the sky with
>
> stars of chalk, the constellation given life,
>
> the Hunter's Dog unleashed to gambol and howl
>
> fully enfleshed in the backyards of night.
>
> When I still played hopscotch, and knew
>
> the counting rhymes, and how to get through the game
>
> without hitting the lines, I read about Laika:
>
> but not how her husky fur must have burned
>
> in a blaze when her tiny cage returned to earth,
>
> nor a word for her terrified yawp as the Sputnik
>
> crashed through a ceiling of air, splashed down
>
> in the southernmost part of the Indian Sea.
>
> I know she died before I was born, and how.
>
> But I learned it late, and now I call her:
>
> here girl, come on down now and lick my hand;
>
> and brief me on dreams brought low,
>
> dogs in space,these chalk marks
>
> whose use I used to know.
>
>
>
>
>
>
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-- 
"Let's drink a toast now to who we really are."

           --Jane Siberry

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