Snapshots

[PrinceMyshkin]

I LOVE how you sum up these people so pitily. And you see them with a such a kind eye. It is apparent that you love people. It allows us to believe that their is hope for humanity.

Assuming that "pitily" was meant to be pithily, I thintherely hope you don't have a lithp?

[PrinceMyshkin]

Just ahead of me
a young woman
pushed an empty stroller
followed close behind
by a little paddler
in a maroon snowsuit,
Paloma,
a foot and a half tall,
a year and a half old,
singing her own song:
Anh-anh-anh, anh-anh-anh,

[qimissung]

Assuming that "pitily" was meant to be pithily, I thintherely hope you don't have a lithp?

It's pothible! :lol:

[PrinceMyshkin]

It's pothible! :lol:

Tho happy to hear that! Do you know that in Castile they speak with an intentional lisp, eividently because one of their rulers had one and everyone adopted that possibly to avoid embarassng him.

Thee you later!

[PrinceMyshkin]

The cafe was almost empty
this morning,
which made me think
of a church
in which one could feel
God’s loneliness.

[Supersonic]

I really like these and your ability to capture moments seething with ornate melancholy in the least pretentious way.

[a_little_wisp]

Oh, heck, if God's lonely, then we're all screwed.

(Loved that one Prince - I know the feeling, and yet, I kind of love it. Miss you!)

[PrinceMyshkin]

At La Moulerie
a middle-aged woman
in a tall, imperious hat
sits across the table
from an older man,
who mumbles his food.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A 70 year old Chinese woman
from up the street
turns her head
to acknowledge my greeting:

Djo sawn!
Djo sawn!And as she continues on her way
I note in the angle of her walk
the shy young girl she must have been

[qimissung]

Awesome! I can see her so vividly, still a little shy and awkward...

[PrinceMyshkin]

I caught sight of a young man’s face
at The Mission, yesterday,
blind with self-pity
and rage.

An alcoholic since many years back
who kept trying
to try to try to quit:
booze, or life.

Volunteers swarmed around,
eager to talk him out of it,
as if they, or he,
knew what it was.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A little girl,
hardly bigger than
a half-spent minute,
bursts suddenly into tears.
Her father, a lanky Khassid,
bends down
and wraps his arms
practically three times around her.

[PrinceMyshkin]

It’s funny
how you can be out walking
on Waverley on a bright, sunny day
and you say “Bonjour”
to a perfect stranger
and when he responds “Bonjour”
that second syllable sounds like
What’s the point? What,
in God’s name,
was ever the point?

[PrinceMyshkin]

I shall affirm
the light, the day, this pebble
that lodged itself in my sandal
and obliged me to stop
here
at this particular station
of my cross
to notice this particular
mild-faced child
who rests his eyes a moment
on my face, then carries on,

having blessed me.

[breathtest]

Wow you made this poem about such a simple, but beautiful, every day occurrence that most people would not even think twice about. Well written

[PrinceMyshkin]

Wow you made this poem about such a simple, but beautiful, every day occurrence that most people would not even think twice about. Well written

Thanks very much. It's my ideal in writing these to stay away from anything overtly Poetic, but to record what strikes me as interesting in as straightforward a manner as possible.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A cyclist comes tearing up the street
at a furious pace,
treats the asphalt as if it were
continuous with the sidewalk
and goes racing off
into unclaimed space.

[PrinceMyshkin]

At the café this morning
I had a more than usually serious conversation
with young J-F
who confided in me
that his deepest wish
was to live long enough
to witness the final end
of all humanity.

It took all my tact
to keep from telling him
what deep sadness
I thought he had revealed
about himself

[ampoule]

I shall affirm
the light, the day, this pebble
that lodged itself in my sandal
and obliged me to stop
here
at this particular station
of my cross
to notice this particular
mild-faced child
who rests his eyes a moment
on my face, then carries on,

having blessed me.


Oh my goodness...

[PrinceMyshkin]

Oh my goodness...

Thank you - both for what I interpret as your appreciation, and for bringing this back to my attention. It was a pleasure both to experience what I wrote, and to write about it...

[blank|verse]

While you're certainly no idiot, Myshkin (how's the epilepsy?) and have got a good feel for the poetic, I just think some of your free verse writing is too free, in that it reads more like prose than poetry.

I know there are no 'rules' as such (and you said yourself you wanted to avoid the 'overtly Poetic') but I think that leaves you in danger of not writing poetry at all, just nice prose. You can introduce elements of poetry like rhythm, rhyme and metre without hitting people over the head with them; by being 'subtly poetic' if you like. I think that would improve your writing.

[qimissung]

I shall affirm
the light, the day, this pebble
that lodged itself in my sandal
and obliged me to stop
here
at this particular station
of my cross
to notice this particular
mild-faced child
who rests his eyes a moment
on my face, then carries on,

having blessed me.


I like all of these, but this is my favorite. I love your living in the present moment, and the moment as a present, and the idea that it is a station of the cross...life does feel that way...and the little child, and his blessing. Keep writning, keep noticing. You have an eagle eye.

[PrinceMyshkin]

While you're certainly no idiot, Myshkin (how's the epilepsy?) and have got a good feel for the poetic, I just think some of your free verse writing is too free, in that it reads more like prose than poetry.

I know there are no 'rules' as such (and you said yourself you wanted to avoid the 'overtly Poetic') but I think that leaves you in danger of not writing poetry at all, just nice prose. You can introduce elements of poetry like rhythm, rhyme and metre without hitting people over the head with them; by being 'subtly poetic' if you like. I think that would improve your writing.

Interesting response, Mr Vrz, and I’m happy to encounter a fellow Dostoievskiite, apropos which it might interest you to know that on another site I frequent my nom de plume is “Alyosha” and that in my own novel entitled A Russian Novel I created a character, Ratin, who was unabashedly based on those other two “Holy Idiots.”

As for your aesthetics, I respect them, but between what you advocate and the more prosy casual, I’ll continue to aim for the latter. The thread is called “Snapshots” and as any amateur photographer knows, the object of a snapshot is to capture a moment, even if the composition isn’t exquisite, the focal plane should be other than what it is, &c., &c.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A young woman
with some sort of facial
birth defect
paused before crossing
in front of my car.
Noticing me
notice her, she returned my glance
with an “How dare you look at me!”


(This poem was stolen from Online-Literature.com)

[PrinceMyshkin]

Some mornings are made for loving.
Into the café steps Lise,
the short-order cook,
her ear-length hair
unaccustomedly carefee
along her youthful face.
“You look like a girl!”
I exclaim, and she feigns chagrin.
“I don’t want to be a girl,”
she says. “I’m a woman!”


Later, at a filling station
I infer that the attendant is probably an Arab
or an Irani.
Keefsaha? I say to him
And after he has finished: Shukran
and get a broad, warm smile in return.

[PrinceMyshkin]

There I was
alone on the terrace
outside the café
on a damp park bench,
knowing that something
was going to happen,
as it always does, and

if nothing happened,
that would be all right, too

[PrinceMyshkin]

I sit in the sunshine
that is practically liquid on my face
and think of the option I have
to not write a poem,
to let the day be, the traffic
rolling by, the two girls
with the amazingly long legs
seated behind me,
the hum of the unseen...

[kiz_paws]

There I was
alone on the terrace
outside the café
on a damp park bench,
knowing that something
was going to happen,
as it always does, and

if nothing happened,
that would be all right, too
I smiled reading this. It was the kind of poem that gives me a hug unexpectedly. Merçi beaucoup. :)




I sit in the sunshine
that is practically liquid on my face
and think of the option I have
to not write a poem,
to let the day be, the traffic
rolling by, the two girls
with the amazingly long legs
seated behind me,
the hum of the unseen...
Well, your snapshot definitely caught those legs alrighty! :p I absolutely loved your opening two lines. Perfectly describes one of those delicious days that we enjoy.

Have a great day, Jer! :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

I smiled reading this. It was the kind of poem that gives me a hug unexpectedly. Merçi beaucoup. :)




Thanks for hugging it back!

[qimissung]

Life on the street...in your world and hands it seems like a busy, happy place.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A sad-faced neighbourhood woman
goes by, today without her large black dog.
“Bonjour,” I say with a smile.
“Bonjour,” she replies, but without a smile.
I remind myself that her son,
or one of her sons, not long ago,
hung himself.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A woman rolls up
in a mammoth, tomato-red
Mustang convertible,
nothing but her head visible
behind the steering wheel,
like a loose piece of popcorn
facing a tsunami

[lugdunum]

A woman rolls up
in a mammoth, tomato-red
Mustang convertible,
nothing but her head visible
behind the steering wheel,
like a loose piece of popcorn
facing a tsunami


very funny! nothing to add... I can totally picture her! Well done ;)

[PrinceMyshkin]

An elderly woman
in a fizzy green coat
hobbles along on a cane
from breath to breath

[qimissung]

I can see her so vividly...

[firefangled]

I like the whole of this and two things in particular that make it richer than what could have been a mere observance. The green coat juxtaposed against the struggle to walk.

And in writing this I see it is even more than I thought. This short little poem is this woman's entire life from green to final breaths.

I applaud your subtlety, Prince.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I like the whole of this and two things in particular that make it richer than what could have been a mere observance. The green coat juxtaposed against the struggle to walk.

And in writing this I see it is even more than I thought. This short little poem is this woman's entire life from green to final breaths.

I applaud your subtlety, Prince.

Thank you. Doing these has been an enjoyable exercise, to do them as much as possible without ego, without flash; to be faithful to the objective exterior of my subjects and hope that those exterior details hint at what may be hidden.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Snapshot: Sept.1, 2009

A man was coming towards me,
about as strange a steed
as I had ever hoped to see:
a tall, rangy dude with a lopey stride,
rawhide Stetson and a strong, square jaw.

There wasn’t a heck of a lot
in his eyes that I could see,
maybe a bit of a wince
as if where he was going
would always be a bit too far away.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A young woman
with a birthmark
on the calf of her right leg
pauses, as if deep in thought,
before entering the café.
When I go in to pay
she’s nowhere to be seen.

[DanielBenoit]

How wonderful that there are 36 pages of snapshots!

[PrinceMyshkin]

I was sitting on a bench
outside the Mile-End Mission
hoping to bum a conversation
from some passerby.

Cars shushed or growled by
along rue St. Urbain,
metal and glass anonymous containers
of stories I would never hear.

One of the Mission habitues
brushed the debris from the sidewalk.
Things were happening. Lord, I thought,
This is a city! This is Montreal!
Things are always happening here...

[NickAdams]

hoping to bum a conversation
from some passerby.

I really like this.

The first two stanzas suggested something that I didn't find in the third stanza, which surprised me.

I'll read the first two again with the third in mind.

Again, I really like that line. It makes me think of those individuals that desperately and hesitantly "bum" a cigarette.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Elderly nun on spindle legs
corner Bernard and Esplanade,
face like one of those sock dolls,
puckered and seamed

[qimissung]

That makes me sad, as if just because she looked like a sock doll, puckered and seamed, her life must have been sad, and perhaps nothing could be further from the truth.

[PrinceMyshkin]

That makes me sad, as if just because she looked like a sock doll, puckered and seamed, her life must have been sad, and perhaps nothing could be further from the truth.

It made me sad, too, which you picked up on and of course I knew nothing more about her than a five second glimpse through my car window could tell me...





A guy comes into the café
with hair so unruly
it would take a troupe of barbers
as disciplined as Lipizzaner stallions
to tame it

[Taliesin]

A cyclist comes tearing up the street
at a furious pace,
treats the asphalt as if it were
continuous with the sidewalk
and goes racing off
into unclaimed space.


It has been long time since you posted the poem and I read it, but I just wanted to say that this poem reminds me a lot of some futurist paintings, like, for instance this
http://getdagoss.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/goncharova_cyclist.jpg
or this
http://www.e-flux.com/show_images/1235066085image_web.jpg

[PrinceMyshkin]

Little Esmé goes by
in her pink woolen toque,
not-quite-Coke-bottle glasses,
which lend an extra air
of vulnerability
to her already trusting face.
She is holding her mother’s, Ann’s, left hand,.
her brother, Seymour, holding the other:
Three companionable, happy adventurers
against the cold morning wind.

[PrinceMyshkin]

At the café a person
with a preposterous nose,
a nose that was like
an entire comedy routine,
aimed that nose
at the newspaper he was reading,
which lay docile, subdued
on the table in front of him

[Virgil]

At the café a person
with a preposterous nose,
a nose that was like
an entire comedy routine,
aimed that nose
at the newspaper he was reading,
which lay docile, subdued
on the table in front of him


:lol: :lol: :lol: Oh my is that good!

[Virgil]

I haven't been in this thread in a while, but this is very good:




Little Esmé goes by
in her pink woolen toque,
not-quite-Coke-bottle glasses,
which lend an extra air
of vulnerability
to her already trusting face.
She is holding her mother’s, Ann’s, left hand,.
her brother, Seymour, holding the other:
Three companionable, happy adventurers
against the cold morning wind.

[PrinceMyshkin]

:lol: :lol: :lol: Oh my is that good!

Not that I don't appreciate the rest of your comment, but those three icons preceding it gave me great pleasure. There's little I like better than giving someone a laugh. Thanks.

[PrinceMyshkin]

This guy and I were playing the game
of who has less interest in the other.

I shot him a glance that meant
I don’t know you
all the way back to your grand-father.

He responded with
I don’t recognize you
or anyone of your race or nationality.

Game, set, match.

[PrinceMyshkin]

This particular woman
with her particular child
turned west
along a certain street
and continued on.

[PrinceMyshkin]

“How beautiful I am,” thought the man in the corner
while the air around him grew warmer
and warmer. He was immune
from judgment, was the tune
behind the melody.

I envied and hated him! I wished him ill.
I wished there were someone
who would break his platinum heart
and make him human.

[Bar22do]

“How beautiful I am,” thought the man in the corner
while the air around him grew warmer
and warmer. He was immune
from judgment, was the tune
behind the melody.

I envied and hated him! I wished him ill.
I wished there were someone
who would break his platinum heart
and make him human.


What a frank, masterfully penned, moment of weakness! Cutting contrast between "his" freedom from self-judgment and "your" judgment...
But, if I may, for if not, do not read what follows, - if we have that much energy to hate and to envy, at time, and since energy is neutral and depends on its use, would it not be a good idea to redirect it to build, all of us, true self love and thus no one would have triggers to envy and wish another ill...??? and we would all be immune from judgment... I know it is more complex but let's imagine we really, all of us, love ourselves...

[PrinceMyshkin]

What a frank, masterfully penned, moment of weakness! Cutting contrast between "his" freedom from self-judgment and "your" judgment...
But, if I may, for if not, do not read what follows, - if we have that much energy to hate and to envy, at time, and since energy is neutral and depends on its use, would it not be a good idea to redirect it to build, all of us, true self love and thus no one would have triggers to envy and wish another ill...??? and we would all be immune from judgment... I know it is more complex but let's imagine we really, all of us, love ourselves...

A noble thought, but there are two of us in this dark folie a deux: the person I was speculating about, and I. In reality I know nothing about his interior, his 'true' self, so this "Snapshot" is really little if anything more than a candid photo of my own heart on a particular occasion.

As for loving oneself, I have never understood the meaning of that; nor, I think, do I wish to. There are after all something like 6 billion people who may deserve my love more than I do.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A man was caught this morning
walking a public thoroughfare
without a cell-phone
clapped to his ear
(or anywhere on his person).

He will be charged
with intending to precipitate
an avalanche of silence.

[firefangled]

One of the best of these, I think. Only a small part is due to my dislike of cell phones, the rest is the poetry: "an avalanche of silence" is beautiful.

[blank|verse]

Yeah, this reminds me of the last part of a 1,000-line poem called Killing Time (1999) by the British poet Simon Armitage, which was written to mark the millennium, and is scathing of the modern media.

It ends back in his home village in West Yorkshire where 'last week':

nothing happened at all.
An incident room is being set up at the scene,
and security cameras installed.

A nice observation.

[Bar22do]

There are after all something like 6 billion people who may deserve my love more than I do.

I must disagree, for unless you first find it in and for yourself, those something like 6 billion people might wait forever and in vain for your love (yes, it is a statement, but only to oppose yours: "... deserve my love more that I do").

[qimissung]

I love this. It is brilliant! "was the tune behind the melody..." What a beautiful line. I have seen people like this occasionally, doing their superior dance, and aware even as I dislike thier attitude that mine is also wanting. Bravo, Prince. :)







“How beautiful I am,” thought the man in the corner
while the air around him grew warmer
and warmer. He was immune
from judgment, was the tune
behind the melody.

I envied and hated him! I wished him ill.
I wished there were someone
who would break his platinum heart
and make him human.

[qimissung]

A man was caught this morning
walking a public thoroughfare
without a cell-phone
clapped to his ear
(or anywhere on his person).

He will be charged
with intending to precipitate
an avalanche of silence.


P.S. I like this one, too.

[kiz_paws]

A man was caught this morning
walking a public thoroughfare
without a cell-phone
clapped to his ear
(or anywhere on his person).

He will be charged
with intending to precipitate
an avalanche of silence.
Dear me, your last three lines were wonderful and told me to read the whole thing over again.

Why, and why do I believe that this man you speak of, was you, dear friend!

Oh that "avalanche of silence" will linger on in my head -- LOVE IT!
~~K♥zzo

[Bar22do]

I do not think I sent you my velvet ribbon for this one:

A man was caught this morning
walking a public thoroughfare
without a cell-phone
clapped to his ear
(or anywhere on his person).

He will be charged
with intending to precipitate
an avalanche of silence.

I do it now, though a little intimidated by this avalanche of silence, so authoritative.
Sometime I feel you steal all the best phrases and idioms... or you just have this sense!
Great.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I do not think I sent you my velvet ribbon for this one:

A man was caught this morning
walking a public thoroughfare
without a cell-phone
clapped to his ear
(or anywhere on his person).

He will be charged
with intending to precipitate
an avalanche of silence.

I do it now, though a little intimidated by this avalanche of silence, so authoritative.
Sometime I feel you steal all the best phrases and idioms... or you just have this sense!
Great.


I think it was the sometimes saucy Bertholt Brecht who said (approximately) that all writers copy. The best of them steal outight. Not that I count myself among the latter.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Dear me, your last three lines were wonderful and told me to read the whole thing over again.

Why, and why do I believe that this man you speak of, was you, dear friend!

Oh that "avalanche of silence" will linger on in my head -- LOVE IT!
~~K♥zzo

Perhaps the greatest (unnoticed) virtue of this snapshot is that it has brought our beloved Kiz Paws back into view!

[kiz_paws]

Awwww :blush:

The "Snapshots" section of the Personal Poetry section is a thread that I really enjoy perusing.

There are few people who are able to see things and say what they see is such a short and eloquent manner.

It is also fun to read the impact the snapshots have on the viewing audience, too!

I salute thee, PrinceM! :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

Muffled against the cold
a man pushes a stroller
in which there is what I take to be
a sweet, three-year old.
I smile at the kid
and get in return
a look that seems to say:

I don’t have to smile back at you
if I don’t feel like it...

[LeDave]

At the hotel restaurant
in Paris
at the table next to me
a couple who've been married
since just before the invention of pain.

He looks past her shoulder
into the middle distance
as if he might find a thought there
somewhere, she
looks down, to the left of him, wondering
where the years have gone.


WOW! This is brilliant, I love it.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Two guys at the café,
Jordan and Marco,
at separate tables.
Marco is popping with energy,
just returned from a visit
to Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia.

Jordan appears to be locked
in his own private hell.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Under a beige beret,
behind a moustache
of indubitable antiquity,
an elderly man
limps determinedly
from one leg to the other,
reminding me, somehow,
of a discredited Balkan Lieutenant-Colonel

[Hawkman]

Two guys at the café,
Jordan and Marco,
at separate tables.
Marco is popping with energy,
just returned from a visit
to Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia.

Jordan appears to be locked
in his own private hell.


Who was it said that; 'Hell is other people'
I feel for Jordan.

As for the discredited Balkan Lt. Col.
Perhaps he was. Agatha Christie used to see people that caught her eye and write whole murder mysteries inspired by them with the lives she imagined for their back-stories. Do you do this too, Prince or are you just content to immortalise the moment with your succinct elegance?

H

[PrinceMyshkin]

Who was it said that; 'Hell is other people'
I feel for Jordan.

As do I. I lamented the poverty of my attempt to describe him, a much-used cliche, but within my self-defined Snapshots limitations that was the best I could do. You seem to have picked up my intent. He was the one who initiated contact with me. I'd have been too intimidated to do so, and in ay case he often seems to be narcoleptic.

When I finished the cigarette I'd been smoking and excused myself for needing to get back into the cafe and out of the cold, he apologized to me.

"What for?" I asked.

"For not having more to say..."




As for the discredited Balkan Lt. Col.
Perhaps he was. Agatha Christie used to see people that caught her eye and write whole murder mysteries inspired by them with the lives she imagined for their back-stories. Do you do this too, Prince or are you just content to immortalise the moment with your succinct elegance?

H

I'd be delighted if I thought I could make him or any other the subject of narrative prose but for years now I've been psychologically unable to do that, probably because my last novel and several stories for children were all rejected and my imagination is sulking.

[Hawkman]

The rejection thing is tough. You’re ahead of the game compared with me though, I can’t even get an agent. I’ve been neglecting my novel as I’m spending all my time writing poetry. (Or at least trying to). My trouble is I can’t write for a commercial audience, only the weird, surreal, quirky stuff for my own pleasure.

I really liked the short you sent me and I would have thought that a collection of tales of James, with illustrations, would have been a goer for the children’s market. I guess all we can do is keep plugging away.

H

[PrinceMyshkin]

Three guitars, a Dobro,
banjo, bass. Now and then
the banjo player
produces an harmonica
in his left hand
and with his right
his fingers flitter rapidly
to produce a melancholy yowl

[PrinceMyshkin]

I sit here, sipping my cigarette,
smoking my allongé,
waiting for a poem.

A bus goes by, another one,
and I’m waiting for a poem.

Several people go by, one
looks at me, but I’m
sipping on my memories,
smoking my brain and
waiting for a poem

[hillwalker]

I've just stumbled upon these exquisite snapshots - a bit like finding some original Cartiere-Bressons in one's attic.....

Really fine writing, sir.
They deserve more exposure (forgive the feeble pun).

H

[breathtest]

'smoking my brain'. No way. I wrote this line in my notebook the other day in some short poem. I can't believe that. And you beat me to publishing it on Litnet.

Well i'm glad you did cause that little snapshot is wonderful, better than mine.

[PrinceMyshkin]

'smoking my brain'. No way. I wrote this line in my notebook the other day in some short poem. I can't believe that. And you beat me to publishing it on Litnet.

Well i'm glad you did cause that little snapshot is wonderful, better than mine.

Oh, "better than/worse than" are SO subjective! Check out this parable:


After his death, Rabbi Breathtest was met by the Examining Angel.

“Please give an account of your life,” the angel requested.

Being a scrupulously honest man and aware of the solemnity of the occasion, the Rabbi began:

“Well, I was not as courageous as Moses, nor as learned as the Rambam nor as wise as Rabbi Hillel–“

”You will not be judged according to others,” the Examining Angel interrupted, “but whether you were the best Rabbi Breathtest you could be.”

[Babyguile]

Your May 2nd snapshot has overtaken 'Birds in adjacent cages...' as my poem of the thread.

FOR ME, it captures the boredom of the artful mind in the context of everyday life. Hopefuly this person did something about it, like I'm trying to.

[breathtest]

After his death, Rabbi Breathtest was met by the Examining Angel.

“Please give an account of your life,” the angel requested.

Being a scrupulously honest man and aware of the solemnity of the occasion, the Rabbi began:

“Well, I was not as courageous as Moses, nor as learned as the Rambam nor as wise as Rabbi Hillel–“

”You will not be judged according to others,” the Examining Angel interrupted, “but whether you were the best Rabbi Breathtest you could be.”

wow! this actually resonated very strongly with me. Thank you for imparting this piece of wisdom Rabbi PrinceMyshkin (yes, a rabbi and a prince).

as for the whole 'better than/worse than' being a subjective thing, let me rephrase my statement in a utilitarian way.
I like your poem better than the one that i wrote, and i think that a greater number of people will appreciate yours than would have mine.

Your words are important to many people Prince, people on this site as well as people you know personally, and we are all greatful that you share them here.

Peace! and Love! (and stop stealing my lines! haha).

[PrinceMyshkin]

as for the whole 'better than/worse than' being a subjective thing, let me rephrase my statement in a utilitarian way.
I like your poem better than the one that i wrote, and i think that a greater number of people will appreciate yours than would have mine.

Gimme a break! Let's say a few or even many like my poem better than yours, but just one person is deeply moved by yours, wouldn't that make us near enough equal?



Peace! and Love! (and stop stealing my lines! haha).

Tell you what I'm going to do to make up for that: I'm going to send you privately a quotation that moved me deeply and from which I wrote a poem, and if it intrigues you as it did me, you can write a poem inspired by it. Deal?

[breathtest]

Gimme a break! Let's say a few or even many like my poem better than yours, but just one person is deeply moved by yours, wouldn't that make us near enough equal?

I get your meaning. Even if only one person is moved by what we write, then the goal is achieved. Spreading some of the emotional significance that we feel when writing a poem is the goal, and if one person feels the emotion we tried to get across, then nothing else matters.


Tell you what I'm going to do to make up for that: I'm going to send you privately a quotation that moved me deeply and from which I wrote a poem, and if it intrigues you as it did me, you can write a poem inspired by it. Deal?

That is certainly a deal. How can i turn down such a tantalising offer?

[qimissung]

Bravo, as usual Prince. I like them all, almost the better for moving quickly from one to another, as one walks through a garden.

I will look forward, breathtest, to seeing the poem you write, inspired by the quotation Prince sends you.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A boy whose face is configured
in a frieze of dense stupidity
plods forward
against a wall of light rain

[Hawkman]

Hi Prince,

With regard to waiting for a poem, for some reason this one calls to mind a Goon Show, where Spike Milligan's character was challenged, "Why are you hanging around here?" to which he replied, "I'm waiting for a No. 153 submarine."

At least your poem turned up!

With regard to the boy in the rain, This chararacter seems to be everywhere. Are they clones do you think?

As always, a pleasure to read your insightful observations... H

[PrinceMyshkin]

Hi Prince,

With regard to waiting for a poem, for some reason this one calls to mind a Goon Show, where Spike Milligan's character was challenged, "Why are you hanging around here?" to which he replied, "I'm waiting for a No. 153 submarine."

At least your poem turned up!

With regard to the boy in the rain, This chararacter seems to be everywhere. Are they clones do you think?

As always, a pleasure to read your insightful observations... H

Delighted to have your response because I hesitated to post this Snapshot. Although I've never predetermined what might be a likely subject, most of my previous ones have been, I believe, sunnier or possibly amusing.

[PrinceMyshkin]

An elderly Jew
sits on a slatted bench
outside the “Old Continental
Strictement Kacher,”
his hands apparently
at rest on his knees

[PrinceMyshkin]

A certain woman,
much overweight,
displaying fury
on her mottled red face,
walks her tiny dog

[hillwalker]

These two snapshots - 15 days apart - seem to bookend each other.
Wry observation, nicely condensed into a few choice words.

H

[kiz_paws]

I sit here, sipping my cigarette,
smoking my allongé,
waiting for a poem.

A bus goes by, another one,
and I’m waiting for a poem.

Several people go by, one
looks at me, but I’m
sipping on my memories,
smoking my brain and
waiting for a poem


What a delightfully fun this little snapshot is, Jer! The words roll together beautifully, I can picture you sipping that cigarette. :nod: But wouldn't it be nice to have a coffeeshop that would allow the simple pleasure of smoking, drinking coffee, whilst writing such fun things? [as in, in the winter months, which can be quite long where I hang my hat ...]




A certain woman,
much overweight,
displaying fury
on her mottled red face,
walks her tiny dogDear gawd, I hope that the wee canine doesn't bear the brunt of her fury ... ! I always worry about the animals, but you knew that, eh? :frown2: Nonetheless, in so few words, you painted that scene in my mind, I saw her. I saw her!

[PrinceMyshkin]

What a delightfully fun this little snapshot is, Jer! The words roll together beautifully, I can picture you sipping that cigarette. :nod: But wouldn't it be nice to have a coffeeshop that would allow the simple pleasure of smoking, drinking coffee, whilst writing such fun things? [as in, in the winter months, which can be quite long where I hang my hat ...]

Darling friend, the cafe were I hang out, like all others in Montreal, bans smoking indoors, so only in clement weather may I sit outside and smoke while I sip my espresso... whether I write a poem or not.

You've been away for some time. Welcome back!

[PrinceMyshkin]

A man lopes by
so tall I imagine him
bent in two,
towering over me

[PrinceMyshkin]

I broke off with L. this morning
and then unbroke off with her...

Both were acts of love, kinda,
or one of them was,
but I’m not sure which was which.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A thin young student,
with a face about the size
of a walnut, slips
through the early morning breeze

[PrinceMyshkin]

Smiling at black people
is, for me, a form
of inverse racism.
“I’m white and I’m nice,”
my smile is intended to convey,
“and, in a way, so are you.”

[hillwalker]

So much thought and intelligence is conveyed in these little snippets - like an overheard conversation that one cannot help eavesdrop on because it's more than idle gossip.

I really like this latest pair.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Talking with someone
who chooses to remain hidden.
I mean,
how many neutral topics are there?

[PrinceMyshkin]

Maya shared her smile with me this afternoon.
She was walking by
and I don’t know what prompted her
but she smiled
and after a few minutes conversation
we were, like,
the easiest of friends

[PrinceMyshkin]

A woman sailed her nose
around the corner of Fairmount & Esplanade,
cleaving the air
ahead of her

[Hawkman]

Oh I like this one, Prince. I can see her now, proud, arrogant and aquiline. Great description. H

[krymsonkyng]

Talking with someone
who chooses to remain hidden.
I mean,
how many neutral topics are there?


There's a winner with me.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Thanks, Hawkman and


There's a winner with me.

You must have been trying to speak with the same woman, or her brother! Thanks.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Nineteen month old Nana
on my street
has eyes so clear
I believe I can see
God in them.

[hack]

They say you need only believe, my Prince.

[PrinceMyshkin]

They say you need only believe, my Prince.

I would challenge you to look into this child's mild face and clear eyes, and DISbelieve! Thank you.

[Bar22do]

Nineteen month old Nana
on my street
has eyes so clear
I believe I can see
God in them.


but do you, actually? (I mean SEE? or believe you could but do not?)

[PrinceMyshkin]

but do you, actually? (I mean SEE? or believe you could but do not?)

This is a psycho-theological question it is beyond my competence to answer. We are forbidden to know or to speak God's name, and if I recall correctly, the face was hidden even from Moses when he received the 10 Commandments.

All I can say is that I felt compelled to give that child's eyes the whole of my attention and that I felt transcendent love for her and what I thought I saw in her eyes. She and her mother (no father in evidence) live three or four doors away from me. Fate, or circumstances, permitting I will see her again and hopefully she will grow more comfortable with me. Her mother says that she is somewhat shy with men. The second time I saw her, Andrea was beside me and Nana walked up to her as if they were old and trusted friends.

Addenda: Have you ever been looked at with, so to speak, "virgin eyes"? Eyes behind which there was a degree of consciousness but no evident intention to judge you? Eyes that asked "Who are you?" Not what is your occupation, age, religious or political philosophy, but Who are you?

[kiz_paws]

A man lopes by
so tall I imagine him
bent in two,
towering over me
My goodness I can picture this! I am five two-ish (verging on three, lol).
So there is a lot of this going on! Thanks for the snap. :)







Talking with someone
who chooses to remain hidden.
I mean,
how many neutral topics are there?

Ahhhh but everyone has their story. So neutral protects in a crazy kind of way.
Interesting thoughts. I enjoyed this one. :nod:








A woman sailed her nose
around the corner of Fairmount & Esplanade,
cleaving the air
ahead of her
Beautiful job. Short, quick, delivers the punch.
LOVED IT! :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

My goodness I can picture this! I am five two-ish (verging on three, lol).
So there is a lot of this going on! Thanks for the snap. :)

Some 5'2" are quite a bit taller than others!


Ahhhh but everyone has their story. So neutral protects in a crazy kind of way.
Interesting thoughts. I enjoyed this one. :nod:

Beautiful job. Short, quick, delivers the punch.
LOVED IT! :)

Thank you for all your comments and welcome back!

[TheEarthIsRound]

This is one of the single, most lasting thread in our personal poetry section =)

[qimissung]

You are an astute observer of the human animal, my friend. Each one made me catch my breath, or nod sagely, or murmur softly, "wow", and each one helped me see.

As always, a small pleasure.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Many thanks The earth is round and qimissung: as for my "astuteness," it is more a matter of recognizing something of myself in every subject of these Snapshots.





From across the street I hear
(or do I remember?) a child’s voice
as if I were hearing her
from long, long ago

[PrinceMyshkin]

A hefty young man
schleps himself
across the hot, humid street,
his heart
ticking away the minutes

[Hawkman]

There is a marvellous, mischievous bite to this one prince. I love:
"...his heart
ticking away the minutes."

brilliant. H

[PrinceMyshkin]

There is a marvellous, mischievous bite to this one prince. I love:
"...his heart
ticking away the minutes."

brilliant. H

I guess I didn't get across what I meant, then, because mischief or any other sort of merriment was far from my mind. It was indeed a very hot humid day and the young man was so overweight that my first thought was that every step he took was shortening his life by a span of time.

[Bar22do]

I think it's poignant, I felt that guy's overweight before you explained, probably from "schleps himself" and because of the surrounding summer's humid warmth over here. Your lines ticked minutes away from my own life as I empathized. So to me this is an effective shot. Bar

[PrinceMyshkin]

I think it's poignant, I felt that guy's overweight before you explained, probably from "schleps himself" and because of the surrounding summer's humid warmth over here. Your lines ticked minutes away from my own life as I empathized. So to me this is an effective shot. Bar

Thanks, Bar, it's always a pleasure when you comment on one of my offerings.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Thanks, Hawkman...





A stringy young woman,
one long, lean arm
tapering to a cigarette,
stops, makes a shushing sound
and waves that arm in the air
to banish real or imagined birds.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Wearing his warrior face,
a young man enters the café,
prepared for anything
--even friendship.

[Haunted]

That's just how I feel sometimes. Going into the outside world is like combat. I admire your perceptiveness, Prince.

[Hawkman]

I could have sworn I posted a comment on the 17th July snapshot which is brilliant by the way. With Aug 3rd I have a profound feeling of Dejas vu so maybe I'm ready for the bald one's institution. :D

Your observational pieces are sharply observed slices of humanity and never disappoint.

H

[PrinceMyshkin]

A young man with a watery left eye
appears to be looking at his laptop screen
from two different vantage points.
A couple walk by
with the rubbish of age on their faces.

[Haunted]

this is so wonderful written, that's also me with one watery eye!

[Bar22do]

From my (here third) vantage point - my right eye sharp and alert - I'd certainly prefer:

"A young man with a watery left eye
appears to be looking at his laptop screen
from two different vantage points.
A couple walk by
with the rubies of age on their faces."

This matter put right, I have no other complaints. On the contrary.
And wish you well - Bar

[dafydd manton]

Funnily enough, (and I cringe at disagreeing with Bar), I preferred Rubbish. I think I know exactly what you mean. I used to be a bus-driver, and I got people like that on the bus all day. Great Image!! (Sorry Bar, Respect!)

[Bar22do]

Well it depends what eye does one look at the elderly with (fear, love, disgust, self-concern, irritation, compassion).
Both "rubbish (of age)" or "rubies (of age)" are modifiers, and - INTERPRETATION, I see and choose to look at what's precious (even though it might sometimes take an effort)...
And honestly, I've never seen rubbish on somebody's face, not even on the numbest one... and I am on the bus (tramway or metro, and more, like street, park, beach) daily, Daf. Plus I can see well :brow:. And what I see is a tangle of history (of course), dignity, insecurity, self-determination, pain, joy, loneliness, desire, helplessness, wit, clumsiness, wisdom, weariness, love, bitterness, all - but not rubbish of age.
So, yes, a clever, poetically effective image indeed, but one I disagree with, though, goes without saying, it's the author's full right to choose how he looks at what or whom he sees, as well as to bare his own emotion when confronted with what challenges his eye...

But were it a real photograph...

http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2524/4293342462_976baaf4d3.jpg

and better:

http://kids.niehs.nih.gov/illusion/images/illus23.gif :wink5:

Respects to you both - Bar

I love Jacques Brel's moving compassion (and this song's last line's reminder):

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x1ecn9_jacques-brel-les-vieux-english-subt_music

[Hawkman]

Hi Prince, a sharply observed and thought provoking (as well as contentious) poem. Thanks for sharing.

Sweet Bar,

Though it breaks my heart to do so, I fear I must disagree with your desire to remove the rubbish from the faces of the old. I fear that to replace it with rubies, would

a: completely change the meaning of the poem, and
b: replace a powerful word with an anodyne one.

Of course, given a poetic interpretation, rubies might actually be seen as blood leaking from the wounds of age, although this is a bit of a stretch and only likely in the eyes of those with darker hearts.

Now I would not presume to claim that I knew, categorically, what lay in Princes’ mind when he wrote the line, but I do know what it means to me.

The older one gets the greater the burden of regret, this is the rubbish I carry around. In unguarded moments it etches itself in deep lines on the face. On top of this there are the physical blemishes of ageing, that mar the once youthful pristine flesh. To those of us whose self image is frozen at about 25 or 30, looking in the mirror can give one a bit of a shock. Where did all this rubbish come from, we ask ourselves.

So, though I would rather die than argue with you, can we just agree to differ on this occasion.

Live and be well, H

[Bar22do]

Hawk, how come you prosper while you still vigorously argue with me! how is this possible at all! :)

I didn't suggest PM replace "rubbish" with "rubies" - and yes, his piece is clever and sharp, though again, interpreted, not observed, like all poetry is, licentia poetica oblige - I meant I'd prefer anything but "rubbish" ("rubies" was the first available alternative, and not at all anodyne!) - don't distort what I said!

I profoundly disagree :( with your generalisation:

"the older one gets the greater the burden of regret"

- it might be true for you, it's certainly not for me or for Ploni, etc... and even supposing I see someone carrying his or her "burden of regret", it's still not rubbish in my eyes, it's an emotion to be addressed, soothed if possible...

As to your:

"To those of us whose self image is frozen at about 25 or 30, looking in the mirror can give one a bit of a shock. Where did all this rubbish come from, we ask ourselves."

the last sentence is another generalisation, o Hawk. When looking into the mirror, we don't ALL ask ourselves where all this RUBBISH came from, some of us love our changing landscape, accept age, live to the utmost of what this or another stage in life makes available (sometimes we even break the boundries), enjoy differently, but enjoy truly... and it's certainly easier (and healthier) when we didn't freeze our image at 25 or 30 and don't compare.
Calling all this "rubbish" enfeebles and degrades one, is unproductive, doesn't help anything, but - you might say - "at least I don't lie to myself", "I'm realistic" - false! you aren't! you just pick up the worst option amid so many others available.

So I'm now running to the mirror for my daily loving check up (and count up!) - :redface:

Love your "rubbish", o Hawk, and you'll soon repent for having called "it" names! For your love will smooth what you look at as regretful asperities ...

With the wise support of:

Anacreon (c.572-488 BC)

AGE

OFT am I by the women told,
"Poor Anacreon! thou growest old;
Look; how thy hairs are falling all;
Poor Anacreon, how they fall!"--
Whether I grow old or no,
By the effects I do not know;
But this I know, without being told,
'Tis time to live, if i grow old;
'Tis time short pleasures now to take,
Of little life the best to make,
And manage wisely the last stake.

Love - Bar

[Hawkman]

Sweet Bar, I was forgetting you are a daughter of Zeus, a muse, immortal and without regret, forever preserved in perfection.

Forgive this mere mortal his regrets and conceits while he morns his lost youth :D

Eternally yours, a Hawk with droopy wings.

[Bar22do]

Sweet Bar, I was forgetting you are a daughter of Zeus, a muse, immortal and without regret, forever preserved in perfection.

Forgive this mere mortal his regrets and conceits while he morns his lost youth :D

Eternally yours, a Hawk with droopy wings.

Please see my edited post. For the rest, I aim at completeness, not perfection, whether a Muse or a mere mortal...

But if I'm really "yours eternally"... come on, buck up! Your vigour serves me best! he he.

Bar

[hillwalker]

As for the poem, I think it's another perceptive snapshot of what 'baggage' people walk around with for all to see (and decypher as they see fit) - for most of us it's written there on our faces (those of us who do not subscribe to the use of make-up!!). Thought-provoking and subtle as ever, Prince.

H

[PrinceMyshkin]

Thanks, Daffy, Hawk, Hillwalker, and


Well it depends what eye does one look at the elderly with (fear, love, disgust, self-concern, irritation, compassion).
Both "rubbish (of age)" or "rubies (of age)" are modifiers, and - INTERPRETATION, I see and choose to look at what's precious (even though it might sometimes take an effort)...
And honestly, I've never seen rubbish on somebody's face, not even on the numbest one... and I am on the bus (tramway or metro, and more, like street, park, beach) daily, Daf. Plus I can see well :brow:. And what I see is a tangle of history (of course), dignity, insecurity, self-determination, pain, joy, loneliness, desire, helplessness, wit, clumsiness, wisdom, weariness, love, bitterness, all - but not rubbish of age.
So, yes, a clever, poetically effective image indeed, but one I disagree with, though, goes without saying, it's the author's full right to choose how he looks at what or whom he sees, as well as to bare his own emotion when confronted with what challenges his eye...


I've looked at the three links you provided, but my response to you is to emphasize your use of "honestly" and "I see and choose" (emphasis added). Who is to judge when one is being "honest" or according to what standards? And, so often, what one "chooses" is what one needs or is predetermined to see.

And PS: The young man's "watery left eye" might serve as a hint at my own fallible eye.

[Bar22do]

Thanks, Daffy, Hawk, Hillwalker, and



I've looked at the three links you provided, but my response to you is to emphasize your use of "honestly" and "I see and choose" (emphasis added). Who is to judge when one is being "honest" or according to what standards? And, so often, what one "chooses" is what one needs or is predetermined to see.

I'm glad you've looked at the three links I provided.

I could replace "honestly" with "sincerely" if it read better for you; now I'm aware you had a good reason to choose "rubbish" where hill would choose "baggage", and where my own personal preference would go with the latter (or tangle of history...), while I know exactly what you meant, though you wouldn't think it. I believe that to consciously decide which choices one makes is of prime importance; I recently read in a collection of Baal Shem Tov's thoughts that man was given the free choice only to learn to choose the good. I love the depth of this idea, beautifully presented and grounded, among many others, in Rabbi Nahman's story "The exchanged children" (which I warmly recommend to you).

Finally, let me remind you that except for the disagreeable (to me) "rubbish", I found your latest offering laudable and did commend you for it and now reiterate the commendation.

Best to you - Bar

[PrinceMyshkin]

I'm glad you've looked at the three links I provided.

I could replace "honestly" with "sincerely" if it read better for you;

I had and have no reason to doubt your "honesty" nor your sincerity, but according to Abraham Maslow: "We cannot be more honest with others than we are with ourselves." And how honest can we be with ourselves when we are simultaneously the witness, the prosecutor, the defense attorney and the judge and jury of that "honesty"?


now I'm aware you had a good reason to choose "rubbish" where hill would choose "baggage", and where my own personal preference would go with the latter (or tangle of history...), while I know exactly what you meant, though you wouldn't think it.

No, I wouldn't think it no more than I would think I know exactly why you see "rubies" where I believed I saw "rubbish." Either of us would have had t0o recapitulate the whole of the other's life-history to understand perfectly why he/she made one observation rather than another.


I believe that to consciously decide which choices one makes is of prime importance; I recently read in a collection of Baal Shem Tov's thoughts that man was given the free choice only to learn to choose the good. I love the depth of this idea, beautifully presented and grounded, among many others, in Rabbi Nahman's story "The exchanged children" (which I warmly recommend to you).

Finally, let me remind you that except for the disagreeable (to me) "rubbish", I found your latest offering laudable and did commend you for it and now reiterate the commendation.

Best to you - Bar

I thank you for the appreciation you expressed and will look for Reb Nachman's story but in response to the Besht may I remind you of Spinoza's "We are free only to understand that we are not free."

[Bar22do]

I had and have no reason to doubt your "honesty" nor your sincerity, but according to Abraham Maslow: "We cannot be more honest with others than we are with ourselves." And how honest can we be with ourselves when we are simultaneously the witness, the prosecutor, the defense attorney and the judge and jury of that "honesty"?



No, I wouldn't think it no more than I would think I know exactly why you see "rubies" where I believed I saw "rubbish." Either of us would have had t0o recapitulate the whole of the other's life-history to understand perfectly why he/she made one observation rather than another.



I thank you for the appreciation you expressed and will look for Reb Nachman's story but in response to the Besht may I remind you of Spinoza's "We are free only to understand that we are not free."

The great Rabbi Mordechai Bimstein once said "freedom is slavery at its highest". Espinosa's thought on freedom completes the Besht's, but it's only when we look behind the words that we can begin to grasp, and grasp less than a dog's single lick from the ocean... Moses called himself "G'd's slave", for him freedom was to enable the divine element (you'll have to forgive me not to find a better term) to manifest freely through his medium, made relatively whole (not perfect). The whole Sufi tradition is based on the concept of freedom man gives the divinity to operate through him. But the idea behind is man search of wholeness and consequent breaking through to a broader picture of what's called Creation. Anyway, who's great enough for these things...!

As to the question of "honesty", we all have preconceptions and project them, but our developed (developing) awareness enables us to take responsibility of how we interact with our surroundings and how we change this interaction into a more harmonious one.
We certainly are not subjected to our life history the moment we refuse to and take it as our duty to co-build it (and for the predetermination part, there is much wisdom in the old saying "since you cannot change the world, change your inner image of the world and then you'll change the world"). "My" "rubies" are more the effect of a continuing work on myself and the resulting conscious decision to focus on the positive and good in people, rather than the effect of a rose petals' carpeted life... And let me guess, if you'd only interacted with the couple, the first you'd do would be to smile at them and engage in conversation, and it would have been enough they return you a smile for you to erase all the rubbish from their faces and your own frustration, and to see beyond their dull, wrinkled puzzles, lives worthwhile living, complex and rich. In Hebrew "face" is "panim", meaning "inside"... But again, who's great enough for these things...

Be well - Bar

[PrinceMyshkin]

The great Rabbi Mordechai Bimstein once said "freedom is slavery at its highest". Espinosa's thought on freedom completes the Besht's, but it's only when we look behind the words that we can begin to grasp, and grasp less than a dog's single lick from the ocean... Moses called himself "G'd's slave", for him freedom was to enable the divine element (you'll have to forgive me not to find a better term) to manifest freely through his medium, made relatively whole (not perfect). The whole Sufi tradition is based on the concept of freedom man gives the divinity to operate through him. But the idea behind is man search of wholeness and consequent breaking through to a broader picture of what's called Creation. Anyway, who's great enough for these things...!

As to the question of "honesty", we all have preconceptions and project them, but our developed (developing) awareness enables us to take responsibility of how we interact with our surroundings and how we change this interaction into a more harmonious one.
We certainly are not subjected to our life history the moment we refuse to and take it as our duty to co-build it (and for the predetermination part, there is much wisdom in the old saying "since you cannot change the world, change your inner image of the world and then you'll change the world"). "My" "rubies" are more the effect of a continuing work on myself and the resulting conscious decision to focus on the positive and good in people, rather than the effect of a rose petals' carpeted life... And let me guess, if you'd only interacted with the couple, the first you'd do would be to smile at them and engage in conversation, and it would have been enough they return you a smile for you to erase all the rubbish from their faces and your own frustration, and to see beyond their dull, wrinkled puzzles, lives worthwhile living, complex and rich.

This is a) an objective possibility but b) more importantly the credo - however arrived at - of your belief in love and in the goodness of your fellow beings. But since of the 1,000s of people who cross my vision, I won't likely have the opportunity to investigate the inner lives of more than a few dozen of them, I'm forced to rely at times on split-second images of them as those images interact with whatever fleeting mood I'm in.


"I can live with doubt and uncertainty and not knowing. I think it's much more interesting to live not knowing than to have answers which might be wrong... I don't have to know an answer. I don't feel frightened by not knowing things, by being lost in a mysterious universe without any purpose, which is the way it really is as far as I can tell. It doesn't frighten me."

Feynman, Richard, quoted in Gleick, Genius: The life & Science of Richard Feynman, p. 438

[dafydd manton]

Prince, I'm happy that you've disagreed with what I said! It wasn't meant in an ugly sense, but you have, as ever, explained it with rapier-like precision. I shall walk out backwards, bowing!! Well done, my liege!

[PrinceMyshkin]

Prince, I'm happy that you've disagreed with what I said! It wasn't meant in an ugly sense, but you have, as ever, explained it with rapier-like precision. I shall walk out backwards, bowing!! Well done, my liege!

Can't imagine what you're referring to. The last comment you made here


Funnily enough, (and I cringe at disagreeing with Bar), I preferred Rubbish. I think I know exactly what you mean. I used to be a bus-driver, and I got people like that on the bus all day. Great Image!! (Sorry Bar, Respect!)


doesn't contain anything I disagree with.

[Delta40]

I haven't read any posts but I'm in awe of someone who gets 639 replies to their poem!!

[PrinceMyshkin]

I haven't read any posts but I'm in awe of someone who gets 639 replies to their poem!!

Indeed you haven't! That's 639 replies to 195 poems - or roughly 3.27 replies per poem!

[Jerrybaldy]

I blame the format Prince. Its hard to find the original verse on ongoing threads. I think if each had been individually posted the total would have been much, much higher and more people would have read and enjoyed your work. I know the arguments against, but as a reader I much prefer to be able to find the poem at the start.
best wishes
Jerry

[dafydd manton]

I don't think we need take a vote on that!! Jerry is *gasp* right.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I blame the format Prince. Its hard to find the original verse on ongoing threads. I think if each had been individually posted the total would have been much, much higher and more people would have read and enjoyed your work. I know the arguments against, but as a reader I much prefer to be able to find the poem at the start.
best wishes
Jerry

http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?t=32797

[Jerrybaldy]

At the hotel restaurant
in Paris
at the table next to me
a couple who've been married
since just before the invention of pain.

He looks past her shoulder
into the middle distance
as if he might find a thought there
somewhere, she
looks down, to the left of him, wondering
where the years have gone.


Prince, My fellow Jerry I see :)
I wish I didnt connect quite so well with this poem. But I did and thought it was a brilliant and sparing study into the sadness that goes along with the warmth of a long held love.
I loved it
Jerry B

[PrinceMyshkin]

Prince, My fellow Jerry I see :)
I wish I didnt connect quite so well with this poem. But I did and thought it was a brilliant and sparing study into the sadness that goes along with the warmth of a long held love.
I loved it
Jerry B

Obviously the couple in this snapshot caught and held my attention - and started me along what I had not originally planned as this long, long thread. Thanks.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A handsome young father goes by
with the younger of his two sons.
A few minutes later, alone, he returns,
walking more slowly,
as if lost in thought.

[dafydd manton]

I get that "first day at school" feeling. I can still remember it. Beautifully crafted, Prince. I love your snapshots.

[blank|verse]

Wonderful, Prince - brought Hemingway's famous 'Baby shoes' piece to mind. Excellently observed (as always) but this just has a little bit more.

[Jerrybaldy]

As a weekend dad for many years, I found this very touching Prince.
Awful lot said in few words.
cheers
Jerry

[dafydd manton]

Hadn't thought of that, Jerry. Stupid me - same situation, although I haven't seen them in over 10 years. Suddenly, I don't feel quite so clever!

[PrinceMyshkin]

Thank you, Blank|Verse and Jerry, and may I take this opportunity to say how much pleasure I get from observing people and deducing or intuiting what I can about them, but


Hadn't thought of that, Jerry. Stupid me - same situation, although I haven't seen them in over 10 years. Suddenly, I don't feel quite so clever!

Dafy, you may be even MORE clever than you credit yourself because your first post was most likely the correct one, as it was a Thursday when I observed that man and his child, and school has just resumed here. I originally had a line about them being on the way to the child's kindergarten, but omitted it.

[dafydd manton]

Either way, Prince, it is a beautifully succint poem, as ever. Your standards never cease to amaze me.

[hillwalker]

Long may you continue to people-watch, Prince. Like yourself, we can only surmise at what you were witnessing and it's kind of you to allow us to fill in our own blanks.

[Hawkman]

I too got the school time reference, but I wanted to venture into a Dickensian past when parents in dire straights would sell their children...

Very moving and as always intimately observed Prince. Live and be well, H

[PrinceMyshkin]

Many thanks, Dafy, Hlllwalker & Hawkman.

[angliholic]

Extremely philosophical and thought-provoking!

How sad the knot is!
But without tying the knot, it might be sadder!

[PrinceMyshkin]

An aged woman,
with apologetic eyes,
shuffles toward the next exit.

[JackieGinger]

A handsome young father goes by
with the younger of his two sons.
A few minutes later, alone, he returns,
walking more slowly,
as if lost in thought.

this is outrageously moving to me, personally. Almost too strong an image for me to handle...

[breathtest]

Prince! I haven't visited this thread in a while. A long time actually. And just reading through, i'm so glad i came back. I feel as though i have observed the same things you have just by reading these poems. You seem to take a scene and describe it perfectly in so little words. It leaves me wondering what you would write about me if you saw me in the street! Maybe i would know more about myself just by reading what you wrote. haha.

I love to people watch too, it's surprising how much emotion you can feel. Thank you for sharing these.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Thanks Angliholic and Jackie, and Breathtest:


Prince! I haven't visited this thread in a while. A long time actually. And just reading through, i'm so glad i came back. I feel as though i have observed the same things you have just by reading these poems. You seem to take a scene and describe it perfectly in so little words. It leaves me wondering what you would write about me if you saw me in the street! Maybe i would know more about myself just by reading what you wrote. haha.

I love to people watch too, it's surprising how much emotion you can feel. Thank you for sharing these.

This is one of the most flattering responses I've had to these Snapshots. Perhaps if you sent me your Google Earth coordinates and I could figure out how to use it, I could zoom in and make a snapshot of you?:icon_bs: Or maybe you could find me at my Cafe, Fairmount St corner Esplanade in Montreal?

[breathtest]

Prince, i regret that i live so far away from Montreal, or you could be sure i would stop by that cafe.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Prince, i regret that i live so far away from Montreal, or you could be sure i would stop by that cafe.

I don't follow you: you live no further away from Montreal than I do from London!

[breathtest]

well i guess distance is subjective

[kittypaws]

How do you do it? I mean write so well.

Glad I got the chance to read your write.

Kittypaws

[PrinceMyshkin]

Thanks, Kittypaws.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Thank you, JackieGinger and Breathtest, my fellow people watcher> I would be nervous trying to capture you in the 5 or 6 lines to which I try to limit myself... Here's a challenge you might want to take up:

Imagine yourself as you might be in my eyes (or iin your own) if you caught sight of yourself walking by!

Prince! I haven't visited this thread in a while. A long time actually. And just reading through, i'm so glad i came back. I feel as though i have observed the same things you have just by reading these poems. You seem to take a scene and describe it perfectly in so little words. It leaves me wondering what you would write about me if you saw me in the street! Maybe i would know more about myself just by reading what you wrote. haha.

I love to people watch too, it's surprising how much emotion you can feel. Thank you for sharing these.





Black folk will almost always
respond graciously when you smile at them
although they may know
it’s your way of asking forgiveness.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A guy goes by
with a sour face
and a big white dog.
The dog is on a leash.
The sour face, alas, is not.

[Haunted]

I say he should be leashed and told to stay. Guys can get into so much trouble...

[hillwalker]

Of course, it could have been the dog taking the human for walkies in which case.....

[Delta40]

A guy goes by
with a sour face
and a big white dog.
The dog is on a leash.
The sour face, alas, is not.


lol. but does the owner look like his dog?

[PrinceMyshkin]

Thanks Haunted, Hillwalker and Delta40



A yellow schoolbus stops
and tiny khassidic kids
race across the street
to board it
while their turbanned mothers
wave and wave
until the bus is almost out of sight.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A heavy-set black woman,
swathed in winter clothes,
takes each step
as if it were measured
to the millimetre,
then turns in
to her place of paid servitude.

[Haunted]

A long-awaited Snapshot!! This one and the previous one stir up one's ethnic awareness. The "millimetre" not only vividly takes our eyes downward to the difficult steps the black woman is having when she walks because of her weight, it's also a fitting commentary of how little progress some black people still have in "walking" out of servitude.

[cafolini]

lol. but does the owner look like his dog?

Delta, pleaaaaase. Ha! You are hard to please on truly ideal statements.

[Hawkman]

It's a nicely observed piece, Prince, but isn't it interesting how by including the words, "black" and "servitude" it immediately raises social and racial concerns. If the woman had been white the reader would simply have interpreted servitude as ordinary work. All those lucky enough to have jobs serve their masters in order to earn a living, as wage... no, I'm not going say it, I'm not going to use the S word!

[Jack of Hearts]

This reader didn't know this thread existed. It's all the Prince you could ever want!






J

[blank|verse]

Yes, nicely observed and good to read as always, and I agree with Hawk's comments about racial connotations.

In the first, I was a little unsure of the line 'to board it'; the poem would lose something without it, but I wonder if that can be expressed a little less prosaically?

[PrinceMyshkin]

It's a nicely observed piece, Prince, but isn't it interesting how by including the words, "black" and "servitude" it immediately raises social and racial concerns. If the woman had been white the reader would simply have interpreted servitude as ordinary work. All those lucky enough to have jobs serve their masters in order to earn a living, as wage... no, I'm not going say it, I'm not going to use the S word!

Forgive me if unlike you I do use the "S" word. I assume you're referring to the contemporary phrase "wage slavery," to express a criticism of the capitalist system. In fact, however, I want to apologize for this poem because of what I now see more clearly as a glib analogy I made between the outright slavery and the bonded variant suffered by that woman's ancestors, and the "wage slavery" that she and other middle-class people - black and white - are subject to. If she was indeed the descendants of slaves, then she might well regard her current situation as infinitely superior.

I well remember an exchange I had with a black man in Toronto. He and I were walking toward each other. We'd have collided if one of us did not deviate, and I veered to one side and said, "Excuse me," to which he responded in a heartfelt way, "Sorry. Sorry," as if he'd committed a dangerous gaffe by obliging a white man to step aside for him!

[Jerrybaldy]

To me and maybe only to me the lines were perfect and all that followed was over analysis but I guess thats a part of what we post for. One of your fans. J #2

[Hawkman]

I well remember an exchange I had with a black man in Toronto. He and I were walking toward each other. We'd have collided if one of us did not deviate, and I veered to one side and said, "Excuse me," to which he responded in a heartfelt way, "Sorry. Sorry," as if he'd committed a dangerous gaffe by obliging a white man to step aside for him!

I once ran into a trio of black US servicemen who were a bit lost and they asked me for directions, I have to say they were the most friendly, courteous and polite people I ever remember meeting. Of course, they were only armed with a fifth of scotch at the time. :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

Thanks Haunted & Cafolini



I watch my neighbour’s son
on his way to school
without his older brother.
His shoulders hunch
toward each other
as if to keep his loneliness close.

[blank|verse]

That's interestingly phrased, Prince - 'keeping his loneliness close'. One would assume the child would want to be rid of his loneliness, but in the circumstances, maybe this is all he feels he has. Thought-provoking as usual.

[Hawkman]

Another woderfully observed piece, Prince. Flawless in expression.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Thanks, Hawkman and
blank|verse[/B];1090012]That's interestingly phrased, Prince - 'keeping his loneliness close'. One would assume the child would want to be rid of his loneliness, but in the circumstances, maybe this is all he feels he has. Thought-provoking as usual.

I kind of imagined that loneliness for his older brother was vicariously holding on to him.

[breathtest]

Another wonderful piece. I find that loneliness is a strange thing. You can want to be rid of it, but when it is gone you just might miss it. It can be comforting, especially a shared loneliness, (I'm thinking of your intended meaning, Prince, of his brothers loneliness holding onto him), and I think this piece speaks of that paradox.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A sort of shrivelled radish
of a woman
notices me
noticing her
as she walks by.

[Haunted]

shrivelled radish
of a woman

Prince kudos for delivering another unique and unforgettable image, even in a fleeting moment.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Johnnie comes into the Mission
as soon as it opens,
his body curved around the smile
in his smashed-up Inuit face,
which wants to be loved
but is ready to hit back
when he feels himself to be insulted.

[Apostrophe]

Good one, but the last line isn't necessary. Stronger to end with "hit back." But then, can a face hit? Perhaps "bite back" might work better? Very good visuals here.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Good one, but the last line isn't necessary. Stronger to end with "hit back." But then, can a face hit? Perhaps "bite back" might work better? Very good visuals here.

I don't think I'd keep "hit back" unless I specified a provocation. This was one of my mornings to volunteer at the Mission. Johnnie lives just across the street, drinks (beer?) regularly and has problems with "anger management" but there is somehing unspoiled and maybe naive about him.

[cogs]

ooo, i'd like to hear about that in a poem. i didn't get enough of it near the last of the first one.

[Hawkman]

"his body curved around the smile
in his smashed-up Inuit face,
which wants to be loved"

Is so evocative. Marvellous descritpion in context. I like this immensely.

Live long and prosper - H

[PrinceMyshkin]

A spindly Chinese woman
walks the block,
back and forth,
back and forth.

It will take a long time
to pass yet another day.

[Hawkman]

Rather a sad image. I can't help wanting to know more about her.

[qimissung]

Ahh, this one makes me ache to read it.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Rather a sad image. I can't help wanting to know more about her.

Thank you. She lives a few doors down from me, must be in the neighbourhood of 70. Lives alone but has a son and possibly a few other relatives who come to visit. Sometimes sweeps the walks of neighbours on either side of her. Speaks not a word of English but at times addresses me in spirited Mandarin or Cantonese, seemingly confident that if she speaks with enough conviction, I'll get the message.

[aliengirl]

A spindly Chinese woman
walks the block,
back and forth,
back and forth.

It will take a long time
to pass yet another day.



She seems to me a personification of boredom. What a sad life!

[hallaig]

Like all your stuff, it is well thought out and creates real impact. Am I alone in thinking 'pass yet another day' jars a bit? I'd hoik the 'yet' out.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I was aware that "yet" did not flow but I wanted to emphasize that this had been going on for yet another day. Thanks for your comment.

[hallaig]

I was aware that "yet" did not flow but I wanted to emphasize that this had been going on for yet another day. Thanks for your comment.

It's implied, though, is it not?

[PrinceMyshkin]

It's implied, though, is it not?

Sure it is but I wanted, if possible, to mimic the plodding of her feet over sidewalks she'd walked many times before. In her mind, I imagined, everything carries the memory of having been done before.

[PrinceMyshkin]

An unusually tall,
thing young man
with a pimpled face
scowls his way
into the café.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Sorry. Double post.

[Bar22do]

This builds around "scowls (his way)" thus opening your snapshot to a world of possibilities!

[tailor STATELY]

"thing" or "thin" ? I wonder what made him scowl so. One hopes he found a sympathetic friend waiting for him; or improved his mood with a meal and drink...

Thank you for sharing.

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY