Watercolour George: first draft.
Bindi
with! sorry)
To paint your land as an Aborigine
is to "sing" it, to make it appear
before you as you bring life
to the dreamtime.
Watercolour George
We sit, cross-legged in the dirt, talking
over a wet landscape. I am ignorant
about his art but I’m drawn to the rhythm of him
singing tribal songs while he paints.
I ask of his skin and he sings
to the reflection unfolding before me; a sweep
of rich ochres, burnt umber and desert plains
that nestle below the black limbs of mulgas,
sung with smooth lines of dark water.
He is Arunta, part of the land
of his ancestors. Long patterns scar his chest
to show he was ritually blooded, but he doesn’t speak
of it, only walks his fingers
across the skin ridges with pride.
We talk about weather, around us it’s summer
and paper leaves hang in sleep
from the heat. He sings the clouds, blue skys grow
purple and a green rush of spinifex
spear yellow washed sandhills.
He lifts his brush, and in quieter words he speaks
about dreamtime and the spirits of rockpeople
that watch over the land, and as I sit
beside him, he whispers a mountain
onto soft bristles and sings it to canvas.
--
---
Bindi
-------------------------------------
"Do not mess with Dragons
for you are crunchy
and taste good
with ketchup."
-------------------------------------
http://www.slingshot.to/Bindi
-------------------------------------
---
Outgoing mail is certified Virus Free.
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Benjamin
remember stuff from history class. I brings good images to my mind..
kind and non-threatening.
Benjamin
Gwyneth Box
Bindi wrote:
Bindi!!!
good to see you back -
and better to see you back and posting poetry.
I've been waiting for this one.
Will comment when I have a bit more time.
Best,
g.
---------------------------------
http://www.patchword.com
Wes
(Bindi) electro-penned:
Thanks for posting, Bindi, I found the piece a bit /prosy/ for my taste
but none-the-less an overall enjoyable read.
In:
"He sings the clouds, blue skys grow purple..."
I think /skies/ is correct.
Wes
--------------
<snip>
To paint your land as an Aborigine
is to "sing" it, to make it appear
before you as you bring life
to the dreamtime.
Watercolour George
We sit, cross-legged in the dirt, talking over a wet landscape.
I am ignorant about his art
but I'm drawn to the rhythm of him
singing tribal songs while he paints.
I ask of his skin and he sings
to the reflection unfolding before me; a sweep of rich ochres, burnt
umber and desert plains that nestle below the black limbs of mulgas,
sung with smooth lines of dark water.
He is Arunta, the land
of his ancestors. Long patterns
scar his chest to show he was ritually blooded but he doesn't speak of
it, only walks his fingers along high ridges with pride.
We talk about weather, around us it's summer and paper leaves hang in
sleep
from the heat. He sings the clouds,
blue skys grow purple and a green rush of spinifex spear yellow
sandhills.
He speaks about dreamtime
and the spirits of rockpeople
that watch over the land,
and as I sit beside him
he sings a mountain
with soft bristles
then releases it
on canvas.
---
Bindi
-------------------------------------
"Do not mess with Dragons
for you are crunchy
and taste good
with ketchup."
-------------------------------------
http://www.slingshot.to/Bindi
-------------------------------------
---
Outgoing mail is certified Virus Free.
Checked by AVG anti-virus system (http://www.grisoft.com). Version:
6.0.361 / Virus Database: 199 - Release Date: 7/05/2002
</snip>
Marian
I love the idea behind this poem.
Like Wes I found it quite prosy, but enjoyable none the less.
"Bindi" <Bin...@bigpond.com.au> wrote in message
news:acss0d$shki8$1...@ID-66859.news.dfncis.de...
>
>
>
> To paint your land as an Aborigine
> is to "sing" it, to make it appear
> before you as you bring life
> to the dreamtime.
>
>
>
>
>
> Watercolour George
>
> We sit, cross-legged in the dirt, talking
> over a wet landscape.
>
> I am ignorant about his art
> but I'm drawn to the rhythm of him
> singing tribal songs while he paints.
>
> I ask of his skin and he sings
> to the reflection unfolding before me; a sweep
> of rich ochres, burnt umber and desert plains
> that nestle below the black limbs of mulgas,
> sung with smooth lines of dark water.
> * I'm unsure of the first line here, but the rest is lovely.
> He is Arunta, the land
> of his ancestors. Long patterns
> scar his chest to show he was ritually blooded
> but he doesn't speak of it, only walks his fingers
> along high ridges with pride.
> * Perhaps the last two lines could be condensed somewhat, is 'with pride'
necessary?
> We talk about weather, around us it's summer
> and paper leaves hang in sleep
> from the heat. He sings the clouds,
> blue skys grow purple and a green rush of spinifex
> spear yellow sandhills.
>
*what's spinifex? I can't find it in my dictionary (sounds good though!)
> He speaks about dreamtime
> and the spirits of rockpeople
> that watch over the land,
>
> and as I sit beside him
> he sings a mountain
> with soft bristles
> then releases it
> on canvas.
>
> I'm unsure about the line breaks, but some beautiful imagery here
thanks
Marian
Animeg3282
>We sit, cross-legged in the dirt, talking
>over a wet landscape.
>
>
>I am ignorant about his art
>but I’m drawn to the rhythm of him
>singing tribal songs while he paints.
>
>I ask of his skin and he sings
>to the reflection unfolding before me; a sweep
>of rich ochres, burnt umber and desert plains
>that nestle below the black limbs of mulgas,
>sung with smooth lines of
>dark water.
I ask of his skin..I keep running it over in my mind, but I fear my reading is
not skilled enough to understand..;
>
>He is Arunta, the land
>of his ancestors. Long patterns
>scar his chest to show he was ritually blooded
>but he doesn’t speak of it, only walks his fingers
>along high ridges with pride.
>
I like his fingers on the high ridges. His pride.
>
>We talk about weather, around us it’s summer
>and paper leaves hang in sleep
>from the heat. He sings the clouds,
>blue skys grow purple and a green rush of spinifex
>spear yellow sandhills.
My monkey mind chops the 'from the heat' as summer implies heat to me. Or maybe
it's a bit abrupt? hmm..
>
>He speaks about dreamtime
>and the spirits of rockpeople
>that watch over the land,
>
>and as I sit beside him
>he sings a mountain
>with soft bristles
>then releases it
>on canvas.
I like the rest of this fine, and enjoy the way you made a poem.
Hana no Kaitou
http://peachcoloredsky.keenspace.com <--- Now updating again!
http://members.fortunecity.com/animeg3282 <---Fancy Lala Club!
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/fancy_lala
"You write the life that's vividest'- Jarman
Dennis M. Hammes
>
> To paint your land as an Aborigine
> is to "sing" it, to make it appear
> before you as you bring life
> to the dreamtime.
>
> Watercolour George
>
> over a wet landscape.
>
> I am ignorant about his art
> but I’m drawn to the rhythm of him
> singing tribal songs while he paints.
>
> I ask of his skin and he sings
> to the reflection unfolding before me; a sweep
> of rich ochres, burnt umber and desert plains
> that nestle below the black limbs of mulgas,
> sung with smooth lines of dark water.
>
> of his ancestors. Long patterns
> scar his chest to show he was ritually blooded
> but he doesn’t speak of it, only walks his fingers
> along high ridges with pride.
>
> and paper leaves hang in sleep
> from the heat. He sings the clouds,
> blue skys grow purple and a green rush of spinifex
> spear yellow sandhills.
>
> and the spirits of rockpeople
> that watch over the land,
>
> and as I sit beside him
> he sings a mountain
> with soft bristles
> then releases it
> on canvas.
>
> Bindi
This is crunchy and tastes good without ketchup.
--
------(m+
~/:o)_|
If we put Congress on WebTV instead of C-SPAN,
we'd never hear from them again.
http://t-independent.com/scrawlmark-press/
Dennis M. Hammes
>
> I like it. Are you speaking of a Lakota? Just guessing, I vaguely
> remember stuff from history class. I brings good images to my mind..
> kind and non-threatening.
>
> Benjamin
"He is Arunta, the land of his ancestors."
Aboriginal "Aussie," Mite -- a people, a province, a language, all
three in one of the best lines in the pome.
But "non-threatening"? The art, and thus the pome, acquire a
tension in the fact that he's allowing me, a /gaijin/, to observe
both art and religion when he and I can both think immediately of
four ways that he could more easily wax my ass than the painting.
Of cuss, it doesn't "threaten" me; I write pomes with a sword
(call it a "religion"), too, so the only way (of the four) that
would work on /me/ would only work if I got "pissed off" at him.
And, unless I muffed something long ago or things have really
changed "down there," the pome reports his invitation to learn that
method.
Bindi
"Benjamin" <m02...@cableone.net> wrote in message
news:3CF276A6...@cableone.net...
> I like it. Are you speaking of a Lakota? Just guessing, I vaguely
> remember stuff from history class. I brings good images to my mind..
> kind and non-threatening.
>
> Benjamin
* Hi Benjamin!
Thank you.
Nope, Australian aboriginal.
I am happy that you got something from it.
Thank you for reading and commenting!
Bindi.
Bindi
"Gwyneth Box" <gwy...@patchword.com> wrote in message
news:3CF289C6...@patchword.com...
>
>
> Bindi wrote:
>
> Bindi!!!
*Gwyneth!!
>
> good to see you back -
> and better to see you back and posting poetry.
>
*thanks.
> I've been waiting for this one.
> Will comment when I have a bit more time.
>
> Best,
>
> g.
* cool! I would appreciate it.
Bindi.
Bindi
"" Wes "" <Wes...@webtv.net> wrote in message
news:947-3CF2...@storefull-2136.public.lawson.webtv.net...
> Date: Mon, May 27, 2002, 6:20pm (MDT+15:30) From: Bin...@bigpond.com.au
> (Bindi) electro-penned:
>
> Thanks for posting, Bindi, I found the piece a bit /prosy/ for my taste
> but none-the-less an overall enjoyable read.
* Hi Wes!
Thank you for reading it.
>
> In:
>
> "He sings the clouds, blue skys grow purple..."
>
> I think /skies/ is correct.
* doh! Thank you very much!
>
> Wes
> --------------
Bindi.
> <snip>
Bindi
"Marian" <ja...@mccready83.freeserve.co.uk> wrote in message
news:acue1a$jpf$1...@newsg4.svr.pol.co.uk...
> Hi Bindi.
> I love the idea behind this poem.
> Like Wes I found it quite prosy, but enjoyable none the less.
* Hi Marian!
It is good to see you!
Thank you for reading and commenting.
Bindi.
Bindi
Thank you for reading and commenting.
"Animeg3282" <anime...@aol.compelsia> wrote in message
news:20020527214842...@mb-fp.aol.com...
> Bindi said:
>
> >We sit, cross-legged in the dirt, talking
> >over a wet landscape.
> >
>
> >
> >I am ignorant about his art
> >but I'm drawn to the rhythm of him
> >singing tribal songs while he paints.
>
> >
> >I ask of his skin and he sings
> >to the reflection unfolding before me; a sweep
> >of rich ochres, burnt umber and desert plains
> >that nestle below the black limbs of mulgas,
> >sung with smooth lines of
> >dark water.
>
> I ask of his skin..I keep running it over in my mind, but I fear my
reading is
> not skilled enough to understand..;
* his skin is his tribe, where he comes from.
>
> >
> >He is Arunta, the land
> >of his ancestors. Long patterns
> >scar his chest to show he was ritually blooded
> >but he doesn't speak of it, only walks his fingers
> >along high ridges with pride.
> >
>
> I like his fingers on the high ridges. His pride.
* thank you.
>
> >
> >We talk about weather, around us it's summer
> >and paper leaves hang in sleep
> >from the heat. He sings the clouds,
> >blue skys grow purple and a green rush of spinifex
> >spear yellow sandhills.
>
> My monkey mind chops the 'from the heat' as summer implies heat to me. Or
maybe
> it's a bit abrupt? hmm..
* I agree that it is abrupt. Thank you.
>
>
> >
> >He speaks about dreamtime
> >and the spirits of rockpeople
> >that watch over the land,
>
> >
> >and as I sit beside him
> >he sings a mountain
> >with soft bristles
> >then releases it
> >on canvas.
>
> I like the rest of this fine, and enjoy the way you made a poem.
* Thank you.
Bindi.
>
> Hana no Kaitou
> http://peachcoloredsky.keenspace.com <--- Now updating again!
> http://members.fortunecity.com/animeg3282 <---Fancy Lala Club!
> http://groups.yahoo.com/group/fancy_lala
> "You write the life that's vividest'- Jarman
Bindi
"Dennis M. Hammes" <scraw...@arvig.net> wrote in message
news:3CF329CC...@arvig.net...
> Benjamin wrote:
> >
> > I like it. Are you speaking of a Lakota? Just guessing, I vaguely
> > remember stuff from history class. I brings good images to my mind..
> > kind and non-threatening.
> >
> > Benjamin
>
> "He is Arunta, the land of his ancestors."
> Aboriginal "Aussie," Mite -- a people, a province, a language, all
> three in one of the best lines in the pome.
> But "non-threatening"? The art, and thus the pome, acquire a
> tension in the fact that he's allowing me, a /gaijin/, to observe
> both art and religion when he and I can both think immediately of
> four ways that he could more easily wax my ass than the painting.
> Of cuss, it doesn't "threaten" me; I write pomes with a sword
> (call it a "religion"), too, so the only way (of the four) that
> would work on /me/ would only work if I got "pissed off" at him.
> And, unless I muffed something long ago or things have really
> changed "down there," the pome reports his invitation to learn that
> method.
* Dennis, I am sending my message sticks to you from now on!
Bindi
Bindi
"Dennis M. Hammes" <scraw...@arvig.net> wrote in message
news:3CF323FC...@arvig.net...
* Thank you! :-)
Bindi
--
------(m+
~/:o)_|
If we put Congress on WebTV instead of C-SPAN,
we'd never hear from them again.
http://t-independent.com/scrawlmark-press/
George Tolis
> (revised already, yep, I am trying to write something a bit better to work
> with! sorry)
Hiya Bindi,
> To paint your land as an Aborigine
> is to "sing" it, to make it appear
> before you as you bring life
> to the dreamtime.
This opening quote makes me think this poem has a specific
purpose/occasion where it's going to be read...? At least, that's
something to think about if I'm off the mark.
> Watercolour George
Did you do that deliberately after what I said last time? I would have
misread it if you'd put Gorge anyway :)
> We sit, cross-legged in the dirt, talking
Drop first comma? 'sit' relates to 'cross-legged'.
> over a wet landscape. I am ignorant
> about his art but I'm drawn to the rhythm of him
> singing tribal songs while he paints.
I like the 'wet landscape' a lot. The next bit reads tell-y. I can't
quite pin down what's reworkable though, as you've made it quite
essential to the poem. You want your narrator not understanding what
he's doing and you want him both singing and painting...?
> I ask of his skin and he sings
'of' 'of' 'of'. Lots of 'of'. Man /in/ the world vs. man /of/ the
world. DH Lawrence, et al... Yes, it works for me very well. He is
making the art and of the art and your narrator is enquiring /of/ him.
Interesting.
> to the reflection unfolding before me; a sweep
"to the mirror" would sound nicer. 'unfolding' is a little cliché for
a landscape/image. Could 'sweep' be better? Maybe not as it makes the
brush action visual as well.
> of rich ochres, burnt umber and desert plains
> that nestle below the black limbs of mulgas,
'nestle' is another not-so-hot descriptor.
> sung with smooth lines of dark water.
I don't like this line.
> He is Arunta, part of the land
With my 'of' theory running away with the ball, I'd say drop 'part'
and put a comma after 'land'. But that's just an inflection I'm adding
to it, possibly.
> of his ancestors. Long patterns scar his chest
> to show he was ritually blooded, but he doesn't speak
> of it, only walks his fingers
> across the skin ridges with pride.
Description in the rest of the stanza. Maybe making 'long' a verb for
the scars and ritual a verb for his skin and fingers a verb for the
ridges would help make this 90% more interesting to me. Makes the
words more active in creating your character.
> We talk about weather, around us it's summer
> and paper leaves hang in sleep
> from the heat. He sings the clouds, blue skys grow
> purple and a green rush of spinifex
> spear yellow washed sandhills.
Again a little rephrasing would make this stronger for me - "paper
leaves sleep in the summer around us" - probably as strong as the bit
starting "He sings the clouds". I like that bit a lot, although the
last line of this stanza gets a just too crammed with words.
> He lifts his brush, and in quieter words he speaks
> about dreamtime and the spirits of rockpeople
> that watch over the land, and as I sit
> beside him, he whispers a mountain
> onto soft bristles and sings it to canvas.
The act of his creation, compared to the descriptive way your narrator
relates to him, is much more effective throughout. The two are the
same thing, but one is active, the other reportage (I don't want to
say one is poetry, the other prose, but that might be what I mean).
That's the distinction I think you need to draw, as they're one and
the same thing really. You create a distance before the really
interesting bits kick in for me.
Good to see you about again,
George.
Gwyneth Box
Bindi wrote:
> (revised already, yep, I am trying to write something a bit better to work
> with! sorry)
>
> To paint your land as an Aborigine
> is to "sing" it, to make it appear
> before you as you bring life
> to the dreamtime.
I wish you hadn't told me that till afterwards - I'd have liked
to see it for myself
>
> Watercolour George
>
> We sit, cross-legged in the dirt, talking
> over a wet landscape. I am ignorant
'talking/ over' is a good ambigous phrase.
Do you want 'talking' or 'and talk'?
>
> about his art but I’m drawn to the rhythm of him
nice break. (and the previous one.)
>
> singing tribal songs while he paints.
>
> I ask of his skin and he sings
"I ask of his skin" was difficult at first, but I'm getting to like it.
"skin...sings" is nice
>
> to the reflection unfolding before me; a sweep
> of rich ochres, burnt umber and desert plains
You've got me reaching for the paintbox and an old idea for a poem
I meant to write years ago.
>
> that nestle below the black limbs of mulgas,
"nestle?
>
> sung with smooth lines of dark water.
"singing", "sings", "sung" ?
'smooth' and 'dark'?
>
>
> He is Arunta, part of the land
something unsatisfactory here.
>
> of his ancestors. Long patterns scar his chest
> to show he was ritually blooded,
This is prosy to me.
> but he doesn’t speak
> of it, only walks his fingers
> across the skin ridges with pride.
Nice. But you may not need 'skin'
>
> We talk about weather, around us it’s summer
Maybe colon, not comma? Os semi colon, or full stop, even.
>
> and paper leaves hang in sleep
> from the heat. He sings the clouds, blue skys grow
I'm enjoying this.
'skies'
>
> purple and a green rush of spinifex
> spear yellow washed sandhills.
"yellow-washed"?
>
> He lifts his brush, and in quieter words he speaks
'speaks' seems weak.
>
> about dreamtime and the spirits of rockpeople
> that watch over the land, and as I sit
Many 'and's here. They could be building up an
atmosphere, but aren't quite regular enough to have
me hypnotised.
>
> beside him, he whispers a mountain
> onto soft bristles and sings it to canvas.
Ooh!
That's all for the moment. I'm out of practice.
If I think of any more nits I'll send 'em on.
Thanks for posting this, Bindi.
g.
----------------------------------
http://www.patchword.com
Bindi
"George Tolis" <catal...@ukonline.co.uk> wrote in message
news:d66c9352.0205...@posting.google.com...
> "Bindi" <Bin...@bigpond.com.au> wrote in message
news:<act4sm$rvnmu$1...@ID-66859.news.dfncis.de>...
> Hiya Bindi,
* Hi George!
welcome back!
>
> > To paint your land as an Aborigine
> > is to "sing" it, to make it appear
> > before you as you bring life
> > to the dreamtime.
>
> This opening quote makes me think this poem has a specific
> purpose/occasion where it's going to be read...? At least, that's
> something to think about if I'm off the mark.
>
* I will lose it.
> > Watercolour George
>
> Did you do that deliberately after what I said last time? I would have
> misread it if you'd put Gorge anyway :)
* grinning, yep! This one is your fault and Gwyneth's.
>
> > We sit, cross-legged in the dirt, talking
>
> Drop first comma? 'sit' relates to 'cross-legged'.
>
* thank you.
> > over a wet landscape. I am ignorant
> > about his art but I'm drawn to the rhythm of him
> > singing tribal songs while he paints.
>
> I like the 'wet landscape' a lot. The next bit reads tell-y. I can't
> quite pin down what's reworkable though, as you've made it quite
> essential to the poem. You want your narrator not understanding what
> he's doing and you want him both singing and painting...?
>
* Thank you.
Yes, songlines are like maps of the places you have been. He is singing the
songlines of his land so that he sees them and then can paint it. The
narrator doesn't know this at first.
> > I ask of his skin and he sings
>
> 'of' 'of' 'of'. Lots of 'of'. Man /in/ the world vs. man /of/ the
> world. DH Lawrence, et al... Yes, it works for me very well. He is
> making the art and of the art and your narrator is enquiring /of/ him.
> Interesting.
* yep!
>
> > to the reflection unfolding before me; a sweep
>
> "to the mirror" would sound nicer. 'unfolding' is a little cliché for
> a landscape/image. Could 'sweep' be better? Maybe not as it makes the
> brush action visual as well.
>
* Thank you. I wasn't sure about reflection but I liked the sounds it
created. Unfolding can go as soon as I find a word that fits better there. I
chose sweep for its sound and movement and I think it does enough to stay
right now.
> > of rich ochres, burnt umber and desert plains
> > that nestle below the black limbs of mulgas,
>
> 'nestle' is another not-so-hot descriptor.
>
* I agree. It is holding the place of a word I haven't thought of yet!
> > sung with smooth lines of dark water.
>
> I don't like this line.
* I did. But I agree it can go.
>
> > He is Arunta, part of the land
>
> With my 'of' theory running away with the ball, I'd say drop 'part'
> and put a comma after 'land'. But that's just an inflection I'm adding
> to it, possibly.
* I changed that around a fair bit and I think I will settle on it the way I
had it in my first draft for now.
' He is Arunta, the land
of his ancestors.'
>
> > of his ancestors. Long patterns scar his chest
> > to show he was ritually blooded, but he doesn't speak
> > of it, only walks his fingers
> > across the skin ridges with pride.
>
> Description in the rest of the stanza. Maybe making 'long' a verb for
> the scars and ritual a verb for his skin and fingers a verb for the
> ridges would help make this 90% more interesting to me. Makes the
> words more active in creating your character.
>
* like, 'long scars pattern his chest...'?
I am thinking to drop 'skin'
> > We talk about weather, around us it's summer
> > and paper leaves hang in sleep
> > from the heat. He sings the clouds, blue skys grow
> > purple and a green rush of spinifex
> > spear yellow washed sandhills.
>
> Again a little rephrasing would make this stronger for me - "paper
> leaves sleep in the summer around us" - probably as strong as the bit
> starting "He sings the clouds". I like that bit a lot, although the
> last line of this stanza gets a just too crammed with words.
>
* ok, thank you, I will try it in the next revision.
> > He lifts his brush, and in quieter words he speaks
> > about dreamtime and the spirits of rockpeople
> > that watch over the land, and as I sit
> > beside him, he whispers a mountain
> > onto soft bristles and sings it to canvas.
>
> The act of his creation, compared to the descriptive way your narrator
> relates to him, is much more effective throughout. The two are the
> same thing, but one is active, the other reportage (I don't want to
> say one is poetry, the other prose, but that might be what I mean).
> That's the distinction I think you need to draw, as they're one and
> the same thing really. You create a distance before the really
> interesting bits kick in for me.
* I agree. I will try to make the narrator less prosy but yep I wanted a
distinction between them to start with, like in the way they see things and
then as the narrators understanding develops that distance closes.
I will copy this to a folder for when I start the next revision.
Thank you very much George, for taking the time to read and give me your
helpful comments.
>
> Good to see you about again,
>
* and you.!
> George.
Bindi.
Bindi
"Gwyneth Box" <gwy...@patchword.com> wrote in message
news:3CF3D389...@patchword.com...
>
>
> Bindi wrote:
>
> > (revised already, yep, I am trying to write something a bit better to
work
> > with! sorry)
> >
> > To paint your land as an Aborigine
> > is to "sing" it, to make it appear
> > before you as you bring life
> > to the dreamtime.
>
> I wish you hadn't told me that till afterwards - I'd have liked
> to see it for myself
* Hi Gwyneth!
I wish now I hadn't wrote it as well.
It's gone.
>
> >
> > Watercolour George
> >
> > We sit, cross-legged in the dirt, talking
> > over a wet landscape. I am ignorant
>
> 'talking/ over' is a good ambigous phrase.
> Do you want 'talking' or 'and talk'?
>
* thank you. I want talking there.
> >
> > about his art but I'm drawn to the rhythm of him
>
> nice break. (and the previous one.)
>
* Thank you.
> >
> > singing tribal songs while he paints.
> >
> > I ask of his skin and he sings
>
> "I ask of his skin" was difficult at first, but I'm getting to like it.
> "skin...sings" is nice
>
* I was hoping you would say that. It was staying any way. :-)
> >
> > to the reflection unfolding before me; a sweep
> > of rich ochres, burnt umber and desert plains
>
> You've got me reaching for the paintbox and an old idea for a poem
> I meant to write years ago.
>
*cool!
> >
> > that nestle below the black limbs of mulgas,
>
> "nestle?
>
* yep, wrong word. I can't find the one I want that fits the sound. Nestle
was the closest. It is a place holder for now.
> >
> > sung with smooth lines of dark water.
>
> "singing", "sings", "sung" ?
> 'smooth' and 'dark'?
>
* yep. I will probably cut this line.
> >
> >
> > He is Arunta, part of the land
>
> something unsatisfactory here.
>
* yes, I will change it back to the first draft.
'part of' is just filling.
> >
> > of his ancestors. Long patterns scar his chest
> > to show he was ritually blooded,
>
> This is prosy to me.
>
* but I don't write prose! :-)
I agree, George has shown me how to change it to make it less prosy.
> > but he doesn't speak
> > of it, only walks his fingers
> > across the skin ridges with pride.
>
> Nice. But you may not need 'skin'
>
* I agree. I will lose it. Thank you.
> >
> > We talk about weather, around us it's summer
>
> Maybe colon, not comma? Os semi colon, or full stop, even.
>
* a full stop might work. I will try it.
> >
> > and paper leaves hang in sleep
> > from the heat. He sings the clouds, blue skys grow
>
> I'm enjoying this.
> 'skies'
>
* cool!
skies! thank you.
> >
> > purple and a green rush of spinifex
> > spear yellow washed sandhills.
>
> "yellow-washed"?
>
* thank you!
> >
> > He lifts his brush, and in quieter words he speaks
>
> 'speaks' seems weak.
>
* yes. I have changed it a bit already but I havent changed 'speaks' yet. I
don't want to use sings again so for now I am stuck with it.
I changed words to lyrics, so if you got a suggestion for speaks I would be
stoked!
> >
> > about dreamtime and the spirits of rockpeople
> > that watch over the land, and as I sit
>
> Many 'and's here. They could be building up an
> atmosphere, but aren't quite regular enough to have
> me hypnotised.
>
*ahh! ok, I will work on it.
> >
> > beside him, he whispers a mountain
> > onto soft bristles and sings it to canvas.
>
> Ooh!
>
* wow, thank you!
> That's all for the moment. I'm out of practice.
> If I think of any more nits I'll send 'em on.
>
> Thanks for posting this, Bindi.
>
> g.
> ----------------------------------
> http://www.patchword.com
>
* thank you for commenting, Gwyneth!
Bindi.
Bill Trenholm
Hello, Bindi. Like this. Some comments below.
In article <act4sm$rvnmu$1...@ID-66859.news.dfncis.de>, Bindi
<URL:mailto:Bin...@bigpond.com.au> wrote:
> (revised already, yep, I am trying to write something a bit better to work
> with! sorry)
>
> To paint your land as an Aborigine
> is to "sing" it, to make it appear
> before you as you bring life
> to the dreamtime.
>
> Watercolour George
>
> We sit, cross-legged in the dirt, talking
> over a wet landscape. I am ignorant
> about his art but I’m drawn to the rhythm of him
In my 'drawl' I trip up on 'rhythm of him'
> singing tribal songs while he paints.
>
> I ask of his skin and he sings
> to the reflection unfolding before me; a sweep
> of rich ochres, burnt umber and desert plains
> that nestle below the black limbs of mulgas,
Possibly remove 'that' and change to nestled.
> sung with smooth lines of dark water.
>
> He is Arunta, part of the land
> of his ancestors. Long patterns scar his chest
> to show he was ritually blooded, but he doesn’t speak
> of it, only walks his fingers
> across the skin ridges with pride.
Too much 'his' and 'he', perhaps, but love
the images and associations
> We talk about weather, around us it’s summer
Remove 'around us', perhaps?
> and paper leaves hang in sleep
> from the heat. He sings the clouds, blue skys grow
> purple and a green rush of spinifex
> spear yellow washed sandhills.
>
> He lifts his brush, and in quieter words he speaks
> about dreamtime and the spirits of rockpeople
> that watch over the land, and as I sit
> beside him, he whispers a mountain
> onto soft bristles and sings it to canvas.
This end I like, bit like the chap quoted below:-)
Good to read you again.
Take care.
> --- Bindi
Bill Trenholm
'My birthday began with the water-
Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name
Above the farms and the white horses
And I rose
In rainy autumn
And walked abroad in a shower of all my days.
High tide and the heron dived when I took the road
Over the border
And the gates
Of the town closed as the town awoke'.
from 'Poem in October', Dylan Thomas
Jim Sheard
Hi, Bindi.
It's been fairly well picked over, nit-wise, but I wanted to add that it
was interesting to see a much less cramped poem than you used to write -
more space and time in this, and it feels much more confident.
Jim
> Watercolour George
<messagelengthsnip>
Bindi
"Bill Trenholm" <free0...@ukgateway.net> wrote in message
news:ant3019430b0$S...@acld42.dial.pipex.com...
Hello, Bindi. Like this. Some comments below.
* Hi Bill!
In article <act4sm$rvnmu$1...@ID-66859.news.dfncis.de>, Bindi
<URL:mailto:Bin...@bigpond.com.au> wrote:
> (revised already, yep, I am trying to write something a bit better to work
> with! sorry)
>
> To paint your land as an Aborigine
> is to "sing" it, to make it appear
> before you as you bring life
> to the dreamtime.
>
> Watercolour George
>
> We sit, cross-legged in the dirt, talking
> over a wet landscape. I am ignorant
> about his art but I'm drawn to the rhythm of him
In my 'drawl' I trip up on 'rhythm of him'
* :-) In my twang it sounds ok but I will rethink it. Thank you.
> singing tribal songs while he paints.
>
> I ask of his skin and he sings
> to the reflection unfolding before me; a sweep
> of rich ochres, burnt umber and desert plains
> that nestle below the black limbs of mulgas,
Possibly remove 'that' and change to nestled.
*ahh! even sounds better! Thank you. Nestle was not the image I was looking
for here but for the moment it almost fits.
> sung with smooth lines of dark water.
>
> He is Arunta, part of the land
> of his ancestors. Long patterns scar his chest
> to show he was ritually blooded, but he doesn't speak
> of it, only walks his fingers
> across the skin ridges with pride.
Too much 'his' and 'he', perhaps, but love
the images and associations
* I agree, I will try to cut a couple. Thank you.
> We talk about weather, around us it's summer
Remove 'around us', perhaps?
* I will try it.
> and paper leaves hang in sleep
> from the heat. He sings the clouds, blue skys grow
> purple and a green rush of spinifex
> spear yellow washed sandhills.
>
> He lifts his brush, and in quieter words he speaks
> about dreamtime and the spirits of rockpeople
> that watch over the land, and as I sit
> beside him, he whispers a mountain
> onto soft bristles and sings it to canvas.
This end I like, bit like the chap quoted below:-)
Good to read you again.
Take care.
* thank you, Bill.
D.T is one of my favorites.
Nice to see you back!
Thank you for commenting.
> --- Bindi
Bill Trenholm
'My birthday began with the water-
Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name
Above the farms and the white horses
And I rose
In rainy autumn
And walked abroad in a shower of all my days.
High tide and the heron dived when I took the road
Over the border
And the gates
Of the town closed as the town awoke'.
from 'Poem in October', Dylan Thomas
---
Bindi
"Jim Sheard" <j...@jsheard.co.uk> wrote in message
news:pan.2002.05.30.23...@jsheard.co.uk...
> On Mon, 27 May 2002 09:50:21 +0100, Bindi wrote:
>
>
> Hi, Bindi.
* Hi, Jim!!
>
> It's been fairly well picked over, nit-wise, but I wanted to add that it
> was interesting to see a much less cramped poem than you used to write -
> more space and time in this, and it feels much more confident.
>
> Jim
>
* thank you.
It's great to see you're still around!
Bindi.
>
> > Watercolour George
>
> <messagelengthsnip>
shambhu
add to the comments already made. Shambhu
"Bindi" <Bin...@bigpond.com.au> wrote in message news:<act4sm$rvnmu$1...@ID-66859.news.dfncis.de>...
> (revised already, yep, I am trying to write something a bit better to work
> with! sorry)
>
>
>
>
> To paint your land as an Aborigine
> is to "sing" it, to make it appear
> before you as you bring life
> to the dreamtime.
>
>
>
> Watercolour George
>
> We sit, cross-legged in the dirt, talking
> over a wet landscape. I am ignorant
> about his art but I’m drawn to the rhythm of him
> singing tribal songs while he paints.
>
> I ask of his skin and he sings
> to the reflection unfolding before me; a sweep
> of rich ochres, burnt umber and desert plains
> that nestle below the black limbs of mulgas,
> sung with smooth lines of dark water.
>
> He is Arunta, part of the land
> of his ancestors. Long patterns scar his chest
> to show he was ritually blooded, but he doesn’t speak
> of it, only walks his fingers
> across the skin ridges with pride.
>
> We talk about weather, around us it’s summer
d'huit
like this<wink> follow me down....
"Bindi" <Bin...@bigpond.com.au> wrote in message
news:acss0d$shki8$1...@ID-66859.news.dfncis.de...
>
>
>
> To paint your land as an Aborigine
> is to "sing" it, to make it appear
> before you as you bring life
> to the dreamtime.
>
>
>
>
>
> Watercolour George
>
> We sit, cross-legged in the dirt, talking
> over a wet landscape.
i like the ambiguity of 'wet landscape'. maybe start with 'cross-legged in
the dirt' and 'we talk'
>
> I am ignorant about his art
> but I’m drawn to the rhythm of him
love this line break! must be a better way to say the first line, though.
> singing tribal songs while he paints.
>
> I ask of his skin and he sings
keeper line, all the way.
> to the reflection unfolding before me; a sweep
weak line.
> of rich ochres, burnt umber and desert plains
> that nestle below the black limbs of mulgas,
love the sounds of 'black limbs of mulgas,' it enriches the poem with a
mystical/secret/arcane knowledge feel to it, especially because of the
ochres<smile>. think i would cut out 'that nestle'; don't think it is
necessary.
> sung with smooth lines of dark water.
i'm a little uncomfortable with this line and i cannot put my finger on it.
>
> He is Arunta, the land
> of his ancestors. Long patterns
think you can cut 'of his ancestors'. there is a subtle indication going on
that this is ancient wisdom/knowledge being made use of that was handed down
by ancestors. it also makes the line stronger.
> scar his chest to show he was ritually blooded
try maybe---'ritually blooded in long chest patterns'
> but he doesn’t speak of it, only walks his fingers
> along high ridges with pride.
kind of wordy, bin. needs tightening.
>
> We talk about weather, around us it’s summer
a bit wordy here too.
> and paper leaves hang in sleep
> from the heat.
think i would go with something like, maybe --- 'we speak of this summer as
its paper leaves hang.' ?
He sings the clouds,
> blue skys grow purple and a green rush of spinifex
> spear yellow sandhills.
i like.
>
> He speaks about dreamtime
> and the spirits of rockpeople
> that watch over the land,
think i'd start with 'dreamtime---when rockpeople spirits watch the land, he
says;'
>
> and as I sit beside him
move 'and' after 'him'
> he sings a mountain
> with soft bristles
> then releases it
> on canvas.
>
woman, you've got something special here, with lots going for it. just
needs some tweaking and tightening. i like this one very much and hope you
show us your revisions. thank you for sharing this one with us, bin.
kate
Bindi
"shambhu" <sham...@rediffmail.com> wrote in message
news:7768ff95.02053...@posting.google.com...
> Hi Bindi. Just popped in to say rehi and liked this. Nothing much to
> add to the comments already made. Shambhu
>
Thank you!
It is good to see you back.
Bindi.
Bindi
"d'huit" <jus...@nospam.com> wrote in message
news:1NWJ8.72245$ux5....@rwcrnsc51.ops.asp.att.net...
> hiya, bindi! not bad for a first draft! i wouldn't mind ''struggling''
> like this<wink> follow me down....
>
thank you.
grin, struggles is what makes it worth it.
following you
in a happy dance!
>
> "Bindi" <Bin...@bigpond.com.au> wrote in message
> news:acss0d$shki8$1...@ID-66859.news.dfncis.de...
> >
> >
> >
> > To paint your land as an Aborigine
> > is to "sing" it, to make it appear
> > before you as you bring life
> > to the dreamtime.
> >
> >
> >
> >
> >
> > Watercolour George
> >
> > We sit, cross-legged in the dirt, talking
> > over a wet landscape.
>
> i like the ambiguity of 'wet landscape'. maybe start with 'cross-legged
in
> the dirt' and 'we talk'
>
> >
> > I am ignorant about his art
> > but I’m drawn to the rhythm of him
>
> love this line break! must be a better way to say the first line, though.
>
that it works better now. And with the change you suggested in the first
line it looks like this,
Cross-legged in the dirt, we talk
over a wet landscape. I am ignorant
about his art but I’m drawn to the rhythm of him
singing tribal songs while he paints.
* I want the narrators ignorance to stand out.
> > singing tribal songs while he paints.
> >
> > I ask of his skin and he sings
>
> keeper line, all the way.
>
* thank you.
>
> > to the reflection unfolding before me; a sweep
>
> weak line.
* yep, I agree.
>
> > of rich ochres, burnt umber and desert plains
> > that nestle below the black limbs of mulgas,
>
> love the sounds of 'black limbs of mulgas,' it enriches the poem with a
> mystical/secret/arcane knowledge feel to it, especially because of the
> ochres<smile>. think i would cut out 'that nestle'; don't think it is
> necessary.
* how about changing it to 'nestled below the black limbs of mulgas' ?
I think it reads smoother and works better sound wise but I am still not
sure of the word choice.
>
> > sung with smooth lines of dark water.
>
> i'm a little uncomfortable with this line and i cannot put my finger on
it.
>
* I agree. It is unanimous! (sp) It is gone.
> >
> > He is Arunta, the land
> > of his ancestors. Long patterns
>
> think you can cut 'of his ancestors'. there is a subtle indication going
on
> that this is ancient wisdom/knowledge being made use of that was handed
down
> by ancestors. it also makes the line stronger.
*hmmm, I am not sure. I am losing the intro because it is useless but I
think this is important to the piece. I think that I will keep it, because
it plays sound wise off of Arunta and I like the alliteration of sss sounds
in that line.
>
> > scar his chest to show he was ritually blooded
>
> try maybe---'ritually blooded in long chest patterns'
>
* I am going to rework it to something like, long patterns scar his chest...
but yep, I will keep thinking. Thank you.
> > but he doesn’t speak of it, only walks his fingers
> > along high ridges with pride.
>
> kind of wordy, bin. needs tightening.
>
* grin, prosy! I agree.
>
> >
> > We talk about weather, around us it’s summer
>
> a bit wordy here too.
* yep! dice and trim!
>
> > and paper leaves hang in sleep
> > from the heat.
>
> think i would go with something like, maybe --- 'we speak of this summer
as
> its paper leaves hang.' ?
* yep, another option. Thanks!
>
> He sings the clouds,
> > blue skys grow purple and a green rush of spinifex
> > spear yellow sandhills.
>
> i like.
>
* thank you.
> >
> > He speaks about dreamtime
> > and the spirits of rockpeople
> > that watch over the land,
>
> think i'd start with 'dreamtime---when rockpeople spirits watch the land,
he
> says;'
> >
* I have changed it a bit already but that is another option, thank you.
> > and as I sit beside him
>
> move 'and' after 'him'
* ok.
>
> > he sings a mountain
> > with soft bristles
> > then releases it
> > on canvas.
> >
>
> woman, you've got something special here, with lots going for it. just
> needs some tweaking and tightening. i like this one very much and hope
you
> show us your revisions. thank you for sharing this one with us, bin.
>
> kate
* woman! get out! :-)
thank you Kate!
I am tweaking it now and I will post a revision soon.
Thank you very much for reading and commenting
and you have been missed here!
Welcome back, woman! :-)
Bindi.