FROM QUEST2EXPRESS
The main purpose of it is to show the bird mocking my belief in my own gifts, such as they are. Also, is there anything positive that you have to say about it? Thank you.
I sat in my yard
and looked in the eye
a smug Mockingbird
just dropped from the sky
It spread it's wings
both wide and proud
then asked my name
I swear, out loud
I began to reply
to avoid seeming obtuse
But could not to this bird
myself introduce
What good is there
in a name, said I
what good indeed
the bird replied
If a bus called a plane
could it suddenly fly
Just what is your point
it's expression wry
That it matters not
what or if I'm called
when all I can manage
is to repeatedly fall
Each day I risk
as I take to the air
a mistake that is fatal
but I do not despair
For given wings
I am surely meant to fly
With your obvious gifts
why do you ask why
I looked at the bird
with enmity and scorn
and once again wished
I had never been born
There is but one reason
and make no mistake
you sit here this moment
seemingly without a break
You look not within
for the answer you seek
it opened as if laughing
it's most noble beak
I only wish that
my mind was brilliant
My friend be content
that it is...resilient
COMMENT
All good poetry says a lot in a few words. What makes that possible is a very clear purpose. Any purpose to this poem is, at best, vague. You say the purpose "is to show the bird mocking my belief in my own gifts, such as they are." I think you need to crystallize that a bit more. Who or what does the mocking bird represent? What do you mean by "belief in your own gifts" and what good does it do to show the bird that belief? Is the mocking bird your own internal monologue - you saying negative things to yourself? Is it friends and family or society as a whole? I don't see where you showed the bird belief in anything myself. From the little I understand, it reads like the bird is pretty stupid. To tell you the truth, it reads like you had no real purpose in mind, but just the goal of making words "fit" and "sound good" with little regard for meaning.
This poem demands punctuation, quotation marks in particular. Get "Elements of Style" and read up on it.
RESPONSE
Thank you for your appraisal John Oberon. I have "Elements of Style". I read it again after having to read it and refer to in in both High School and College. Personally I don't think much of it or Strunk and White's rules. I think you are missing the point. The "art" side of poetry, for me, means that everyone may see and interpret the same words differently. That we all bring a piece of ourselves into each poem we read and take away something unique from the reading.
I do thank you for your time reading and responding to my post. I can see that this is not a place for the expression of my writing as most people want to be "Siskel and Ebert", and too few want to be "Woody Allen" supporting an aspiring artist.
I confess that I don't know all of the technicalities, but I do love my poem! I feel sorry for anyone so miserable with themselves that they cannot pass on a few words of encouragement. All I did was take the time to create something I enjoyed and shared it with others to enjoy.
CRITIQUE
Different interpretations are fine, but there has to be some kind of meaning to interpret. If the reader can't make some kind of sense out of your writing, then interpretation never enters equation. Even you can't tell me what your poem means or to what purpose you wrote it. People can interpret nonsense only as nonsense. What other option is there?
If you were trying to write words that don't make much sense and work to no purpose, but occasionally sound kind of good, then I think you succeeded admirably, and I applaud your effort. Was that Woody Allen enough for you? Actually, I think it's more like most people probably want to be honest about your writing kind of stinking, and too few want to be dishonest enough to disregard the smell.
But alrighty...let’s enjoy this poem verse by verse. I'll just look at content and disregard poor grammar and wording.
I sat in my yard
and looked in the eye
a smug Mockingbird
just dropped from the sky
The Mockingbird did not glide or land, but dropped from the sky and splatted onto the ground in front of the narrator. Whether from a wound or drunkenness or ineptitude, we do not know. At any rate, he shakes the stars from his head, and is embarrassed to find the narrator witnessed his crash. Instantly, he assumes an air of smugness, as if he meant to crash. The narrator looked the bird in the eye, which typically means the bird’s eyes were at the level of the narrator’s eyes. Thus, we know either the narrator is sitting in a hole in his yard, or this is one darn big mocking bird. I’ll assume it’s a normal size mocking bird.
It spread it's wings
both wide and proud
then asked my name
I swear, out loud
The bird’s still trying to shake off the effects of the crash and appear as if he knows what he’s about, and asks the narrator’s name.
I began to reply
to avoid seeming obtuse
But could not to this bird
myself introduce
The narrator starts to answer because he doesn’t want to appear stupid. Actually, I think most people would feel stupid seriously trying to converse with a bird. He is not rendered speechless before a talking bird - he’s probably seen parrots and other birds talk, but for some reason the narrator does not wish to divulge his name.
What good is there
in a name, said I
what good indeed
the bird replied
Perhaps the narrator is testing the bird by asking him a question to see if this bird really is talking or just mimicking human speech. The bird takes the question as rhetorical and agrees with the premise.
If a bus called a plane
could it suddenly fly
Just what is your point
it's expression wry
The bird quips a curious little analogy. I suppose a bus could call a plane if it had a phone, the plane’s phone number, and the ability to speak. Depending on the antecedent of “it”, the plane could suddenly fly if it had a pilot, or the bus could suddenly fly if the plane came to the bus when it called, and the bus boarded the plane and the plane departed. I don’t know to which the “it” refers. The bird asks the narrator what his point is with a cynical expression, but really I think that’s a question more suited for the narrator to ask the bird.
That it matters not
what or if I'm called
when all I can manage
is to repeatedly fall
The bird "explains" his bus/plane analogy: It makes no difference that people call him a bird, and even might expect him to fly...he can’t fly. All he can do is plummet again and again.
Each day I risk
as I take to the air
a mistake that is fatal
but I do not despair
Apparently, this bird climbs trees, or maybe rides elevators to the top floor of buildings and jumps out a window in an effort to fly, knowing full well he can’t. He repeats this mistake over and over. He kills himself with each attempt, but never gives up. Now that’s what I call optimism! I guess the narrator witnessed the end of one of these attempts in the first verse. No resurrection is mentioned, so I assume this is a zombie mocking bird?
For given wings
I am surely meant to fly
With your obvious gifts
why do you ask why
The zombie bird reasons that since he has wings, he must be able to fly, even though he has killed himself many times trying. No clue as to what gifts the bird refers. I do not see anywhere where anyone asked “why” about anything, so no clue there either.
I looked at the bird
with enmity and scorn
and once again wished
I had never been born
Apparently, the narrator has a low tolerance for nonsense, and this is not the first time he’s had this kind of reaction to it.
There is but one reason
and make no mistake
you sit here this moment
seemingly without a break
The zombie bird says there’s only one reason the narrator sits like a lazy bum in this hole in his yard.
You look not within
for the answer you seek
it opened as if laughing
it's most noble beak
Apparently, the narrator is looking for an answer to a question. No clue what the question is, but the zombie bird assures the narrator that he’s sitting in the hole because he’s not looking within something for the answer to his question. No clue what the something is...could be himself, or a book, or maybe even the hole. Who knows? The zombie bird then opens his noble beak as if to laugh, but doesn’t laugh. Zombie birds that can’t fly don’t have much to laugh about, I guess.
I only wish that
my mind was brilliant
My friend be content
that it is...resilient
The zombie bird wishes he were smart, an understandable wish given the flood of stupidity flowing from his noble beak. The narrator consoles the zombie bird by pointing out a strength: while his mind is not brilliant, after multiple suicides, it is indeed resilient.
Though this poem makes no real sense, it is kind of funny, I guess.