lowtide * * * * * *
Lmdelsanto
~~~~~~~~~~~~
i want a beachhouse
at brenton point
where jagged rocks
hold open rockpools
filled with periwinkles
there long winding roads
lead to quaint cottages
with thatched roofs
near old mansions
boasting long driveways
there, i will watch catamarans
and touring red sails
from a second floor
open atrium window,
my kimono, untied
there i will sip green tea
as seabirds take flight
and sunlight gently wanes
beyond an endless
watery landscape
there, i will watch artists
gather to paint sunsets
and hand-in-hand lovers
while watching kites soar
for miles and miles
there i will welcome
the breeze of summer
as blue wildflowers
almost bow in honor
before a lowtide of salt.
l.m.angel delsanto (c)l999-2000, all rights reserved
Roberlyn
water.
Marek Lugowski
and I praised, you know, like a mauve antiseptic hotel room does, when
compared to, you know, your own place. It's static, uinimaginative, and
stated, never mind boring and postcardy.
You'd do well to compare the two exactly and see why one has melody and
charm and rhythm -- and a point fo view -- and the other is just so much
self-satisfied ornamental blob.
-- marek
In article <20000404005532...@ng-fm1.aol.com>,
--
------------------- : http://www.enteract.com/~marek : ------------------
1 Clickable geomap : Magical Mystery Tour : last add : Kristie's postcard
2 HalinaFAQ (now also po polsku): Halina Poswiatowska Translation Project
3 A Small Garlic Press (ASGP): A 501c3 Nonprofit Corp: $2/chapbook poetry
Wagner Mitchell Family
earlier, I don't think I'd be quite so abrupt in my criticism of it.
There are some saving graces in it. The title is very
appropriate--lowtide. The feel of the piece is low, blue, depressive.
Yet, the crystal clear images presented are those that should evoke
feelings of lightness, happiness, bliss. How that's accomplished, I'm
not quite sure. Perhaps it's the first stanza that gives it a sense of
longing. The repetition of "There I will..." might also contribute.
What doesn't work for me is, I think, the length. Perhaps a bit
shorter, say a stanza or two, would be enough to drive home the point.
I also think the rhythm falters in a couple of places.
And hey, sometimes mauve antiseptic hotel rooms are just what the doctor
ordered! 8-)
- Bernadette
--
Wagner Mitchell Family
Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada
mailto:wagm...@sk.sympatico.ca
http://www3.sk.sympatico.ca/mitchb
Dolemirth
Nice job, delsanto. though i prefer
the old version you posted 4/15/99
It does reek of antiseptic here and there like Marek states
and it is sing-song, but it makes me
want to visit your place.
dana
>Subject: lowtide * * * * * *
>From: lmdel...@aol.com (Lmdelsanto)
>Date: 4/4/00 12:55 AM Eastern Daylight Time
>Message-id: <20000404005532...@ng-fm1.aol.com>
Brandellan
Wagner Mitchell Family <wagm...@sk.sympatico.ca> wrote in message
news:38E98FB5...@sk.sympatico.ca...
> What doesn't work for me is, I think, the length. Perhaps a bit
> shorter, say a stanza or two, would be enough to drive home the point.
The imagery is quite beautiful, and I found myself wishing that I could see
such a place first hand.
I agree with Bernadette. The entire poem is in soft focus, and going into
detail doesn't make it sharper. A stanza or two would give the readers
imagination enough to work with.
It is postcardy, but it kind of seems that that was your goal; a comforting
wash of pleasant imagery.
Thanks for sharing,
- Brandellan
Marek Lugowski
ambient lameness of comments on this thread has exceeded this critic's
critical mass. Here goes.
"The imagery is quite beautiful, and I found myself wishing that I
could see such a place first hand."
"It is postcardy, but it kind of seems that that was your goal; a
comforting wash of pleasant imagery."
Just like a douche tv commercial, for the very first time, seen at a
five-and-dime, eh? Or an incontinentia diaper one -- also set on a
beach? With a Beatles' song off of Let It Be warmed-over, rehashed,
perhaps? Sang by a tepidly sensitive vaguely Cat Stevens-cooing
corporate eunuch? Kitsch, kitsch.
This is a Zita poem minus the daliesque burning amaranth, and spices
overdose, and golden anklet on the Noblist slinky physicist teaching
grand unified theory to ghetto kids (not having gotten to the elementary
particle yet, just quoting from jogged memory...), the there is no there
there Mysterious Woman with Exotic Grandparents / Pier 1 shopping (re)pose.
Except that here we are down to Hickville Central Northeast, what with
Middle-Aged Beach Resort Anglo Posing, the Lawrence Welk Show on, visiting
location, oceanside at Atlantic City poem of rap. And, it is all tell
and tell, powder blue Buick and Buick, Hotel and Casino, artifice and
affectation -- no art (of poetry) and no show (as in poetry).
Observe:
I want a beach house at Brenton Point, where jagged rocks hold open
rockpools filled with periwinkles. There long winding roads lead to
[jeez] quaint cottages with thatched roofs near old mansions boasting
long driveways. There, I will watch catamarans and touring red sails
from a second floor open atrium window, my kimono, untied. There, I
will sip green tea, as sea birds take flight, and sunlight gently
wanes beyond an endless watery landscape. There, I will watch artists
gather to paint sunsets and hand-in-hand lovers [bad grammar? Needs
parallel verb construction -- or the artists are painting the
hand-in-hand lovers], while watching kites soar for miles and miles.
[and miles and miles jeez2] There, i will welcome the breeze of
summer, as blue wild flowers almost bow in honor before a low tide of
salt.
"low tide of salt" -- is the lone concession to poetry in all of that!
(the pith of it, and the interplay of l's and t's with the lo/al
inversion, suggestive of foam ebbing and flowing. Actually works. So
throw away the entire poem and keep the last line.)
I think The Commentators are so escapist-thirsty for a reality
different from their everyday gray -- that they cannot tell prose from
their fogged-over hind ends. Or realize what makes poetry be poetry,
that poetry does not ride on exotica in the least. In fact, riding on
the exotica is wimpy and rides any poetry right into the crapper.
The passage formerly known as Angel's poem which I just spliced back
into paragraph form, fixing spelling and punctuation as I went is NOT
beach poetry. I know beach poetry. Beach poetry was a friend of mine.
You, Angel's beach poem, are no beach poem.
For one thing, the SOUND of the sea and of the wind is absent in this
passage. A poem that celebrates the seaside seemingly celebrates it
as if watching it on tv! A commercial for Puerto Ayarta vacations,
group bus tours, at that. *shiver*
There is no poetry in jotting down a paragraph on the theme "I want a
beach house", where the sole poetic device is the repeating "There" at
the beginning of each next sentence. That's just silly greed,
dripping. Or inanity. It may be wishful thinking, but it is no poetry.
Especially for an author who has written many such poems already, and
lives on or near the beach front. Therefore, the author is expected
to convey precisely and adroitly, and with some tangible degree of
spiritual investment, the surprising and the more-than-generic Mystic
Seaport tourist-trap aspects of the sea side. Even as a short short
story, the passage could have been imbued with more panache.
Now, O Commentators So Bowled Over, it absolutely does not move me
that YOU managed to be impressed, because you don't live at a beach
front and would like to, and because you are easily seduced to a
voyeuristic A-attraction ride (the lamest in Disneyland-speak). YOU
are reading your aspirations into this skanky piece of prose and
calling it "imagery" to add insufficient expressivity to the injury:
But there is no poetry in the writing, and there is no imagery, either.
It is not even pornography -- of the beach; it's not even lurid. It
is just dead, a carcass of insipid text with scarcely anything but
postcard lines of depiction. No appreciable value-added work went
into this depiction -- except for chopping it neatly and stock-piling
it like so much firewood, as short lines with line breaks.
An absorbing news story from a newspaper survives such a treatment --
in fact, lends itself to a practiced hand. But that begs the question
of knowing how to lineate.
Furthermore, some of you are confused as to what imagery is. Imagery
is not the depictions of landscapes or collecitons of images, or
descriptions of objects or of maidens in varying stages of coitus or
undress, or of passages thorugh landscapes, time, adolescence, vagina/
birth canal, near death experience, or something abstract such as
4 years of high school. Imagery, in poetry is the careful, thrifty
crafting of language. Imagery results on mining the text for meaning
in apprehensions that spring to life, vividly, where interesting
interactions *arise* out of the interactions of heretofore uncombined
systems, elements, slants -- unrelated things being related.
Imagery is the unforgettable magic of scent in sex, not the catalog
listings with pictures of bras in Victoria's Secrets or Talbot's.
Imagery is to be found in 1960's abstract expressionist painting of a
charcoal rectangle on a charcoal background. Imagery is the reader's
receipt for asiduously bothering to process a sophisticated putting
together of *pieces* and using "mechanisms" into *wholes* on the
writer's part. It is not dreaming or rubbing yourself at a theme
of a poem.
Not much (except for the last line) happens in Angel's poem. She does
not make it sing. It does not rejoice in cultivated, memorable phrases.
It does not do much of anything. Praising it just damages Angel's
ability to discern better from the worse.
-- Marek
i'll send it to you as an earring
------------------------------------------------------------
over here the sun goes down in saffron
skies
yes over the land
this leaves the roses & the lilacs
for the marine horizon
the ocean
in silver blues & greens
folds & unfolds the water patiently
& whenever its patience ceases
it marks (with white) the creases
as the water jumps out of its skin
& pounces seethingly
after the sunset
in the cloudless afterglow
on the cold slick wet sand
flow
the slow
glazed
lilac
tongues
watch the land dry up & forget its water
(it's the sea's caresses)
but the sea always presses its case
the crashing is constant
the crashing
the constant
wuthering
give me breath & take away my speech
this half-forever is a halfway-house
to arizona's deserts
beaches of perfect solitude
there is no perfect solitude
on this beach
only half-solitudes
cluttered with beggar birds
today i found an old shell worn down
to a smooth a piece of artwork
crisscrossed with delicate grooves
so perfectly worn flat round & slim
unshell-like & tiny with a jewel's beauty
worked by nobody
Marek Lugowski
17 November 1990
near Myrtle Beach, South Carolina
[rev. 30 September 1994 Chicago / ELW, New Haven, CT]
Brandellan
So in other words, you didn't care for the poem, or the critiques. Your
opinion has been noted.
You have some valid points that R.A.P. should hear. If you weren't so
hostile, maybe people would begin to pay attention to your insight rather
than flaming your delivery (and/or personal life). But that's not the
point...
- A poem, like any other kind of literature, has a target audience.
- The audience for "lowtide" seems to be people who can appreciate the scene
depicted.
- A poem has a goal.
- The goal in "lowtide" was the description of something that the poet
wanted.
- A poem's "value", is determined, in part, by how well the audience
receives it.
- The target audience read the poem, and gave perfectly valid comments based
on the poem's goal.
- The untargeted audience didn't like it so much (go figure).
You can't treat a postcard like you can a great novel. They're too
different.
This isn't to say that your criticism wasn't useless. Everyone here would
like to grow as a poet, and *some* of your insight was useful--just
difficult to taste through the bile.
I continue to enjoy my vices,
- Brandellan
B. Callaghan
Marek Lugowski <ma...@enteract.com> wrote in article
<8cdi4e$2mt3$1...@news.enteract.com>...
> You may have trouble forgiving me for what is about to ensue, but the
> ambient lameness of comments on this thread has exceeded this critic's
> critical mass. Here goes.
I would forgive you, sure, given your passion for poetry and your exacting
eye. I would forgive (actually welcome!) grammar and context corrections. But
I would NEVER forgive anyone writing my poems out into paragraph form just to
make a point.
> "The imagery is quite beautiful, and I found myself wishing that I
> could see such a place first hand."
>
> "It is postcardy, but it kind of seems that that was your goal; a
> comforting wash of pleasant imagery."
yes. for those who want a Beach House.
snip
> Observe:
>
> I want a beach house
YES! I want a beach house!
at Brenton Point, where jagged rocks hold open
> rockpools filled with periwinkles. There long winding roads lead to
> [jeez] quaint cottages with thatched roofs near old mansions boasting
> long driveways. There, I will watch catamarans and touring red sails
> from a second floor open atrium window, my kimono, untied.
Uh, no. Not Newport or Mystic or even good ol' Cape Cod. I want a beach
house at Hampton Beach, where I can say hello to the Widow's Statue every day,
walk along Ocean Boulevard, see the kids playing in the Arcade, watch the
sunrise/ sunset on the beach and feed the seagulls popcorn right out of my hand.
An' I'm not flashin' for any damn tourists either. unless I've had a few.
heh.
> There, I
> will sip green tea, as sea birds take flight, and sunlight gently
> wanes beyond an endless watery landscape. There, I will watch artists
> gather to paint sunsets and hand-in-hand lovers [bad grammar? Needs
> parallel verb construction -- or the artists are painting the
> hand-in-hand lovers], while watching kites soar for miles and miles.
> [and miles and miles jeez2] There, i will welcome the breeze of
> summer, as blue wild flowers almost bow in honor before a low tide of
> salt.
At sunset, the regulars take their little doggies out for walks along the
beach, with "pooper-scoopers" in hand. Everybody talks to each other if they
have dogs. I'd collect collect shells 'n stuff: starfish, scallops, sandollars,
sea urchins. There's only 12 miles of coastline in all of New Hampshire, so
every bit of beach is precious.
> I think The Commentators are so escapist-thirsty for a reality
> different from their everyday gray
Yes. Escapism is my middle name. even whilst we speak.
-- that they cannot tell prose from
> their fogged-over hind ends.
Or just want a beach house too?
> You, Angel's beach poem, are no beach poem.
It's more an "I WANT A BEACH HOUSE AND I WANT IT _NOW_" poem than a JOY OF
BEACH poem.
Marek, your poem is lovely, richly evocative of being at the beach. But
it's not an I WANT A BEACH HOUSE poem.
> For one thing, the SOUND of the sea and of the wind is absent in this
> passage. A poem that celebrates the seaside seemingly celebrates it
> as if watching it on tv! A commercial for Puerto Ayarta vacations,
> group bus tours, at that. *shiver*
A commercial for why people buy lottery tickets - so they can buy a BEACH
HOUSE of their own!
>
> There is no poetry in jotting down a paragraph on the theme "I want a
> beach house",
But "I want a beach house" remains, no matter what.
where the sole poetic device is the repeating "There" at
> the beginning of each next sentence. That's just silly greed,
> dripping. Or inanity. It may be wishful thinking, but it is no poetry.
the repeated "there" didn't work for me poetically, but it did reinfoce why
"I WANT A BEACH HOUSE".
I can't help but feel that the ocean gives me poetry, washes me over with
it.
> Now, O Commentators So Bowled Over, it absolutely does not move me
> that YOU managed to be impressed, because you don't live at a beach
> front and would like to,
Well, yeah. I WANT A BEACH HOUSE! With any luck, I can go in with folks
and rent one for a week this summer. and pretend. <sigh>.
>and because you are easily seduced to a
> voyeuristic A-attraction ride (the lamest in Disneyland-speak). YOU
> are reading your aspirations into this skanky piece of prose and
> calling it "imagery" to add insufficient expressivity to the injury:
> But there is no poetry in the writing, and there is no imagery, either.
Sure there is, maybe not what you'd like though. It's all about being a
woman and WANTING A BEACH HOUSE. All the cool stuff you can do if you HAVE A
BEACH HOUSE.
snip
> Furthermore, some of you are confused as to what imagery is. Imagery
> is not the depictions of landscapes or collecitons of images, or
> descriptions of objects or of maidens in varying stages of coitus or
> undress, or of passages thorugh landscapes, time, adolescence, vagina/
> birth canal, near death experience, or something abstract such as
> 4 years of high school. Imagery, in poetry is the careful, thrifty
> crafting of language. Imagery results on mining the text for meaning
> in apprehensions that spring to life, vividly, where interesting
> interactions *arise* out of the interactions of heretofore uncombined
> systems, elements, slants -- unrelated things being related.
>
> Imagery is the unforgettable magic of scent in sex, not the catalog
> listings with pictures of bras in Victoria's Secrets or Talbot's.
>
> Imagery is to be found in 1960's abstract expressionist painting of a
> charcoal rectangle on a charcoal background. Imagery is the reader's
> receipt for asiduously bothering to process a sophisticated putting
> together of *pieces* and using "mechanisms" into *wholes* on the
> writer's part. It is not dreaming or rubbing yourself at a theme
> of a poem.
Fine description of imagery here. (but I still want a beach house like
Angel said)
> Not much (except for the last line) happens in Angel's poem. She does
> not make it sing. It does not rejoice in cultivated, memorable phrases.
> It does not do much of anything. Praising it just damages Angel's
> ability to discern better from the worse.
I come here not to praise Angel's poem or to deconstruct it.
- bettina
Wagner Mitchell Family
graces that worked for me.
As always, Marek, your points are thorough and you *should* be commended
for that. Your passion is clear. Your presentation, however, leaves a
bit to be desired. Few could probably endure that.
As Bettina implied, you want the poem to be what it is not. *You* want
it to be about the beach not about wanting a beach house. There's a
difference and Bettina pointed that out quite clearly.
That said, I appreciate the effort you gave to make your points. They
were good and worth thinking about.
Bernadette
--
Aarpa-Zzarpa.BCP SunYangkey.Homing
if i may have a say,
.. thought angel's "because i love you"
then this were her best. eYe see angels
mind opening up, healing from her emotional
pains of the past; angel's a maturing person.
And That's good. i think.
......maybe a note 'bout Beach-House some other time. But now,
how 'bout,,.... a man.
.
.... a man.
a thinking man,
a scholar.....
immersed deeply
in his thoughts.
He is profound --
he knows a lot.
In fact, he knows
more than anybody.
the man knows, a lot.
.... he walks over
to the window,
looks out and down
the street below .... . .
he eyes see the streets
the fruit stand,
the tailor shop
the side walk cafe'
people doing their things
ordinary folks --sipping coffee
reading newspapers, a shopper
sniffing a melon--
The man,
The scholar,
The thinking-Man,
thinks, .... and say to himself:
"why do they do that?!"
"why are they all so stupid like THAT!!"
"don't they know I know better"
" why don't they Know I am the Best!"
" haven't they read my work?!"
---the man gets furious,
he wraps his fingers tight---
around the ice cold rusted metal-bars
and shakes it violently with all his might.
But the window would not be moved.
the window had not read his Halina....
---nurses rush in-in haste, a shot into his
convulsing body. he's out of his misery--
'til he wakes up. again. tomorrow-
another episode of Chicago Mental Hospital brought to you by RAP, your
everyday all natural soap
======MaddammeJeanne'sGiggloWrote=======
Group: rec.arts.poems Date: Tue, Apr 4, 2000, 8:08pm (PDT+7) From:
ma...@enteract.com (Marek Lugowski) Re: lowtide * * * * * *--a
scathing critique + a counterexample poem
-
You may have trouble forgiving me for what is about to ensue, but the
ambient lameness of comments on this thread has exceeded this critic's
critical mass. Here goes.
"The imagery is quite beautiful, and I found myself wishing that I could
see such a place first hand."
"It is postcardy, but it kind of seems that that was your goal; a
comforting wash of pleasant imagery."
Just like a douche tv commercial, for the very first time, seen at a
five-and-dime, eh? Or an incontinentia diaper one -- also set on a
beach? With a Beatles' song off of Let It Be warmed-over, rehashed,
perhaps? Sang by a tepidly sensitive vaguely Cat Stevens-cooing
corporate eunuch? Kitsch, kitsch.
=>This is a Zita poem minus the daliesque burning amaranth, and spices
============AlphaSunWrote============
mr Marek Lugowsk,
just how much time you spend in Mental Hospital? You should think about
going to the Mental Hospital before your selfserving bloated ego
explodes in your numbed skull! And before you injure innocent people on
the elctronic Public Square. okey dokey? stinkin' garlic boi
-
===========AlphaSunWrote:===============
-
What was it? the U of P Kelly sumth'n?
[ a Public Service Posting by Renay and Robert ]
Date:03/16/2000Author:Robert and Renay St. James <webm...@rjames.com>
wrote on rec.arts.poems:
Hey, Marek, why don't you tell everybody how much time you've spent in
mental hospital.
-
was it now, 4-5 times?
Good thing they don't have internet connections there or you would never
stop flooding this ng with your auto-didactic bile.
-
When, and if, you ever learn how to write poetry that doesn't extol your
own cleverness, you might just write something worth reading. Until that
time, I'll keep doing what I've always done: print out your poems, wad
them up, and use them to wipe my bunghole.
-
Just think of this post as a public service to all the people new to
this ng who ask that age old question:
-
"who the fuck is Markekd Lugwoksi?"
-
Robert St. James
(hey, why don't you quote us something from Chomsky? *He* was such a
great poet...)
http://www.geocities.com/CapitolHill/Senate/3761/ -
=============AlphaSunWrites-===============
Now, that was wholesome lunch. while cooking, then tasting, she came to
mind 'cuz she'd said that she grew up eating fishhead soup and cabbage.
ye'r know......But on this day, she'd become americanized, she'd become
a valley chick. ..swept away by the rootless ruthless relentless crazed
hystericals?... . .
-
It's a lonely place-time for decent women.... so many frauds as teachers
..and maddame jeanne as friend . . . .. sigh... as another had said,
"i am so lonely i don't know who i am any more."... Have met a few such
fine women while walking pooch. .... they seemed so guarded yet full of
wholesomeness, waiting/ looking/ hoping...... they seemed so hurt for
the rainchecks ....they couldn't see this man, a simpleton, can-not to
be owned. . . .'cuz its against the cosmic law... "you're very kind with
your words" my standard reply to my surprise "I love yous". . . .
friendship, kindness and reliability is love? .... shouldn't that be a
given from every men? ...and every women? ..... ...........in a mere
couple of days .....Love must have evolved and have become a different
phenomenon on this place..... ....
-
-they said LOVE
has been the number one WORD
when it comes to Marketing/Selling anything
from prostitution, child porno, cars, houses, cds,
movies, books, clothings, pets, and even God.
-
Ain't that sumth'n?!
-
tis
tis
tis
-
. . . hhhhmmm
Truth is Axiomatic.
===========AlphaSunWrote===============
Group: rec.arts.poems Date: Tue, Apr 4, 2000, 3:33am From:
AlphaA...@webtv.net (Aarpa-Zzarpa.BCP SunYangkey.Homing)
******Evil presence of rap
is the witch preaching Social Darwinism?
Maddamme, you invoked "Humanism" to explain away your marriage to your
live in husband mr. David LaPlant, at your convinience then, you
invoke Social Darwinism at your convenience. They are opposite ends
of the spectrum. don't you think its kinda' shifty shafty?
-
Then, how are the weak and navie poets
gonna' survive? ......and is it your Social Darwinism that makes you
cheat, lie, kill and go to wars?
Naaaaaay, moi thinks its for pure greed.
-
"dare to do what it takes for
the survival of mankind?"
-
MaddammeJeanne, you should go and preach that before a group of men with
brass balls or sumth'n.
-
=====MaddammeJeanneWrote==============
Group: rec.arts.poems Date: Sun, Apr 2, 2000, 7:46pm (PDT+7) From:
jeann...@aol.com (Jeannekhan) Fencing with Stalkers (aka K9 et
al...;>).../draft...//jk
-
-
Fancing with Stalker
-
Never say no to a madman
especially one on line
-
[========SheMustBeSpeakingOfThisEmail=====
Date: Sat, Dec 26, 1998, 9:24pm (PDT+7) Group:
rec.arts.poems To: G52U...@webtv.net Organization: AOL
http://www.aol.com From: jeann...@aol.com (Jeannekhan) Subject:
Re: Sequoia
-
Ben,
-
Constancy is a virtue.
You have given up on me?
It seems you collect as you go.
-
You show...;>
Jeanne who has dreadful head/chest cold
no fever as though I am not fighting it off! It hurts.
-
=======================================]
-
he will track you down
smear your good name
get off on your shame
for being cordial
before you knew
his intentions for you
listen to a master
despite his degrees
hear what he means
about defending honor
when he says:
ask your sword
how to deal with him
notice you are
ill-equipped
with mere courtesy
to cope with insanity
be aware
the cruel self-destruct
eventually
be alert
should he show up
at your door
prepare
to stand your ground
and act for Darwin
who posits
the less fit
do not propagate
when they fail
to adapt
and survive
life threats
dare
to do what's necessary
for the sake of mankind
apprentice yourself
to a swordsman
before you say no
so you know
who to ask
for help.
-
Jeanne Khan
2 April 2000
===========MarekWroteAboutWitch========= Group: rec.arts.poems Date:
Fri, Mar 31, 2000, 8:45am (PDT+7) From: ma...@enteract.com
(Marek Lugowski) Halina Poswiatowska in translation / MarekTrans /
Dziela 1 88
Halina Poswiatowska canon in translation. Dziela I 88. / DZIELA I&II not
in _Wiersze Wybrane_ (Selected Poems), Jan Zych ed. / DRAFT2
The
Witch
--------------
Hexe
-- the dark red of congealed blood the blackness
of hair scattered by the wind the breasts white and
small. She plaits the hair of clouds into long heavy
braids she spins the stalks of rain. On a golden ray
of the sun like on a broom she rides into
the gate of a seven-colored rainbow. The
mouth of colors closes up around the rolled
up hips. With a slender heel crazed by love
she kicks at the sun and through the sky takes
her leave into another world that is nearer.
Her cracked lips and hair.
Hexe.
Halina
============AlphaSunWrites===============
-
-
"You can fool some of the people some fo the time But you can't fool all
of the people all the time"
GSI
Lmdelsanto
Thank you Roberlyn. Compared to all the attention given this poem -- yours
was a fresh breeze.
angel
Subject: Re: lowtide * * * * * *
>From: robe...@aol.com (Roberlyn)
>Date: 4/4/00 12:59 AM Eastern Daylight Time
>Message-id: <20000404005920...@ng-cg1.aol.com>
>
>nice... it has a good flowing rhythm that goes along with the image of the
>water.
>
>lmdelsanto wrote:
>>lowtide
>>~~~~~~~~~~~~
>>
>>i want a beachhouse
>>at brenton point
>>where jagged rocks
>>hold open rockpools
>>filled with periwinkles
>>
>>there long winding roads
>>lead to quaint cottages
>>with thatched roofs
>>near old mansions
>>boasting long driveways
>>
>>there, i will watch catamarans
>>and touring red sails
>>from a second floor
>>open atrium window,
>>my kimono, untied
>>
>>there i will sip green tea
>>as seabirds take flight
>>and sunlight gently wanes
>>beyond an endless
>>watery landscape
>>
>>there, i will watch artists
>>gather to paint sunsets
>>and hand-in-hand lovers
>>while watching kites soar
>>for miles and miles
>>
>>there i will welcome
>>the breeze of summer
>>as blue wildflowers
>>almost bow in honor
Lmdelsanto
>Date: 4/4/00 1:11 AM Eastern Daylight Time
>Message-id: <8cbthn$1gd9$1...@news.enteract.com>
>
>It's quite remarkable how this poem fails as compared to the one Bernadette
>and I praised, you know, like a mauve antiseptic hotel room does, when
>compared to, you know, your own place. It's static, uinimaginative, and
>stated, never mind boring and postcardy.
What have I done to deserve this much attention, Marek. And this thread is just
chock full of YOUR way with words.
>
>You'd do well to compare the two exactly and see why one has melody and
>charm and rhythm -- and a point fo view -- and the other is just so much
>self-satisfied ornamental blob.
Honey, I dont compare what I write. I write and play with words. If they come
out fucked up, they come out fucked up. I am never self satisfied. Come to
think of it, I am never satisfied. Is that insatiable?
>
> -- marek
>
>
>In article <20000404005532...@ng-fm1.aol.com>,
Lmdelsanto
>Date: 4/4/00 2:39 AM Eastern Daylight Time
>Message-id: <38E98FB5...@sk.sympatico.ca>
>
>While I agree that this piece is not as strong as the one I commented on
>earlier, I don't think I'd be quite so abrupt in my criticism of it.
Whew..I thought for sure you were going to start this with saying something
like it is like a commercial for Preparation H....
>
>There are some saving graces in it. The title is very
>appropriate--lowtide. The feel of the piece is low, blue, depressive.
>Yet, the crystal clear images presented are those that should evoke
>feelings of lightness, happiness, bliss. How that's accomplished, I'm
>not quite sure. Perhaps it's the first stanza that gives it a sense of
>longing. The repetition of "There I will..." might also contribute.
>
>What doesn't work for me is, I think, the length. Perhaps a bit
>shorter, say a stanza or two, would be enough to drive home the point.
>I also think the rhythm falters in a couple of places.
>
>And hey, sometimes mauve antiseptic hotel rooms are just what the doctor
>ordered! 8-)
>
Yes, Bernadette. Sometimes the doctor writes an order for unwarranted
antibiotics and in that case a gross overgrowth ensues.
but..thank you..there is more to this thread, I am sure...
angel
>- Bernadette
>
>
>Marek Lugowski wrote:
>>
>> It's quite remarkable how this poem fails as compared to the one Bernadette
>> and I praised, you know, like a mauve antiseptic hotel room does, when
>> compared to, you know, your own place. It's static, uinimaginative, and
>> stated, never mind boring and postcardy.
>>
>> You'd do well to compare the two exactly and see why one has melody and
>> charm and rhythm -- and a point fo view -- and the other is just so much
>> self-satisfied ornamental blob.
>>
Lmdelsanto
Thank you Brandellan. The range of possiblities for varying atmosphere and mood
from poem to poem is very wide. I have been to Brenton Point many times.
Believe me, it is a postcard, something
that should be experienced firsthand..actually words will never suffice..
angel.
>Subject: Re: lowtide * * * * * *
>From: "Brandellan" BRAND...@prodigy.net
>Date: 4/4/00 12:04 PM Eastern Daylight Time
>Message-id: <8cd3bc$ap78$1...@newssvr03-int.news.prodigy.com>
>
>
>Wagner Mitchell Family <wagm...@sk.sympatico.ca> wrote in message
>news:38E98FB5...@sk.sympatico.ca...
>> What doesn't work for me is, I think, the length. Perhaps a bit
>> shorter, say a stanza or two, would be enough to drive home the point.
>
>The imagery is quite beautiful, and I found myself wishing that I could see
>such a place first hand.
>
>I agree with Bernadette. The entire poem is in soft focus, and going into
>detail doesn't make it sharper. A stanza or two would give the readers
>imagination enough to work with.
>
>It is postcardy, but it kind of seems that that was your goal; a comforting
>wash of pleasant imagery.
>
B. Callaghan
Lmdelsanto <lmdel...@aol.com> wrote in article
<20000404204746...@ng-cg1.aol.com>...
> >
> Thank you Roberlyn. Compared to all the attention given this poem -- yours
> was a fresh breeze.
>
> angel
A fresh *ocean* breeze?
- b
>
>
>
>
> Subject: Re: lowtide * * * * * *
> >From: robe...@aol.com (Roberlyn)
> >Date: 4/4/00 12:59 AM Eastern Daylight Time
> >Message-id: <20000404005920...@ng-cg1.aol.com>
> >
> >nice... it has a good flowing rhythm that goes along with the image of the
> >water.
> >
Lmdelsanto
>From: ma...@enteract.com (Marek Lugowski)
>Date: 4/4/00 4:08 PM Eastern Daylight Time
>Message-id: <8cdi4e$2mt3$1...@news.enteract.com>
>
>You may have trouble forgiving me for what is about to ensue, but the
>ambient lameness of comments on this thread has exceeded this critic's
>critical mass.
Marek, my love, my darling, my Chicagoan editor of sorts, my man about town
and beyond, my humble and most lovable being of the rap consortium... let me
forgive you and let me count the ways....
Here goes.
>
>"The imagery is quite beautiful, and I found myself wishing that I
>could see such a place first hand."
>
>"It is postcardy, but it kind of seems that that was your goal; a
>comforting wash of pleasant imagery."
Marek, I told you to come to Rhode Island and you set yourself down on those
rocks and write yourself to oblivion..
>
>Just like a douche tv commercial, for the very first time,
No, Marek, if this is the first time you have had vaginal itch and
discomfort, consult a doctor -- or maybe some over the counter miconazole
nitrate...
seen at a
>five-and-dime, eh? Or an incontinentia diaper one -- also set on a
>beach?
Oh...incontinence? Oh..but isnt that also called irritable bladder? Maybe
irritable bowel in some cases. Try Yogurt with three cultures. Put back the
flora in your insides...
With a Beatles' song off of Let It Be warmed-over, rehashed,
>perhaps?
No. No. You are stuck in a time warp. The new thing is New Age. Sarah
Brightman. Andrea Boccelli. Now. That is music. Can you hear me calling you
from little rhodey? Chowda and clamcakes? And how 'bout a coffee cabinet?
Sang by a tepidly sensitive vaguely Cat Stevens-cooing
>corporate eunuch? Kitsch, kitsch.
Hoeny, or Honey, kirsh is cherries, isnt it? Smooches are nicer.
>
>This is a Zita poem minus the daliesque burning amaranth, and spices
>overdose,
Poor Zita....now i know what she suffers from...I thought I was being
singled out but..God..
and golden anklet on the Noblist slinky physicist teaching
>grand unified theory to ghetto kids (not having gotten to the elementary
>particle yet, just quoting from jogged memory...), the there is no there
>there Mysterious Woman with Exotic Grandparents / Pier 1 shopping (re)pose.
>Except that here we are down to Hickville Central Northeast, what with
>Middle-Aged Beach Resort Anglo Posing, the Lawrence Welk Show on, visiting
>location, oceanside at Atlantic City poem of rap.
Marek..dont you think you are a bit wordy? Come on. I am dizzy now. Give me
an arrowroot cookie and a glass of soy milk, quick!
And, it is all tell
>and tell, powder blue Buick and Buick, Hotel and Casino, artifice and
>affectation -- no art (of poetry) and no show (as in poetry).
Shit. This goes on and on...When did you find the time to sit down and do
this? Should I be flattered? Should I be crushed? Shit. This much attention has
me reeling.
God. After read this I need an antacid.
You are something else, my dear.
Marek, and anyone else who is not listening...
A poem persuades you that the writer knows everything there is to know
about the situation, even though she is not telling you. The poem has the
quality of definiteness that reassures you that what youre getting at is
enough. I dont think I was giving you an atmospheric blur nor did I leave you
in a pile of dry ice. I was taking one of my pieces and making it tight.
According to Marek, I was way loose, which is fine.
Let me go back to the drawing board. Dont worry folks, I can take it.
...
angel
Lmdelsanto
>Date: 4/4/00 5:26 PM Eastern Daylight Time
>Message-id: <8cdm75$8fua$1...@newssvr03-int.news.prodigy.com>
angel
Lmdelsanto
Thanks for the input. Aww...let Marek play.....I am used to this.
angel
>Subject: Re: lowtide * * * * * *--a scathing critique + a counterexample poem
>From: "B. Callaghan" cala...@ici.net
>Date: 4/4/00 6:37 PM Eastern Daylight Time
>Message-id: <01bf9e86$727a7ee0$5028b4cf@david>
Marek Lugowski
Wagner Mitchell Family <wagm...@sk.sympatico.ca> wrote:
>Note: I did not say it was a great poem. I said it had some saving
>graces that worked for me.
>
>As always, Marek, your points are thorough and you *should* be commended
>for that. Your passion is clear. Your presentation, however, leaves a
>bit to be desired. Few could probably endure that.
>
>As Bettina implied, you want the poem to be what it is not. *You* want
>it to be about the beach not about wanting a beach house. There's a
>difference and Bettina pointed that out quite clearly.
>
>That said, I appreciate the effort you gave to make your points. They
>were good and worth thinking about.
>
>Bernadette
I agree that I attacked the poem and its comments for being a bad poem,
and that I motivated my stance branding the poem as a not a good beach poem.
Or any poem. Note that no commentator before me actually made a point that
they like the poem because it states the desire of owning abeach house.
This only gets subscribed to on Bettina's playful comment.
Yes, it is true that you could deflect my criticism as pertaining to beach
poems and that the author's intent was to pen a I-want-a-beach-house poem.
But my objections apply to that just as well. The lowtide is a lame poem,
be it about beaches or wanting beach houses. I would not have bothered to
think it through and spend the time had the comments up to that point
not been so singularly shallow, no pun intended.
As to my delivery -- I'm an Aquarius and all that. You guys are messin'
with my domain.
-- Marek
bluspidr
although, I have never really cared for most of your stuff...which you
might remember... I kind of liked this one. It is one of the breezy
poems. :)
The only comment I might have, if your going to use there as a device
of repetition. you might try to work it into the first stanza, like
the others. but other than that, I thought it was ok.
laura
On 04 Apr 2000 04:55:32 GMT, lmdel...@aol.com (Lmdelsanto) wrote:
>lowtide
>~~~~~~~~~~~~
>
>i want a beachhouse
>at brenton point
>where jagged rocks
>hold open rockpools
>filled with periwinkles
>
>there long winding roads
>lead to quaint cottages
>with thatched roofs
>near old mansions
>boasting long driveways
>
>there, i will watch catamarans
>and touring red sails
>from a second floor
>open atrium window,
>my kimono, untied
>
>there i will sip green tea
>as seabirds take flight
>and sunlight gently wanes
>beyond an endless
>watery landscape
>
>there, i will watch artists
>gather to paint sunsets
>and hand-in-hand lovers
>while watching kites soar
>for miles and miles
>
>there i will welcome
>the breeze of summer
>as blue wildflowers
>almost bow in honor
>before a lowtide of salt.
>
>
>l.m.angel delsanto (c)l999-2000, all rights reserved
----------------------------
remove the x stuff to respond
bluspidr
>
>As to my delivery -- I'm an Aquarius and all that. You guys are messin'
>with my domain.
>
> -- Marek
oh so that's why... your a water sign. You know, if you quit drinking
all that salt water... that might help. :P
laura
DuBain
>Date: 4/5/00 7:53 AM Eastern Daylight Time
>Message-id: <38eb296...@news.flash.net>
>
Thanks Laura..
angel
Marek Lugowski
bluspidr <blus...@remove-x.flash.net> wrote:
>
>>
>>As to my delivery -- I'm an Aquarius and all that. You guys are messin'
>>with my domain.
>>
>> -- Marek
>
>
>all that salt water... that might help. :P
>
>
>laura
>
>remove the x stuff to respond
no no no, that's Pices you're thinking of, you know, gill people. I am
Gill Sans.
(that was a typography joke for the fontists in the audience).
-- Marek
*not* in cahoots with laura
Rob Evans
>Note: I did not say it was a great poem. I said it had some saving
>graces that worked for me.
>
>As always, Marek, your points are thorough and you *should* be commended
>for that. Your passion is clear. Your presentation, however, leaves a
>bit to be desired. Few could probably endure that.
>
>As Bettina implied, you want the poem to be what it is not. *You* want
>it to be about the beach not about wanting a beach house. There's a
>difference and Bettina pointed that out quite clearly.
Is everybody being wilfully obtuse or what?
I think Marek made it pretty clear that first he wanted it to be a poem,
never mind if it's about the house or the beach. I agree that it isn't a
poem. Most of his bile, by the way, was directed at the "that's nicers"
who don't seem to have much idea of what a poem's about - "target
audience" for fuck's sake. Jesus! If you wanna beach house, buy a
brochure.
Rob
--
Rob Evans
Brandellan
Rob Evans <r...@mla001.demon.co.uk> wrote:
> Most of his bile, by the way, was directed at the "that's nicers"
> who don't seem to have much idea of what a poem's about - "target
> audience" for fuck's sake. Jesus!
A poem isn't *about* a target audience, a poem *has* a target audience.
Read carefully--I know it's a chore when you don't like what you're reading,
but it lends to discussion rather than correction.
>If you wanna beach house, buy a brochure.
With your parting words, you do a very poor job of convincing me that you
"have much idea of what a poem's about". Care to explain yourself?
Rob Evans
<BRAND...@prodigy.net> writes
>
>Rob Evans <r...@mla001.demon.co.uk> wrote:
>> Most of his bile, by the way, was directed at the "that's nicers"
>> who don't seem to have much idea of what a poem's about - "target
>> audience" for fuck's sake. Jesus!
>
>A poem isn't *about* a target audience, a poem *has* a target audience.
>Read carefully--I know it's a chore when you don't like what you're reading,
>but it lends to discussion rather than correction.
I did read carefully but perhaps I wrote too quickly - so, once again in
slow and expanded construction for the hard of understanding:
The "that's-nicers" don't seem to understand what a poem's about (i.e.
what makes a (any) poem a poem).
No poem has a target audience. A poem is a poem - if it's written for a
target audience, there is a very slim chance (in the case of a love
poem, perhaps) that it will still be a poem but it's more likely that it
will be an advertising jingle, or brochure or flyer.
>
>
>>If you wanna beach house, buy a brochure.
>
>With your parting words, you do a very poor job of convincing me that you
>"have much idea of what a poem's about". Care to explain yourself?
>
Since Marek already explained quite lucidly and since that explanation
simply passed you by, this is probably a waste of time but here goes:
A poem is not simply a list of nice things.
The fact that it makes you want to live/go/see the beach, does not make
it a poem.
In addition to Marek's reasonable observations I would add that the
piece is pretty mundane with a string of easy lazy cliche adjectives and
adverbs: rocks are jagged, cottages are quaint and sunlight wanes
gently.
Rob
--
Rob Evans
Steven Hines
> gently.
Sounds like a Hitchcock movie.
Anyway, I quote this stanza from the poe, er, brochure -- it's the
best word -- under discussion here:
> there, i will watch artists
> gather to paint sunsets
> and hand-in-hand lovers
> while watching kites soar
> for miles and miles
This reminds of my visit to the Sacre Cour on Montmarte in Paris.
There are artists there as well who gather to paint landscapes
every day. In fact there are dozens "artists," and their landscapes
are tragically kitsch. Your romantic cliche of sunset painters
actually sounds like a cabal of tourist hustlers. Which in fact,
if you meant it, would be the only non-cliche in this piece.
Steve
Aarpa-Zzarpa.BCP SunYangkey.Homing
mr Rob Evans wrote: " ... for fuck's sake ... "
No poetry possible from ProfaneMinds. GSI
Profanity:
the farting of the constipated mind,
maggots dwell in their hearts and brains
and a note, at the bottom.
===aWannabePoetButFoulMindFoulMouthWrote==
Group: rec.arts.poems Date: Sat, Apr 8, 2000, 8:20pm (PDT+8) From:
r...@mla001.demon.co.uk (Rob Evans) Re: lowtide * * * * * *--a scathing
I think
wrote:
< .......... chitchat chitchat .......... >
Marek made it pretty clear that first he wanted it to be a poem, never
mind if it's about the house or the beach. I agree that it isn't a poem.
Most of his bile, by the way, was directed at the "that's nicers" who
don't seem to have much idea of what a poem's about - "target audience"
[=>]for fuck's sake. Jesus! If you wanna beach house, buy a brochure.
Rob
--
Rob Evans
===========AlphaSunWrote============
if i may have a say,
. thought angel's "because i love you"
then this were her best. eYe see angels mind opening up, healing from
her emotional pains of the past; angel's a maturing person. And That's
good. i think.
.....maybe a note 'bout Beach-House some other time.
But now,
'bou.... a man.
-.... a man.
a thinking man,
a scholar.....
-
immersed deeply
in his thoughts.
He is profound --
-
he knows a lot.
In fact, he knows
more than anybody.
the man knows, a lot.
-
... he walks over
to the window,
looks out and down
the street below .... . .
-
he eyes, sees the streets;
the fruit stand,
the tailor shop
the side walk cafe'
-
people doing their things
ordinary folks --sipping coffee
reading newspapers, a shopper
sniffing a melon--
-
The man,
The scholar,
The thinking-Man,
thinks, .... and says to himself:
"why do they
do that?!"
"why are they all so Stupid like THAT!!"
"don't they know I know better"
" why don't they Know I am the Best!"
" haven't they read my work?!"
---the man gets furious,
he wraps his fingers tight---
around the ice cold rusted metal-bars
and shakes it violently with all his might.
-
But the window would not be moved.
the window had not think much for his Halina....
-
---nurses rush in-in haste, a shot into his convulsing body. he's out of
his misery-- 'til he wakes up. again. tomorrow-
-
another episode of Chicago Mental Hospital brought to you by RAP, your
everyday all natural soap
k?
-
======MaddammeJeanne'sGiggloWrote======= Group: rec.arts.poems Date:
Tue, Apr 4, 2000, 8:08pm (PDT+7) From:
ma...@enteract.com (Marek Lugowski) Re: lowtide * * * * * *--a
scathing critique + a counterexample poem
-
You may have trouble forgiving me for what is about to ensue, but the
ambient lameness of comments on this thread has exceeded this critic's
critical mass. Here goes.
-
"The imagery is quite beautiful, and I found myself wishing that I could
see such a place first hand."
-
"It is postcardy, but it kind of seems that that was your goal; a
comforting wash of pleasant imagery."
-
Just like a douche tv commercial, for the very first time, seen at a
five-and-dime, eh?
Or an incontinentia diaper one -- also set on a beach? With a Beatles'
song off of Let It Be warmed-over, rehashed, perhaps? Sang by a tepidly
sensitive vaguely Cat Stevens-cooing corporate eunuch? Kitsch, kitsch.
=>This is a Zita poem minus the daliesque burning amaranth, and spices
overdose, and golden anklet on the Noblist slinky physicist teaching
grand unified theory to ghetto kids (not having gotten to the elementary
particle yet, just quoting from jogged memory...), the there is no there
there Mysterious Woman with Exotic Grandparents / Pier 1 shopping
(re)pose. Except that here we are down to Hickville Central Northeast,
what with Middle-Aged Beach Resort Anglo Posing, the Lawrence Welk Show
on, visiting location, oceanside at Atlantic City poem of rap. And, it
is all tell and tell, powder blue Buick and Buick, Hotel and Casino,
artifice and affectation -- no art (of poetry) and no show (as in
poetry).
Observe:
I want a beach house at Brenton Point, where jagged rocks hold open
rockpools filled with periwinkles. There long winding roads lead to
[jeez] quaint cottages with thatched roofs near old mansions boasting
long driveways. There, I will watch catamarans and touring red sails
from a second floor open atrium window, my kimono, untied. There, I will
sip green tea, as sea birds take flight, and sunlight gently wanes
beyond an endless watery landscape. There, I will watch artists gather
to paint sunsets and hand-in-hand lovers [bad grammar? Needs parallel
verb construction -- or the artists are painting the hand-in-hand
lovers], while watching kites soar for miles and miles. [and miles and
miles jeez2] There, i will welcome the breeze of summer, as blue wild
-
.... It's a lonely place-time for decent women.... so many frauds as
******Evil presence of rap
is thwe Marek's Witch preaching Social Darwinism? Maddamme, you invoked
"Humanism" to explain away your marriage to your live in husband mr.
David LaPlant, at your convinience then, you invoke Social Darwinism at
your convenience. They are opposite ends of the spectrum. don't you
think its kinda' shifty shafty?
-
Then, how are the weak and navie poets
gonna' survive? ......and is it your Social Darwinism that makes you
cheat, lie, kill and go to wars?
Naaaaaay, moi thinks its for pure greed.
-
"dare to do what it takes for
======MarekWroteAboutHISwitch========= Group: rec.arts.poems Date: Fri,
Mar 31, 2000, 8:45am (PDT+7) From: ma...@enteract.com (Marek Lugowski)
Halina Poswiatowska in translation / DRAFT2
The Witch
--------------
Hexe
-- the dark red of congealed blood the blackness
of hair scattered by the wind the breasts white and
small. She plaits the hair of clouds into long heavy
braids she spins the stalks of rain. On a golden ray
of the sun like on a broom she rides into
the gate of a seven-colored rainbow. The
mouth of colors closes up around the rolled
up hips. With a slender heel crazed by love
she kicks at the sun and through the sky takes
her leave into another world that is nearer.
Her cracked lips and hair.
Hexe.
Halina
============AlphaSunWrites===============
-
-
Profanity: the burpings of the constipated mind --
maggots dwell in them brains minds --
cesspool is their world,
and when said by poets-wannabe poets --
feces on the faces
of all poets
and poetry -- ever written.
GSI
DuBain
yeah. yeah. yeah.
>Subject: Re: lowtide * * * * * *--a scathing critique + a counterexample poem
>From: Rob Evans r...@mla001.demon.co.uk
>Date: 4/9/00 7:00 AM Eastern Daylight Time
>Message-id: <rZbIKCAM...@mla001.demon.co.uk>
>
>In article <8co9v4$2bri$1...@newssvr04-int.news.prodigy.com>, Brandellan
><BRAND...@prodigy.net> writes
>>
>>Rob Evans <r...@mla001.demon.co.uk> wrote:
>>> Most of his bile, by the way, was directed at the "that's nicers"
>>> who don't seem to have much idea of what a poem's about - "target
>>> audience" for fuck's sake. Jesus!
>>
>>A poem isn't *about* a target audience, a poem *has* a target audience.
>>Read carefully--I know it's a chore when you don't like what you're reading,
>>but it lends to discussion rather than correction.
>
>I did read carefully but perhaps I wrote too quickly - so, once again in
>slow and expanded construction for the hard of understanding:
>
>The "that's-nicers" don't seem to understand what a poem's about (i.e.
>what makes a (any) poem a poem).
>
>No poem has a target audience. A poem is a poem - if it's written for a
>target audience, there is a very slim chance (in the case of a love
>poem, perhaps) that it will still be a poem but it's more likely that it
>will be an advertising jingle, or brochure or flyer.
>>
>>
>>>If you wanna beach house, buy a brochure.
>>
>>With your parting words, you do a very poor job of convincing me that you
>>"have much idea of what a poem's about". Care to explain yourself?
>>
>Since Marek already explained quite lucidly and since that explanation
>simply passed you by, this is probably a waste of time but here goes:
>
>A poem is not simply a list of nice things.
>
>The fact that it makes you want to live/go/see the beach, does not make
>it a poem.
>
>In addition to Marek's reasonable observations I would add that the
>piece is pretty mundane with a string of easy lazy cliche adjectives and
>adverbs: rocks are jagged, cottages are quaint and sunlight wanes
>gently.
>
>Rob
>--
>Rob Evans
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Rob Evans
Zzarpa.BCP SunYangkey.Homing <AlphaA...@webtv.net> writes
>a ProfaneMind-ProfaneMouth Wanna be poet
>mr Rob Evans wrote: " ... for fuck's sake ... "
>
The above snip is the whole point of this reply.
You are, as you continue to say, everything anyone on this ng accuses
you of, i.e. a troll, a nuisance, a pointless irrelevance, but could you
contrive to be so with less bandwidth?
Rob
--
Rob Evans