XI

One morning the spirit of my lover’s uncle returned
there was no fanfare no terror only a blue silhouette

translucent above our bed growing dim
I was the sole witness to this specter quiet

as the rising sun waking overhead I awakened
cold to see an Aegean blue figure hovering bedside

through his gaze and mustachioed grin
on the other side of his face a dazzling tremolo

of morning light streamed into this darkened space
and later that evening as we moved

through the neighborhood streets dead with aging trees
frozen sidewalks led us freely into the moonlight ahead

-Reuben Quesada

Rating: 3/10

So this is the first poem that I’m going to comment on since it is simply awful. Which, as I mentioned in Site News is a privilege reserved for anything that warrants partial or total criticism. This is one of the latter cases. It’s almost as if my work here is done before I’ve started because it is so obviously bad, do I need to say anything? There is no punctuation, so I can’t comment on enjambment. The would be good enjambment present is so by happenstance; there is no rhythm; no rhyme. There’s no intellectual or emotional content- it’s apparently about the beauty of death’s worldly forms; actually just a bad, overwritten description of a ghost. The imagery is clichéd and the writing is as dead as the theme.

a blue silhouette/Aegean blue figure– repetitive.

Aegean blue/dazzling tremolo of morning light– ridiculous choice of words.

through the neighborhood streets dead with aging trees
frozen sidewalks led us freely into the moonlight ahead– trite nonsense.

 

1 Comment

  1. Just read a handful of his poems and almost all of them were worse than this one. The fact that he is published shows why people don’t take poetry seriously.

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