The Heart Knocks

[PrinceMyshkin]

The heart knocks repeatedly
at its own gate, calling
from side to side,
"Come in," and "Come in."


J. Newman Sudden Proclamations © 1992

[PrinceMyshkin]

Everything was in that light way
I placed my hand under your elbow
as we began to cross the street
to the café... You’d come to my office
supposedly to discuss your final mark
and we had dealt with that
and yet you lingered there.

I noticed your knees
but reproached myself silently.
You’d been my student, after all.
I stood up, to signal
that the interview was over
and walked you to the door.

“Have coffee with me?” you asked.
“Of course,” I said - why shouldn’t
a prof have coffee with one of his students?
“I’m here very Tuesday and Thursday evening–“
But you cut me off: “No, now...”
you said, and maybe I wondered then
but more likely I reasoned
you were troubled about something.

Riding down in the elevator
I couldn’t help but be aware
of the proximity of our bodies
in that small, closed cage,
but still... Women didn’t usually
come seeking me out. About to cross
the street you seemed vaguely unaware
of where you were, of the traffic,
so it made sense for me to place my hand
under your elbow as if to guide you
but it was also, somehow, to see
if lightning would strike me down
for touching a student...

In the booth you sat on a bench
across from me, your hand
resting on the table, and said:
“Now you must think I have a problem,
but I don’t...” and I,
like a practiced adulterer, reached
my hand out to cover yours and asked:
“Would you like to come home with me?”






J. Newman © 17Nov06

[Umbilical]

I love it,
because it's so naughty, and I want to know what happened next.

It's like "Husbands and Wives" - Woody Allen.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I love it,
because it's so naughty, and I want to know what happened next.

Course you do, cause you're almost as nosey as I am! Well, we went to the house where I was a solitary guest. We undressed and discussed Schopenhauer... Next time we saw each other she told me she had told her husband that she was leaving him. I must have looked, um, surprised, because she said: "It's not because of you but because I knew something like that was possible..."

My wide, our kids and I were scheduled to move to Vancouver at the end of the summer for a two-year contract I had to teach there. I had regarded my affair with P. as a sort of last fling before I made the effort at a new, better phase of my marriage, and if that didn't work out I'd be back in two years and would look for her.

But I fell in love with her - or thought I had, and my wife sensed it and asked me what was going on. When I told her she asked me to leave. I went east to meet P., as we had planned and - and it was all over! Something had leaked away or gone POP! My wife suffered horribly but carried out her PhD programme and continued to be a wonderful mother to our kids but never, I believe, ever forgave me.

Now that I'm back here, 2 1/2 times divorced, I've looked for P. by the only means I could think of, but could not find her.

[Umbilical]

Wow, that's a fukking amazing story...
If only it were true,
and it is!
The first time I've believed you in months
and we haven't even been talking for months, or at all.

WOW!
POP!
2.5 times divorced?

I like stories =)

[amanda_isabel]

mandy likey, Uncle Jer!

One little thing, though, I don;t see the need for "You'd been my student after all," as it is made clear anyway. :)

Cheers!

[PrinceMyshkin]

Wow, that's a fukking amazing story...
If only it were true,
and it is!
The first time I've believed you in months

In which case, you're one ahead of me!


and we haven't even been talking for months, or at all.

WOW!
POP!
2.5 times divorced?

I like stories =)

[PrinceMyshkin]

mandy likey, Uncle Jer!

Mandy speaky funny English! Salamat!

[Sweets America]

Everything was in that light way
I placed my hand under your elbow
as we began to cross the street
to the café... You’d come to my office
supposedly to discuss your final mark
and we had dealt with that
and yet you lingered there.

I noticed your knees
but reproached myself silently.
You’d been my student, after all.
I stood up, to signal
that the interview was over
and walked you to the door.

“Have coffee with me?” you asked.
“Of course,” I said - why shouldn’t
a prof have coffee with one of his students?
“I’m here very Tuesday and Thursday evening–“
But you cut me off: “No, now...”
you said, and maybe I wondered then
but more likely I reasoned
you were troubled about something.

Riding down in the elevator
I couldn’t help but be aware
of the proximity of our bodies
in that small, closed cage,
but still... Women didn’t usually
come seeking me out. About to cross
the street you seemed vaguely unaware
of where you were, of the traffic,
so it made sense for me to place my hand
under your elbow as if to guide you
but it was also, somehow, to see
if lightning would strike me down
for touching a student...

In the booth you sat on a bench
across from me, your hand
resting on the table, and said:
“Now you must think I have a problem,
but I don’t...” and I,
like a practiced adulterer, reached
my hand out to cover yours and asked:
“Would you like to come home with me?”






J. Newman © 17Nov06

WOW, I loved it!!! Jerry-Shouuuuu!!!! I wonder....I guess that's a true story.....does her name start with C.?

I love the subtleness of these thoughts. I love the ending. I love you!

EDIT! I had not read the thing you wrote after, so well, that's not C.!

[amanda_isabel]

Mandy speaky funny English! Salamat!


mandy funny, Uncle Jer, :D

Ang taong ito, hindi man lang nagsabi sa akin na nakakaintindi pala ng wikang Filipino, ahaha.

[ampoule]

mandy funny, Uncle Jer, :D

Ang taong ito, hindi man lang nagsabi sa akin na nakakaintindi pala ng wikang Filipino, ahaha.


tagalog??

[PrinceMyshkin]

mandy funny, Uncle Jer, :D

Ang taong ito, hindi man lang nagsabi sa akin na nakakaintindi pala ng wikang Filipino, ahaha.

Yes, there is SOME truth in that, Mandy-poo!:bday_2:

[PrinceMyshkin]

tagalog??

No thanks, I prefer to go on my own, but I hope you get over that cold.

[firefangled]

Everything was in that light way
I placed my hand under your elbow
as we began to cross the street
to the café... You’d come to my office
supposedly to discuss your final mark
and we had dealt with that
and yet you lingered there.

I noticed your knees
but reproached myself silently.
You’d been my student, after all.
I stood up, to signal
that the interview was over
and walked you to the door.

“Have coffee with me?” you asked.
“Of course,” I said - why shouldn’t
a prof have coffee with one of his students?
“I’m here very Tuesday and Thursday evening–“
But you cut me off: “No, now...”
you said, and maybe I wondered then
but more likely I reasoned
you were troubled about something.

Riding down in the elevator
I couldn’t help but be aware
of the proximity of our bodies
in that small, closed cage,
but still... Women didn’t usually
come seeking me out. About to cross
the street you seemed vaguely unaware
of where you were, of the traffic,
so it made sense for me to place my hand
under your elbow as if to guide you
but it was also, somehow, to see
if lightning would strike me down
for touching a student...

In the booth you sat on a bench
across from me, your hand
resting on the table, and said:
“Now you must think I have a problem,
but I don’t...” and I,
like a practiced adulterer, reached
my hand out to cover yours and asked:
“Would you like to come home with me?”






J. Newman © 17Nov06

This is my favorite poem of yours ever, and you have written many excellent and insightful poems. I have read it many times in the last hour so I know it is not me having a peculiar inclination toward poetry that puts a light on events of a very personal nature, whether they are true or fiction is irrelevant. it is a way of writing that turns us inside-out and put hearts into the streets where real poeple live.

There are so many things about this. To begin, the glimpse of the soul of this, a hand under an elbow - THE touch. And to give us the weight of the air of all this as the first thing, how gravity will be for this love brief or not...and this is put in its place so correctly with an ellipsis, as if to then say so cinematically "3 months earlier." To me that is an amazing way to locate us emotionally and in time.

There is extraordinay restraint in the reference to her knees. It is like Uma Thurman's bare feet when she comes down to meet Vinny for their date, the sexiest nude scene in cinema. I hope you take that with my intention of saying it is a masterful touch to this observation as throw away almost.

The really great thing, that begins with your assumption of a troubled student, you turn the poem on this as the icon of honesty later with her statement of it and then your own (your character) in what you were thinking as you reached for her.

You were in the zone, Prince, when you wrote this one.

Amazing poem. Bravo!!!

[Sweets America]

This is my favorite poem of yours ever, and you have written many excellent and insightful poems. I have read it many times in the last hour so I know it is not me having a peculiar inclination toward poetry that puts a light on events of a very personal nature, whether they are true or fiction is irrelevant. it is a way of writing that turns us inside-out and put hearts into the streets where real poeple live.

There are so many things about this. To begin, the glimpse of the soul of this, a hand under an elbow - THE touch. And to give us the weight of the air of all this as the first thing, how gravity will be for this love brief or not...and this is put in its place so correctly with an ellipsis, as if two then say so cinematically "3 months earlier." To me that is an amazing way to locate us emotionally and in time.

There is extraordinay restraint in the reference to her knees. It is like Uma Thurman's bare feet when she comes down to meet Vinny for their date, the sexiest nude scene in cinema. I hope you take that with my intention of saying it is a masterful touch to this observation as throw away almost.

The really great thing, that begins with your assumption of a troubled student, you turn the poem on this as the icon of honesty later with her statement of it and then your own (your character) in what you were thinking as you reached for her.

You were in the zone, Prince, when you wrote this one.

Amazing poem. Bravo!!!

Yeaaaahh, that's a great response! :thumbs_up

[PrinceMyshkin]

This is my favorite poem of yours ever, and you have written many excellent and insightful poems. I have read it many times in the last hour so I know it is not me having a peculiar inclination toward poetry that puts a light on events of a very personal nature, whether they are true or fiction is irrelevant. it is a way of writing that turns us inside-out and put hearts into the streets where real poeple live.

There are so many things about this. To begin, the glimpse of the soul of this, a hand under an elbow - THE touch. And to give us the weight of the air of all this as the first thing, how gravity will be for this love brief or not...and this is put in its place so correctly with an ellipsis, as if two then say so cinematically "3 months earlier." To me that is an amazing way to locate us emotionally and in time.

There is extraordinay restraint in the reference to her knees. It is like Uma Thurman's bare feet when she comes down to meet Vinny for their date, the sexiest nude scene in cinema. I hope you take that with my intention of saying it is a masterful touch to this observation as throw away almost.

The really great thing, that begins with your assumption of a troubled student, you turn the poem on this as the icon of honesty later with her statement of it and then your own (your character) in what you were thinking as you reached for her.

You were in the zone, Prince, when you wrote this one.

Amazing poem. Bravo!!!

Sometimes, my friend, your responses are at least as good as if not better than the poem you're responding to. Thanks to the PM you sent yesterday with a preliminary of this, I woke up this morning at something like 4 a.m., unable to stay in bed until I had gone to the computer and jotted down this:



How happily the world
and the map of it
coincide! New York
is always there, Lagos
a few knuckle-lengths
away, the Atlantic lies
so prettily in the arms
of Europe and America!


the exhilaration of which I attribute to your PM.


Poetry for President!

[Sweets America]

How happily the world
and the map of it
coincide! New York
is always there, Lagos
a few knuckle-lengths
away, the Atlantic lies
so prettily in the arms
of Europe and America!



I love this, Jerry-Shou, this is quite fantastic! :)

[Virgil]

How happily the world
and the map of it
coincide! New York
is always there, Lagos
a few knuckle-lengths
away, the Atlantic lies
so prettily in the arms
of Europe and America!

I like this little poem quite a lot Prince. Could have been one of your snapshot pieces. The longer poem earlier was fine, though i'm surprised Firefangle called it your best ever. It was crafted well, but perhaps I was reacting to the mores of it. It felt a little sleezy, but perhaps that was the point.

Where is everyone on lit net lately? It's been slow around here. I guess the beautiful spring weather has everyone away from the computer.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I like this little poem quite a lot Prince. Could have been one of your snapshot pieces. The longer poem earlier was fine, though i'm surprised Firefangle called it your best ever. It was crafted well, but perhaps I was reacting to the mores of it. It felt a little sleezy,

But surely you don't expect - and wouldn't want - only poetry that is about or prompted by wholesome human thoughts and experiences!!! I'm not in favour of (nor against!) poetry that advocates "sleaze" but if there IS a God he or she may have created poetry precisely so that we could talk about those things we do NOT talk or even think about in church.

[Umbilical]

There's sleaze in everything so long as you're going to read it,
take it to bed with you,
enjoy the beauty of the poem
with fingers that have been somewhere else.


It might just be 'cause I'm in a crap mood right now,
but I would have liked more... It wasn't sleazy enough for me.

HAHA!

(ps: you didn't respond to my PM...)

OH, and, maybe it wasn't sleazy for those experiencing the poem - it was beautiful and true for them in/at that moment.
And at this moment so is the person who has an adverse reaction to themselves,
because they're afraid of their purity as much as their need to suffocate and sabotage it...
Been there, done that.
Could fail school, could have killed a kid...
could have read a poem - end of world.

I'm not insulting your thoughts...
I'm just throwing mine out there.

:)
Take care everyone.

[firefangled]

The longer poem earlier was fine, though I'm surprised Firefangle called it your best ever. It was crafted well, but perhaps I was reacting to the mores of it. It felt a little sleezy, but perhaps that was the point.




But surely you don't expect - and wouldn't want - only poetry that is about or prompted by wholesome human thoughts and experiences!!! I'm not in favour of (nor against!) poetry that advocates "sleaze" but if there IS a God he or she may have created poetry precisely so that we could talk about those things we do NOT talk or even think about in church.

Poetry is church! More so than church quite often. It celebrates DIFFERENT ways to see the world, not the same old tired sermons on good and evil, where half the congregation are sleeping in their pews.

Prince's poem affected me the way it did because it dealt differently with adultery than usual, in my opinion. There was a frailty written into it on both sides. There were subtle feelings and acts and phrases that acted almost in counterpoint to themselves that removed it from the realm of ONLY mores. I am neither advocating or condemning adultery. It was just an excellent poem. And the poem's title itself was self-deprecating and, as I said, counterpoint to what happens.

My perception of the poem was that it was so condensed yet articulated for its subject. This articulation of the complex in a few words is one thing that makes a poem to me. To do that well and create the mental images that far exceed the script (so to speak) is art, whether in poetry, painting, cinema, etc. There was an agressiveness in the woman that was so subtely portrayed as, "...if I don't do this right now I will not have the courage later..." and in the character of the professor their were so many conflicts going on that in the end he seemed simply overcome with sorting them out and succumbed. All this is to say that there is tremendous restraint in writing that gives power to this.

I don't know if it was rewritten and condensed or what, but the temptation to let this go on for pages was certainly there. What we see is only what we need to see to get the entire experience and I think that is difficult to do with a piece like this.

OK. I'm finished being long-winded about this. But it's good to see you Virgil.

[ampoule]

Where is everyone on lit net lately? It's been slow around here. I guess the beautiful spring weather has everyone away from the computer.

Virgil...I couldn't get on litnet at all yesterday. :(

[CdnReader]

Virgil...I couldn't get on litnet at all yesterday. :(

Me too!!! It was a cruel and unusual punishment, it was, it was.... :smash:

Jer, I love this....


How happily the world
and the map of it
coincide! New York
is always there, Lagos
a few knuckle-lengths
away, the Atlantic lies
so prettily in the arms
of Europe and America!

Bravo!! :wave:

[Virgil]

But surely you don't expect - and wouldn't want - only poetry that is about or prompted by wholesome human thoughts and experiences!!! I'm not in favour of (nor against!) poetry that advocates "sleaze" but if there IS a God he or she may have created poetry precisely so that we could talk about those things we do NOT talk or even think about in church.

Of course I don't expect that. :lol: I said it was personal reaction. For some reason I relate to poetry that is more, what might be the right word, uplifiting or noble or ideal, and to fiction that captures the underside of life. I don't know why that is, but that's how i react. It was a good poem. Firefangle identified what made it good.

[Virgil]

Poetry is church! More so than church quite often. It celebrates DIFFERENT ways to see the world, not the same old tired sermons on good and evil, where half the congregation are sleeping in their pews.

Prince's poem affected me the way it did because it dealt differently with adultery than usual, in my opinion. There was a frailty written into it on both sides. There were subtle feelings and acts and phrases that acted almost in counterpoint to themselves that removed it from the realm of ONLY mores. I am neither advocating or condemning adultery. It was just an excellent poem. And the poem's title itself was self-deprecating and, as I said, counterpoint to what happens.

My perception of the poem was that it was so condensed yet articulated for its subject. This articulation of the complex in a few words is one thing that makes a poem to me. To do that well and create the mental images that far exceed the script (so to speak) is art, whether in poetry, painting, cinema, etc. There was an agressiveness in the woman that was so subtely portrayed as, "...if I don't do this right now I will not have the courage later..." and in the character of the professor their were so many conflicts going on that in the end he seemed simply overcome with sorting them out and succumbed. All this is to say that there is tremendous restraint in writing that gives power to this.

I don't know if it was rewritten and condensed or what, but the temptation to let this go on for pages was certainly there. What we see is only what we need to see to get the entire experience and I think that is difficult to do with a piece like this.

OK. I'm finished being long-winded about this. But it's good to see you Virgil.

Nice to always see you too Fire. I agree with your assessment of the poem. In a way it was criticizing the mores in its self deprecating stance. It did have some perfect imagery too, like you pointed out, the knees, and the touch. It's a good poem. :) In contrast to the little poem I highlighted, the little poem has a really good metaphor at its core. This poem was more of a condensed short story. I guess we have our preferences, but I tend to go for the metaphors.

[ampoule]

Everything was in that light way
I placed my hand under your elbow
as we began to cross the street
to the café... You’d come to my office
supposedly to discuss your final mark
and we had dealt with that
and yet you lingered there.

I noticed your knees
but reproached myself silently.
You’d been my student, after all.
I stood up, to signal
that the interview was over
and walked you to the door.

“Have coffee with me?” you asked.
“Of course,” I said - why shouldn’t
a prof have coffee with one of his students?
“I’m here very Tuesday and Thursday evening–“
But you cut me off: “No, now...”
you said, and maybe I wondered then
but more likely I reasoned
you were troubled about something.

Riding down in the elevator
I couldn’t help but be aware
of the proximity of our bodies
in that small, closed cage,
but still... Women didn’t usually
come seeking me out. About to cross
the street you seemed vaguely unaware
of where you were, of the traffic,
so it made sense for me to place my hand
under your elbow as if to guide you
but it was also, somehow, to see
if lightning would strike me down
for touching a student...

In the booth you sat on a bench
across from me, your hand
resting on the table, and said:
“Now you must think I have a problem,
but I don’t...” and I,
like a practiced adulterer, reached
my hand out to cover yours and asked:
“Would you like to come home with me?”






J. Newman © 17Nov06

Delicious!
I used to watch the men stand at the end of our church services, who would step aside to allow their wives to walk in front of them, and the gentle way they would touch their wive's shoulders or backs or elbows and I always wondered why my husband would not do that for me. I think I wanted it too much. It's not something you can ask for.
So, reading "my hand under your elbow" did it for me, if you get my drift. Lovely.
I am also reminded of the last line of my short story, The Cat.

[Virgil]

Virgil...I couldn't get on litnet at all yesterday. :(


Me too!!! It was a cruel and unusual punishment, it was, it was.... :smash:


Oh, perhaps that's the problem. I had no trouble.

[PrinceMyshkin]

There's sleaze in everything so long as you're going to read it,
take it to bed with you,
enjoy the beauty of the poem
with fingers that have been somewhere else.


It might just be 'cause I'm in a crap mood right now,
but I would have liked more... It wasn't sleazy enough for me.

Between you and Virgil, I feel a bit like I'm between a troop of Goldilocks! "This poem is too sleazy!" says Goldilocks #1. "This poem isn't sleazy enough!" says the next!

Where's the third, to proclaim: "But the sleaze in this poem is just right!"

[ampoule]

That would have been me in Post #26

[amanda_isabel]

tagalog??

yup :D


Yes, there is SOME truth in that, Mandy-poo!:bday_2:

lol Uncle Jer :D

I guess I'm attracted to the poem because aside from it being really, really good, I wrote a script on the same matter for my thesis and we wound up producing it so the matter is dear to my heart, lol

ps. I appreciate the b-day greeting, but you're a little early. I'll keep it til then anyway, along with firefangled's greeting. :)