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|  0 recommendations | Message 1 of 39 in Discussion |
| | (Original Message) | Sent: 9/30/2008 4:02 AM |
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i don't do this. usually. anymore. your own medicine. twart the I?
how fast an apple rots,
the beauty of its red.
"in a short time" prosaic, unnecessary, so:
so much corrodes
while i dance with words and effervescence.
or
so much corrodes
while i dance a dance of words.
next, "a slip of the shoe, and a weak ankle gives" prosaic, again. i know im harsh. at least skip the 'and', though i would go straight for
a slip of the shoe, a weak ankle.
just one branch grows
from the trunk-- I wonder
if I have time to greet each morning,
if it's lost the pain of phantom limbs.
and it just goes on:
lull me to sleep,
enamoured by green castanets.
when i'm sad, i sing
a note so high
only an angel could hang its
wings, it does not matter
if no sense
make a ripple in the air,
or blow into the pond
a tiny wave
of magic.
ha. shake it up. play. i know im bad. but play. just play.
no homework. tear up the floorboards. or leave as is. whatever. this was how i could not help myself but read this poem in my head.
signed,
principice in socks |
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| who you gonna believe anyway. me or mr and mrs vicodin over there? |
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| | | From: gypsy | Sent: 10/2/2008 4:07 PM |
Of course I believe one who speaks with principice and socks! I will read it again, although I have a feeling it holds little substance. |
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| | | From: gypsy | Sent: 10/2/2008 4:09 PM |
I mean, the apple is rotten and, as Gypsiwind says, it smells or tastes like cider, or vinegar. My ex was a rotten apple. He wore cologne and masked himself well for a while. |
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what bool sheet. you're getting rid of all her WORDS! why strip it to nothing? heavens. especially the shoe/ankle part. why take out what it's saying? harrumph. not a rewrite. a eyeless-like using her frame for your poem! harrumph again. now. twart is not a word. g |
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| | | From: gypsy | Sent: 10/2/2008 11:35 PM |
No, no no Principes in socks wear wisdom in a different way.. I shall listen to almost all. WS misses my old peeled to the bone shorties.. We grow layers of bark with the wool sheets under which we cover our head, from under which we rise to flail equivocal flags. I do babble, there is no denying this. There seems to be an agreement about 'and,' and I am bullish with that one 'and.' Nobody can peel my onions for me, but I like to see everyones tongue flickering like Piper's knife. I wish my paintings were coming out better than my words. Cycles. Sighs. Picnics! |
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it can't be helped that the "I" stands out like a nonsenseberry in an otherwise fine strawberry field. maybe it's the so called "yoda speak" of placing it further into the sentence.
I'm not against the usage of "I" as a matter of principle, on the opposite, it can be a most useful element. maybe it's that the I stands out more, because the surrounding imagery has been unnecessarily complicated.
is it the notion that, its easy to stare yourself blind at the beauty (of some specific part; red), meanwhile the core of it, the thing of it inself: rots? an interesting idea in itself. but it has to also be checked against the "so much corrodes in a short time while i dance with words and effervescence" in other words. dancing with words (and effervescence) is like staring into the beauty of an apple's red? either way, I can't help but to think that "in a short time" is a sloppy description added onto an event that just "adds" without expanding anything. or it slows the thing down. it has that devilish "so much depends on" likeness to it as well, especially so close to the "red". anyway, "effervescence". i had to look it up to get beneath its prettyness: i assume its meant to stand for enthusiasm, excitement, liveliness and not giving off bubbles of gas, though an overlapping bubblyness might be present.
the poet (or the temporarily poetising) is then comparing, in a way, the beauty (perhaps shallow) to her own excitement. is it substance that corrodes?
why i'm doing this? just trying to figure out why i don't feel the impact. i don't know why. so its an investigation. maybe there's a reason. maybe its just a matter of taste, maybe it needs tightening, maybe its the imagery. it feels grandious, in a way. romantic in the way old poets might've, and it all circling around around the "I", as become clear here:
enamoured by green castanets, (a brilliant image)
i sing, convinced they play for me
when i am sad.
a song of love can hold a note so high
only an angel could hang on.
but its not the I in itself that comes in the way of my reading. just taking out the I and creating some hip abstract of a mish mash of images is not the solution. its rather the way the I places itself, in such a way that it becomes heavy rather than light. how can this be explained? ive no idea. the I less as an observer and more the thinker, a knowledgable I that absorbs things around it, letting it exist as symbols or metaphors in relation to the personal psyche. an apple comes into existance because beauty is being pondered, green castanets come into existence because they must play for Me when i am sad. the apple as a symbol gives us a static apple, like in a painting, that cannot be tasted. in a way, static.
this might not help you, if you're looking for help in the first place, but i think its the best way i can explain a kind of indifference i feel where i want there to be more of an impact. because i read the poem, and i notice images both complex and clever, and can't understand why they don't reveberate in my stomach.
this started somewhere and ended up somewhere else, but i felt the need to say something more constructive than the flippant excuse of a rewrite above.
ws |
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| | | From: _susan_ | Sent: 10/4/2008 11:31 PM |
i don't like the word: effervescence. it reminds me of the group: Evanescence. i bought the CD and listened to it once and now it's at the bottom of a pile where it belongs. i think the reply from ws is too long to read. "i" and "it" are used too may times. s. |
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| | | From: _susan_ | Sent: 10/4/2008 11:32 PM |
may = many (like the responses to this poem). |
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| | | Sent: 10/16/2008 11:20 PM |
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| | | From: _susan_ | Sent: 10/17/2008 5:37 AM |
i admire your artistic talents, gypsy. |
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| | | From: gypsy | Sent: 10/17/2008 6:30 AM |
aww, Susie, thank you.. I have no talent, really, it is, honestly, purely persistent, wanting to do it and keeping on doing it until I come up with something that is okay. I am convinced that persistence is all it takes, which is this huge desire to do it. |
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