The Mad Poets Blog

Like Autumn, I have yet to catch up on Ashraf’s and Anna’s discussion below - but I’m going to post anyway. And it looks like I’m just in time, on the heels of Autumn’s post about bad poetry criticism, and how the writer concentrates on taking cheap shots at the poets rather than a valid look at the publishing houses. Along the lines of criticism (though not quite so critical), I wanted to look at another poem as a sort of counterpoint to my previous post on Ross Gay’s “Two Bikers Embrace on Broad Street.”

I suggested in that post that Gay’s poem is successful partially because it avoids using obvious Philadelphian imagery in a way that can be construed as cliche - Gay allows Philadelphia to become a backdrop to the poem: Philadelphia is important, but it’s not the most important thing in the poem. And then I got to thinking. And talking to myself in the car, which is not unusual, but probably not healthy.

But wait! I said to myself (out loud). I know a poem that totally embraces the landscape and pop-culture of Philadelphia, and is not a failure as a poem! So I’d like to take a look at a poem written by our very own Autumn - “Brotherly Love,” her gentle reminder to the Eagles that Philadelphia sports fans are entirely dedicated (and, in this blogger’s opinion, a little nuts. Sorry, Autumn.).

So why does Autumn’s poem, which makes use of every cheesy Philadelphia reference I can think of (and a few I missed), work? First of all, go have a look at Autumn’s poem, if you haven’t already. No, really. I’ll wait.

That was fast. But I’ll assume that my concept of time is slightly warped, and that you really did read it carefully. Several times. Out loud. So, onward.

Autumn’s poem is about a particular community. You would agree, I’m sure, that Philadelphia is not just any old city - we have traditions, behaviors, foods and beverages, accents and hair that belong entirely to this region (ok, the hair belongs to Jersey, but that’s close enough). As a community, Philadelphia is intensely proud of the things that are strictly Philadelphian, like the Eagles - and “Brotherly Love” is an attempt to communicate that. So what better way to do it than to talk about some other things that are distinctly Philadelphian, and of which Philadelphians are intensely proud of?

“Brotherly Love” isn’t just a list of surface cliches. Autumn could have chosen the super-obvious cliches and left it at that: the bridges, the Art Museum, and the cheesesteaks. But she was all-inclusive, combining the modern social scene (Tattooed Mom’s, Buddakan) with pop icons (Rocky, the Mummers), regional identifications (pretzels and Tastykakes, the Blue Route), and the factual history of the city (Penn, Franklin, Ross and the Liberty Bell). Where she uses an expected example (cheesesteaks), she adds a level a detail that shows the character of the city in a newer way (not just any cheesesteaks, mind you, these are cheesesteaks with fried onions on an Amoroso roll). And somehow, she manages to combine the traits and traditions of the city without creating a cartoon, a caricature of the people who live here.

The first person plural point-of-view creates an atmosphere of belonging - and no one likes belonging to something that isn’t recognizable. Autumn made a choice in terms of the voice of this poem that doesn’t work for every poem - writing as a “we” is often tricky because the writer (a single conscience) is assuming responsibility for an entire group of consciences. But it’s successful here, because Autumn is playing to the strength of the stereotype - she knows Philadelphia sports fans are called crazy in other cities, she knows the reputation that we uphold. And by using a common identity to count off all the things Philadelphians can be fanatic about, she creates a strong sense of community within the confines poem - Autumn includes her readers in the poem by saying, “Hey, this is our city, these are our roots.”

It’s humorous. Who doesn’t love to poke fun at Philadelphia? Worldwide, we’re sometimes looked at as the butt of some universal joke - this close to New York, and we’re trying to be a city? People say that New Jersey is the armpit of the US, but that means Philly is the bicep, yeah? Okay, wait, maybe I’m mixing up my metaphors here. Anyway, the point is that Philadelphia is ripe with traits that make us easily picked upon. But we’re not afraid to laugh at ourselves, and Autumn uses the devotion to football to allow Philadelphia to have a chuckle on itself, with the good humor so appropriate for the City of Brotherly Love.

It’s not an easy task to write a city poem - I’ve tried a few Philadelphia poems of my own, all of which have failed miserably. So Autumn, well done - I’m impressed.