butterfly, butterfly, flitter.
butterfly, butterfly, flitter.
Last edited by jon1jt; 05-05-2007 at 11:09 AM.
"He was nauseous with regret when he saw her face again, and when, as of yore, he pleaded and begged at her knees for the joy of her being. She understood Neal; she stroked his hair; she knew he was mad."
---Jack Kerouac, On The Road: The Original Scroll
i'll post this one later for a rainy day as i don't like having my poems coupled together. is this a new policy when posting two or more? poems are not conglomerations---puzzle pieces, but independent acts of blow-on-blow subject seas of thought, and must stand on their own. you must stand back and allow the art to create the art.
Last edited by jon1jt; 03-18-2007 at 09:28 AM.
"He was nauseous with regret when he saw her face again, and when, as of yore, he pleaded and begged at her knees for the joy of her being. She understood Neal; she stroked his hair; she knew he was mad."
---Jack Kerouac, On The Road: The Original Scroll
I like its watery look and curved quality, jon1jt. It reminds me of that Whitman Grass one, but this one's longer, and you've waved it, with more colors and lines, an art, of mingled visions and objects, like "paint me an onyx sky" and "she sailed me a paper boat", where you made a sky and a boat more special by their adjuncts. I don't feel it that abstract somehow.
Why can't I own a cloud? Pour out
the white in my glass, the formations
aside;
-Good, you've made your own cloud. "Nature's bequest gives nothing but doth lend"-we don't own those natural things, and when "nature calls thee to be gone", what we have left, is what we created.
There is no polite way
of being happy
I'm never going to be this poem's biggest fan because the strain of romantic genius delirium it seems to be celebrating is so anathema to me. I'm yet to be convinced about this centre you speak of too. But I have to say, very nicely done. The owning a cloud bit is great. Also verbs drowning nouns. Not sure about 'color did appear'. Why not just, 'appeared'?
Can't resist responding with an old scrap of a poem from my art school days:
Francis Bacon and
Jackson Pollock
were playing chess
for shots
Bacon was letting
Pollock take most
of his pawns
(while mating
the Queen) Pollock
was falling
off his chair
babbling
about how
he
mustbe
somekindof
****ing
genius
Yes it is something new. Just asking for some consideration shown to all the others who post their poetry here, I hope that's not a problem for you:Originally Posted by jon1jt
i'll post this one later for a rainy day as i don't like having my poems coupled together. is this a new policy when posting two or more? poems are not conglomerations---puzzle pieces, but independent acts of blow-on-blow subject seas of thought, and must stand on their own. you must stand back and allow the art to create the art.
http://www.online-literature.com/for...ad.php?t=21394
-
thanks blp/white camelia. i was wondering if anyone is/was able to pick up on the linear progression of art or the loop springing from the elements to its return? i'll respond more later.
Logos: no problem at all, i just thought that was the case for people flooding the forum, and i've seen enough of that. boundaries and rules keep the bad people in check, the poets poor, and the world safe for democracy.
Last edited by jon1jt; 03-18-2007 at 09:46 PM. Reason: clarify
"He was nauseous with regret when he saw her face again, and when, as of yore, he pleaded and begged at her knees for the joy of her being. She understood Neal; she stroked his hair; she knew he was mad."
---Jack Kerouac, On The Road: The Original Scroll
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