In this issue:

1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.

Critique guidelines
Abbey Rosete - My Fingers Find Themselves Meeting Yours
Andrew Eng - A Desire To Be Loved
Alaa El Fadel - Villanelle: The Bedouin
Balan - Into The Frame
Pranash - Lizard
Poetry prompts for next meeting - to discuss

HOW TO CRITIQUE POETRY: THE SWG POETRY GROUP GUIDELINES

Poetry is a very subjective media and can be difficult to critique. Here are a few notes to
start us off. First, poets - please dont explain your poem. Do let us know whether your poem
is intended to be printed or performed, or both. All pieces of writing have good points - we
need to hear these as well as what didnt work as well for you.

Overall Personal Response:

Give the poet a general impression of your personal response (how did the poem
make you feel? think? what thoughts, images or ideas did it evoke in you? what was your
interpretation of the poem? who do you see as a good audience for this poem?)

Detailed Critique Points:

Title (did the title suit the work? did it add to it?)
Opening (did the poem engage you from the outset? do you feel it started in the right
place? is there a strong line you feel would make a better opening?)
Rhythm and rhyme (were words and phrases long or short, and to what effect? how did
the poem employ vowel sounds or consonants? did the rhythm of the work suit the poem?
did it break down or overpower the work at any point? was there a formal structure? if
rhyming was used, where did it feel effortless? where did it feel forced? did the chosen
rhyme scheme (or absence thereof) suit the poem? would the poem work better as free
verse?)
Word choice (is there a strong sense of voice? was the language florid? straightforward?
modern? archaic? how did that support the overall form/theme/mood of the poem? how was
the poems syntax? was there any awkward reversal of syntax to fit a rhyme scheme? did
the author use strong nouns and verbs? was there much reliance on adverbs and adjectives?
did you have any favourite lines or phrases?)

 Imagery, metaphor, simile, allegory (did the poem contain any of these? were they
subtle? obvious? pleasant? off-beat? how did that work for you? did the poem present any
particularly evocative images, and did these images support the poem as a whole?)
Progression and ending (did the poem give you the right sense of building towards a
whole? did it have a climax or turning point? were you engaged throughout or did your
attention wander in places? did the ending satisfy you?)

For page (printed) poems:

The group members will read the poem ahead of time and make notes. At the
meeting, its recommended that a volunteer from the group (not the author) read
the poem aloud. If you have a reason for wanting to read it yourself, please let us
know. In addition to the above, you may want to comment on:
Line breaks and stanza breaks (do they seem to have been put in the right places? are
they placed to pull the reader through the poem? do any of the line breaks seem too
short/long/arbitrary? how would placing them differently affect your reading of the poem?)
White space and other formatting (if the poem has been formatted for presentation,
does the chosen format invite you to read?)

For performed poems:

The author will perform the poem for the group. Please perform it exactly as you
intend to on stage, including entry, any preamble, and exit. After this, there will be
some time for silent reading and note-taking. In addition to the above, you may
want to comment on:
Voice projection and intonation (could you hear the performer clearly? is there any way
they could modulate their voice for better effect?)
Pacing (was the reading fast? slow? were there any pauses? did the pacing of the
performance suit the poem?)
Gestures (did the performer use any gestures? how did this affect your experience of the
performance?)
Stage presence (did the performance command your attention? do you feel the performer
managed to get the most out of the poem?)

My Fingers Find Themselves Meeting Yours (Abbey Rosete)

I find myself in this stillness, words echoing, hearing words I've heard before but refuse to believe. What
was that again? That you'll prove me wrong? That it's not all lies, pain and deceit? I could turn a blind eye
and a deaf ear on all those words I've heard before.
But instead you held my hand and just like that, my fingers find themselves meeting yours, filling in every
gap like it knows every line and every space that makes up for something I don't even know. Perhaps the
stars are playing tricks on me, or perhaps it was my heart.

A Desire to be Loved (Andrew)

Under the glow of red light
Sits a voluptuous woman with money as her sight
Sacrificing her dignity day and night
With sorrows she can't tell but can only hide
When the night of decadence is over
She travels to her land of dreams
There a knight in shiny armor awaits
Her own imaginary prince
A man that listens to her sorrows
And wipes the sad tears off her face
To a better tomorrow he gives
With no debasement but grace
Alas, as the sun comes and shines brightly
She puts her prince into obliteration
To the reality of sleaze she retreats
And awaits her next lustful patron

From the collection of poems Kill My Thoughts

Villanelle: The Bedouin (Alaa El Fadel)

Our naked footsteps sink low
The sands settled the day before
And I walk with those I know
My people follow the hoary
Those whose wisdom we implore
Our naked footsteps sink low
There are many a good story
So the children plead for folklore
And I walk with those I know
The women tire but their will is glory
We thirst for the wells we search for
Our naked footsteps sink low
The midnight wolves are predatory
We keep the weak between us to care for
And I walk with those I know
With all that is endured, our drift is transitory
For we tread upon our ancestors land once more
Our naked footsteps sink low
And I walk with those I know

Into the Frame (Balan)

In the background, airy strokes of white make the sky scrapers look dullish
grey,
almost indistinct with a bare tone that disappears stealthily into a solitary
stray.
But beyond, a yellowish tinge brightens the islands dense thriving life laced
with every shade of light shed on scads of souls sloughing in a ritualized
race.
Toil we do under the governing sky, oppressed souls may not show a smile.
But smile they must for trade to be plied, thus sustain desultory life.
Array of shop houses shaded by brown boughs breathe of colonial contours,
once were warehouses but now boast of boutique restaurants, dishing out
rich
succulent shellfish to new arrivals. Colours cautiously merge, men from afar
pile
the shops, soaked in San Miguel, merrymaking. Bum boats grimy men, long
await
for ingested grub to end, beckon them to board and be brought along the
waters
of our restored windy river, to view life-filled walls pulsating the islands core.
A few floors of edifices, with balconies and lattices, open to the aging charms
of frivolity under the tall scrapers; the financial kernel nourishing bustling
hope.
All alike, with the clinking of coins, have come away far from one-time farms,
long gone eras of godowns and touts, now beneath are serious flirts with
journals
scripting stolen words, await to recite and flatter high-heeled damsels
on cobbled paths, their gait made difficult, they stop awhile to tease.
Balan
Inspired by a painting of boat quay by Tan Leong Kheng

LIZARD (Pranash)
Reptile eremite of the dead wall
Yellow sputum
Yellow mist straddling the wall
Like motile chewing gum...
I wonder if God shudders
Seeing this shred of His creation
Trudge up the mighty wall
In gawky fashion
With a slight swagger of his head
Hauling himself up like a piece of lead
Enroute, gulping insect fodder,
Careful to avoid an acrobatic fall
Now, the elf in me flings at the lizard,
A small rubber ball.
The first throw hits its mark,
Maims his wriggly tail.
Thud! He falls from the naked wall
Deposits on the table hard
An inch in front of my face
I freeze, white as chalk!
One of his lecherous kisses
One inadvertent lick, tongue used as a flail,
One of his venomous hisses
Would put me in mortal daze!
As my system leaks fear
He ever so nonchalantly
Cocks a toothy smile
(I swear it is not a leer)
Shows his left cheek
As if in surrender meek,
Goes back to trudging up his stupid wall
In his gawky fashion
With a slight swagger of the head
Hauling himself up like a piece of lead
Only this time, with more animation
But still careful to avoid another acrobatic fall

Poetry Prompts
The following poetry prompts can be used in different ways. For example;
A group can, after discussion agree on the choice of one prompt on which whole
group will write a poem.
People can choose which prompt they will write about
Or
Prompts can be written on paper and chosen from a box blindly by each member.
Prompts.
1. Reflections on a window
2.Your greatest fear
3.Dancing
4.Red
5.Corkscrew
6.Light
7.Juice
8.Growing up
9.Roads
10. Journeys.