from Mary Kinzie's A Poet's Guide to Poetry, pages 340-343
In Chapter 11, in the section entitled "The Fourth Freedom: Imagist Free Verse,
Mary Kinzie writes:
"If biblical free verse, dependant on invocation and catalogue, phrasal
accumulation and texture, admiration and terror, could be condensed into its
minim, that residue would the imagist free-verse poem. This is a poem
necessarily short both in line and in total number of words whose aim is the
turning of a single impression into a perfectly polished verbal expression...The
primary rhythmical device in this fourth type of free verse is the subphrasal
cut--the use of the line break to register both closure and interruption of what
cannot yet be closed.
What makes imagist free verse so admirable--and so difficult is the deceptive
ease of expression alongside the apparent casualness of the lineation."
Ms. Kinzie offers 3 sections of Louise Bogan's wonderful "After the Persian" of
which I will quote just a few lines:
"I do not wish to know
The depths of your terrible jungle;
From what nest your leopard leaps
Or what sterile lianas are at once your seprents' disguise and home.
I am the dweller on the temperate threshold,
The strip of corn and vine,
Where all is translucence (the light!),
Liquidity, and the sound of water.
Here the days pass under shade
And the nights have the waxing and the waning moon.
Here the moths take flight at evening;
Here at morning the dove whistles and the pigeons coo.
Here, as night comes on, the fireflies wink and snap
Close to the cool ground,
Shining in a profusion
Celestial or marine.
Here it is never wholly dark bu always wholly green,
And the day stains with what seems to be more than the sun
What may be more than my flesh."
Ms. Kinzie continues: "[Wallace] Stevens, as reticent about the literal
experiences that give his poems vigor as Louise bogan was, displays a rueful,
hectic playfulness and a chronic metaphysical drift that few poets of the
immediate lyric have so effectively combined." She is speaking of Wallace's
"Fabliau of Florida."
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fabliau_of_Florida
She concludes with these remarks:
"As often as not, poems like Stevens's evaporate into their own delicacy. It
takes a wise head to limit the use of the form to occasions of the greatest
probability of accuracy, or of greatest need...No other form so readily flies
into pieces as imagist free verse does. But when it is done well, no other form
so perfectly reflects insight into the moments that must pass."
Challenge:
Write an imagist free verse poem. Try to write a new poem before turning to your
own archives.
If you're unable to write a poem for the challenge, please read and criticque
the poems that hopefully will be posted.
Thanks,
Karla
to render hearts that
stay and fight forlorn
your stabbing motion
draws a soul to sleep
hypnotic gaze that meters
loves drawn scorn.
matt
My newsreader must be on the fritz,
I wasn't aware that there was an Image Free, Abstraction-laden,
Cliche-Stuffed Free Verse Challenge.
This particular piece of abject drivel will be very difficult to beat.
snip
http://groups.google.ca/group/alt.arts.poetry.comments/msg/4abb81f61314f8fe?hl=en
>
> Challenge:
>
> Write an imagist free verse poem. Try to write a new poem before turning to your
> own archives.
>
Around the fire
scent of burning leaves,
Crickets make music
for the circling dark –
Sudden water-sound,
then crickets again.
"chit," as in little child, is an excellent
word.
the way this is worded draws
all kinds of possibilities as to what
the author is attempting to convey.
my first and lasting image is of some
hungry street kid, beggar.
i like it allot.
shit-
you're right.
forget this one, please.
i'll get out of the way and just
read for awhile.
It's not a challenge until you write one, Karla.
Do you have a huge abandoned warehouse full of these tired haiku-like
blurps, or do you simply churn them out when the check comes in?
Really - they're atrocious in their ability to generate instant fatigue
in a reader.
dmh
a poet is killfiling
> a mere chit
>
an uppity mud-person. He has thoughts
> of bloodsmudged down
>
> waving on the doublepane
>
tears the body open, grabs
> half a handful
>
of pulsing guts
> still warm
>
scarfs it down, topped with a
> glazed eye
>
like a grape.
Not filling at all,
> so light with his little
>
> brittle hollow bones.
full of yummy marrow.
It paddles, it sweeps with beak
the jade, the gold, the silver
It nabs wallowing in water
scooping a five-sided coin
a medallion golden
clenched between beak pondering
swallowing squawks and preens
Digesting the universe of stars and moons
a black envelope of pricks of diamond
swan gliding on black water
swan gliding through to the moon
rippling black water as it paddles
the seas of divinity
paddling to freedom among the stars
it glides back into eternity
--
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Subjugate the rhyme and rawk with the rhythm
Only got one line to balk all the schizm
with god and laugh, bring all to shocking rose
with rod and staff we walk a rocky road
SteepleJack Beer
http://www.lulu.com/content/5611390
haha-
isn't that weird?
i'm illiterate and your poem appeals to me.
haha
It's not that weird.
Magpies and ravens are attracted to shiny objects.
Even flatworms react to external stimuli.
Don't get too excited, you might have a *feeling*. (tm. Dennis)
actually, how can i know if i like your
poem or not?
you might want to void my critique.
i'll get back to not knowing what the fuck
i'm talking about.
you know? that person you can't stop interacting
with on usenet?
shall we?
(hi Karla-
are things going as planned?
just curious.)
> a poet is killfiling
> an uppity mud-person. He has thoughts
> tears the body open, grabs
> of pulsing guts
> scarfs it down, topped with a
> like a grape.
> Not filling at all,
> full of yummy marrow.
Was this meant to be an Imagist poem? It's certainly not your worst
effort.
Y'know, George, all you have to do is to admit that the poems you've
posted here aren't very good, and immediately you'll be swamped with
helpful suggestions about how to make them better. It's your unfounded
high opinion of your current skills that makes you laughable.
--
PJR :-)
> actually, how can i know if i like your
> poem or not?
That's an excellent point, especially considering that you think it's about
a street urchin.
Perhaps you could spend a few decades trying to work out the answer to your
own question.
Good luck with that.
good point.
and thanks for having my best interest in mind with
the "good luck."
however, i won't need any luck because i'm an illiterate
for life. therefore, what good would luck do me?
besides, it takes rolling up ones sleeves and learning
how to read, which i clearly am guilty of NOT doing.
being the lazy bastard that i am, i don't think it
will happen in my future.
also, i want everything handed to me in this life.
i'm missing what's known as a work ethic.
so, i'm sorry to inform you that all of your efforts
to help me, out of the graciousness of your heart, are
in vein.
(you should know, (giggles), my cat is typing
this while i speak. i can't type either.
hehehehehe
> however, i won't need any luck because i'm an illiterate
> for life. therefore, what good would luck do me?
**Everyone can use a little luck.
I don't know, maybe you could get lucky and the literacy fairy could
sprinkle some of that magic fairy dust on you some day.
> besides, it takes rolling up ones sleeves and learning
> how to read, which i clearly am guilty of NOT doing.
> being the lazy bastard that i am, i don't think it
> will happen in my future.
**It sounds like you're a typical representative of your generation.
You get what you pay for.
> also, i want everything handed to me in this life.
> i'm missing what's known as a work ethic.
**You really are a typical representative of your generation.
No wait. That's not really true, I know at least a dozen twenty to thirty
somethings who are working hard to make something of their lives.
People grow up and wake up sometimes.
Maybe you will.
>
> so, i'm sorry to inform you that all of your efforts
> to help me, out of the graciousness of your heart, are
> in vein.
**You're a junky too?
That's not good.
haha-
thanks so much for the continued support.
is it ever going to end?
you're just a fountain of useful, constructive,
helpful, intuitive advise. and it's all for me.
gary-
will you marry me?
i mean, we might as well be married with
all of the interest you have in my development
as a human being. and, we could enrich each others
lives so much. i could be there, chin up,
attitude adjusted, in anticipation of your
expert advice at every offer; you could indulge
in helping a lost cause like me, which you've
clearly shown you want to do with all of this
attention you give me.
we would be with each other night and day.
i would follow you around wherever you went
begging for every drop of information i could get
from that amazing mind of yours that will surely
be kept for research purposes when you part
from the earth.
please, think it over. let me know your answer.
muwah!
a kiss just for you.
>
> If you're unable to write a poem for the challenge, please read and
> criticque
> the poems that hopefully will be posted.
>
> Thanks,
>
> Karla
>
>
karla,
when you open up a contest like this in the future,
make sure you explain that clowns are allowed to
participate as well as the general public.
that way, one can prepare for gestures and juggling
acts to come with serious and constructive
criticism.
just a suggestion, dearie.
> we would be with each other night and day.
I guess it didn't work out with Sherrie, huh?
You crash and burn with everything you attempt.
That must really suck.
Maybe if you moved out of your parents' basement and got a job, things would
get better for you.
As far as your generous offer, no thanks.
I have four kids and a wife.
One of the kids is as lost as you.
So, we're batting .750, and that's not too bad.
> karla,
> when you open up a contest like this in the future,
> make sure you explain that clowns are allowed to
> participate as well as the general public.
I'm sure that Karla doesn't mind that you, george and farstar attempted to
participate.
Why would you think otherwise?
well-
the offer stands.
i'm just floored by the extra love you've been
showing me lately.
please, keep it coming.
i'm hungry for the brilliance that you clearly
give freely to me. i want; i need; i thirst.
excuse me:
i need to spend some time alone to get over the
blow that you're not going to be with me night
and day.
but wait-
i can access that brilliant mind here, on usenet,
any time i want. so, in essence, i'm not
losing anything.
pinch me, please. am i in heaven?
oh-
my heart flutters at the thought.
oh...
> I'm sure that Karla doesn't mind that you, george and farstar attempted to
> participate.
> Why would you think otherwise?
and who would you be inspiring to delusion these days butt-rapist
you can't have him he's my butt-lover
he only speaks to me, for me, and on-top of me
for he's my butt-lover you see
It's my fault he hits, I deserve it, oh ggamble
i'll fight you for him.
here's a poem that should be
delivered as a "punch" from
my camp:
the real thing
this grasp i feel is not real,
anything that i can imagine
holding a picture to a mirror
and spinning a web of lies for pleasure.
the one thing that is not supposed to hurt
imagined itself in a state of grace
and pulling the blinds, over the eyes, shut
made haste it's glory and pain it's story
long after the boring ending.
if we could only have the thing we block,
as the reflection halts the sentence stuck,
the chance at bliss would kill the miss
and ring the towering clock to stop.
stop, stuck, on, off-
their could not be the real thing
unimagined and starting to sing.
matt
keep it real
the headz declare
but whether it is fair
or not demands interest
because if it's interesting
the don't declare it's fake
but if they want to use the stick
it's their stake
to slave the meaning to one for use
directly applicable to their tools
but if they said keep it pragmatic
ah, now there would be the sweetness
the core of the carrot that would not rot
that could flow with the chi of 10,000 taoist monks
I don't think there's anything wrong with using your imagination
and they'll agree as long as it doesn't refute the following three
is not to confuse facts
don't introduce false facts
and do not omit pertinent information
One Caveat, when defining your function
do not to overwrite the already programmed
avoid the cliches, but we know that in this day and age
Beyond this trinity, they'll Have no grounds for argument
except being immature, naive, and trolls trying to get your goat
at which point, "Keep it real"
> ggamble fanged:
>
> > I'm sure that Karla doesn't mind that you, george and farstar attempted
> > to
> > participate.
> > Why would you think otherwise?
>
> and who would you be inspiring to delusion these days butt-rapist
I'm sorry, I'm not conversant in whatever-the-fuck language it is that
you're attempting to communicate in.
Try Babelfish.
Or, maybe you could put down the crackpipe if that's your problem.
I hope this helps.
see?
he always tries to help.
i'm seeing stars.
i think...
i'm in love.
gary, gary, gary-
i want you.
please, be with me forever!
> the real thing
>
> this grasp i feel is not real,
> anything that i can imagine
> holding a picture to a mirror
> and spinning a web of lies for pleasure.
>
> the one thing that is not supposed to hurt
> imagined itself in a state of grace
> and pulling the blinds, over the eyes, shut
> made haste it's glory and pain it's story
>
> long after the boring ending.
> if we could only have the thing we block,
> as the reflection halts the sentence stuck,
> the chance at bliss would kill the miss
>
> and ring the towering clock to stop.
> stop, stuck, on, off-
> their could not be the real thing
> unimagined and starting to sing.
>
>
>
> matt
Holy fuck.
Is georgedance ever going to look silly pretending that he likes this
embarrassing display of ineptitude.
You're really putting him in an awkward position, I hope you realize.
I like the way you guys circle the wagons and then start shooting at each
other.
You should have that foot seen to.
hello?
is anybody there?
can you hear me?
hello?
there seems to be a problem with this connection.
i keep hearing what sounds like a voice, but it's
all distorted and...
...i'm sorry-
i have to hang up now.
i'm sorry,
whoever you are.
oh yeah?
take this:
you never know
One can never know.
How things are going to come and go.
They just do.
With that said,
that is dead as it
hit's the air aired out between
You and me.
More time is needed
But rarely ever granted
then taken for granted
When it rears it's head of deciet.
It walks for miles
talks many styles
Lands on runways meant for pelacetes.
Poem('s) are not deductive,
cannot be reflective of any thought
Once thought to be thought
Merely by the act of thinking.
I am not what I think if I think therefore
I am in this age of cultured spam.
Even death is a release.
> butt-rapist
<snip>
so what you saying is?
>oh pangs of love so
>sharpened in defeat
>
>to render hearts that
>stay and fight forlorn
>
>your stabbing motion
>draws a soul to sleep
>
>hypnotic gaze that meters
>loves drawn scorn.
>
>
>
>matt
Matt, talk us through your poem. How is it an imagist free verse poem?
Thanks,
Karla
>On Feb 25, 10:24 pm, Karla <karl...@NEVERcomcast.net> wrote:
>
>
>snip
>http://groups.google.ca/group/alt.arts.poetry.comments/msg/4abb81f61314f8fe?hl=en
>
>>
>> Challenge:
>>
>> Write an imagist free verse poem. Try to write a new poem before turning to your
>> own archives.
>>
>
>
>Around the fire
>scent of burning leaves,
>
>Crickets make music
>for the circling dark –
>
>Sudden water-sound,
>then crickets again.
How is this imagist free verse? There's a reach for haiku in it.
Consider slashing "around the fire", "making music", "circling", "sudden",
"-sound" and "again". I'm not joking. So few words as it is, not enough of an
observation. Play around with the sounds and scene so common that we don't need
any of your directional words.
Thanks,
Karla
>On Feb 25, 10:24 pm, Karla <karl...@NEVERcomcast.net> wrote:
>> First, some comments about imagist free verse:
>>
>> from Mary Kinzie's A Poet's Guide to Poetry, pages 340-343
>>
>> In Chapter 11, in the section entitled "The Fourth Freedom: Imagist Free Verse,
>>
>> Mary Kinzie writes:
>>
>> "If biblical free verse, dependant on invocation and catalogue, phrasal
>> accumulation and texture, admiration and terror, could be condensed into its
>> minim, that residue would the imagist free-verse poem. This is a poem
>> necessarily short both in line and in total number of words whose aim is the
>> turning of a single impression into a perfectly polished verbal expression...The
>> primary rhythmical device in this fourth type of free verse is the subphrasal
>> cut--the use of the line break to register both closure and interruption of what
>> cannot yet be closed.
>>
>> What makes imagist free verse so admirable--and so difficult is the deceptive
>> ease of expression alongside the apparent casualness of the lineation."
>>
>> Ms. Kinzie offers 3 sections of Louise Bogan's wonderful "After the Persian" of
>> which I will quote just a few lines:
>>
>> "I do not wish to know
>> The depths of your terrible jungle;
>> From what nest your leopard leaps
>> Or what sterile lianas are at once your seprents' disguise and home.
>>
>> I am the dweller on the temperate threshold,
>> The strip of corn and vine,
>> Where all is translucence (the light!),
>> Liquidity, and the sound of water.
>> Here the days pass under shade
>> And the nights have the waxing and the waning moon.
>> Here the moths take flight at evening;
>> Here at morning the dove whistles and the pigeons coo.
>> Here, as night comes on, the fireflies wink and snap
>> Close to the cool ground,
>> Shining in a profusion
>> Celestial or marine.
>>
>> Here it is never wholly dark bu always wholly green,
>> And the day stains with what seems to be more than the sun
>> What may be more than my flesh."
>>
>> Ms. Kinzie continues: "[Wallace] Stevens, as reticent about the literal
>> experiences that give his poems vigor as Louise bogan was, displays a rueful,
>> hectic playfulness and a chronic metaphysical drift that few poets of the
>> immediate lyric have so effectively combined." She is speaking of Wallace's
>> "Fabliau of Florida."
>>
>> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fabliau_of_Florida
>>
>> She concludes with these remarks:
>>
>> "As often as not, poems like Stevens's evaporate into their own delicacy. It
>> takes a wise head to limit the use of the form to occasions of the greatest
>> probability of accuracy, or of greatest need...No other form so readily flies
>> into pieces as imagist free verse does. But when it is done well, no other form
>> so perfectly reflects insight into the moments that must pass."
>>
>> Challenge:
>>
>> Write an imagist free verse poem. Try to write a new poem before turning to your
>> own archives.
>>
>> If you're unable to write a poem for the challenge, please read and criticque
>> the poems that hopefully will be posted.
>>
>> Thanks,
>>
>> Karla
>
>It's not a challenge until you write one, Karla.
Really? Is that in the Book of Hoyle or something?
I plan on writing one. I'm thinking about it.
Will you write one too?
Karla
> Write an imagist free verse poem.
Nice try, Karla.
As usual gumby and p p
turn it into a pissing contest.
The literary supremacists strike again.
How many times has this repeated.
Their feeble poetic attempts
and then to silence with insult.
It's a sign of the times.
Creativity police kill again.
Write on, brothers in arms!
to be honest, i didn't know if it was "imagist freeverse" for sure.
however, here's the rundown as to why it works as a cliché free,
image building poem:
(oh pangs of love so
sharpened in defeat)
an evocation made obvious in the third stanza.
the cliché would be..oh arrows of love that
stab right through my heart...
while the line hints at that to the point
of maybe fooling the reader into thinking that's
what they've read, the opposite is true. let me
demonstrate:
a pang, noun, is a spasm, sudden sharp pain;
love as noun is often referred to as an intense feeling.
the translation would be...oh sharp spasms of intense
feeling so sharpened in defeat...
the author used "defeat" in a generalized way as in
all around defeat in the affairs of love which
is a well known subject matter throughout the history
of literature, further hinting the possibility
of cliché, but not sealing the deal quite yet.
(to render hearts that stay and fight forlorn)
hearts as noun can be persons. however, it can
have a duel meaning in the affairs of love. it
can mean intense intention and focus in the affairs of love.
usually, in the avocation of love, hearts come
to mean desires and motivations. the term...
their heart was not in it...comes to mind.
that they...stay and fight...sets up the
dichotomy...what are hearts fighting an aspect
of love for? usually, hearts and love are on
the same side. in this instance, they're fighting
for control of the thing they're an integral
part of. this line sets up a personal internal
war. "forlorn" exposes the futility of this
war. the author lets the reader know that
the outcome of this conflict has already been
decided while the remaining hearts still fight.
(your stabbing motion draws a soul to sleep)
this seals the evocation to the "pangs of love."
this exposes the author as an observer, participant
and play by play narrator.
the stabbing motion creates the image of a sharpened
object, we'll say dagger. this image is reinforced
by "sharpened" and "pangs" in the first stanza.
it also refers the experienced reader back to
the hinting cliché of...oh arrows of love that
stab... it begs for cliché to expose itself
fully, but only gets hints and teases.
a "soul" as noun can, again, be a person. in the
affairs of love, it can be a person searching
for illumination. it's similar to the word
heart in this manner.
this line sets up the horror or macabre that
your intro explanation of image freeverse
appeared to point to. it has a poe-esk feel
to it, especially when read allowed using
a Vincent Price manner of speaking.
(hypnotic gaze that meters loves drawn scorn.)
more reference to the stabbing motion. "hypnotic"
can be the thing being hypnotized. the gaze
refers to the zombie like gaze of the hypnotized
hearts and souls that are losing this fight
rapidly.
meters equals measures as verb.
loves drawn scorn demonstrates the full view
of this personal internal conflict, or personal
"civil war." love vs. the heart. both,
through literary history, are supposed to be
on the same side. now, loves drawn, or laid
out, scorn has been exposed. this wraps
up the poem by revealing the cause of the
strife- loves drawn scorn, contempt, disdain,
disregard, ridicule, mocking, teasing, sneering,
etc.
in essence, this poem describes one being stabbed
in the back by ones own intentions.
a little bit more intense and thought out than
a chit on the side of the road with hollow
bones, wouldn't you say?
You actually think "pangs of love" makes the poem cliché-free? Wow! A
stunning victory in the war against intelligence...A poem you proclaim
to be free of cliché contains one of the most egregious bits of
hackneyed pork IN THE FIRST LINE!
dmh
The shark ate the man's
testicles who was riding
on a Ski Doo.
Though the waters
were full of blood,
everyone was still
cheering.
His last, final stunt
came off
absolutely with a hitch.
[...]
> >> Challenge:
>
> >> Write an imagist free verse poem. Try to write a new poem before turning to your
> >> own archives.
>
> >> If you're unable to write a poem for the challenge, please read and criticque
> >> the poems that hopefully will be posted.
>
> >> Thanks,
>
> >> Karla
>
> >It's not a challenge until you write one, Karla.
>
> Really? Is that in the Book of Hoyle or something?
>
> I plan on writing one. I'm thinking about it.
>
> Will you write one too?
>
> Karla
I'm searching for it. In the moment a bit of an Art Deco phase of
failure strikes me after a disappointing experience with glass. The
intended sunburst envisioned using triangles eluded skill and settled
for cubist forms of silly squares and rectangles. Colorful grids
within which firing should reveal a 'random' gift or go bust if the
air won't squeeze itself from the framework of the design.
That's usually where I'm at in writing. I hope you post one. I should
like to see how you as my muse further affect me.
i'm done with my explanation.
i'm moving on.
if it doesn't work for you or anybody else,
fine.
however, it helped me get through some personal
stuff, clichéd or not.
for that, i'm grateful for the experience of writing it
and sharing it.
> > Write an imagist free verse poem.
>
> Nice try, Karla.
> As usual gumby and p p
> turn it into a pissing contest.
> The literary supremacists strike again.
>
> How many times has this repeated.
> Their feeble poetic attempts
> and then to silence with insult.
>
> It's a sign of the times.
> Creativity police kill again.
>
> Write on, brothers in arms!
Heh, shouldn't you be in Disneyland with your hero, Bobby Jindal?
I must warn you to not say anything negative about Bobby, your master hath
ordained that the brethren shall not criticize him upon pain of
excommunication from the freakshow brigade. And you know how you people
don't function well without your group identity to prop you up.
Peter and I were arguably the only ones to post poems which fit the
constraints of the challenge.
I notice you weren't up to the task, and never will be in this lifetime.
It's ok though, you can just jeer from the sidelines as usual.
P.S.: Are you writing as yourself, or as your delusional paranoid right wing
nutjob persona?
Or, have you finally given up all pretence that what you spew isn't really
just the ruptured bleatings of the bitter psycho that you are?
And how silly am I to even ask?
If there really were creativity police, how the hell do you think you'd be
allowed to post here?
Really, give your head a shake.
> a little bit more intense and thought out than
> a chit on the side of the road with hollow
> bones, wouldn't you say?
You're almost as bitter and jealous as george, and that's saying a lot.
P.S. Where did you see a *road*, illiterate moron, the same place you saw
the street urchin?
jesus fuck almighty
Don't forget how yesterday you liked it *allot* (sic)
heh
> i'm done with my explanation.
>
> i'm moving on.
Please God, let this be true.
> if it doesn't work for you or anybody else,
> fine.
Wait a minute, you actually Thought it would Work for someone?
You are so delusional and unlettered that you thought:
a) that your typing somehow fit the constraints of Karla's challenge.
and
b) that what you typed somehow had some literary merit beyond your apparenty
psychiatric need to spew?
> however, it helped me get through some personal
> stuff, clichéd or not.
I guess I should have read on before I posed my queries.
I think you and that idiot farstar cowboy freak subscribe to the *poetry as
therapy* dog and pony show that teenagers everywhere wallow in with
solipistic pleasure. That would be borderline ok if you and he were
actually teenagers. But you two aren't really teenagers, are you?
> for that, i'm grateful for the experience of writing it
> and sharing it.
Wouldn't it have been better for you if you had written it out longhand in
pink crayon and pushpinned it to the corkboard next to your My Little Pony
collection?
Dude, get some help.
Step away from the keyboard.
You're not even funny.
> The shark ate the man's
> testicles who was riding
> on a Ski Doo.
Great image there.
Someone took one of those plastic scrotums (scroti?) that buttcrack plumbers
have hanging from the trailer hitches of their 3/4 ton 4x4's and stuck it on
a (I think you meant) Sea Doo.
Awesome.
Your inattention to detail distinguishes you from illiterate people not at
all.
Carry on.
Maybe you can unintentionally write something funny next time too.
(Subsequent reread) Of course, we should not discount the possibility that
the shark was riding the (Sea Doo), but that wouldn't be nearly as funny.
Hang in there! No pun intended!
I realize that, like all the others, that's an improv; but pointing
out one thing in it allows me to illustrate a lesson:
Build your lines in importance.
When a trivial line follows a more significant one, it can look
ridiculous.
Here's my improv on yours:
The Sea-Doo rider
had his testicles
eaten by a shark.
Everyone cheered,
though the waters
were full of blood.
Last stanza's OK there, though I don't think the last line expresses
it exactly; it sounded to me like he bled to death, and that could be
considered a 'hitch.'
??? Haiku is imagist verse; "the
turning of a single impression into a perfectly polished verbal
expression".
And I'd call the above 'free verse' because it's not a haiku or
anything else; it's an open form.
> Consider slashing "around the fire", "making music", "circling", "sudden",
> "-sound" and "again". I'm not joking. So few words as it is, not enough of an
> observation. Play around with the sounds and scene so common that we don't need
> any of your directional words.
>
Hmmm ... What do you think of this?
-
Silence
and a deeper silence
when the crickets
hesitate
> Thanks,
>
> Karla
> Hmmm ... What do you think of this?
>
> -
>
> Silence
>
>
> and a deeper silence
>
>
> when the crickets
>
>
> hesitate
Do you know what an image is?
Silly troll; if you'd read the posts before you snipped them, you
probably wouldn't have to ask questions like that.
If you find you have to ask what an image is anyway, BTW, you might
find it less embarrassing to ask one of your "online friends" in an
email.
> > Do you know what an image is?
>
>
> Silly troll; if you'd read the posts before you snipped them, you
> probably wouldn't have to ask questions like that.
Yes, you are a silly troll, thanks for finally admitting it.
But, now you're a silly troll who demonstrably doesn't know what an image
is.
> If you find you have to ask what an image is anyway, BTW, you might
> find it less embarrassing to ask one of your "online friends" in an
> email.
Imagine, you attempting to tell me how to be less embarrassed!
I've known about images and imagery for over thirty years, silly troll.
You've yet to demonstrate that you even are aware that such things as images
exist.
Hey, why don't you post another *poem*, I haven't had a really good fit of
laughter yet today.
>Silence
>
>
>and a deeper silence
>
>
>when the crickets
>
>
>hesitate
Not one of Leonard Cohen's best efforts.
-o-
I'd say it is.
> > >and a deeper silence
> >
> > >when the crickets
> >
> > >hesitate
> >
> > Not one of Leonard Cohen's best efforts.
> >
> > -o-
>
> I'd say it is.
Yeah, but you say a lot of silly things, so you don't have any credibility
whatsoever, green-eyed troll.
I think the readers, if any, are quite capable of judging for
themselves who the trolls are.
> > >Silence
> >
> > >and a deeper silence
> >
> > >when the crickets
> >
> > >hesitate
> >
> > Not one of Leonard Cohen's best efforts.
> >
> > -o-
>
> I'd say it is.
You've now tried all the usual troll techniques, troll.
No wait, you haven't threatened anyone's answering machine yet.
There's still time!
Oh right, you haven't threatened to sue anyone yet either.
I take it back, you haven't tried all the usual troll techniques yet, but
you eventually will.
The old *post a minor piece by a famous author in the hopes that someone
will give it a negative review* ploy was really classy, though.
> >
> > Yeah, but you say a lot of silly things, so you don't have any
> > credibility
> > whatsoever, green-eyed troll.
>
>
> I think the readers, if any, are quite capable of judging for
> themselves who the trolls are.
You're absolutely correct, green-eyed troll.
It really must sting.
A lot.
Yes, 30 seconds to be exact
>but pointing
> out one thing in it allows me to illustrate a lesson:
>
> Build your lines in importance.
Like a pyramid reaching towards the sky?
> When a trivial line follows a more significant one, it can look
> ridiculous.
What line are you referring to exactly? And maybe it IS a ridiculous poem.
> Here's my improv on yours:
>
> The Sea-Doo rider
> had his testicles
> eaten by a shark.
>
> Everyone cheered,
> though the waters
> were full of blood.
That's fairly bad.
> Last stanza's OK there, though I don't think the last line expresses
> it exactly; it sounded to me like he bled to death, and that could be
> considered a 'hitch.'
Hitch has a few meanings. One of them is being 'snagged on to
something'. "He hitched his jeans on a nail", etc. So it has two
meanings here.
dmh
An irrelevant number. Whether it took you five days, five hours, five
centuries, or a nanosecond, ALL the time was wasted. It is such an
unutterably silly and pubescent piece of work that a healthy adult would
be ashamed to have it associated with his name. Which must explain your
pride of authorship.
dmh
Dale Houstman wrote:
> Manwolf wrote:
> > George Dance wrote:
> >> On Feb 27, 4:56 am, Manwolf <manwolf.destinysch...@gmail.com> wrote:
> >>> Shark Bait
> >>>
> >>> The shark ate the man's
> >>> testicles who was riding
> >>> on a Ski Doo.
> >>>
> >>> Though the waters
> >>> were full of blood,
> >>> everyone was still
> >>> cheering.
> >>>
> >>> His last, final stunt
> >>> came off
> >>> absolutely with a hitch.
> >>
> >>
> >> I realize that, like all the others, that's an improv;
> >
> > Yes, 30 seconds to be exact
>
> An irrelevant number. Whether it took you five days, five hours, five
> centuries, or a nanosecond, ALL the time was wasted.
In other words, you "wasted your time" because you found nothing you
could steal and turn into one of "your" poems?
--
"Shadowvill Speedway" & other song-poems:
http://www.myspace.com/willdockery
The first two lines are the stuff of highschool yearbooks.
"The cricket hesitates" might be a killer line if used as contrast
but "when" insults most readers by connecting the last dot. The
plural, "s", seems clumsy to my ear since the sibilance ties it to
the dull "silence" rather than fit it more smoothly with the first two
syllables of "HESITates".
A good idea butchered by sloppy execution would be my
assessment. Others may disagree, of course.
Best regards,
Colin
No, not pride dumbo. I could care less about it actually. But I did
think it deserving of the troll's challenge. And are you one really to
speak about being a healthy adult?
Essentially that is the case, considering his last collage (collision?)
of words didn't work out that well.
His self-described method of "collage & plagiarism in the post-art
modern times"... yeah, right. Back in the day we called his ilk
"thieves".
i just threw "road" in there.
there was no official quote delivered anyway.
calm down pecker breath.
wow-
this is more gary than i bargained for.
i should write slightly above average poetry more
often.
btw-
why are you so peppy lately?
did you win the lottery?
did a kid move out of the house?
did your wife start paying sexual attention to you
again after twenty years of ignoring your fat ass?
please, indulge me/us.
Your reach for testicles and said testicles demise in your poem are
quite telling in a Rorschach kind of way. Fear the troll!
Too bad you feel so superior, if that's what it is. I care about
poetry more than I fear the comments of anyone on these poetry
newsgroups. Secure your package, then give the challenge a serious
try.
Karla
It has nothing to do with "securing my package" (so much as "package
envy" on your part, maybe?). Your care does not show. And you're still
are a troll.
Most likely reasons:
1) He's found some backup.
2) He thinks he wrote a poem.
>
> Write an imagist free verse poem. Try to write a new poem before turning to your
> own archives.
>
Crickets sunbathing
on fresh pavement
snap black from my wheels.
A look down back and we fail
from shoulder into sky.
Randy
Most likely reasons:
*he wrote a slightly above average poem, if that.
i enjoyed it. i won't go back on my initial
observation.
the funny thing is, karla liked is as well.
so, my initial observation turned out to be
karla proof.
maybe gumball should've held back on punking
me. now he looks like the complete idiot we've
always suspected he was.
of course, all of this means i'm upset that
gary wrote a poem. my goodness. me, and just
about everybody else that breaths around here,
are overjoyed. finally something other than
jesus fuck to read from the ccumball.
praise the lord!!!
by all means, i'm very upset and envious.
please go for more POETRY, hahahha
It did bring tears to my eyes.
Let's unsnip it for all to share the "experience."
Chit
A muffled plonk-
a mere chit
of bloodsmudged down
waving on the doublepane
half a handful
still warm
glazed eye
so light with his little
brittle hollow bones.
> Thanks for commenting.
Oh, right, you need a comment. OK. It's not a poem, and nothing like a
poem. At best, iIt's a bunch of phrases that you might be able to work
into a poem, without inducing cringing, if you work hard enough (which
of course you won't).
You're welcome.
Chit
A muffled plonk-
a mere chit
of bloodsmudged down
waving on the doublepane
half a handful
still warm
glazed eye
brittle hollow bones.
> Thanks for commenting.
You're welcome.
*shhh-
george, please:
these latest events regarding gary's
"poem" might just get him to start
writing something other than "jesus fuck"
all of the time.
i'll go ahead and say it right now:
gary-
you're the best fuckin poet this side
of the milky way.
please, write more poems.
pretty please with a hershey's
chocolate kiss
on top.
> > Thanks for commenting.
>
> Oh, right, you need a comment. OK. It's not a poem, and nothing like a
> poem. At best, iIt's a bunch of phrases that you might be able to work
> into a poem, without inducing cringing, if you work hard enough (which
> of course you won't).
>
> You're welcome.
If you had any self-awareness at all, you'd be able to school us all on the
cringe factor.
Maybe if Leonard Cohen put some roadside crickets on the street urchin you'd
like it more, green-eyed troll.
It really stings, doesn't it?
I think it hurts you so much that you won't be able to let it go for months.
You'll get over it eventually, I'm sure, green-eyed troll.
Or not.
Do you remember the part about *consider the source of all comments*?
Well, it applies here.
If someone whose opinion I respect had something to say about the piece, I'd
certainly take notice.
Even the Randy person who commented (I don't even know who he is, but I
sense that he isn't a moron indulging in some usenet vendetta) had a
relevant comment.
You could learn something from this, but, of course, you won't.
You couldn't even respond to Karla's commentary on your own piece with any
degree of grace.
No one is surprised.
Carry on. The world needs more laughter.
> pretty please
How old are you, really?
Are you currently under the care of a qualified medical practitioner?
Are you jkharvey's sockpuppet?
3 down, 17 to go.
well, you're in luck.
jkharvey thinks i'm an illiterate moron.
wait a minute-
that means you and jkharvey have something in
common. and now that you've posted a poem after
ten years of tugging around a dead dog,
you have two things in common.
i sense a pact in the works.
> jkharvey thinks i'm an illiterate moron.
1) Name one person in the world who doesn't think you're an illiterate
moron. (besides sherrie lee)
2) You just made that up, you have no way of knowing what jkharvey thinks
because he's incapable of communicating such a complex concept using the
written word.
3) What about the other questions?
wrong on everything.
my mom thinks i'm literate.
sherrie lee knows i can't spell worth a shit,
but i don't think she has the stomach to claim
an "illiteracy" on my part.
i could give a fuck less about jkharvey.
what the fuck is jkharvey anyway.
i only heard about it/him/her when they
called me an illiterate moron.
that's not very nice, btw.
i may be allot of things but
illiterate is far from one of them.
when's the last time you meditated
upon edmund husserl's "analysis
concerning active and passive
synthesis" in phenomenological
reductionism?
i'll answer for you:
never.
>
> my mom thinks i'm literate.
That's what mothers are for.
Did she homeschool you?
Is she still homeschooling you?
> when's the last time you meditated
> upon edmund husserl's "analysis
> concerning active and passive
> synthesis" in phenomenological
> reductionism?
from four hundred miles away.
i talk to her at least once a week.
i'm a momma's boy.
i admit it.
> > a poet is killfiling
>
> > an uppity mud-person. He has thoughts
>
> > tears the body open, grabs
>
> > of pulsing guts
>
> > scarfs it down, topped with a
>
> > like a grape.
>
> > Not filling at all,
>
> > full of yummy marrow.
I wonder if Leonard Cohen wrote this one too.
> Around the fire
> scent of burning leaves,
>
> Crickets make music
> for the circling dark –
>
> Sudden water-sound,
> then crickets again.
Did Leonard Cohen write this one too?
> Their feeble poetic attempts
> and then to silence with insult.
Good luck with that gargantuan grammar problem you have.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Subjugate the rhyme and rawk with the rhythm
Only got one line to balk all the schizm
with god and laugh, bring all to shocking rose
with rod and staff we walk a rocky road
SteepleJack Beer
http://www.lulu.com/content/5611390
>
> "Karla" <kar...@NEVERcomcast.net> wrote in message
> news:ilveq49pc31ndmdfg...@4ax.com...
>> On Wed, 25 Feb 2009 21:13:00 -0700, "msifg" <gim...@cox.net> wrote:
>>
>>>oh pangs of love so
>>>sharpened in defeat
>>>
>>>to render hearts that
>>>stay and fight forlorn
>>>
>>>your stabbing motion
>>>draws a soul to sleep
>>>
>>>hypnotic gaze that meters
>>>loves drawn scorn.
>>>
>>>
>>>
>>>matt
>>
>> Matt, talk us through your poem. How is it an imagist free verse poem?
>>
>> Thanks,
>>
>> Karla
>
>
>
> to be honest, i didn't know if it was "imagist freeverse" for sure.
>
> however, here's the rundown as to why it works as a cliché free,
> image building poem:
>
> (oh pangs of love so
> sharpened in defeat)
>
> an evocation made obvious in the third stanza.
>
> the cliché would be..oh arrows of love that
> stab right through my heart...
> while the line hints at that to the point
> of maybe fooling the reader into thinking that's
> what they've read, the opposite is true. let me
> demonstrate:
> a pang, noun, is a spasm, sudden sharp pain;
> love as noun is often referred to as an intense feeling.
> the translation would be...oh sharp spasms of intense
> feeling so sharpened in defeat...
> the author used "defeat" in a generalized way as in
> all around defeat in the affairs of love which
> is a well known subject matter throughout the history
> of literature, further hinting the possibility
> of cliché, but not sealing the deal quite yet.
>
> (to render hearts that stay and fight forlorn)
>
> hearts as noun can be persons. however, it can
> have a duel meaning in the affairs of love. it
> can mean intense intention and focus in the affairs of love.
> usually, in the avocation of love, hearts come
> to mean desires and motivations. the term...
> their heart was not in it...comes to mind.
> that they...stay and fight...sets up the
> dichotomy...what are hearts fighting an aspect
Why did you want to set up a dichotomy, that just divides
the ideas? If you set a duality however, that contrasts
and allows progression of both ideas no matter which
idea your speaking on at any given time because they
constantly contrast, being entangled.
A dichotomy is just a seed for something else I suppose
but it itself doesn't grow, but gives rise to something else
that will grow, through alloying the ideas, as they aren't
necessarily contrasting or related in anyway;
these necessitate a division, setting up contrast, and resolution
of their differences, subsequent resolution exposition
Whereas, dualities bypass directly to resolution and subsequent
resolution exposition for whatever topic you've set up in the metaphor
duality, life & death, wine&roses, spring&fall, summer&winter
Earth&sky, fire&water, work&play, simplicity&ostentation
dichotomies elm&cottownwood, lampshades&clouds, science&religion,
rap&rock,
all dualities are dichotomies, but not all dichotomies are dualities
ummm, going to go write a response now, don't know if I'll use a duality
cause they take a lot of work to set up as well, but in the mind not the
page. I guess that's the trade off.
> of love for? usually, hearts and love are on
> the same side. in this instance, they're fighting
> for control of the thing they're an integral
> part of. this line sets up a personal internal
> war. "forlorn" exposes the futility of this
> war. the author lets the reader know that
> the outcome of this conflict has already been
> decided while the remaining hearts still fight.
>
> (your stabbing motion draws a soul to sleep)
>
> this seals the evocation to the "pangs of love."
> this exposes the author as an observer, participant
> and play by play narrator.
>
> the stabbing motion creates the image of a sharpened
> object, we'll say dagger. this image is reinforced
> by "sharpened" and "pangs" in the first stanza.
> it also refers the experienced reader back to
> the hinting cliché of...oh arrows of love that
> stab... it begs for cliché to expose itself
> fully, but only gets hints and teases.
>
> a "soul" as noun can, again, be a person. in the
> affairs of love, it can be a person searching
> for illumination. it's similar to the word
> heart in this manner.
>
> this line sets up the horror or macabre that
> your intro explanation of image freeverse
> appeared to point to. it has a poe-esk feel
> to it, especially when read allowed using
> a Vincent Price manner of speaking.
>
> (hypnotic gaze that meters loves drawn scorn.)
>
> more reference to the stabbing motion. "hypnotic"
> can be the thing being hypnotized. the gaze
> refers to the zombie like gaze of the hypnotized
> hearts and souls that are losing this fight
> rapidly.
>
> meters equals measures as verb.
>
> loves drawn scorn demonstrates the full view
> of this personal internal conflict, or personal
> "civil war." love vs. the heart. both,
> through literary history, are supposed to be
> on the same side. now, loves drawn, or laid
> out, scorn has been exposed. this wraps
> up the poem by revealing the cause of the
> strife- loves drawn scorn, contempt, disdain,
> disregard, ridicule, mocking, teasing, sneering,
> etc.
>
> in essence, this poem describes one being stabbed
> in the back by ones own intentions.
>
> a little bit more intense and thought out than
> a chit on the side of the road with hollow
> bones, wouldn't you say?
--
> oh pangs of love so
> sharpened in defeat
>
> to render hearts that
> stay and fight forlorn
>
> your stabbing motion
> draws a soul to sleep
>
> hypnotic gaze that meters
> loves drawn scorn.
>
>
>
> matt
Xeroxing the proof
I lean into the glare
holding down the frown
of paying everytime I come near
and stand pressing down
my words upon the glass
It's bulky mass eats my dollars
in its 25 cent butt-raping
per page, it hates
But I pursue, despite the
people that smoke and piss on my clothes
as the xerox machine takes my money
near the hideous smoking machines
I post my complaints and fight
the smell on the bulletin board above
the ashtray
I can only hope they die of lung-cancer
in their day-to-day
They prey for their own destruction
I pray for their owned destruction
for as much as they pray for destruction
wrong step, wrong step, wrong step
wrong step, wrong step, wrong step
whenever I can find the time to meditate
no one I know has a more unhappy, cynical,
insecure life than a pissing snark
Why should I breed fear, too?
Because my clothes smell like shit
wrong step, wrong step, wrong step
God forbid they be accountable as terrorists
What if they destroyed something important
like oh, I don't know, say the twin towers
wrong step, wrong step, wrong step
wrong step, wrong step, wrong step
wrong step wrong step wrong step
wrong step wrong step wrong step
wrong step wrong step wrong step
wrong step wrong step wrong step
wrong step wrong step wrong step
-- your shit is from God
>
>>
>>On 27-Feb-2009, George Dance <george...@yahoo.ca> wrote:
>>
>>> > >Silence
>>> >
>>> > >and a deeper silence
>>> >
>>> > >when the crickets
>>> >
>>> > >hesitate
>>> >
>>> > Not one of Leonard Cohen's best efforts.
>>> >
>>> > -o-
>>>
>>> I'd say it is.
>
> The first two lines are the stuff of highschool yearbooks.
>
> "The cricket hesitates" might be a killer line if used as contrast
> but "when" insults most readers by connecting the last dot. The
> plural, "s", seems clumsy to my ear since the sibilance ties it to
> the dull "silence" rather than fit it more smoothly with the first two
> syllables of "HESITates".
>
> A good idea butchered by sloppy execution would be my
> assessment. Others may disagree, of course.
>
>
> Best regards,
>
> Colin
Your full of yourself, is my assessment.
The idea is a simple notion, and here in your critique' you blow it up
to such proportions as to just how bad it is, it was never beautiful. It
was beautiful, prolly I'd say at least 25-30% yield beautiful. If you can't
see that your blind, deaf, and dumb. and will probably starve very soon
eating dust. Must suck to be you. Never drive on my road, you'd die on
hope fault, never sigh on my poem, you'd die of boredom, never lie on my
words, they would be too hard.
--
>On Feb 27, 1:16 am, Karla <karl...@NEVERcomcast.net> wrote:
>> On Wed, 25 Feb 2009 23:40:54 -0800 (PST), George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca>
>> wrote:
>>
>>
>>
>> >On Feb 25, 10:24 pm, Karla <karl...@NEVERcomcast.net> wrote:
>>
>> >snip
>> >http://groups.google.ca/group/alt.arts.poetry.comments/msg/4abb81f613...
>>
>> >> Challenge:
>>
>> >> Write an imagist free verse poem. Try to write a new poem before turning to your
>> >> own archives.
>>
>> >Around the fire
>> >scent of burning leaves,
>>
>> >Crickets make music
>> >for the circling dark –
>>
>> >Sudden water-sound,
>> >then crickets again.
>>
>> How is this imagist free verse? There's a reach for haiku in it.
>>
>
>
>??? Haiku is imagist verse; "the
>turning of a single impression into a perfectly polished verbal
>expression".
>
>And I'd call the above 'free verse' because it's not a haiku or
>anything else; it's an open form.
>
>
>> Consider slashing "around the fire", "making music", "circling", "sudden",
>> "-sound" and "again". I'm not joking. So few words as it is, not enough of an
>> observation. Play around with the sounds and scene so common that we don't need
>> any of your directional words.
>>
>
>Hmmm ... What do you think of this?
>
>-
>
>Silence
>
>
>and a deeper silence
>
>
>when the crickets
>
>
>hesitate
What's up with trying to pass this off as yours?
>> Thanks,
>>
>> Karla
Not at all certain that I had a handle on what was meant by "imagism", I began
re-reading some of the original imagists: Pound, T.E. Hulme, H.D., Richard
Aldington, D.H. Lawrence, William Carlos Williams, Ford Maddox Ford. Of course,
I read again Pound's exquisite "In a Station of the Metro".
In a Station of the Metro
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
--Ezra Pound
The footnote to the poem included in The Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry:
"Of this poem Pound writes in Gaudier-Brzeska: "Three years ago in Paris I got
out of a "metro" train at La Concorde, and saw suddenly a beautiful face, and
then another and another, and then a beautiful child’s face, and then another
beautiful woman, and I tried all that day to find words for what this had meant
to me, and I could not find any words that seemed to me worthy, or as lovely as
that sudden emotion. And that evening . . . I was still trying and I found,
suddenly, the expression. I do not mean that I found words, but there came an
equation . . . not in speech, but in little splotches of colour. . . . The "one
image poem" is a form of super-position, that is to say, it is one idea set on
top of another. I found it useful in getting out of the impasse in which I had
been left by my metro emotion. I wrote a thirty-line poem, and destroyed it
because it was what we call work "of second intensity." Six months later I made
a poem half that length; a year later I made the following hokku-like
sentence.""
There's not much I can say after that. I can observe his process, honesty,
determination. I can permit his "hokku-like sentence" and his process to become
a lodestar in my own travels.
On the web, I found Amy Lowell's comments on Imagism:
http://www.english.illinois.edu/Maps/poets/g_l/amylowell/imagism.htm
She comments on the following imagist tenets:
"In the preface to the anthology, "Some Imagist Poets," [1916] there is set down
a brief list of tenets to which the poets contributing to it mutually agreed. I
do not mean that they pledged themselves as to a creed. I mean that they all
found themselves in accord upon these simple rules.
I propose to take up these rules presently, one by one, and explain them in
detail, but I will first set them down in order:
1. To use the language of common speech, but to employ always the exact word,
not the nearly-exact, nor the merely decorative word.
2. To create new rhythms -as the expression of new moods -- and not to copy old
rhythms, which merely echo old moods. We do not insist upon "free-verse" as the
only method of writing poetry. We fight for it as for a principle of liberty. We
believe that the individuality of a poet may often be better expressed in
free-verse than in conventional forms. In poetry a new cadence means a new idea.
3. To allow absolute freedom in the choice of subject. It is not good art to
write badly of aeroplanes and automobiles, nor is it necessarily bad art to
write well about the past. We believe passionately in the artistic value of
modem life, but we wish to point out that there is nothing so uninspiring nor so
old-fashioned as an aeroplane of the year 19 11.
4. To present an image (hence the name: "Imagist"). We are not a school of
painters, but we believe that poetry should render particulars exactly and not
deal in vague generalities, however magnificent and sonorous. It is for this
reason that we oppose the cosmic poet, who seems to us to shirk the real
difficulties of his art.
5. To produce poetry that is hard and clear, never blurred nor indefinite.
6. Finally, most of us believe that concentration is of the very essence of
poetry.
There is nothing new under the sun, even the word, "renaissance," means a
re-birth not a new birth, and of this the Imagists were well aware. This short
creed was preceded by the following paragraph:
These principles are not new; they have fallen into desuetude. They are the
essentials of all great poetry, indeed of all great literature."
Of particular interest to me is her clarification on "to employ always the exact
word."
"The exact word has been much misunderstood. it means the exact word which
conveys the writer's impression to the reader. Critics conceive a thing to be so
and so and no other way. To the poet, the thing is as it appears in relation to
the whole. For instance, he might say:
Great heaps of shiny glass
Pricked out of the stubble
By a full, high moon.
This does not mean that the stones are really of glass, but that they so appear
in the bright moonlight. It is the exact word to describe the effect. In short,
the exactness is determined by the content."
What is important to me in her clarification is the removal of the notion that
the critic might have the exact word, like there's a wrong or right word out
there. Instead, content dictates it, and that begins with the experience of the
writer.
Ha! This reading is supposed to lead me to my own imagist free verse poem! How
intimidating!
What I want is Pound's determination and patience, his dedication to what moved
him, his belief that it was important enough to seek the exact words and his
trust that those words would resonate somewhere with someone.
Karla
>On Feb 27, 1:16 am, Karla <karl...@NEVERcomcast.net> wrote:
>> On Wed, 25 Feb 2009 23:40:54 -0800 (PST), George Dance <georgedanc...@yahoo.ca>
>> wrote:
>>
>>
>>
>> >On Feb 25, 10:24 pm, Karla <karl...@NEVERcomcast.net> wrote:
>>
>> >snip
>> >http://groups.google.ca/group/alt.arts.poetry.comments/msg/4abb81f613...
>>
>> >> Challenge:
>>
>> >> Write an imagist free verse poem. Try to write a new poem before turning to your
>> >> own archives.
>>
>> >Around the fire
>> >scent of burning leaves,
>>
>> >Crickets make music
>> >for the circling dark –
>>
>> >Sudden water-sound,
>> >then crickets again.
>>
>> How is this imagist free verse? There's a reach for haiku in it.
>>
>
>
>??? Haiku is imagist verse; "the
>turning of a single impression into a perfectly polished verbal
>expression".
What, then, should be called to mind by your lines? I read three observations,
no condensation. The three parts do not produce a whole for me, except in a
sentimental way. The writer's heavy hand is seen in each of the three stanzas,
the words die on the page.
Haiku influenced imagist free verse, which is not to say that it is the same
thing. One, however, could do far worse than to write a good haiku.
>And I'd call the above 'free verse' because it's not a haiku or
>anything else; it's an open form.
I'm not illuminated; no door opens for me.
<trickery snipped>
Karla
> Why did you want to set up a dichotomy, that just divides
> the ideas? If you set a duality however, that contrasts
> and allows progression of both ideas no matter which
> idea your speaking on at any given time because they
> constantly contrast, being entangled.
> A dichotomy is just a seed for something else I suppose
> but it itself doesn't grow, but gives rise to something else
> that will grow, through alloying the ideas, as they aren't
> necessarily contrasting or related in anyway;
> these necessitate a division, setting up contrast, and resolution
> of their differences, subsequent resolution exposition
> Whereas, dualities bypass directly to resolution and subsequent
> resolution exposition for whatever topic you've set up in the metaphor
Apparently, George W. Bush is now posting to usenet.
What the fuck? And just where am I supposed to have "tried to pass
this off as" mine?
> >> Thanks,
>
> >> Karla
If you'd have read some Leonard Cohen, you'd know. Since you don't,
what did you think of it?
>On Feb 28, 3:17 pm, Karla <karl...@NEVERcomcast.net> wrote:
Okay, George, this is one of those moments to make or break you.
There was no attribution. It followed similar lines that you wrote (you wrote
the original three stanzas too, right?). Show your initial post in this thread,
and the one in question, to most anyone and they'd come to my conclusion.
So own up to trying to trick us. Stop playing dumb.
Karla
>On Feb 28, 11:09 am, "ggamble" <g...@youbet.net> wrote:
Stop it! Just admit it wasn't smart omitting that Cohen had written this.
Otherwise you're inviting a ton of posts forevermore. Or do you want negative
attention like that? Please admit and stop this nonsense.
Karla
Of course not; that's not even a poem, just different lines of mine
you've strung together.
> It's certainly not your worst
> effort.
>
Perhaps not.
> Y'know, George, all you have to do is to admit that the poems you've
> posted here aren't very good, and immediately you'll be swamped with
> helpful suggestions about how to make them better.
Sounds like AA.
> It's your unfounded
> high opinion of your current skills that makes you laughable.
>
You may be confusing me with someone else, Peter. I don't go around
calling my own poetry charming; or telling those I crit they should be
flattered to hear from me; or telling anyone they should be glad-ass
happy I'm writing at all. And I'm certainly not the one insisting my
contribution to Karla's challenge is making anyone jealous. I suspect
you're thinking of one of those people.
Yes, there was no attribution. Cohen's "Summer Haiku" is a famous poem
that everyone on the group has read, or should have read. Poems that
everyone should recognize have been posted here without attribution
before; you know that.
> It followed similar lines that you wrote
The lines aren't "similar" at all. The only "similarity" is that they
both mention crickets.
> (you wrote
> the original three stanzas too, right?).
Yes, of course.
> Show your initial post in this thread,
> and the one in question, to most anyone and they'd come to my conclusion.
I don't believe that "most anyone" who recognized Cohen's poem would
come to the conclusion that I was plagiarizing it.
> So own up to trying to trick us. Stop playing dumb.
>
"Tricking" someone who hasn't read Cohen is one thing. Plagiarizing
his work is quite another; and it's the latter that you were accusing
me of.
> Karla
> > > a poet is killfiling
> > > an uppity mud-person. He has thoughts
> > > tears the body open, grabs
> > > of pulsing guts
> > > scarfs it down, topped with a
> > > like a grape.
> > > Not filling at all,
> > > full of yummy marrow.
> >
> > Was this meant to be an Imagist poem?
>
>
> Of course not; that's not even a poem, just different lines of mine
> you've strung together.
Are you sure Leonard Cohen didn't write those lines?
Posting well-known poems without attribution is a "troll technique"?
Funny, the last person I remember doing that was Dennis Hammes, in
December; you were in the thread, and you didn't call it that then.
> No wait, you haven't threatened anyone's answering machine yet.
>
> There's still time!
>
> Oh right, you haven't
Then why bring it up?
> I take it back, you haven't
>
Again, why bring it up, then?
> The old *post a minor piece
LOL!
> by a famous author in the hopes that someone
> will give it a negative review* ploy was really classy, though.
Apparently, even if it's a well-known piece, *someone* will give it a
negative review.
-----------------------------------
"Hey, why don't you post another *poem*, I haven't had a really good
fit of
laughter yet today."
- ggamble's critique of "Summer Haiku" by Leonard Cohen