Apparently, the English decided (erroneously) that “criticism” was primarily a fault-finding exercise, and that connotation has stuck. The French word “critique” has retained the more objective sense of analysis, identifying both the strengths and weaknesses of a work.
Some may prefer the word “evaluate,” but I would argue that “evaluation” has its roots in the determination of the value or worth of a thing, the sum total of its merits and deficits, rather than an objective analysis of its strengths and weaknesses, giving an opportunity for improvement. Evaluation is what we do when we choose to buy one apple and not another from the same bin. Evaluation is what a publisher does when deciding whether to accept or reject a submission.
Poetry - indeed, all writing - might benefit from a SWOT analysis: Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, and Threats (to publication, perhaps). But whatever name we give it, it’s important to recognize what’s constructive and what is merely destructive.
It’s also important to realize that most of us are not expert critics; our judgment is just that - ours. It is not some objective Everyman’s. We may accidentally, though with the kindest of intentions, give critique that is not helpful or even representative of what the majority of readers might think. So, ultimately, the decision to employ our suggestions must fall squarely on the writer’s shoulders.
Do the suggestions ring true? Have several people, independently, given the same feedback? These are good indications of constructive critique.
Are the suggestions unclear, imprecise, or confusing? It’s up to the writer to ask questions until they understand what’s being said.
Is the feedback hurtful? Is it mean? Straightforward critique, given without sugar-coating, is not meant to be cruel. It’s up to the writer to consider the source and to recognize that defensiveness is never necessary. Each piece of feedback can be used or ignored. It need not be taken as a dagger to the heart. If I say “The language is unnatural and stilted,” this is not the same as, “Little old ladies have no business writing poetry. You should stick to knitting, instead.”
The former is intended to be helpful. You can work with that. It has to do with your word choices in a particular work, but not with your worth as a human being or as a writer in general.
The latter is useless, sexist, ageist, and unkind. Treat it as such - chuck it into the wastebasket and forget it, recognizing that there are some miserable people in the world who desperately want the company of other miserable people.
Smile and tell yourself that perhaps you’ve given their dog a brief reprieve from being kicked. You are a hero!
Somewhere, in between, lie people who truly want to be helpful but have difficulty eloquently and clearly expressing themselves, sometimes. They’re trying. They will never improve their critiquing skills if they feel they’ve hurt people’s feelings - they will only get better at it through practice. We might ask them questions and encourage them to be more specific. Odds are, the novice critic is more uncomfortable giving feedback than the experienced writer is at receiving it. They must feel safe if they’re to be honest and truly helpful.
The Red Pen
I learned to love the red pen in middle school. My English teacher “bled all over” my first essay. She marked up mechanical errors using proofreaders’ marks. She filled the margins with critique. And I was delighted! I knew that she had taken time out of her day to really read what I wrote, think about it, and to try to turn me into a better writer. In that moment, my love of writing was born.
I briefly took Taekwondo lessons from Grandmaster Dong Won Kang in Oklahoma. “Briefly,” because I was very, very bad at it. But he didn’t just teach martial arts. He would talk to the class, afterwards, and impart life lessons and wisdom. One thing he stressed was that when someone took precious moments out of their own life to help you improve your skills at anything, you should take it as a compliment and a gift. You should recognize that out of all the fun things they could be doing with their limited and valuable time on this earth, they chose to try to help you grow. He said that to give praise is easy. It costs us absolutely nothing to say, “Great job.” It takes time, thought, and effort to critique and offer suggestions for improvement.
Again, some people have had damaging and destructive experiences involving red pens, and have developed a fear of or aversion to red ink. To them, it represents negativity. It symbolizes their “failure.” Someone has led them to feel this way, and that someone is a negative and destructive force. Sometimes, it’s as simple as switching from red ink to green or purple. But the only real cure is kindness and trust.
I worked hard to make it that bad, and I am not even 324,567th in line for Poet Laureate.
R____, then, was to come along after I posted it and rip it apart — er, critique it constructively on all fronts, to show the class how it was done. Afterwards, I would graciously thank him, act upon his suggestions, and post my revisions.
You may already see the flaw in our plan.
True story.
Rest in peace, R____.
Till next time, practice giving and receiving constructive critique. You can use something as simple as the “sandwich method” - a few compliments, a few suggestions for improvement, and observations on strengths and opportunities for growth as a writer. When you’re feeling a bit more confident, try this: How to Analyze Poetry: 10 Steps for Analyzing a Poem - 2023 - MasterClass
Calm he held his scissors and his horses
Unfurling sails of paper and his brow
He stood, within his mind, upon the prow
Ready to control the rough sea's forces.
He heard the ocean and his mother's cry:
"Naptime!" He laid his keel and sleepy head
Upon the desk and longed for sea and bed.
He woke, at last, the Elmer's glue was dry -
His paper pirate ship was set to sail.
He ran, with boat and mother both in hand
A fair breeze blew: brave sailors bid goodbye to land
As storms raced in and turned fair winds to gales.
But sinking fate's not always what it seems;
One wave can't capsize boats and boyhood dreams.
Today’s Poets
Daisy Zamora – a contemporary Latin American poet whose work covers daily life, human rights, politics, revolution, feminist issues, art, history and culture. Read more here.
April is National Poetry Month. This year marks its 27th year. NaPoWriMo – 30 days of writing poems – is poets’ answer to National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo).
This coincides with the A to Z Blogging Challenge, now celebrating its 13th anniversary. Some participants choose a theme; others wing it. Doesn’t matter! The real challenge is to build a practice of writing daily. I think I stuck with it…once. You can see the list of participants – I’m sure they’d love it if you’d visit and comment on their blogs.
This month, my goal is to:
Write a poem a day and share it – uncurated – here; and
Highlight some poets you may be unfamiliar with.
I encourage you to click the links to read about them and their work. I plan to choose a diverse array of classical and contemporary poets – indigenous poets, Black poets, women poets, LGBTQ poets – that challenge us to see the world differently while also tapping into universal themes and emotions.
Remember, too, that comments and conversation are always welcome here. (Spammers, on the other hand, will be tossed into the moat or mocked, so before you leave an irrelevant comment or drop a link, consider that it’s fair game!)
She practiced, in the mirror, saying "no" -
An easy word; it should be simpler than this.
But she was taught from childhood, "Say yes,"
Lest disobedience be dealt a blow.
"No!" she longed to shout, but "yes" was safer
Lest his anger seek her as its target.
Words of hate and love their mingled argot,
Obedient, she, and none could save her.
She set aside her plans and fondest dreams
And learned to meet each expectation
Daily fearing loss his affection
She learned in time to smile, stifling screams.
Stripped bare of personality, she sighs
And entertains herself with little lies.
— Holly Jahangiri
Today’s Poet
Yevgeny Yevtushenko – a Soviet and Russian poet whose Nobel-nominated poem, “Babi Yar” denounced the revisionist history of the Soviets and the still rampant anti-Semitism that existed. It was set to music by Shostakovich, and you can listen to it below. Read more here.
April is National Poetry Month. This year marks its 27th year. NaPoWriMo – 30 days of writing poems – is poets’ answer to National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo).
This coincides with the A to Z Blogging Challenge, now celebrating its 13th anniversary. Some participants choose a theme; others wing it. Doesn’t matter! The real challenge is to build a practice of writing daily. I think I stuck with it…once. You can see the list of participants – I’m sure they’d love it if you’d visit and comment on their blogs.
This month, my goal is to:
Write a poem a day and share it – uncurated – here; and
Highlight some poets you may be unfamiliar with.
I encourage you to click the links to read about them and their work. I plan to choose a diverse array of classical and contemporary poets – indigenous poets, Black poets, women poets, LGBTQ poets – that challenge us to see the world differently while also tapping into universal themes and emotions.
Remember, too, that comments and conversation are always welcome here. (Spammers, on the other hand, will be tossed into the moat or mocked, so before you leave an irrelevant comment or drop a link, consider that it’s fair game!)
Let's get this one thing straight, ere we begin:
I never threw a piss-pot on his head.
No other suitor suited me; my kin
Would have me married off or see me dead.
But Socrates, his mind still sharp, saw grit:
In me, and he prefered to spend his days
With one whose fiery tongue could match his wit
And my outspokenness left him unfazed.
Wife, daughter, nurse - the outside world be damned
Companion, mentor, husband, man: He was
My world, and I was his. Our lives are dimmed
In history's pages; mine, made small because
The feminine, possessed of intellect
Is feared, though man's deemed worthy of respect.
Today’s Poet
Halima Xudoyberdiyeva – an Uzbek poet whose themes at different times of her career have dealt with Uzbek nationhood and history, liberation movements, and feminism. She was awarded the title People’s Poet of Uzbekistan. Read more here.
April is National Poetry Month. This year marks its 27th year. NaPoWriMo – 30 days of writing poems – is poets’ answer to National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo).
This coincides with the A to Z Blogging Challenge, now celebrating its 13th anniversary. Some participants choose a theme; others wing it. Doesn’t matter! The real challenge is to build a practice of writing daily. I think I stuck with it…once. You can see the list of participants – I’m sure they’d love it if you’d visit and comment on their blogs.
This month, my goal is to:
Write a poem a day and share it – uncurated – here; and
Highlight some poets you may be unfamiliar with.
I encourage you to click the links to read about them and their work. I plan to choose a diverse array of classical and contemporary poets – indigenous poets, Black poets, women poets, LGBTQ poets – that challenge us to see the world differently while also tapping into universal themes and emotions.
Remember, too, that comments and conversation are always welcome here. (Spammers, on the other hand, will be tossed into the moat or mocked, so before you leave an irrelevant comment or drop a link, consider that it’s fair game!)
I plucked one perfect, mottled sea shell
From the crushed bones of its ancestors; their grit
The sunkissed sand beneath my feet
Soaked through, with ocean's briny tang, and hard,
Unlike the powdery, pillowed dunes
That can't remember what it's like to feel the sea.
I wondered at its journey, how it ended at the sea
I held within my hand, a home, now just a shell
How many years from sea to shore to dunes -
Who says the spineless creatures don't have grit?
Whenever tempted by the thought that life is hard
I think how hard it must've been - from fins to feet.
The Little Mermaid envies me my feet,
But happily, I would slip into the sea.
Discernment of His master plan is hard
But God and Science aren't at war - the shell
That landed at my feet, rubbed smooth by grit
Divine, tells timeless stories, buried in the dunes.
A thousand million years of tales lie hidden in the dunes
As happy children dig, build castles in the sand, and bury tiny feet
Their soft skin damp, their chubby legs adorned with grit
This moment's all they know of the eternal sea
Experience, tight-clasped secret held within its shell
At least today's too kind to tell them "Life is hard."
Some day, too soon they'll learn that lesson: that it's hard -
That castles made of sand must crumble and return to dunes.
But as the children venture from the safety of their shells
Exploring, till they find the chosen path for righteous feet,
The path that leads from sea to shining sea
Will give them strength of character, and grit.
Rough edges will be polished smooth by ever-finer grit
As youth meets all the challenges of life, however hard
And in old age, reflecting by the ever-changing sea
They'll pluck that mottled, perfect shell from sparkling dunes
Unrushed, they'll rise, to rinse their gnarled, sandy feet,
And throw it, heavenward, to home, that shell.
Relentless, the eternal sea will tumble hard against the grit - that shell
Now one with all the other grains of sand will keep us grounded, steady, on our feet,
So one day, we can join our bones and stories underneath the sunkissed dunes.
[P]articipants will meet at UST and hear from distinguished writers of poetry and fiction, and engage in seminars on art and beauty, Catholicism and literature, and the craft of writing. They will also get counsel and help with their own work in lively creative writing workshops.
Between the evening public readings with masters of the art, the intense seminars and workshops, and the good company at meals, participants will experience that most elusive thing: a literary community intended to deepen and strengthen their own work while also welcoming them into the great literary and cultural tradition of the Church.
So, in honor of that, today’s featured poet is James Matthew Wilson, who will be leading the poetry workshops. Read more about him here.
April is National Poetry Month. This year marks its 27th year. NaPoWriMo – 30 days of writing poems – is poets’ answer to National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo).
This coincides with the A to Z Blogging Challenge, now celebrating its 13th anniversary. Some participants choose a theme; others wing it. Doesn’t matter! The real challenge is to build a practice of writing daily. I think I stuck with it…once. You can see the list of participants – I’m sure they’d love it if you’d visit and comment on their blogs.
This month, my goal is to:
Write a poem a day and share it – uncurated – here; and
Highlight some poets you may be unfamiliar with.
I encourage you to click the links to read about them and their work. I plan to choose a diverse array of classical and contemporary poets – indigenous poets, Black poets, women poets, LGBTQ poets – that challenge us to see the world differently while also tapping into universal themes and emotions.
Remember, too, that comments and conversation are always welcome here. (Spammers, on the other hand, will be tossed into the moat or mocked, so before you leave an irrelevant comment or drop a link, consider that it’s fair game!)
