|ions and offs
i am wanting for this,
i think a poem?
dialled it to ask for it
i do not know.
my eyes are getting wide, too far
apart from light i think,
you're smiling now, and it rips
apart like clingwrap,
i am maybe the jagged edge,
a metaphorical gloom? perhaps.
all i know is that i am feeling
sad, and there are no words but
26 Aug 10
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Oh lion, thou lion who art deformed--this is brilliance squared.
nice. great stuff here today. thanks.
last two lines make it climactic.
this is nice -- i like how i can hear the author as i read it, and the author sounds alive, with a pulse. nice words in this, with nice sounds and interactions with each other. nice sentiment and feeling over it all too.
line 6/7 is classic... i admire this very much, it's very visual and yet reads spontaneous. the ironic humor in this makes me smile too... like, putting 'jagged edge' on 'metaphorical gloom' is peaky, the 'perhaps' nails it both as potentially real and acceptedly illusional... : )
lively and nice thing to find this AM. nice write and read.
d.f...! you do have some surprises in that hat.
The spacing does not help, it looks fake and contrived. What's wrong with just normal formatting? (Yes, Mike, I can hear you asking, "What's normal, we're inventing language!)
Wouldn't line 13 be 'no word,' not words?
well, i think it's crap, only lolling, lol
what's not helpful is when the critic doesn't read the poem in good faith, but reads it as though it were written by someone who needs disciplining. what's good in this poem is that it has music in it, that it's alive and moves on its own and isn't an obituary on the death of someone's inner child.
if someone doesn't understand the concept 'inventing language', then someone isn't talking language and poetry seriously. and, though this is the fun place to stop in and feel elitist and superior to under-educated writers, it is the place where poets can create poetry without having permission from their sixth-grade teacher.
you can't seriously be aiming that last comment at me, Bauer.
no, it wasn't on you at all. none of it was, in fact... it was on someone who pre-configures a reading of a poem, not with an open mind, but with a blue-pencil. we're not really editors until we're asked to be, and our suggestions for change are simply one poet to another, in our incarnation as 'critic' to the poem.
my only problem with you is that you don't stretch your thought out generously enough sometimes, and play pithy, when actually the poet might need a deeper and more sincere response.
Here we go again. Poems are read by individuals, we all have a different perspective, no rights or wrongs.
poetry exists before and after the individual is dead from dying and spelling conventions change. probably, some people here didn't know that grammar and spelling conventions have been changed by how a poet worded a poem. and, anyway, anyone who can't read the spacings in this as a melodic/notation move probably shouldn't be commenting on it as poetry at all. it doesn't look like barbara courtland prose forms for a reason: it's a poem, not a story.
And anyone who can't say something doesn't look right to the human eye shouldn't be commenting as if he has all the answers, either.
i'm an artist photographer. i think with the human eye. analytics on belief are another dialog, where it's not possible to know the essence of anything, just because you can give something a name. it's an important part of poetry writing, because we're always trying to show the essence of our feeling. case in point is the critique of form and how this poem looks to people who are locked into habit: 'the dictionary says a poem is...", and can't read this with an open mind. open-mind means understanding that no-one can know the essence of anything, because we just can't see everything all at once.
ummm, kinda ego-centric aren't we love?
why would an artist be afraid of having an ego, if that's the energy which drives the artist to invent ego in the first place? what's wrong with seeing yourself as possible? we went through so many years, after the sixties, of thinking we weren't real because we couldn't trip into the water drop. what's real is that i'm a part of the world too, as real to you as a tuna or a gumdrop. how you know me is the work of your ego needing another ego to share with.
in lne 8 you're not your.
Are you going to bump every poem that mike has commented on, fract, just so you can please him, or are you being selective about the pleasure you wish to give him?
"why would an artist be afraid of having an eg"
...but aren't you the one how has declared that only a true poet is one who has transcended ego? Mine you, being as mired in your swamp bog of an ego you wouldn't have a clue how to transcend your most petty irks and quirks.
we're only real when we're writing a poem. people like j.harrison ford, are only real when the watch a movie... they want our poetry to be a movie.
actually, it has been a long while since i last
read a really good piece from you, DL... maybe
as long as the time i haven't written any decent
piece which still hasn't happened yet.
this is something to draw inspiration from.
the heat~wave in perth, albany? is sending you i-so-tropic
the poem is everywhere
this one i like!