Poetry / Cajun America

First, I am not a professional. I just read alot of poetry and try to write some of my own. That being said here is my review.

The over all poem I liked. However, I would break the third stanza into two. By having it in one, makes the poem a bit heavy. I also would delete the second to last line ‘deep south’, it just doesnt work. I also would try usiing  diffrent words for ‘vibrato’ and ‘absinthe’. Your poem has the sense of some guys in New Orleans, just some normal guys, with those two words you kind of ruin the feel.

I liked this poem. Though I’ve never been to mardi gras I see you have captured some of the underlying reality of the celebration, and how it is much the same year round. The poem is well written and flows wonderfully.

read some of your stuff. and i really like. they all have a very smooth narrative… a spoken word type vibe.

my only gripes would be:

to take out “jager bombs” only for the fact that i like how drinking long islands sounds and looks alone.

also, i don’t like how it ends with cajun america. i think the title is sufficient for that. would end with:

stumbling on the pavement,
far from home
in the deep south.

hope this helps. :)

*disclaimer: these are only SUGGESTIONS, and my review in no way implies that i am an expert on this subject. :)

I find it hard to review poetry, and I’ve resisted it so far.  I’ll take a shot at yours, though.
I like it.
Every image rings true—I like especially:

swaying drunk in bars
only half enclosed like
shoe box dioramas,

And the whole first stanza.

You give a good impression of the night before the morning after.

One quibble -- I live in the truly Cajun part of Lousiana, and New Orleans ain’t Cajun. It’s a lot of things -- I guess I’d characterize it as Creole, if anything (that can mean a lot of different stuff, actually, which is convenient.) But, NO and Cajun are about all outsiders know of LA, so I suppose it’s natural the two get conflated in people’s minds.

sweet poem, i really got a feel for it right off the bat.  I could hear the rumble of the crowd, all the festivities going on.  Cops stomping on beer cans, that’s a great image.  Like you don’t want the fun to stop, reckless in a place far away from home.  the poems got a pop, that gives a feel for the music playing in the background.  neon cursiv threw me a bit, it seems out of place in describing a bar.  maybe it just different from my idea of the south.  Great Job.  

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June 07, 2006

by LeahD

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No. of Reviews	Overall Quality	Comment Followup
955	95.3% (274 votes)	26.5%

Age	Gender	Location	Last Login
51	F	Sunset, LA	December 27

The French Quarter isn’t the South—it’s another world.

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The style of this write was a bit different! But I really liked it. The visual was excellent. Again your word play just brought this to life. You have a wonderful way of captivating your reader, kind of pulling them into your art. Another very well penned piece.