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This is a poem I just put together in the last ten minutes and thought I would share, it's but a taste of all the work I've put together in the last three years.
The great tyrannies of tulips
Unveiled before the house committee,
The initial shock might result in
Confiscation of catnip
And other similar entities.
Sweet mother of pearl!
Hide in the cabaret!
I'm sure they won't think to look
Where abandoned mothers stay.
Thanks a ton. :)
I'm not sure I understand your poem, TT, but I easily recognize your potential, your special style and tone. Will be happy to read more of your work. Welcome here TT and thanks for sharing!
Thanks for the comments, I will definitely keep this thread alive with my work. :D
Well this reader is a bit confused about it, like our dear Bar, but also intrigued (and able to detect something special going on here). Show us what you got!
J
"It's not a question of faith,"
She says
"It's one of indigestion."
My spine tingles at the thought
And cherub tomatoes
Burst with joy.
After this
She takes her saltlick
And uses it
To disinfect wounds.
Leaning on dusty countertops,
Sundae recipes
Under elbows,
She insists to me
That I'm much too sensitive.
Is this the thread where you will be posting all of your poetry? If so, I will subscribe, because I like it very much. These two remind me of Sylvia Plath's poems. Please keep them coming.
^ Glad to hear! I'm currently working on what I hope I will send in and be a chapbook. I may post fragments of it in this thread, if you'd like. :D
Definitely, I would like to read more. Thanks.Quote:
Originally Posted by The Truth
Your writing reminds me of some of early Bob Dylan, like the first two stanzas of Tombstone Blues:
The sweet pretty things are in bed now of course
The city fathers they’re trying to endorse
The reincarnation of Paul Revere’s horse
But the town has no need to be nervous
The ghost of Belle Starr she hands down her wits
To Jezebel the nun she violently knits
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper who sits
At the head of the chamber of commerce
In Man Carrying Thing, Wallace Stevens wrote:
The poem must resist the intelligence
Almost successfully...
Abstraction is interesting only if eventually the whole becomes visible. In the same Stevens poem, he ends with:
Things floating like the first hundred flakes of snow
Out of a storm we must endure all night,
Out of a storm of secondary things),
A horror of thoughts that suddenly are real.
We must endure our thoughts all night, until
The bright obvious stands motionless in cold.
I've always read this as a lesson in obscurity. Its very title is preparatory to this.
I like your style. Please keep posting here. Please work on making connections in your poems, however subtle. Please don't think to yourself, "they're my poems and I understand what they mean..."
Part of the enjoyment of reading some poetry is trying to get at the meaning, but you have to give the reader hints that will keep them enduring your poem long into the night. It's much like writing a mystery novel.
Forgive me for being long-winded.
These lines are funny. Keep 'em coming, The Truth. And firefangled descended from poetry heaven to give us mere mortals the beautiful response above this one.Quote:
Originally Posted by The Truth
J
I agree with you on the first poem, Tulips. It seems disjointed and feels unfinished. I like the ideas, but, like firefangled said, it needs to be connected.Quote:
Originally Posted by firefangled
The second one (what do you call it? ) I think is great. It is alive. I can smell it and see it. Everything from the season, to the tone of the day, adds to my vision and involvement, and I think it is very well connected.
Just the one saltlick part tells so much about the dynamic between your characters. It makes me think of pouring salt in a wound, but gently and metered. I also think of how it consoles her, and helps her retain things in herself, like a real saltlick would be used to help cattle retain water, ect... The fact she keeps it somewhere handy is a nice touch. She has it within reach like the recipes under elbows.
The dusty countertops, the recipes, are also nice additions. I really like it.
From last night:
Darkness at the break of noon,
Interrupted by awakening.
The lamb of Tartary,
In a vegetative state
At times is heard muttering
The chorus line to
Some Temptations song.
Though the first thing
Our eyes and ears meet,
It turns out to be rather forgettable.
At one point or another Wallace Stevens could be said to have supported that Just My Imagination eclipses both the sun and moon (see Poetry Is An Activity of the Most August Imagination). The Lamb of Tartary, though an imaginative feat (as most myths are) does look truer in the renderings than the actual plant itself. So plant carrying lamb is not so clear in the cold reality of morning.Quote:
Originally Posted by The Truth
Very interesting, Truth.
Nice use from It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding). One of my favorites with a nod to Arthur Koestler.
Hello truth. I enjoyed reading your words. You are also very attractive, so best not show your face as blokes are blokes and they will be influenced. I may well get flack for this, but telling it like it is, the truth.
I'm a male, and that's Ellen Page so don't let it affect you too much. ;)