Noctiphobia (for my grandmother) / cc
Tiniap
Noctiphobia
because she was wife to the tall preacher man, silver tongued
whose every word was fire in the breast, whose oiled finger on
women's foreheads made them scream and twirl and
twirl again like kittens under the spell of hanging thread;
because my grandmother wore the soft gold ring he bought
with Yankee dollars earned from digging through Panama
for six months, and they slept together on a cot in a small red
house in the coffee village of Drummily, where doors were not locked.
A devilman stole in one night, jealous money in pocket,
cemetery dirt in hands - he rubbed it into grandmother's
stomach, and for the six times her belly swelled
with child were another six when it fell flat, empty.
My grandmother believed an egg cracked in basins of water
could prophesy the future; she believed in life after death
and in voodoo and obeah and the Lord Jesus Christ
and she believed in the magic of numbers, especially
Seven, so the familiar feeling of another spirit
inside her, made her wash her belly with river water.
My grandmother had ten children: three boys, seven
girls - and the first boy who has seven names
grew into a tall preacher, silver tongued
whose every word causes fire. The devilman is dead -
choked when he saw the first boy-child. And I
only remember my grandmother dying
shivering in a cot in the small red house in the
coffee village of Drummily, singing "O my children,
have no fear of pestilences which walk by night."
Harper M. Willson
Hi Tiniap. I hope my powers of c&c are equal to the task of addressing one of
your fine poems. All comments imho, fwiw, etc.
>because she was wife to the tall preacher man, silver tongued
>whose every word was fire in the breast, whose oiled finger on
>women's foreheads made them scream and twirl and
>twirl again like kittens under the spell of hanging thread;
Wonderful unobtrusive internal rhyme (preacher/scream, forehead/thread). I'd
hate to see you lose them, but while kittens will twirl at the hanging thread,
do they scream?
Oiled finger: the anointing of the Holy Spirit. Very nicely handled. Brimstone
religion without saying brimstone.
>because my grandmother wore the soft gold ring he bought
>with Yankee dollars earned from digging through Panama
>for six months, and they slept together on a cot in a small red
Again, beautiful sounds (bought/dollars/cot), but your "because" construction
(near as I can tell) breaks down here. In the first strophe, you've not (and
rightly) answered your "because:" you're making us wait, employing a semi after
"thread." But here, instead of caesura, we have an "and." "Because my... and
they ..." ? Your clauses seem imbalanced. See below (because I suspect I'm
being unclear):
"because my grandmother wore the soft gold ring he bought
with Yankee dollars earned from digging through Panama
for six months AND they slept together on a cot in a small red house ..." ?
The "because(s)" are to lead us (If I understand your meaning) to your
peri-denoument: because the doors were unlocked, a devilman broke in and worked
his devilry. But there's too much space between the setup and the payoff, and
this reader got a little lost.
>house in the coffee village of Drummily, where doors were not locked.
>A devilman stole in one night, jealous money in pocket,
Coffee, Drummily, locked, pocket. Great!
>cemetery dirt in hands - he rubbed it into grandmother's
Perhaps instead of a hyphen here, a colon? (nitpick)
>stomach, and for the six times her belly swelled
>with child were another six when it fell flat, empty.
Miscarriages are construed by the grandmother as the work of a "devilman," (?)
foreshadowing (if I understand your meaning) her superstitious nature. But your
foreshadowing falls so closely on the heels of the fact revealed. The imagery
of the "thief in the night" is perhaps too soon unveiled.
>My grandmother believed an egg cracked in basins of water
>could prophesy the future; she believed in life after death
>and in voodoo and obeah and the Lord Jesus Christ
On first reading I was expecting the poem to wrap with an answer to the
"because(s)," but here, you've departed from that structure. I'm not sure it
works.
This strophe is devoted to straightforward exposition about the grandmother. I
agree that her pic-n-mix religious philosophies (obeah and Jesus; that's good
stuff, important stuff) belong in this poem, but perhaps you could break it up
a bit; make it a little more showy less telly :-)
>and she believed in the magic of numbers, especially
>Seven, so the familiar feeling of another spirit
>inside her, made her wash her belly with river water.
The grandmother had ten children in all. Seven in a row was considered lucky;
but the eighth unlucky? River water induced (or was intended to induce) a
miscarriage of the unlucky eighth, and then she was free to conceive again (up
to seven times more?) (Guessing here.)
>My grandmother had ten children: three boys, seven
>girls - and the first boy who has seven names
>grew into a tall preacher, silver tongued
I'm sorry, I'm confused. It's my fault (numbers give me trouble). If you had
said there were seven girls (in keeping with her lucky seven) followed by three
boys -- the first of whom was given seven names for the boys miscarried (or
were they simply, and perhaps disappointingly, born girls?), I might still be
following you.
>whose every word causes fire. The devilman is dead -
I know you don't want to repeat the "fire in his breast" from above, but "whose
every word *causes* fire" seems a little limp (compared to the rest).
>choked when he saw the first boy-child.
The grandmother believed she had been cursed: she birthed only girls. The
grandfather wanted a boy, silver-tongued, to carry on the fiery tradition. On
the advent of the first boy child, the spell was broken (the devilman, or
superstition, choked and died). Am I close?
Ok. Seven girls came first. The grandmother saved all the names of the boys she
had hoped one of her pregnancies would be. I think light is dawning :-) She
dreaded having yet another girl and displease the preacher man. Hence her fear
of the night?
>whose every word causes fire. The devilman is dead -
>choked when he saw the first boy-child. And I
>only remember my grandmother dying
Strike the "And" from "And I"?
>shivering in a cot in the small red house in the
>coffee village of Drummily, singing "O my children,
>have no fear of pestilences which walk by night."
Released in death from tyranny, from fear? Forgive me if I'm way off; this poem
is clearly personal.
Very nicely done.
Best,
Harper
Tiniap
Willson) wrote:
Hey Harper,
I was coming to post a revision of this draft -- hoping no one had
seen it yet. Heh. But your comments are quite helpful. You pointed out
some of the stuff I revised already (that 'because' construction) but
you also pointed out lost of important things I missed. Didn't realize
the story was so confusing -- yet I'm not surprised. It's a story I've
known my whole life, but obviously some of what I know isn't coming
across clearly.
The long and short is my (or rather 'the') grandmother had six
miscarriages. The seventh child lives and she goes on to have 9
others. I've posted a revision of this.. thanks for the great crit.
Andrew
Tiniap
__________
Noctiphobia
She was wife to the tall preacher man, silver tongued
whose every word was fire in the breast, whose oiled thumb
pressed on women's foreheads made them scream and twirl and
twirl again like kittens under the spell of hanging thread;
My grandmother wore the soft gold ring he bought
with Yankee dollars earned from digging through Panama
for six months, and they lay together on a cot in a small red
house in the coffee village of Drummily, where doors were never locked
so a devilman stole in one night, jealous money in pocket,
cemetery dirt in hands, rubbed it into grandmother's
stomach. For the six times her belly swelled
with child were another six when it fell flat.
My grandmother, a believing woman, trusted eggs
broken in basins of water would reveal the future,
she believed in voodoo and obeah and her Lord Jesus
and in the magic of certain numbers, especially seven
so the familiar feeling (a 7th time) of another being inside,
sent her to the river where she washed her belly as a blessing.
The boy (first of ten) was christened with seven names
all of which meant, 'the lion who breaketh the chains'.
He has grown into a tall preacher man, silver tongued
whose every word whips up fire. The devilman is dead -
choked on fishbone when he saw the child approach.
And I - I only remember my grandmother dying
shivering in a cot in the small red house in the coffee
village of Drummily, singing "O my children, do not fear
the night or the pestilence which walketh inside it."
M.H.Benders
Tiniap wrote:
>
> Noctiphobia
>
> Noctiphobia
>
> because she was wife to the tall preacher man, silver tongued
drop 'silver tongued' it's a cliché
> whose every word was fire in the breast, whose oiled finger on
> women's foreheads made them scream and twirl and
this is exaggerated but in a way that's quite unpleasant. It wasn't
the preachers fingers that made women scream so why suggest so.
> twirl again like kittens under the spell of hanging thread;
religious admirers don't remind me of kittens at all. A kitten that
plays with a thread does so from a hunting instinct.
Can you see how these sort of details render the poem useless if you
pay attention to them?
> because my grandmother wore the soft gold ring he bought
> with Yankee dollars earned from digging through Panama
What's the function of, for example, the word 'yankee' in above line?
(snippers)
> shivering in a cot in the small red house in the
> coffee village of Drummily, singing "O my children,
> have no fear of pestilences which walk by night."
One of the most important things a poet has to do, besides being really
critical on himself, is being really critical towards his audience.
There will always be a bunch of folks who really like a work, even when
it is written quite badly.
Details are really important.
M.H.Benders
JAS Carter
Tin...@yahoo.com (Tiniap) warbled oh so charmingly:
>Noctiphobia
Ooh.
Julie Carter
--
Who put the ram in the ram-a-lam-a-ding-dong?
Jeremy the Sumo Climber
news:3cc680c8...@News.CIS.DFN.DE...
> revision: draft #2
> __________
>
> Noctiphobia
>
> She was wife to the tall preacher man, silver tongued
> whose every word was fire in the breast, whose oiled thumb
> pressed on women's foreheads made them scream and twirl and
>
> twirl again like kittens under the spell of hanging thread;
I had trouble with the first version; this one came across much better.
Unlike some others, I like the kittens.
- Sumo
Harper M. Willson
>this is exaggerated but in a way that's quite unpleasant. It wasn't
>the preachers fingers that made women scream so why suggest so.
Wrong. I've witnessed preachers pressing a finger or a hand to a parishioner's
head, the object of which is to become "Slain in the (Holy) Sprit, and many
times screaming and crying and much rolling on the floor ensues. It's supposed
to be an intense interraction between the parishioner and God (the preacher
acting as a conduit), but more often than not, it's the charisma of the
preacher that the people are responding to. Andrew uses kittens and thread as a
simile for hypnotic attraction. The part that doesn't fully work (as I've said)
is that kittens do not scream (or for that matter, cry).
>religious admirers don't remind me of kittens at all. A kitten that
>plays with a thread does so from a hunting instinct.
Again, he's using the simile to show the parishoners weakness; like kittens
before a string, they are helpless, mesmerized (and the string-holder knows his
power). I agree he could find tighter way of putting it, but Andrew knows what
he's trying to say, and he's on the right track.
>One of the most important things a poet has to do, besides being really
>critical on himself, is being really critical towards his audience.
>There will always be a bunch of folks who really like a work, even when
>it is written quite badly.
Well duh. But /this/ poem wasn't written 'quite badly'. It needs a rethink,
several revisions, and most of all, the poet needs encouragement to continue to
try (why the hell else would he have posted here?). Are you suggesting that
Andrew is the sort of insensible dumbbell who would take only compliments to
heart, and shuck the rest?
Harper
M.H.Benders
"Harper M. Willson" wrote:
>
> "M.H.Benders" maan...@chello.nl writes:
>
> >this is exaggerated but in a way that's quite unpleasant. It wasn't
> >the preachers fingers that made women scream so why suggest so.
>
> Wrong. I've witnessed preachers pressing a finger or a hand to a parishioner's
> head, the object of which is to become "Slain in the (Holy) Sprit, and many
> times screaming and crying and much rolling on the floor ensues.
Daft. It's still not the fingers doing the job but the 'holy spirit'.
Suggesting that the preachers fingers *are* the holy spirits is
interesting enough but clearly out of range of the dry impressionism
of the poem.
> >religious admirers don't remind me of kittens at all. A kitten that
> >plays with a thread does so from a hunting instinct.
>
> Again, he's using the simile to show the parishoners weakness; like kittens
> before a string, they are helpless, mesmerized
Daft. This is really the most insane type of miscalculation I have read
in a long time. Kitties don't feel 'helpless' when they try to knock
over a thread. Who the fuck do you think you are fooling?
(and the string-holder knows his
> power). I agree he could find tighter way of putting it, but Andrew knows what
> he's trying to say, and he's on the right track.
>
> >One of the most important things a poet has to do, besides being really
> >critical on himself, is being really critical towards his audience.
> >There will always be a bunch of folks who really like a work, even when
> >it is written quite badly.
>
> Well duh. But /this/ poem wasn't written 'quite badly'.
Yes it was. The details were very unthoughtful, the concept dull at
best,
the use of language was mediocre. The only good point was the quite
decent rhythm. That's not enough for a 'well written' declaration.
Are you suggesting that
> Andrew is the sort of insensible dumbbell who would take only compliments to
> heart, and shuck the rest?
I was making a general point, because specifics are always quite
impossible if you don't know someone on a personal basis.
M.H.Benders
stan
> Noctiphobia
>
This is a poem written from the gut and "to me" it's the best kind. Poetry
written from your heart makes it all worthwhile. Screw the critics to hell
and back. Great job!
Stan
---
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Harper M. Willson
[snip]
>Daft.
Playing softball with me are ya?
>Daft
Oh, come on man.
>This is really the most insane type of miscalculation I have read
>in a long time. Kitties don't feel 'helpless' when they try to knock
>over a thread.
Ah! You're improving. With all the insane miscalculations rampant in these
parts, if /mine/ makes the pantheon of /your/ "most" -- Mr. Benders, what can a
girl do but curtsey.
Harper
CasualTee
M.H.Benders
No it isn't
Brooks Hoffman
Mr. Benders, I agree with you completely and applaud your candor. We know it
too well that no one is more confident than a bad poet.
This is an example of a forced writing. This poem is nothing more than
fusion of exaggerated and extraneous events. This is miscarriage of a poem
but who cares if a friend writes it!
Brooks Hoffman
"M.H.Benders" <maan...@chello.nl> wrote in message
news:3CC7A1E4...@chello.nl...
George Tolis
> Noctiphobia
>
> Noctiphobia
First off, you have just about the right line lengths for the
breathless pace here, but I don't think the regular stanzas are
suitable to the way you're breaking. There are "chunks" then more
obvious pauses, e.g. S3 "locked // A devilman" is a stanza break.
And is it a trendy thing for Marley fans to use lowercase?
> because she was wife to the tall preacher man, silver tongued
> whose every word was fire in the breast, whose oiled finger on
OK. If you're going to use clichés like "silver tongued" and "fire in
the breast" to 'stockify' the preacher, you're going to have to place
them more carefully than at the end of lines. Suggest you put
"preacher man, whose every / word was silver-tongued and fire in the
breast..." to get a sense of disownership of the cliché from your own
pen.
> women's foreheads made them scream and twirl and
>
> twirl again like kittens under the spell of hanging thread;
The way I had this working was by envisaging the kittens on the end of
threads. Chasing threads is too too cute. Suggest "pendants under the
spell of hanging thread". Different inflection but more along the
lines of control.
> because my grandmother wore the soft gold ring he bought
> with Yankee dollars earned from digging through Panama
WRT Martijn's comments, "soft gold ring" - maybe even the majority of
these lines - are fairly dull, but "Yankee" is quite a potent bit of
nationalistic character creation. Don't know if I condone that
attitude, even though I'm more aware of what Yankee dollars are spent
on these days.
> for six months, and they slept together on a cot in a small red
> house in the coffee village of Drummily, where doors were not locked.
Hmm. You are petering out quite a bit into fairly crap prose. I
/could/ take the linebreaks out to show it to you, but you're adept
enough to see that yourself.
> A devilman stole in one night, jealous money in pocket,
> cemetery dirt in hands - he rubbed it into grandmother's
> stomach, and for the six times her belly swelled
> with child were another six when it fell flat, empty.
This is closer to a story-telling poem, something that works for me.
It is a little "flat" in places - "jealous money" reads abstract to me
- I like the money imagery threading through, but it's not played with
enough and I don't know how to react to it.
> My grandmother believed an egg cracked in basins of water
> could prophesy the future; she believed in life after death
> and in voodoo and obeah and the Lord Jesus Christ
What happened to the device that made it poetic? Keep the 'becauses'
going then wind it up at the end.
We actually have a very similar story in my grandparents' village - my
great-grandmother used to "read" the shoulderblade of lambs after
they'd been cooked and the meat stripped from the bone. She could
predict if there were going to be any accidents or mishaps in the
family - my mother would carry it across to the house after the meal
for inspection.
> and she believed in the magic of numbers, especially
> Seven, so the familiar feeling of another spirit
> inside her, made her wash her belly with river water.
Drop comma after "her". It's too wordy now, but the pacing is off.
"And /because/ she believed in the magic of numbers"? You'll need to
address the linebreaks soon.
> My grandmother had ten children: three boys, seven
> girls - and the first boy who has seven names
> grew into a tall preacher, silver tongued
OK, you may want the "first boy" in there, but this is bad.
> whose every word causes fire. The devilman is dead -
> choked when he saw the first boy-child. And I
> only remember my grandmother dying
I still don't get the devilman character clearly. If you want some
Lynch-Conrad personification of greed you'll have to whip it harder.
"boy-child" even as 'voice' is pretty dull to me. Take a scalpel to
this poem, or go back to the original voice and keep it going.
> shivering in a cot in the small red house in the
> coffee village of Drummily, singing "O my children,
> have no fear of pestilences which walk by night."
Hmm. Hmmmm. No. Don't like it. Try it with the 'because' construction
reaching a conclusion. By this point it's almost irritating.
G.
Tiniap
wrote:
>
>
>Tiniap wrote:
>>
>> Noctiphobia
>>
>> Noctiphobia
>>
>> because she was wife to the tall preacher man, silver tongued
>
>drop 'silver tongued' it's a cliché
agreed. It's dropped.
>
>> whose every word was fire in the breast, whose oiled finger on
>> women's foreheads made them scream and twirl and
>
>this is exaggerated but in a way that's quite unpleasant. It wasn't
>the preachers fingers that made women scream so why suggest so.
Because that's how it appears. Cause and effect -- preacher presses
finger to woman's head -- woman twirls and hollers.
>
>
>> twirl again like kittens under the spell of hanging thread;
>
>religious admirers don't remind me of kittens at all. A kitten that
>plays with a thread does so from a hunting instinct.
Yeah, but that seemingly helpless spinning reminds me of the women.
I'll certainly reconsider this -- doesn't seem to be working smoothly.
>
>Can you see how these sort of details render the poem useless if you
>pay attention to them?
hmm... well, not all the ones you point out, but it's certainly a good
point. Thanks.
>
>
>> because my grandmother wore the soft gold ring he bought
>> with Yankee dollars earned from digging through Panama
>
>What's the function of, for example, the word 'yankee' in above line?
It's something people in the community really value as opposed to
their own local money. It sets the wife up to be despises even more.
>
>(snippers)
>
>> shivering in a cot in the small red house in the
>> coffee village of Drummily, singing "O my children,
>> have no fear of pestilences which walk by night."
>
>One of the most important things a poet has to do, besides being really
>critical on himself, is being really critical towards his audience.
>There will always be a bunch of folks who really like a work, even when
>it is written quite badly.
>
>Details are really important.
>
>M.H.Benders
Thank you for this,
Anrew
Tiniap
wrote:
>
>
>Mr. Benders, I agree with you completely and applaud your candor. We know it
>too well that no one is more confident than a bad poet.
>
>This is an example of a forced writing. This poem is nothing more than
>fusion of exaggerated and extraneous events. This is miscarriage of a poem
>but who cares if a friend writes it!
hehe. The failed critic returns for vengeance.
Regards
Andrew
Tiniap
Tolis) wrote:
Thanks for all the comments, George.
They're all correct, but now I'm disappointed I didn't post the
revision sooner, as it feels different enough from this one. Baaah.
That's what happens when you post first drafts. I'll post where I've
reached with this one in a few days.
Regards
Andrew
Tiniap
Thank ya, Sumo
Andrew
>
> - Sumo
>
>
Jeremy the Sumo Climber
>
>
> "Harper M. Willson" wrote:
> >
> > "M.H.Benders" maan...@chello.nl writes:
> >
> > >this is exaggerated but in a way that's quite unpleasant. It wasn't
> > >the preachers fingers that made women scream so why suggest so.
> >
> > Wrong. I've witnessed preachers pressing a finger or a hand to a
parishioner's
> > head, the object of which is to become "Slain in the (Holy) Sprit, and
many
> > times screaming and crying and much rolling on the floor ensues.
>
> Daft. It's still not the fingers doing the job but the 'holy spirit'.
> Suggesting that the preachers fingers *are* the holy spirits is
> interesting enough but clearly out of range of the dry impressionism
> of the poem.
Bullshit. Total, unequivical bullshit.
Look at it from a disinterested observer. Good reportage, I think.
> > >religious admirers don't remind me of kittens at all. A kitten that
> > >plays with a thread does so from a hunting instinct.
> >
> > Again, he's using the simile to show the parishoners weakness; like
kittens
> > before a string, they are helpless, mesmerized
>
> Daft. This is really the most insane type of miscalculation I have read
> in a long time. Kitties don't feel 'helpless' when they try to knock
> over a thread. Who the fuck do you think you are fooling?
Who the fuck are you? Kittens don't _feel_ helpless, they _are_ helpless.
Again, look at it from the perspective of the observer, not the kitten.
> (and the string-holder knows his
> > power). I agree he could find tighter way of putting it, but Andrew
knows what
> > he's trying to say, and he's on the right track.
> >
> > >One of the most important things a poet has to do, besides being
really
> > >critical on himself, is being really critical towards his audience.
> > >There will always be a bunch of folks who really like a work, even when
> > >it is written quite badly.
> >
> > Well duh. But /this/ poem wasn't written 'quite badly'.
>
> Yes it was. The details were very unthoughtful, the concept dull at
> best,
I found it quite fascinating.
- Sumo
Tiniap
>
>"Tiniap" <Tin...@yahoo.com> wrote in message
>news:3cc637ae...@News.CIS.DFN.DE...
>> Noctiphobia
>>
>This is a poem written from the gut and "to me" it's the best kind.
I'm glad you liked it.
> Poetry
>written from your heart makes it all worthwhile.
I don't agree with that completely, though.
>Screw the critics to hell
>and back.
And I certainly won't take you up on that.
Regards
Andrew
M.H.Benders
Jeremy the Sumo Climber wrote:
> > Daft. It's still not the fingers doing the job but the 'holy spirit'.
> > Suggesting that the preachers fingers *are* the holy spirits is
> > interesting enough but clearly out of range of the dry impressionism
> > of the poem.
>
> Bullshit. Total, unequivical bullshit.
>
> Look at it from a disinterested observer. Good reportage, I think.
That's why I called it dry impressionism. If your point is that these
sort of primitive causalities are in itself interesting enough to be
called 'poetry' then I'm afraid you're just as idiotic as above
'observer' who thinks the woman screams because the priest touches her.
> > Daft. This is really the most insane type of miscalculation I have read
> > in a long time. Kitties don't feel 'helpless' when they try to knock
> > over a thread. Who the fuck do you think you are fooling?
>
> Who the fuck are you? Kittens don't _feel_ helpless, they _are_ helpless.
> Again, look at it from the perspective of the observer, not the kitten.
Yes, you already made the point that the observer seemed to be a
complete idiot. That was my impression all along. However, an
interesting idiot would never paint the picture in such an
impressionistic way. Didactic
idiocy about youth and animals is so commonplace that as an observation
it's extremely banal and uninteresting.
M.H.Benders
Jeremy the Sumo Climber
>
>
> Jeremy the Sumo Climber wrote:
>
>
> > > Daft. It's still not the fingers doing the job but the 'holy spirit'.
> > > Suggesting that the preachers fingers *are* the holy spirits is
> > > interesting enough but clearly out of range of the dry impressionism
> > > of the poem.
> >
> > Bullshit. Total, unequivical bullshit.
> >
> > Look at it from a disinterested observer. Good reportage, I think.
>
> That's why I called it dry impressionism. If your point is that these
> sort of primitive causalities are in itself interesting enough to be
> called 'poetry' then I'm afraid you're just as idiotic as above
> 'observer' who thinks the woman screams because the priest touches her.
I think your issistance that it has to be the "holy spirit" that is making
the woman scream is pretty idiotic. If the observer does not believe in the
existence of a "holy spirit", or doubts that the instance in question is an
example of, why would he _NOT_ believe that it was the priest and the
follower's blind faith doing the work?
> > > Daft. This is really the most insane type of miscalculation I have
read
> > > in a long time. Kitties don't feel 'helpless' when they try to knock
> > > over a thread. Who the fuck do you think you are fooling?
> >
> > Who the fuck are you? Kittens don't _feel_ helpless, they _are_
helpless.
> > Again, look at it from the perspective of the observer, not the kitten.
>
> Yes, you already made the point that the observer seemed to be a
> complete idiot. That was my impression all along.
You obviously can't read. The observer is describing what the scene _looks_
like, not expressing what the subject _feels_.
I see no idiocy in said observer. Perhaps he is repulsed, unmoved, or
doubtful of the genuineness of the event. You may disagree, but that does
not make him/her lacking in intellect.
> However, an
> interesting idiot would never paint the picture in such an
> impressionistic way. Didactic
> idiocy about youth and animals is so commonplace that as an observation
> it's extremely banal and uninteresting.
Once again, your bias and scewed perspective are showing. Try opening your
mind. Or getting one.
- Sumo
Gwyneth Box
I'm late joining in this thread and have read the previous comments.
George says most of what I probably wouldn't have noticed but
agree with. Even so, I'll add a couple of my own comments.
I loved the basic story here. I understood the six miscarriages
before you explained them, and the faith that broke the spell.
I think this still has a lot of revision coming, and that it will
eventually be one of my favourites.
Follow me down for a couple of specifics:
Tiniap wrote:
> Noctiphobia
>
> Noctiphobia
Not sure about the title - and not sure why you need it twice! -
it seems very Latin for the atmosphere.
>
> because she was wife to the tall preacher man, silver tongued
I don't like silver-tongued.
>
> whose every word was fire in the breast, whose oiled finger on
> women's foreheads made them scream and twirl and
I think you could try
"...a woman's forehead could make her scream..."
>
>
> twirl again like kittens under the spell of hanging thread;
I like the scream and twirl, but it's true I don't see kittens twirling
on
the end of a thread. They pounce, fall back and come at it again, which
is quite unlike the women.
>
> because my grandmother wore the soft gold ring he bought
> with Yankee dollars earned from digging through Panama
I like "Yankee dollars"
>
>
> for six months, and they slept together on a cot in a small red
> house in the coffee village of Drummily, where doors were not locked.
Those "because" need to lead on into the next bit.
>
> A devilman stole in one night, jealous money in pocket,
>
> cemetery dirt in hands -
I particularly like this bit.
> he rubbed it into grandmother's
I think you should be consistent with using *my* before "grandmother"
>
> stomach, and for the six times her belly swelled
The problem is "the six times" - when in fact there were sixteen, and
it was only the *first* six times.
>
> with child were another six when it fell flat, empty.
>
> My grandmother believed an egg cracked in basins of water
> could prophesy the future; she believed in life after death
> and in voodoo and obeah and the Lord Jesus Christ
I like the multiple "and"s.
>
> and she believed in the magic of numbers, especially
but this first "and" doesn't quite sit right for me.
>
> Seven, so the familiar feeling of another spirit
I don't think that capitalisation works.
>
> inside her, made her wash her belly with river water.
It's getting a bit flat around here, despite the swelling belly!
*show* me that washing.
>
> My grandmother had ten children: three boys, seven
> girls - and the first boy who has seven names
I liked the detail of the names in the other version, though
not, perhaps the exact way you phrased it.
>
> grew into a tall preacher, silver tongued
Didn't like it the first time, don't like the echo down here.
>
> whose every word causes fire. The devilman is dead -
> choked when he saw the first boy-child. And I
> only remember my grandmother dying
>
> shivering in a cot in the small red house in the
> coffee village of Drummily, singing "O my children,
> have no fear of pestilences which walk by night."
Like I said, I think you could make this into a favourite for me,
but it needs reworking.
Good luck with revising,
g.
---------------------------------
http://www.patchword.com
M.H.Benders
Jeremy the Sumo Climber wrote:
> > That's why I called it dry impressionism. If your point is that these
> > sort of primitive causalities are in itself interesting enough to be
> > called 'poetry' then I'm afraid you're just as idiotic as above
> > 'observer' who thinks the woman screams because the priest touches her.
>
> I think your issistance that it has to be the "holy spirit" that is making
> the woman scream is pretty idiotic. If the observer does not believe in the
> existence of a "holy spirit", or doubts that the instance in question is an
> example of, why would he _NOT_ believe that it was the priest and the
> follower's blind faith doing the work?
Because it shows he's very ignorant on the mechanics of devotion,
meaning again he's just a causalic simplist, and a pretentious one at
that.
> > > Who the fuck are you? Kittens don't _feel_ helpless, they _are_
> helpless.
> > > Again, look at it from the perspective of the observer, not the kitten.
> >
> > Yes, you already made the point that the observer seemed to be a
> > complete idiot. That was my impression all along.
>
> You obviously can't read. The observer is describing what the scene _looks_
> like, not expressing what the subject _feels_.
Kitties don't look helpless when they try to hit a thread. They look
cute, funny and curious. Therefore, the observer is a false
sentimentalist and an idiot and you are an iodiot as well because you
share his perspectives.
M.H.Benders
Jeremy the Sumo Climber
>
>
> Jeremy the Sumo Climber wrote:
>
> > > That's why I called it dry impressionism. If your point is that these
> > > sort of primitive causalities are in itself interesting enough to be
> > > called 'poetry' then I'm afraid you're just as idiotic as above
> > > 'observer' who thinks the woman screams because the priest touches
her.
> >
> > I think your issistance that it has to be the "holy spirit" that is
making
> > the woman scream is pretty idiotic. If the observer does not believe in
the
> > existence of a "holy spirit", or doubts that the instance in question is
an
> > example of, why would he _NOT_ believe that it was the priest and the
> > follower's blind faith doing the work?
>
> Because it shows he's very ignorant on the mechanics of devotion,
> meaning again he's just a causalic simplist, and a pretentious one at
> that.
Oh, now I get it. Non-believers are stupid, right?
And who the fuck isn't pretentious?
> > > > Who the fuck are you? Kittens don't _feel_ helpless, they _are_
> > helpless.
> > > > Again, look at it from the perspective of the observer, not the
kitten.
> > >
> > > Yes, you already made the point that the observer seemed to be a
> > > complete idiot. That was my impression all along.
> >
> > You obviously can't read. The observer is describing what the scene
_looks_
> > like, not expressing what the subject _feels_.
>
> Kitties don't look helpless when they try to hit a thread.
> They look
> cute, funny and curious.
And yet, it can't be noted that they are quite helpless.
> Therefore, the observer is a false
> sentimentalist and an idiot and you are an iodiot as well because you
> share his perspectives.
And you are a closed-minded moron that would rather accuse others of a lack
of intellegence than debate as an adult. Nevermind, you are worthless,
hopelessly self-indulgent, narcissistic, and thoroughly un-enjoyable
debating partner.
- Sumo
Tiniap
<gwy...@patchword.com> wrote:
>Hi Andrew,
Heya g
>
>I'm late joining in this thread
not really
>and have read the previous comments.
>George says most of what I probably wouldn't have noticed but
>agree with. Even so, I'll add a couple of my own comments.
>
>I loved the basic story here. I understood the six miscarriages
>before you explained them, and the faith that broke the spell.
great
>
>I think this still has a lot of revision coming,
oh yeah!
>and that it will
>eventually be one of my favourites.
hope so
>
>Follow me down for a couple of specifics:
>Tiniap wrote:
>
>> Noctiphobia
>>
>> Noctiphobia
>
>Not sure about the title - and not sure why you need it twice! -
>it seems very Latin for the atmosphere.
the double up was an accident
>
>>
>> because she was wife to the tall preacher man, silver tongued
>
>I don't like silver-tongued.
dropped it a long time ago. I think I coined the word
'pentecostongued' in the current version
>
>>
>> whose every word was fire in the breast, whose oiled finger on
>> women's foreheads made them scream and twirl and
>
>I think you could try
>"...a woman's forehead could make her scream..."
>
>>
>>
>> twirl again like kittens under the spell of hanging thread;
>
>I like the scream and twirl, but it's true I don't see kittens twirling
>on
>the end of a thread. They pounce, fall back and come at it again, which
>is quite unlike the women.
hmmm. And funnily enough that's exactly what I was thinking of. I
dunno if that's simply a shango baptist phenomena where the women go
up to the preacher spin away, twirl and almost zombie like go back up
to him again and repeat the process.
>
>>
>> because my grandmother wore the soft gold ring he bought
>> with Yankee dollars earned from digging through Panama
>
>I like "Yankee dollars"
>
>>
>>
>> for six months, and they slept together on a cot in a small red
>> house in the coffee village of Drummily, where doors were not locked.
>
>Those "because" need to lead on into the next bit.
yes-- I think I've ironed that out.
>
>>
>> A devilman stole in one night, jealous money in pocket,
>>
>> cemetery dirt in hands -
>
>I particularly like this bit.
thanks
>
>> he rubbed it into grandmother's
>
>I think you should be consistent with using *my* before "grandmother"
hmm. You may be right
>
>>
>> stomach, and for the six times her belly swelled
>
>The problem is "the six times" - when in fact there were sixteen, and
>it was only the *first* six times.
aaah!
>
>>
>> with child were another six when it fell flat, empty.
>>
>> My grandmother believed an egg cracked in basins of water
>> could prophesy the future; she believed in life after death
>> and in voodoo and obeah and the Lord Jesus Christ
>
>I like the multiple "and"s.
>
>>
>> and she believed in the magic of numbers, especially
>
>but this first "and" doesn't quite sit right for me.
ok
>
>>
>> Seven, so the familiar feeling of another spirit
>
>I don't think that capitalisation works.
I don't think so either
>
>>
>> inside her, made her wash her belly with river water.
>
>It's getting a bit flat around here, despite the swelling belly!
>*show* me that washing.
>
>>
>> My grandmother had ten children: three boys, seven
>> girls - and the first boy who has seven names
>
>I liked the detail of the names in the other version, though
>not, perhaps the exact way you phrased it.
cool
>
>>
>> grew into a tall preacher, silver tongued
>
>Didn't like it the first time, don't like the echo down here.
>
>>
>> whose every word causes fire. The devilman is dead -
>> choked when he saw the first boy-child. And I
>> only remember my grandmother dying
>>
>> shivering in a cot in the small red house in the
>> coffee village of Drummily, singing "O my children,
>> have no fear of pestilences which walk by night."
>
>Like I said, I think you could make this into a favourite for me,
>but it needs reworking.
>
>Good luck with revising,
Thank you Gwyneth
Andrew
>
>g.
>---------------------------------
>http://www.patchword.com
>
M.H.Benders
Jeremy the Sumo Climber wrote:
> > Because it shows he's very ignorant on the mechanics of devotion,
> > meaning again he's just a causalic simplist, and a pretentious one at
> > that.
>
> Oh, now I get it. Non-believers are stupid, right?
If they think the woman screams because the priest puts his finger to
her forehead than they are not very clever, indeed. Such ignorance has
nothing to do with their being atheists, however.
> > > You obviously can't read. The observer is describing what the scene
> _looks_
> > > like, not expressing what the subject _feels_.
> >
> > Kitties don't look helpless when they try to hit a thread.
> > They look
> > cute, funny and curious.
>
> And yet, it can't be noted that they are quite helpless.
Maybe in your fucked up state of mind things that look cute and curious
seem helpless. That's not our problem. Plenty of weirdos around.
> > Therefore, the observer is a false
> > sentimentalist and an idiot and you are an idiot as well because you
> > share his perspectives.
>
> And you are a closed-minded moron that would rather accuse others of a lack
> of intellegence than debate as an adult.
There we go again. Kid, only teens want to seem 'adult'. Real adults
don't give a fuck about such kind of criteria. Complete waste of time,
like your
unimaginative and crooked way of presenting yourself as a real weirdo.
M.H.Benders
Candice Lee
thanks, candy
Candice Lee