René Magritte Paints My Portrait

Jessi said:

A beautiful and thought-provoking piece.

karenfrommentor said:

Soo so much to love about this piece as a whole, but these lines in particular grabbed me by the imagination and shook me all about:

“Rubberized hands.
…
A confabulation
….
My heart is a rag doll
in a cage”

Great work Lauren. Thank you for sharing it.
Karen :0)

Snar said:

cliiiiiiiche.

Natalie said:

I love the vivid imagery in this poem – it’s relatable and thought provoking.

Metasnar said:

I find Snar’s use of a period in the above comment strange for several reasons. Since Snar did not see it fit to put his/her blanket criticism into a sentence, the formality of a period seems out of place. By typing a single word, the assumed nature of the comment is that it is being typed in imitation of a spoken catcall. This sense is reinforced by the fact that the word cliche is not capitalized and by the reduplication of the letter i, which is apparently meant to give the reader the impression that this transcribed catcall is being delivered like a punchline on 90′s sitcom. And so, naturally, any punctuation other than an exclamation point seems out of place. Or, to put this criticism in a way that Snar might better understand:

duuuuuuuuuuuuumb.

This poem is fantastic by the way.

Jen Brubacher said:

Your descriptions summon a mental image of all the accoutrements of sickness, with very little stated right out. Great pacing and short sentences keep it rolling to an unavoidable ending. I like it a lot, and it makes me sad.

Joshua Moody said:

Actually, Metasnar (can I call you Metasnar? I feel I must ask, because it smacks so much of archangels that I fear using the name of a divinity), I find Snar’s (can I call him Snar? It smacks so much of homieness that I fear to wield the familiarity of a bro) use of a period quite expressive. It helps me to hear the pitch of his response. Regardez:

c

–the lowercase c, a preliminary mystery asking us whether the poem or the comment itself is meant to be unworthy of the effort of hitting the shift key–

liiiiiii

–listen to the high pitch, the short vowel ironically suspended, creating and maintaining the agony of a musical note needing resolution much like Freddy Mercury’s concert games of “Daaaaaaaaa-dum”–

che

–and so it ends, on the tonic note, a brief and insolent thrust into the soul of all who expect kind or at least thoughtful words from poetry audiences–

.

And at last, the blow, the period that will allow no extension of the final syllable nor of our hopes for elaboration.

It is quite an accomplishment, this.

As for the poem itself, Lauren Carpenter (and I will call you Lauren Carpenter because it rolls happily off the tongue), I really enjoyed it for the following reasons:

1) The images were curious, generally new, and fit well together.

2) The tone of the poem made me feel in the presence of someone sanely digesting and processing the experiences of life.

3) The odd rhyme, here. and there., occurred naturally, presented as they seem to have come to your mind and not shied away from as many poets will from rhymes.

I think you can do better with the last stanza.

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