New York Pitch Conference Reviews, Algonkian Writer Conferences, and Poetry Forums

Workshop lights illumine his office, heat from the pot belly permeates the oak planked walls. Egbert rattles the stove door feeding anthracite nuts. He hums a song of a life lost, his homesickness palpable in his fado. John is looking edgy, the CNC powers through the cycles, he worries about interse...

Wow, I had almost given up. I loved this poem
from the start, but had forgotten it had gone through.

The Two Windows of my Room A shock of hibiscus buds swayed [I don't know what you mean by a shock.] outside the rectangular window leaning on the inner side of the compound wall. I prefer present tense for the opening: Hibiscus buds sway outside my window lean into the compound wall. Below land lil...

Suggest for a title: Men go Down to the Sea in Boats 'These can Happen' is bad gramamr, 'This can Happen' or 'These Events Could Happen' The boat sails [does the boat sail with sails or chug with an engine?] the trawlers whistle [does the wind whistle through the sails, does it whip the sea into foa...

Well, the poem is completly different, maybe similar theme. Bernie is an expert at critique, so we had better listen when he speaks. The art of critique has to be developed by practice, one-liners are not critiques in my opinion. There should be 3 to 1 ratio of giving reviews and posting a poem rare...

creases of his palms. He scraped by [I have the same problem as Billy in reading this 2nd stanza. you need a comjunction to show contrast put a 'but' in there. selling matches--opium in grimy pockets to try [do you need 'grimy'? we get the gist] and keep warm. Exhausted, a failure, depression weighe...

Monacans not Morocans

I agree with Bob, you are on a liturgical roll long may it last, publish them and enjoy the freedom of expression. Rain cleans the casino windows [maybe: washes the sea salt from the . . . ] bright as a yellow tiger. The night [would yellow stiped tiger work?] quiet as a purse thief. [could you use,...

Blasphemous.

If it was against Muslims they would send you a fatma by mail,

their daggers later.

Why to those in the West trample holiness in the dirt like swine.

If you want to write a sexual poem, why bring the Lord into it.

Suggestions for you to think about in rearranging this is a practical down to earth poem, poems like this I love. I love to roll in the wood shaving, immerse my myself in the smell of pinewood forests and resin seeping from the bark. I love the machines that cut and plane, that sliced shaving from t...

Not a bad poem, needs pruning maybe. Tight, grouped around a stove Legs akimbo, sprawled, resting on a carpeted table sipping genever, sugar stirred in with a silver spoon. The pot-belly emitts a splutter, a flame wanders out of a crevice, a crack in the iron flutters like an angel's wing. Maastenbr...

Schooling and shoaling is a kind of collective animal behaviour
by fish. Any group of fish that stay together for social reasons
is said to be shoaling, and if the shoal is swimming
in the same direction together, it is schooling.

Nice poem.

Hi Bernie, I am posting poems, but I am in retreat, working hard writing theology and stuff. I am limited to one poem a month at the moment, thank you for noticing. I am enjoying your work, and the rest of the gang, I do believe this is turning into a proper forum of prodigious proportions. regards

Let me look at Bernie's very fine poem, is he trying to catch the mood of Sarah's poem, maybe. Yes, a dramatic opening, very good, something we are familiar with in the West, not that India doesn't have banisters. B. introduces the dance hall here in S1., and sweetens it in S3. I love the voice soun...

The last stanza
a vast improvement
to the original.

Thanks Bob
trouble is its so long,
I guess some stories can't be short.

A large audience for street theatre. The lead actor in a coat of many colours. He weaves a story in Tamil, I can't quite follow his thread. My family intolerent of my whim glare, I stop watching, move further on from the flourecent lights, into the dark. I ponder on such delights. My driver says it'...

Ah Bernie, you live and breathe poetry, every trembling breath of you, it's life and death to you, on your dying bed you will whisper and the nurse will put her ear to your mouth and you will utter the greatest line the world has ever known. I know these things. Your back in form, thet shattered leg...

Thanks Bob,
Good point,
but a tall order for me, I will try.

“ . . . I think the world will come to an end amid the general applause from all the wits who believe that it is a joke.” Søren Kierkegaard It rotates somnolently in its four hour cycle, a mile long, black and dusty, weighing in at seventy thousand million tons, it leaves a trail of ice particles b...

Michael,
would it be possible to indicate what poems have gone through to the IBPC each month?

I like this Bob. you've had some good crits. Monarch Butterflies (cut butterfly, too much of a clue?) Each year love sometimes seems as remote as any oyamel forest. [maybe: as far off as the sacred firs] Much like these legendary lovers, [are they legendary, another word perhaps, pollinating lovers]...

A prolific time for you these past two months, glad you got the bug to write again. So good to see you well and happy, writing is your game. L3 vicissitudes (a change of circumstances or fortune typically one that is unpleasant or unwelcome) As you are using a name I feel bridge should be in capital...

Well done Bernie,
back on track.

I like the new version Bob, Bernie has drawn more colour from the frame. Maybe the title could shorten to: Cafe du Tambourin. Sitting with my coffee I fell in love with Agostina, the owner. I traded sketches of flowers for meals, Maybe: Sitting with my demitasse I fell for Agostina's rich aroma as s...