John Hodgen goes ‘way overboard in his use of poetic techniques in “Just a Tranquil Darker.”

First, he has a woman needing new sunglasses use a malapropism, “just a tranquil darker,” when she means “just a trifle darker.” That leads Hodgen to speculate that the woman’s optometrist “does not trifle with her.” Then, the optometrist is William Wordsworth listening to his sister Dorothy. Then, Hodgen throws in Wordsworth’s ideas about poetry being the spontaneous overflow of emotion recollected in tranquility. All of sudden, the optometrist is God himself, “the omniscient god who mostly does not trifle with us.”

Got that? But just as the reader is trying to make sense of the transition from Wordsworth to God, Hodgen muses about when God does trifle with us, as when he tosses ”a banana peel with the businessman’s wingtip approaching.” Now God is a reader of New Yorker cartoons, “all his back issues stacked up, the ones with the Elizabeth Bishop poems, teetering, in his waiting room.” And this is a sly reference to Bishop’s poem, “In the Waiting Room,” where a child is reading National Geographic while she’s waiting for her aunt in a dentist’s waiting room in Worcester, MA, where Hodgen lives.

Still with me? I hope so, for now “God, or Wordsworth for that matter” is the kind of god (or poet?) who “gives us our due… for the things we choose to believe in.” And now the poem shifts to a wife so in love with her husband, the lawn mowing man, that she accompanies her husband on his job “and sits on the steps of the houses he goes to. (See her, by the daffodils?)” Oh yeah, another cutesy reference, this time to Wordsworth’s poem “Daffodils.” And as she watches, the lawn changes “like some eye chart of I’s and E’s….,” a cutesy reference back to the optometrist, who is, lest we forget, God himself or Wordsworth, I forget which.

Now comes the time for the final pitch of the baseball game. (Hey, if Hodgen can throw in all these metaphors, so can I! And don’t forget that Marianne Moore liked baseball….) Anyway, Hogden begins his windup with “It is as if they live in some peripheral light that is always glowing.” Who exactly is “we”? The man and his wife? The wife and the old woman from the beginning of the poem? Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy? Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz? Anyway, they all live in “some other place where everything is just the way we want it, just a tranquil darker.” Sigh, and to think it’s a place where God “gives us our due.”

Gotta go now and brush my teeth. Too much sugar will make them rot.

Hi M.A., how about chilling out & starting over? Perhaps I am just in a better Karmic place than you today, or perhaps I am loving the gorgeous Springtime too much for your critical taste. But I think it is a lovely poem, a gift from God (which is to say, Mr. P.) and the goddesses, and a handsome addition to a stunningly beautiful day at this stunningly graceful time of year. There are some days when we are just happy to be alive, if we are lucky, and some poems which help us along in that happiness. For me, this is just such a day, and such a poem. In other words, 'stop with the kvetching already," OK? Some things are just meant to be appreciated.

And as for your cavils, what's wrong with mentioning Wordsworth, poet of the thousand dancing daffodils (or whatever) at this time of year? And I LOVE "just a tranquil darker." Why would you put it down as a malapropism? It's clearly an intentional pun.

Geez, M.A., lighten up & maybe read it again, OK? Peace, joy, love and chill out...maybe a trip to San Francisco is in order? Or to the spa? Or to church?
Thanks, "L."

Thank you, Lunesta. I have been a faithful reader of Poems and PFray for years, but have never had the nerve to post. It seems that every time I enjoy a poem, I turn to the Fray to learn that it's a piece of crap.

I found this to be a lovely poem as well. Reading it left me with a feeling of, well....tranquillity.

You oft defend the picks that Pinsky makes
that I and many others see as foul;
I started fearing for your mortal taste
but (thanks to god) I feel better now.
This poem truly was the sort of bad
that many feel duty makes them praise
the kind that wander, hiding sense, and add
no wisdom to the words that stain the page.
The mower, flowers, glasses, loving wives
are used with little wit and littler thought
the doctor, letters, shoes, and tired eyes
are something but together come to naught.
I'm happy that you did not think it good,
but reamed it as I've no doubt that we should...

-------------------

Too much sugar is bad for the teeth;
too many cooks spoil the broth
if it's well written poems you seek
then trample this tripe as you ought.

If a talentless group wrote a piece
wholly drunk on their own self-regard
it would look not unlike this foul thing
and to praise would be pointless and hard!

: )

Methinks his name might be Hogpen..all those poets and allusions hogged for the readers of his swill..I can also hear Iris-2, saying .."It makes my teeth hurt," when Pisky sugar would spill on a Tuesday.

You've dared to enter into his poets/litany name drops..At your own peril (rinse teeth) ...As you have said..Yikes!
A

MA

I'd suppose the old woman at the beginning is the same as the one watching her husband mowing.

Hi M.A., how about chilling out & starting over?....Geez, M.A., lighten up & maybe read it again, OK?

No can do, Lunesta. I call 'em as I see 'em, just as you do. Think of all the times you've hated a Tuesday pick when I thought it was not bad. Never did I ask you to lighten up because it's just a matter of different strokes for different folks.

And as for your cavils, what's wrong with mentioning Wordsworth, poet of the thousand dancing daffodils (or whatever) at this time of year?

If that were the only reference to Wordsworth, it would be one thing. But he mentions W's sister Dorothy, he mentions Wordsworth's theory of how poetry should be created, he equates Wordsworth with the optometrist AND with God, he has the adoring wife sit next to a reference to a Wordsworth poem. Too too much.

And I LOVE "just a tranquil darker." Why would you put it down as a malapropism? It's clearly an intentional pun.

When the old lady said it, it was a malapropism. Hodgen knows she meant a "trifle darker," because that's what he picks up and riffs on. Yes, it has a lovely dual meaning (her and his), but his use of "trifle" regarding the optometrist, God, and the young woman who watches her husband mow the lawn, is intentional and overdone. And his return to "just a tranquil darker" in the last line would have worked if all that cutesy stuff hadn't intervened between the beginning and the end.

But that's just my take on the poem. You're entitled to a different take.

MA

First off, the biggest problem with this poem is it reads as prose. Only thing that makes it a poem is the link says "poem." Otherwise I'd have read this a short work of short-fiction.

As a result, it has no music to it. Haven't listened to the reading, but I'm sure it would confirm this. Without music its hard to get away with all the flights of fancy this poem indulges in. Readers will forgive any lyrical nonsense if the beat is sweet.

There is a good theme buried in all the verbiage: that humans prefer darkness to light. Being mean to being nice, as it is easier, the path of least resistence. No matter how dull the world is (and today it is dull!) humans prefer it "just a tranquil darker." To to summarize more musically:

Like a mole she prefers a tranquil darkness
to sun that loves its reflection on clear water,
to unmask its flaws, where it flows backwards,
turns murky to hide its bottomfeeders.

Something like that. Not great but gets the point across more succinctly.

Cutter

Cutter, I doubt if the old lady in the first line was mean, but I agree that wearing sunglassesthat were a tranquil darker, she missed the lark that flares up suddenly out of the corner of our eyes.

Hi Lunesta,

I seem to fall somewhere in between you and MaryAnn on this one. Reading it is the literary equivalent of eating too much pound cake -- or whatever similar kind of cake that has a similar texture but includes a sort of sweet moistness as well. (Help me out, O Dessert Makers of the Fray!) There is much beauty in it, and the sweetness of itself doesn't faze me. There's just a tad too much of both -- thus my post title.

What mostly makes my grapes sour, though, is that:

1) as usual on many a Tuesday, I had such a hard time picking up on its thought patterns at first (and Cutter McCool's experimental rewrites illustrate why);

2) its metaphorically-based theology is not merely myopic, it's unenlightened and (shall we say) trifling (see my own review for why I say that).

That said, I appreciate the formal language and the literary references on the one hand and the sweetness of (I assume) real-life examples on the other. One can always argue over how many literary references are too many, but to me this is not so laced with blatant in-jokes as many of the Tuesday Poems, and those that are present are classier than usual for Tuesdays. At least one has a good chance of discovering those in-jokes in this poem. With some poems, only the poet knows for sure what he or she is thinking.

wr ()()

Gosh, thanks, Mary Ann! Gee, I'm "entitled to a different take." Let's effing hope so! :-)

Multiplicity of voices, Mary Ann, multiplicity of interpretations, multiplicity of meanings & responses -- one of the GREAT positives about poetry & reading it. pls. remember, we are NOT all your 'students," OK? Some of us have taught poetry, led workshops & were writing & publishing poems & reviews back when you were still whipping the 7th graders into shape, please. Maybe the poet is on a Wordsworth roll, who knows? I don't find the intervening stuff "cutesy" in the least, Mary Ann, I think the language and word choices work.

And as so often, I find your bossy tone off-putting and inappropriate. Apparently, a couple of new posters do, too. And I hope that you & the ever-critical Inkberrow do NOT scare off this G Harry person, who seems quite nice. You want to rain on this week's parade, fine. It's your choice. But keep your habitual bossiness out of it, if you would. Thanks, "L."

I know exactly the feeling you're expressing! But I've been around here a long time, and I feel I can speak up with impunity. :-) I take my lumps, quite often; it's just part of the Internet game. But I do hope you will post more often, sue. if you're worried about people being overly critical, just find me & give me a shout-out -- I'll watch your back, as they say. If you have been here a really long time, you may know me as "Tempo" or "Mellifluous." Welcome aboard & I'm SO pleased you spoke up. It's a grand poem, as G Harry S., posted today. I enjoyed reading it even more, the second time.

I do love dessert, as you probably know!

Ref. your more serious comments, I don't think the poem possesses too many literary references, and they are all wrt the same poet AND they are quite "grabbable" by even a casual reader. Perhaps our Resident Critics are put off by this lovely poem's ease of accessibility? After all, we wouldn't want the mere 'hoi polloi' enjoying our rare, unappreciated and bizarre art too TOO much, now would we? :-) Comme toujours, t.a.f.

This poem is really NOT all that sugary, actually. I think you've jumped on a bandwagon, my friend. Best, "L."

Thanks again, Lunesta (I do remember you as Tempo – does that tell you how long I’ve been hiding in the background here?). I didn’t mean to get in the middle of this. I generally find Mary Ann’s critiques to be thoughtful and enlightening, and with an MA in literature, I certainly have done my share of tying poems to chairs, although I admit that poetry is not my strong suit (hence, my reluctance to post).

I found this piece to be charming. I don’t have a problem with the multitude of references – do we have such tunnel vision that an episode cannot invoke a variety of impressions in the viewer? Or does the poet’s sin lie in the fact that he has chosen to share them? They work for me.

Or at least they did, until I started beating it with a hose. Yes, upon further examination, I, too, could come up with criticisms of this work. But as you said in your early post, L, “some things are just meant to be appreciated,” even if they don’t achieve perfection.