Snapshots

[PrinceMyshkin]

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.

[1n50mn14]

This is the first time I've had the pleasure of reading your poetry, and I am wowed. How evocative, just in a few simple lines.

[TheFifthElement]

Jerry, this feels kind of familiar but I'm not sure why. Nice, but sad.

[motherhubbard]

how sad Jerry. You must feel melancholy after returning home. Coming and going- it’s bitter sweet.

[PrinceMyshkin]

how sad Jerry. You must feel melancholy after returning home. Coming and going- it’s bitter sweet.

Yes, I guess that couple were there to provide me an outlet for my disappointment, but Sophie and I have never lacked for things to say to each other, and I doubt we ever will.

[PrinceMyshkin]

This is the first time I've had the pleasure of reading your poetry, and I am wowed. How evocative, just in a few simple lines.

Given the deep respect I have for your literary abilities, this means a great deal to me. And may I suggest you check out

http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?t=32687 a poem of mine that I'm especially proud of.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Jerry, this feels kind of familiar but I'm not sure why. Nice, but sad.

God forbid that the familiarity is owing to you having been in the same situation!

But if you ever recollect some other piece of writing this reminds you of, do please let me know.

[Auriga]

Very elegant poem. It's full of longing. It's sad, but thought provoking. Congradulations.

[Sweets America]

I love it, Schwee! :) The second stanza is very strong, it makes the reader think.

[Pendragon]

You never cease to amaze me with your “Snapshots” in words. One can almost see the elderly couple through your eyes, as they sit at their table, seemingly each lost in memories they share but cannot seem to connect…

[AuntShecky]

short and bittersweet. Lines 3-6 are the best.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Very elegant poem. It's full of longing. It's sad, but thought provoking. Congradulations.

No one has ever described one of my poems as "elegant" before nor was I ever conscious of seeking that reaction, but I am grateful for it. And if I am correct in understanding "elegance" the way scientists sometimes apply it to a theorem - that it expresses itself in the most economical way - then yes, that is one of my ideals re writing poetry: to get to the heart of the matter in the fewest, most appropriate words.

[Countess]

Funny - what you didn't say, said the most. It is the silence of people who know each other too well - or in most cases, no longer know each other at all.

Very poignant. You make me sad. )-;

Um, Tis better to have loved and lost, than never loved at all?

Don't you want to tell Shakespeare to go burn in the firey tempest every once in awhile?

Sorry for your pain. A melancholy heart is always suceptible to sympathy - so I give it to you.

(PS: Great poem - but that sounds trite. By the above, you know how much I liked it)

[PrinceMyshkin]

Funny - what you didn't say, said the most. It is the silence of people who know each other too well - or in most cases, no longer know each other at all.

Very poignant. You make me sad. )-;

Um, Tis better to have loved and lost, than never loved at all?

Frankly I prefer the variant: Tis better to have loved a short man than never to have loved a tall.


Don't you want to tell Shakespeare to go burn in the firey tempest every once in awhile?

Not really, I'm much too busy grovelling at the feet of WB Yeats.


Sorry for your pain. A melancholy heart is always suceptible to sympathy - so I give it to you.

You're my buddy. You really are.


(PS: Great poem - but that sounds trite. By the above, you know how much I liked it)

[_JadeRain_]

It's a lovely poem. How very strange that something so sad can sould beautiful at the same time.

[PrinceMyshkin]

It's a lovely poem. How very strange that something so sad can sould beautiful at the same time.

Many thanks, Jade, for this lovely comment...



The city seems to be weeping today
--or is it me?
Or is it me?

Along Av. du Parc the residences
have turned their facades around
so that they're facing inwards
as if sadness were akin
to shame, to failure...

[PrinceMyshkin]

Snapshots: 3

An unfamiliar SUV
passes slowly by
as I brush the overnight snow
from my car.

Behind the wheel
an attractive young woman
(but they are all attractive
when they smile)
glances into her rear-view mirror
and flashes a smile
at the passenger behind her.

My day begins.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A woman stops by my table to greet me,
to offer me the chance to invite her
to join me. It would take me
the better part of the day
to decode the expression on her face.

There is a note of Save me from my loneliness
and an undernote of Of course you won't.
Like all the other men you look for younger women
with bigger breasts and lax morals
and there's a side note of Figure me out if you can!
No one ever has, or will.

[Sweets America]

That's a nice new snapshot, shou. Now maybe nice is not the appropriate word. Maybe 'nice' is not 'felicitous' (I learn that word in class today :p ). I like how your poem deals with the unsaid, and I also feel how the speaker is passive in front of this woman who asserts her presence. I like how this tells something about human complexity.
I also recognize your own voice here, your own poetry, my Prince.

[Granny5]

It hurts my heart, Jerry. Could it be me and Poppy someday? Naw, I never run out of things to say and he always makes up an answer hoping to shut me up.
It's beautiful and moving. And it does bring sadness to my heart.

[Sweets America]

It hurts my heart, Jerry. Could it be me and Poppy someday? Naw, I never run out of things to say and he always makes up an answer hoping to shut me up.
It's beautiful and moving. And it does bring sadness to my heart.

That is sad, yes. In comparison to you and Poppy, I think that the even more interesting thing in the poem is that the two characters actually don't know each other, and I love how so many things pass through glances here.

Oh, I just understood the 5 in Granny5! :lol: I'm so stupid I had never realized it was about the number of your grandchildren! :lol:

[PrinceMyshkin]

Oh, I just understood the 5 in Granny5! :lol: I'm so stupid I had never realized it was about the number of your grandchildren! :lol:

On the other hand, it could be a reference to the number of teeth she has left in her head!

[PrinceMyshkin]

That's a nice new snapshot, shou. Now maybe nice is not the appropriate word. Maybe 'nice' is not 'felicitous' (I learn that word in class today :p ). I like how your poem deals with the unsaid, and I also feel how the speaker is passive in front of this woman who asserts her presence. I like how this tells something about human complexity.
I also recognize your own voice here, your own poetry, my Prince.

Thank you. Your reference to "voice" got me thinking how, by that, one usually means the distinctive manner that X or Y employs in his or her poetry, but that in fact in my characteristically conversational poems, the voice is almost indistinct from that in which I would speak to someone spontaneously.

[Sweets America]

Thank you. Your reference to "voice" got me thinking how, by that, one usually means the distinctive manner that X or Y employs in his or her poetry, but that in fact in my characteristically conversational poems, the voice is almost indistinct from that in which I would speak to someone spontaneously.

That's true that your poems are conversational, but in the meantime I don't see them that way, not only. Of course when you read them, you see it sometimes (often?) sounds like the speaker is relating an event to the reader, but in the meantime there is something which goes beyond the purely conversational, I don't know. Maybe it's the 'general' thing that I can feel in all your poems, this things that draws kinds of conclusions or lessons from the particular event. This didactic thing. And I think your voice is more there than in the strictly conversational.


On the other hand, it could be a reference to the number of teeth she has left in her head!

:lol: You should be ashamed of yourself. :p

[PrinceMyshkin]

That's true that your poems are conversational, but in the meantime I don't see them that way, not only. Of course when you read them, you see it sometimes (often?) sounds like the speaker is relating an event to the reader, but in the meantime there is something which goes beyond the purely conversational, I don't know. Maybe it's the 'general' thing that I can feel in all your poems, this things that draws kinds of conclusions or lessons from the particular event. This didactic thing. And I think your voice is more there than in the strictly conversational.

Certainly I'm trying to purge myself of the didactic and I'd begun to worry that the conversational thing might be getting glib or even self-parodying but on the other hand there's a common ground on which conversation and poetry may be synonymous. That will happen sometimes when a speaker is passionate. He or she might lapse (or rise) into poetic cadences. It is so, too, I think, when one speaks plainly of some truth that is essential to one's being.



:lol: You should be ashamed of yourself. :p

Oh, I am, deeply, deeply ashamed of myself!

[SleepyWitch]

That's a nice new snapshot, shou. Now maybe nice is not the appropriate word. Maybe 'nice' is not 'felicitous' (I learn that word in class today :p ).

Pragmatics class?

gee, I wish I was an old geezer so women would stop by at my table (I don't mean the waitress) :p

[Sweets America]

Pragmatics class?

gee, I wish I was an old geezer so women would stop by at my table (I don't mean the waitress) :p

Well, not pragmatics class, but yes, the teacher just explained us some things about pragmatics and the 'felicitous' word came up. :)
Isn't it a beautiful word?

[SleepyWitch]

Well, not pragmatics class, but yes, the teacher just explained us some things about pragmatics and the 'felicitous' word came up. :)
Isn't it a beautiful word?

:) yeah, but I like Grice's "avoid unnecessary prolixity" better :) and his "be perspicuous" .. .yeah, right, they don't sound as nice as felicitous, but they're two words with a p that you won't find in any old run-of-the-mill dictionary. takes a philosopher of language to dig up two of those and use them in a row..
(did I mention I'm no good at either, avoiding prolixity and being perspicuous? also, has anyone noted that Grice's maxims would make a great song in the style of "Class of 99" by Baz Lurman -sp?-... I mean: "Make your contribution as informative as is required for the current purposes of the exchange.".. .sounds great)....

sorry, Jer, I'll stop hijacking your thread now :D

[PrinceMyshkin]

Pragmatics class?

gee, I wish I was an old geezer so women would stop by at my table (I don't mean the waitress) :p

It's a common enough misconception that old geezers are necessarily male and of an advanced age. Some of them may be smart-assed "chicks" who are younger than thirty!

[SleepyWitch]

It's a common enough misconception that old geezers are necessarily male and of an advanced age. Some of them may be smart-assed "chicks" who are younger than thirty!

who you talkin bout, doooooode? :) hehehe, you lost me there :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

Entering the café I catch sight of a guy I know from another café. I catch sight of him just in time to pretend that I haven’t seen him. As inconspicuously as I can, I slither my way to my usual spot at the counter and seat myself, my back to his profile.

Someone foisted him on me once on the grounds that he was Jewish and a writer and ever since then, whenever I was there and he arrived, he would seat himself at my table without asking if he could. But I found conversation with him so painful that eventually I stopped going there. He was one side or the other of forty but as far as I could tell, he had no job. As far as I could tell because, about his private life it was if he were the last, loyal member of a long disbanded Maoist party.

He did refer once to the fact that he had done his MA in literature at McGill University. “What was your thesis topic?” I asked.

“Do you know anything about Henry Roth?”

Yes, I said and recited the main things I knew about him.

“It wasn’t about him,” he answered. “How about Daniel Fuchs?”

I’d heard the name but confessed that I knew nothing beyond that.

“Oh,” he said, with a pleased smile.

I’m uncomfortable sitting there, ignoring him, wondering if he’s caught sight of me after all. Eventually I become aware that he’s getting ready to leave and I watch to see in which direction he will go. He looks east, takes a step west, then alters direction and heads north. I feel as if, poor orphan of fate, he’s at the whim of the faintest of intentions.

[Sweets America]

That was good prose, Shou. I enjoy the way you write.:)

[islandclimber]

[QUOTE=PrinceMyshkin;541855]Certainly I'm trying to purge myself of the didactic and I'd begun to worry that the conversational thing might be getting glib or even self-parodying but on the other hand there's a common ground on which conversation and poetry may be synonymous. That will happen sometimes when a speaker is passionate. He or she might lapse (or rise) into poetic cadences. It is so, too, I think, when one speaks plainly of some truth that is essential to one's being. QUOTE]

I really enjoyed this group of poems... I wouldn't be too worried about the conversational thing, at least not here... It's what makes these as powerful as they are... and they are so much more than just that, or at least so I find... there is the way in which interaction and passion seem to come out of even the single lines by themselves, as though there are feelings hidden there, that have so many meanings... or so I felt in reading these...

the outward facade of conversation doesn't obscure, it only serves to heighten the feeling and emotion, and the passion lingering in firelight behind each poem... I really like them...

I also love the last line of your prose... "at the whim of the faintest of intentions"... it is just perfect...

cheers

cheers

[miss tenderness]

Oh , what a sad begining !
so deep and evocative . I like the way you expressed what happened . Few lines , full and complete image .

[PrinceMyshkin]

Island: that response of yours (#33) is of course one of the reasons I write, to be read like that, understood like that... Thank you.

[asilef73]

sadly accurate and beautifully concise.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Birds in adjacent cages
pondering
each other's dreams.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Birds in adjacent cages
pondering
each other's dreams.

'Scuse me for the bump, but surely this deserves a comment?

[TheFifthElement]

'Scuse me for the bump, but surely this deserves a comment?

Indeed it does :)

Beautiful, thought provoking and concise. I wish I had written it.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Indeed it does :)

Beautiful, thought provoking and concise. I wish I had written it.

Well, what finer compliment could one wish?

And I keep reminding myself: Eight words! What might I have done with nine!?

[blp]

At the hotel restaurant
in Paris
at the table next to me
a couple who have 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.


I like, but these spare observations need to be even more spare I think. So, I admit it's fussy, but, if I had my way, you'd trim to '...who were married / just before the invention of pain' and excise any whisper of a cliché. I know your views on this point I think, but to be particular not general about it here, I can't see that 'into the middle distance' or, worse, 'wondering / where the years have gone' are doing much.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I like, but these spare observations need to be even more spare I think. So, I admit it's fussy, but, if I had my way, you'd trim to '...who were married / just before the invention of pain' and excise any whisper of a cliché. I know your views on this point I think, but to be particular not general about it here, I can't see that 'into the middle distance' or, worse, 'wondering / where the years have gone' are doing much.

I'm with you re the trimming but I'd sooner go with "who've been" (and will make that change). As for your other points, yes, those are not inspired choices I made but I think I'd stick to them on the ground that they're effective mimesis of the emotional tiredness of the couple.

[SleepyWitch]

Birds in adjacent cages
pondering
each other's dreams.

hey I love this! it's kinda both complete in itself and makes you want to read more.

[PrinceMyshkin]

hey I love this! it's kinda both complete in itself and makes you want to read more.

Thank you, Frau Pepperkakehaus, perhaps I could have continued it but I suspected I would just be milking the image. I wanted what you seem to have gotten: just that eye-blink. It's a snap-shot, after all.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A poet scans his most recent work.
'I wrote that,' he thinks.
'God-damn! It's perfect!'
and 'God-damn, how can I do better next time?'

[sparr0w]

Seems I always come into your threads late into the discussion, and yet here I am again... This is my favorite kind of poetry, the kind I tend to gravitate towards most often. No big statements, just a simple moment captured with elegance. Moments, simple moments, are full of oft unnoticed implications, mirror character, murder "eternity", and then pass to the next, forgotten. Only poetry accounts for them properly, breaks them down for observation. I'll bet the entire moment for which you account here lasted, what, 2 or 3 seconds? Yet when you break it down to its components, I feel I know alot about the couple, and where they feel they stand in life. Great work, sorry for my winded reply. Peace- chris

[PrinceMyshkin]

Seems I always come into your threads late into the discussion, and yet here I am again... This is my favorite kind of poetry, the kind I tend to gravitate towards most often. No big statements, just a simple moment captured with elegance. Moments, simple moments, are full of oft unnoticed implications, mirror character, murder "eternity", and then pass to the next, forgotten. Only poetry accounts for them properly, breaks them down for observation. I'll bet the entire moment for which you account here lasted, what, 2 or 3 seconds? Yet when you break it down to its components, I feel I know alot about the couple, and where they feel they stand in life. Great work, sorry for my winded reply. Peace- chris

Yes, 2 or 3 seconds - if you measure it by quotidian time but in the pleasure one gets from finding the right 8 or 9 words, it seems to last much longer than any length of conventional, obligatory time!

One lives - as a writer, a lover or in one's commitment to a cause - for these deep immersions of the whole of one's self. Thank you for this and your usual deeply felt, deeply thought-out responses to my poems. And in response to your "peace," shanti shanti dah (if I have it right): The peace that passes understanding...

[PrinceMyshkin]

A man writing about something
he loves, but it is never the thing
he writes about as much
as he loves the writing about it.

The magic of it, the beauty,
the precision, yes, even
the sloppiness. Look!
He completes a sentence:

one brick in what may one day
be a building, but there is
no building more beautiful
than any one of its bricks.

[Sweets America]

Interesting, Schweetie-Shou. :) Something about the love for composition? For the activity itself?

[PrinceMyshkin]

Interesting, Schweetie-Shou. :) Something about the love for composition? For the activity itself?

Yes, have you not felt it too - even in writing your most sad poem, some element of happiness in writing about and therefore triumphing over it?




Snapshot: X
A woman who is so naked in her clothes,
beneath the sheen of her charcoal-grey stockings
the sheen of her milky thighs
shines out so beckoningly
that I turn away in embarrassment
then look back, again and again.

Her mid-calf length black winter coat
beneath her long, loose brunette tresses
hardly conceals the round of her shoulders,
the thrust of her breasts, the mild hummock
of her tummy and the lissome strength
of her arms, which are such that I want nothing
but to give myself to her, utterly,
utterly.

[Sweets America]

Yes, have you not felt it too - even in writing your most sad poem, some element of happiness in writing about and therefore triumphing over it?




Snapshot: X
A woman who is so naked in her clothes,
beneath the sheen of her charcoal-grey stockings
the sheen of her milky thighs
shines out so beckoningly
that I turn away in embarrassment
then look back, again and again.

Her mid-calf length black winter coat
beneath her long, loose brunette tresses
hardly conceals the round of her shoulders,
the thrust of her breasts, the mild hummock
of her tummy and the lissome strength
of her arms, which are such that I want nothing
but to give myself to her, utterly,
utterly.


What a pervert you are... :p Just kidding. ;)

[CdnReader]

Snapshot: X
A woman who is so naked in her clothes,
beneath the sheen of her charcoal-grey stockings
the sheen of her milky thighs
shines out so beckoningly
that I turn away in embarrassment
then look back, again and again.

Her mid-calf length black winter coat
beneath her long, loose brunette tresses
hardly conceals the round of her shoulders,
the thrust of her breasts, the mild hummock
of her tummy and the lissome strength
of her arms, which are such that I want nothing
but to give myself to her, utterly,
utterly.


Magnificent! I love the repeat of "sheen" in lines 2 and 3....and "utterly,/utterly."

[PrinceMyshkin]

Pan-handler at the corner.
His usual post.
This time I take the long way around.

[PrinceMyshkin]

On Park Avenue a second storey balcony
sags as if yearning for the ground.
The windows of what was once a restaurant
are covered in manila paper.
The front door is wide open.
The street is still.

[CdnReader]

I love this, and I especially adore the photo of your grandkids. I think manila in this context is spelt with one "L", but I could be wrong. I have been before. Once, I think.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I love this, and I especially adore the photo of your grandkids. I think manila in this context is spelt with one "L",

You're right about that, thanks.


but I could be wrong. I have been before. Once, I think.

But not about this. Your "once" is at least the second time you're wrong!

[Sweets America]

On Park Avenue a second storey balcony
sags as if yearning for the ground.
The windows of what was once a restaurant
are covered in manilla paper.
The front door is wide open.
The street is still.



You know what? This one might be part of my favorites, because it tells so much! To me anyway. In it I hear the ending of something, the start of something new, the expectations and perhaps the fear of what is going to happen, you know it will strike soon but you don't know when. This emptiness is as exciting as it is frightful. Thank you.

[PrinceMyshkin]

You know what? This one might be part of my favorites, because it tells so much! To me anyway. In it I hear the ending of something, the start of something new, the expectations and perhaps the fear of what is going to happen, you know it will strike soon but you don't know when. This emptiness is as exciting as it is frightful. Thank you.

Yes, that is very much how it felt to me. The restaurant in question is on my route back from my Cafe, a familiar part of the street scene, and disturbing to see that it has failed or suffered a catastrophe.

[CdnReader]

Your "once" is at least the second time you're wrong!

:lol: :lol:

[PrinceMyshkin]

There was a shotgun wedding
between truth and willed belief
but, after myriad visits to marriage counsellors,
they decided to split up, dividing between them
their respective ideologies.

[PrinceMyshkin]

The sun blazed down today
intolerant of despair.
Therapists all over town
shuttered their windows
and went home early.

[kelby_lake]

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.


Oh, I love it! It reminds me of a play I wrote. Read mine please. :)
And I love the username:)

[PrinceMyshkin]

Oh, I love it! It reminds me of a play I wrote. Read mine please. :)
And I love the username:)

I've gone and read the very, very little bit of it you posted and left a comment. Should I assume you know where I got my username?

[PrinceMyshkin]

Rolling to a stop
corner Park & Mt. Royal
I caught sight of the woman who cuts my hair.
I wound down the car window,
called out: "Hey, Zussanah,"
and got a big smile in return.

[kelby_lake]

you should :) i'm epileptic as well as myshkin so i really identified with him :)

thanks for reading mine :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

A woman was walking her smile
this afternoon on Fairmount Street,
a sort of hoppy-skippy dog
pad-pad-padding along beside her
but her smile was unleashed.

[firefangled]

A woman was walking her smile
this afternoon on Fairmount Street,
a sort of hoppy-skippy dog
pad-pad-padding along beside her
but her smile was unleashed.

This is precious. These remind me of Robert Bly's Morning Poems, but yours are usually cityscapes.

[Sweets America]

A woman was walking her smile
this afternoon on Fairmount Street,
a sort of hoppy-skippy dog
pad-pad-padding along beside her
but her smile was unleashed.

Yeeeeaaaaah, that's a sweet one, Jer! :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

For these 30 minutes, life,
I am deeply in your debt:
this rickety faux-marble table
on Van Horne outside of Le Paltoquet,
my dark, rich espresso allongé,
the flavour of which practically bites,
my croissant oozing butter,
my cigarette, the three guys
speaking Arabic at the next table,
the breeze sweeping east to west,
and Soulain with, as I told her,
the smile of an angel.

*
If you don’t fall in love
for at least a few minutes every day
then someone on your path
went unappreciated.

[caelycate]

i have had that exact moment in paris, but never could have articulated it the way that you did. there is something so powerful about a poem that can get across such a strong message in so few words. it reminds me of nouveau roman in the sense that there is more said in what isn't said. well done!

[PrinceMyshkin]

i have had that exact moment in paris, but never could have articulated it the way that you did. there is something so powerful about a poem that can get across such a strong message in so few words. it reminds me of nouveau roman in the sense that there is more said in what isn't said. well done!

Many thanks Caelycate. Paris - San Francisco! You sure don't mess around with the dull or ugly places! My favourite sight-seeing in Paris is just to stand on any street and look up at the slate black tiled roofs or have a cafe filtre and a petit pain at an outdoor cafe.

[blazeofglory]

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.


This exactly happens and marriages fail and how they can not be in sync with
reality.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Montreal, that lusty city,
renews its virginity each spring
and cries out
from every uncovered street:
Take me! Oh, Take me!
I'm as ready
as I've ever been.

[asilef73]

If you don’t fall in love
for at least a few minutes every day
then someone on your path
went unappreciated.


:lol: that's a unique perspective and i like it.

[PrinceMyshkin]

In the warmth of the sun
I watch a dainty smoker go by
as he brings the end of his cigarette
to his lips as if it were the fingertips
of his virginal young lover.

[AuntShecky]

I like the brevity of these little snapshots. I don't want to disagree with any of their stances, but just a quick question, if one is falling in love every couple o' minutes, that's not real "Love," is it? Perhaps an attention deficit disorder or the song from "Finian's Rainbow": "If I'm not with the one I love I love the one I'm with."

[Sweets America]

In the warmth of the sun
I watch a dainty smoker go by
as he brings the end of his cigarette
to his lips as if it were the fingertips
of his virginal young lover.

I love it, Shou. You have this wonderful eye which seizes the moment.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I like the brevity of these little snapshots. I don't want to disagree with any of their stances, but just a quick question, if one is falling in love every couple o' minutes, that's not real "Love," is it? Perhaps an attention deficit disorder or the song from "Finian's Rainbow": "If I'm not with the one I love I love the one I'm with."

Oh, God bless you for knowing and mentioning Finian's Rainbow! But if that song is about male fickleness, I hope my little vignette refers to something else... I understand your point about the quantification of "real" love, and no doubt I'd have avoided the question if I'd used "infatuation," but, really, in the realm of the emotions, what is "real"?

[Virgil]

Oh I didn't know there was more snapshots being posted in this thread. i thought it was just the first poem, called "Sanpshots". Some of them are quite good, but I don't want to re-bring them up now. I'll have to keep checking in.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I love it, Shou. You have this wonderful eye which seizes the moment.

Oh, thank you, croutie! And I just had a wonderful skype conversation with someone!

[Sweets America]

Oh, God bless you for knowing and mentioning Finian's Rainbow! But if that song is about male fickleness, I hope my little vignette refers to something else... I understand your point about the quantification of "real" love, and no doubt I'd have avoided the question if I'd used "infatuation," but, really, in the realm of the emotions, what is "real"?

I agree about this 'what is real?', this is so complicated. Of course we would be tempted to say that someone who falls in love every five minutes is not in love at all, but I am tempted to say, why not, maybe for this person this is what love is.

Oh, and this snapshot has so much in it, you struck me with this one, really. It's about rememberance, sadness, loneliness, somehow. And, it made me think of you and me, too.

Hey, Virgil! That was interesting what you said, why did you take it off? I wanted to reply that contrary to you I didn't find it unnatural, I found that the repetition emphasized something, like when you forgot to say something and you add it afterwards. And what sounds natural to someone might sound strange to someone else, I guess.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Oh, and this snapshot has so much in it, you struck me with this one, really. It's about rememberance, sadness, loneliness, somehow. And, it made me think of you and me, too.

Well, it is supposed to be a snapshot, although the analogy with the lover's fingertips is imposed on it; but you see more in it than I might have done. You hold the snapshot in your hands and in its mute, unmoving image you are free to see more than the camera did.


Hey, Virgil! That was interesting what you said, why did you take it off? I wanted to reply that contrary to you I didn't find it unnatural, I found that the repetition emphasized something, like when you forgot to say something and you add it afterwards. And what sounds natural to someone might sound strange to someone else, I guess.

Yes, I too wanted to reply to Virgil's post which I found interesting. I'd have defended my repetition of "I catch sight of" on the grounds that the effect of the sighting struck the speaker deeply, set him back on his heels.

[Virgil]

Yes, I too wanted to reply to Virgil's post which I found interesting. I'd have defended my repetition of "I catch sight of" on the grounds that the effect of the sighting struck the speaker deeply, set him back on his heels.

Yes, I did take it off. I noticed that in this case there was a subtle distinction in meaning after I re-read your elocution and my alternatives. However, the general comment still holds, but I think Prince can defend his elocution in this case. So in realizing that I didn't have the time to refine my thought, I just took it down. If you want I can try to recreate what I said.

[firefangled]

For these 30 minutes, life,
I am deeply in your debt:
this rickety faux-marble table
on Van Horne outside of Le Paltoquet,
my dark, rich espresso allongé,
the flavour of which practically bites,
my croissant oozing butter,
my cigarette, the three guys
speaking Arabic at the next table,
the breeze sweeping east to west,
and Soulain with, as I told her,
the smile of angel.

*
If you don’t fall in love
for at least a few minutes every day
then someone on your path
went unappreciated.


For me this one works maybe a little bit more than others because of the up front details. You set this up beautifully by describing someone totally in love with his surroundings and everyone present to one degree or another.

The ending is deftly apropos.

[dibyendra]

In the warmth of the sun
I watch a dainty smoker go by
as he brings the end of his cigarette
to his lips as if it were the fingertips
of his virginal young lover.

Oh what a vibrant poem you've written, Prince. Lovely!

[dibyendra]

For these 30 minutes, life,
I am deeply in your debt:
this rickety faux-marble table
on Van Horne outside of Le Paltoquet,
my dark, rich espresso allongé,
the flavour of which practically bites,
my croissant oozing butter,
my cigarette, the three guys
speaking Arabic at the next table,
the breeze sweeping east to west,
and Soulain with, as I told her,
the smile of angel.
*
If you don’t fall in love
for at least a few minutes every day
then someone on your path
went unappreciated.


Very beautiful poem as your poem is very vivid and always leaves me pondering. Very beautiful description of surroundings! I'm back on Litnet after a long gap and happy to see beautiful poems reflecting fleeting glimpses of life. The last line is really meaningful. Thank you for sharing these pearls!

[Virgil]

For these 30 minutes, life,
I am deeply in your debt:
this rickety faux-marble table
on Van Horne outside of Le Paltoquet,
my dark, rich espresso allongé,
the flavour of which practically bites,
my croissant oozing butter,
my cigarette, the three guys
speaking Arabic at the next table,
the breeze sweeping east to west,
and Soulain with, as I told her,
the smile of an angel.

*
If you don’t fall in love
for at least a few minutes every day
then someone on your path
went unappreciated.


You guys are right. This is outstanding!!

[kiz_paws]

This is a thread that one can surely get lost in. I love the brevity of these poems, each capturing something different -- and of course, aptly named "Snapshots".

Your poetry makes me smile -- it can open my eyes -- it always amazes me how well you can put to words your quiet observations in the world you tumble in, Jer. :)

May I say that the following were my favorites:
Birds in adjacent cages
pondering
each other's dreams

A woman was walking her smile
this afternoon on Fairmount Street,
a sort of hoppy-skippy dog
pad-pad-padding along beside her
but her smile was unleashed. and

If you don’t fall in love
for at least a few minutes every day
then someone on your path
went unappreciated.
I need to stay tuned to this thread! :thumbs_up

[PrinceMyshkin]

Many thanks firefangled, Virgil, Kiz Paws, Dibyendra...

I'm reminded of the following:

In her later years, Queen Victoria became somewhat flatulent. At a reception for the various Ambassadors to the Court of King James she was engaged in conversation with the French, Italian and German ambassadors when she farted.

Immediately the French Ambassador made an elegant bow and said, “My humble apologies, Your Majesty! I am most heartily sorry!

A moment later she farted again whereupon the Italian Ambassador made a sweeping bow and said, “Forgive one, please, Your Majesty, for this most awkward behaviour on my part.”

And once again, soon after that, she farted.

Clicking his heels smartly together the German Ambassador bowed from the waist and said, “This one and the next three are on the great German nation!”


...the next several, in other words, are in your honour!

[PrinceMyshkin]

Girls, they’re funny, but still
they have something, you know?
They might be skinny
as a stalk of stinkweed and walk with a list,
but still...

Or there might be three of them
on their way home from school
like cupcakes leaning together,
t-shirts hanging out
over regulation black shorts...

And then they grow up
to be women.

[symphony]

Skinny girls have it too? GOOD!! You made my day! :D

[blazeofglory]

Girls, they’re funny, but still
they have something, you know?
They might be skinny
as a stalk of stinkweed and walk with a list,
but still...

Or there might be three of them
on their way home from school
like cupcakes leaning together,
t-shirts hanging out
over regulation black shorts...

And then they grow up
to be women.

They are exactly what you portrayed. Maybe boys to before they grow into full blown manhood. Funny and therefore interesting in their babyhood and mature and they lose the sheen of life.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A woman prowls
one of the aisles at Loblaw’s

crackers
rice cakes
tinned meat
tinned fish
soup
treading cautiously
on the balls of her feet
lest she alert her prey

[firefangled]

And don't some go about this like a hunt? I have been snorted at while an old woman paws the floor, head down for charging, over the last 3 cans of chicken broth at Thanksgiving.

I liked the aisle effect.

Sounds like a very austere diet, though.

[ampoule]

:blush: I feel like a behind for being so behind on this thread. I am enjoying it very much! What a wonderful little book this would be bound up in a cover that looks like a small photo album.

[PrinceMyshkin]

"I think, therefore I am."

Descartes
I think, therefore I am Descartes.

Newman

[symphony]

"I think, therefore I am."

Descartes
I think, therefore I am Descartes.

Newman
:D


Well, the forum's against my alacritous comments!

[PrinceMyshkin]

Two bicyclists
glide by on Fairmount
as if in slow motion.
I watch them.

I continue to watch them.

[kelby_lake]

strange. how strange.

[PrinceMyshkin]

strange. how strange.

Would you elaborate, please, on what you find strange about this?

[ampoule]

Would you elaborate, please, on what you find strange about this?

Maybe you should have blinked. :D Sorry, I don't know what is strange either.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A woman walks by
so lightly
she carries the sound of her footsteps
away with her

[kiz_paws]

"I think, therefore I am."

Descartes
I think, therefore I am Descartes.

NewmanI think
I like
this! :)




A woman walks by
so lightly
she carries the sound of her footsteps
away with herBeautiful, I can picture her now. :thumbs_up

[PrinceMyshkin]

Like a procession of pelicans
a troupe of high-school seniors
waddled efficiently down the lane ahead of me
in identical white T-shirts, black shorts,
their legs pumping
in and out of synch,
a visual symphony.

[Umbilical]

Two bicyclists
glide by on Fairmount
as if in slow motion.
I watch them.

I continue to watch them.


It's strange
BECAUSE
WELL I wrote a 2000 word essay on WHY
but my computer froze (f---ing idiot!)
It's strange BECAUSE
It's slow motion because of the perception of the viewer, not the movement of the bicyclists.
Or not.
Time is perception,
but if there's nothing there to perceive (the bicyclists are gone)
why is that nothing still measured by time. Is it something else?
Or are they just one...
some merging of the other person into yourself, so that you lose that person for a moment, but gain that person as your self,
so time stops because they don't cease to exist in your world -
they don't MOVE AWAY, they stay FOREVER.

heehee.

[PrinceMyshkin]

It's strange
BECAUSE
WELL I wrote a 2000 word essay on WHY
but my computer froze (f---ing idiot!)
It's strange BECAUSE
It's slow motion because of the perception of the viewer, not the movement of the bicyclists.
Or not.
Time is perception,
but if there's nothing there to perceive (the bicyclists are gone)
why is that nothing still measured by time. Is it something else?
Or are they just one...
some merging of the other person into yourself, so that you lose that person for a moment, but gain that person as your self,
so time stops because they don't cease to exist in your world -
they don't MOVE AWAY, they stay FOREVER.

heehee.

Notwithstanding your inveterate self-depreciation, you are WAY more bright than the average 18-year old! (Yeh, I know....)

[Umbilical]

hey BIT.CH
I'm 19.

[PrinceMyshkin]

hey BIT.CH
I'm 19.

Hey, smart-tukhes! Didja read the parenthetical remark at the end of my post? I'm, like, several steps ahead of you!

[Umbilical]

I read it after everything we'd been through...
sorry.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I came this |~| close
to finding love this morning.
At the café a youngish woman
pecked away at her laptop.
When I looked at her
she gave me a smile
that was open on all sides.
“Where did you get that smile?”
I asked, one of my standard lines.
“I stole it!” she said.

The conversation proceeded
easily, comfortably until at last
I arrived at the question:
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Yes,” she answered
with a slight blush.

Later, I imagined them making love
and wondered, Does she give him
anywhere near as much pleasure
as she gave me those few minutes we chatted,
smiling.

[Virgil]

I haven't kept up with them all Prince, but this last one is very elegantly done. Really captures a moment.

[tractatus]

Nice idea PrinceMyshkin.

[Umbilical]

You're making me want shhhheeexxxx
is it your intention?
"...she gave me a smile
that was open on all sides..."
I wonder what association that has.

I enjoyed it very much!

[PrinceMyshkin]

You're making me want shhhheeexxxx
is it your intention?
"...she gave me a smile
that was open on all sides..."
I wonder what association that has.

I enjoyed it very much!

Assuming I understand correctly what "shhhheeexxxx" is, yeah, that was exactly my intention. And from now on, anytime I mention eggplant or sauerkraut or a whole lot of other things, you will think of "shhhheeexxxx," as in this well-known song:



Shhhheeexxxx is bustin' out all over!
The saplin's are bustin' out with sap!
Love hes found my brother, Junior,
And my sister's even loonier!
And my Ma is gettin' kittenish with Pap!
Sheeexxx in bustin' out all over

Because it's Shhhheeexxxx... Shhhheeexxxx, Shhhheeexxxx, Shhhheeexxxx
Just because it's Shhhheeexxxx, Shhhheeexxxx, Shhhheeexxxx!

Shhhheeexxxx is bustin' out all over
The ocean is full of Jacks and Jills,
With the little tail a-swishing'
Ev'ry lady fish is wishin'
That a male would come
And grab 'er by the gills!

[PrinceMyshkin]

Breakfast at "Beauty's"

A mother and her two young adult daughters
visiting from New Brunswick,
the young women oooh! and ahhh!
at everything in this historic ‘luncheonette.’

“Bagels!” Sesame-seed bagels
among bona-fide Montrealers
on rue Mont-Royal corner avenue du St. Urbain!

[PrinceMyshkin]

Marie

She might have been a young-looking 35.
I’d have preferred that
although, even at that age...
And there was something so quiet about her face
I almost found it forbidding.

Still, when she went outside for a cigarette
I followed her with my American Spirits
and asked if I might join her
for the length of a smoke.

She made place for me
on the concrete step
of the building next to the café
and I sat down and lit up.

We exchanged little pellets of conversation,
the sort that might have been the prelude
to anything
or nothing
then she re-entered the café to finish her lunch
and I moved over to one of the outdoor tables.

Soon after that she emerged,
nodded at the other chair and asked
if she might join me.
Of course, I said, hoping for no more
than a few minutes more pleasant conversation
or love at last.

When she left to go back to work
we embraced and, Quebec-style,
kissed each other on each cheek
and promised to look for each other there
some other time.

[Pendragon]

Marie

She might have been a young-looking 35.
I’d have preferred that
although, even at that age...
And there was something so quiet about her face
I almost found it forbidding.

Still, when she went outside for a cigarette
I followed her with my American Spirits
and asked if I might join her
for the length of a smoke.

She made place for me
on the concrete step
of the building next to the café
and I sat down and lit up.

We exchanged little pellets of conversation,
the sort that might have been the prelude
to anything
or nothing
then she re-entered the café to finish her lunch
and I moved over to one of the outdoor tables.

Soon after that she emerged,
nodded at the other chair and asked
if she might join me.
Of course, I said, hoping for no more
than a few minutes more pleasant conversation
or love at last.

When she left to go back to work
we embraced and, Quebec-style,
kissed each other on each cheek
and promised to look for each other there
some other time.


Encore! Encore! http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l108/AbsalomKane/Smilies/Appaluse.gif

[firefangled]

Two moments in time and you manage to make a movie I will have in my head all day if not longer.

And this...


Of course, I said, hoping for no more
than a few minutes more pleasant conversation
or love at last.

is the width and depth of it all.

[CdnReader]

I loved all of this, every line, every word. I was right there in the cafe and on the step, watching it all unfold, but especially this....



Of course, I said, hoping for no more
than a few minutes more pleasant conversation
or love at last.

....which nudged me (quietly) off my chair with its open, naked honesty, and made me want to weep (quietly) for more. More poetry, and more than conversation.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I loved all of this, every line, every word.

Um, what about the line breaks? the punctuation? the spelling?

Reminds me of Mary McCarthy's remark re Lillian Hellman's autobiography, that every word in it was a lie, including "the" and "a".

[Umbilical]

oh and it all starts with your self-disgust.

doesn't it?

I wonder if you could write a story about Marie without ever meeting her,
as if you have this little game in your end/head,
where you end up the SAME
EVERY (Fu.cking) time.

You know what I mean, Jer, you do... and it makes you so sad,
you could have pretty little conversations looking for love with yourself.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Two moments in time and you manage to make a movie I will have in my head all day if not longer.

And this...



is the width and depth of it all.

That means a very great deal to me, and how to say this next part without being vainglorious (except, of course, that one loves the chance to use that word) but this poem and many of the snapshots seem to come to me in a state of grace, inasmuch as I don't strive for effects but stay as plain to the truth of what I see and feel.

[PrinceMyshkin]

oh and it all starts with your self-disgust.

doesn't it?

If you only knew how passionately I hope that is untrue!


I wonder if you could write a story about Marie without ever meeting her,
as if you have this little game in your end/head,
where you end up the SAME
EVERY (Fu.cking) time.

You know what I mean, Jer, you do... and it makes you so sad,
you could have pretty little conversations looking for love with yourself.

Let me say this for all to see: I love you! Not in a lascivious way, but bloody close to that.

Some would say that these are all stories without Marie or X or Y or Z... True, there really was a "Marie,' 5'7"ish, long brown hair, startlingly blue eyes, ample mouth and being of French origin with a way of pronouncing her English syllables as if they were little bite-sized things without the heft and chewiness of French...

PS There will be a second chapter, if I can put it together.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Encore! Encore! http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l108/AbsalomKane/Smilies/Appaluse.gif

Many thanks, Bro!

[Umbilical]

I'm glad you've said that for all to see,
because apparently my poetry disgusts poetry.



...and I secretly love it.


lascivious, haha.

[dibyendra]

Marie

She might have been a young-looking 35.
I’d have preferred that
although, even at that age...
And there was something so quiet about her face
I almost found it forbidding.

Still, when she went outside for a cigarette
I followed her with my American Spirits
and asked if I might join her
for the length of a smoke.

She made place for me
on the concrete step
of the building next to the café
and I sat down and lit up.

We exchanged little pellets of conversation,
the sort that might have been the prelude
to anything
or nothing
then she re-entered the café to finish her lunch
and I moved over to one of the outdoor tables.

Soon after that she emerged,
nodded at the other chair and asked
if she might join me.
Of course, I said, hoping for no more
than a few minutes more pleasant conversation
or love at last.

When she left to go back to work
we embraced and, Quebec-style,
kissed each other on each cheek
and promised to look for each other there
some other time.


Lovely poem! :thumbs_up

[PrinceMyshkin]

Lovely poem! :thumbs_up

Thanks, Dibyendra.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Marie Part 2

I sat at an outdoor table at the café
waiting for Marie to come.
If she came it would have to mean
she had felt about our encounter
as I did. And that we’d have begun
something that each of us
had been waiting to begin.
While I waited
the temperature of the earth
continued to rise,
another glacier slipped into the sea
but she did not come.

I raised my eyes every time
I heard footsteps approach
and for a split second imagined
that every one who came into view
was her: an Oriental young woman
with a pony-tail, shoulders hunched,
wearing a close fitting summer coat,
a scarf pulled tight around her neck;

an older man, probably toothless,
his upper lip in close proximity with his chin,
face the colour and texture
of a tired rubber eraser;

a casually sloppy Greek guy
with close-cropped hair and a laughing
female companion, but none of them
was her, not actually her.

An entire species went out of existence,
a future poet was born,
a murderer, a saint,
but still she did not come.

There could have been 110 reasons
why she didn’t come, or just one:
that she saw no reason to...

[Umbilical]

=( so so sad...
I'm empathizing with you at the moment.
The difference is beginning and waiting to begin...
and her never beginning is her always waiting to begin,
in your mind and your hope.

Please get sad enough to write part 3 before the day ends.
And you should write a poem about me :)...
so long as you're not a sleazy old bastard (jokes).

[PrinceMyshkin]

=( so so sad...
I'm empathizing with you at the moment.
The difference is beginning and waiting to begin...
and her never beginning is her always waiting to begin,
in your mind and your hope.

Please get sad enough to write part 3 before the day ends.
And you should write a poem about me :)...
so long as you're not a sleazy old bastard (jokes).

Some of this is wise, all of it is interesting but as for me being "a sleazy old bastard," I'm working on it, Dudelette!

[Umbilical]

When you work on it,
and
realize
that
sleaziness
is just loneliness
so long as you can't fondle the edge of a skirt
or the circumference of
a malformed prick
or the penumbra, of a flower that will never bud
but is displaced
nipple to the bottom of your love-
thought---
you'll realize,
Mr. Poet man,
that so long as you can NEVER GET NEAR ME OR my
soiled panties,
your loneliness and
the amount of messages in your box (your box you don't have but the messages you do, my fault)
is all you need to be sleazy,
fukkin SLEAAZE! !636

hi.

[PrinceMyshkin]

When you work on it,
and
realize
that
sleaziness
is just loneliness
so long as you can't fondle the edge of a skirt
or the circumference of
a malformed prick
or the penumbra, of a flower that will never bud
but is displaced
nipple to the bottom of your love-
thought---
you'll realize,
Mr. Poet man,
that so long as you can NEVER GET NEAR ME OR my
soiled panties,
your loneliness and
the amount of messages in your box (your box you don't have but the messages you do, my fault)
is all you need to be sleazy,
fukkin SLEAAZE! !636

hi.

Off your meds again, hon? And though you think nothing of giving everybody here a totally false notion of our connection as in


so long as you can NEVER GET NEAR ME OR my
soiled panties,
let it be known that I never had nor ever will have any desire to get anywhere near you "OR [your] soiled panties," nor your every now and then compulsively soiled sense of 'humour'!

What was the meaning of that "636"?

[Umbilical]

I didn't know until I realized that I'm a maths genius, and
6
6+3 = 9
=
69.
But I swear it was a massive mistake,
the condom broke and I came to it like Doc did in 'Back to the Future' <3

SOILED SENSE OF HUMOR --
I love it.
I thank you for this statement...
because tiz true.

636 is the number of [potential] marie's out there.

I appreciate your use of '[]'

!

[PrinceMyshkin]

Marie: Part 2 ½

This morning,
while waiting for Marie,
I met Nancy.


Make a movie out of that, firefangled! We could call it "Planet of the Aches".

[Umbilical]

That last one is the best,
size doesn't matter.
2.5 is rounded up to 3, even when you're straight down the line.

well dun.

[firefangled]

Marie: Part 2 ½

This morning,
while waiting for Marie,
I met Nancy.


Make a movie out of that, firefangled! We could call it "Planet of the Aches".

It's too bad Fellini is dead.

[ampoule]

And me, miss priss,
egomaniac
who cannot stand to look at herself in the mirror
steps out into the day with a swish and a flourish
lusting for a part in one of your poems
or at the very least,
to be that one you never noticed till now,
the one in the background,
looking off somewhere,
holding her hot cup with both hands,
and you go back
and set up your camera
and wait.

Keep snapping.
Plenty of pages left in this photo album. :D

[PrinceMyshkin]

And me....
holding her hot cup with both hands,


Please! This is a family oriented site!!!

[dibyendra]

Marie Part 2

I sat at an outdoor table at the café
waiting for Marie to come.
If she came it would have to mean
she had felt about our encounter
as I did. And that we’d have begun
something that each of us
had been waiting to begin.
While I waited
the temperature of the earth
continued to rise,
another glacier slipped into the sea
but she did not come.

I raised my eyes every time
I heard footsteps approach
and for a split second imagined
that every one who came into view
was her: an Oriental young woman
with a pony-tail, shoulders hunched,
wearing a close fitting summer coat,
a scarf pulled tight around her neck;

an older man, probably toothless,
his upper lip in close proximity with his chin,
face the colour and texture
of a tired rubber eraser;

a casually sloppy Greek guy
with close-cropped hair and a laughing
female companion, but none of them
was her, not actually her.

An entire species went out of existence,
a future poet was born,
a murderer, a saint,
but still she did not come.

There could have been 110 reasons
why she didn’t come, or just one:
that she saw no reason to...


I loved your intense poetic expressions here in your poem Jerry. It's such a lovely piece which I've perceived deeply. It's a vibrant poem! Wow!


While I waited
the temperature of the earth
continued to rise,
another glacier slipped into the sea
but she did not come.


An entire species went out of existence,
a future poet was born,
a murderer, a saint,
but still she did not come.

The above lines are really great. I loved it!
I really appreciate your poems as they are so intriguing and vibrant. Keep up your great works.:thumbs_up

[PrinceMyshkin]

An accident
might be the product
of 2-3 seconds of inattention,
like falling in love.

[CdnReader]

An accident
might be the product
of 2-3 seconds of inattention,
like falling in love.



But it can take
what seems a lifetime of carefully designed intentions,
guarding against every slip of the tongue,
never allowing one's guard down for a moment,
to make up for one inattentive lapse
that led to two or three seconds
of loving.

[AuntShecky]

Number xxxi, Marie Part 2 is very good. It's much like Waiting for Godot, writ small. The section referring to global warming is great, and it reminded me about something the late film critic Gene Siskel once said about
using world events as a backdrop in a good movie script:
the world whirring round outside as it's interpreted by individual characters.
One nit-pick: in line five of the second stanza "was her" should be "was she." Linking verbs, in this case the past tense of the verb "to be," takes the nominative case.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Number xxxi...
One nit-pick: in line five of the second stanza "was her" should be "was she." Linking verbs, in this case the past tense of the verb "to be," takes the nominative case.

You're absolutely right of course, grammatically, but not I think aesthetically inasmuch as this is someone thinking out loud and colloquially, I believe, most of us would use the accusative here.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Shaped like the shepherd’s crook
in his hand,
a bent old man
shambles across the street.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A street familiar
returns my nod
but saves his smile
for when he might actually need it.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Highway 40: Kingston - Montreal

A chubby critter
hugs the asphalt
as tight as it can,
dried blood outlining
the remains of its head.

[Sweets America]

Highway 40: Kingston - Montreal

A chubby critter
hugs the asphalt
as tight as it can,
dried blood outlining
the remains of its head.


This is GRAND. "Hugs the asphalt", this is grand.

[kiz_paws]

Highway 40: Kingston - Montreal

A chubby critter
hugs the asphalt
as tight as it can,
dried blood outlining
the remains of its head.
A picture could not paint this scene any better. Awesome work. :thumbs_up

[dibyendra]

Highway 40: Kingston - Montreal

A chubby critter
hugs the asphalt
as tight as it can,
dried blood outlining
the remains of its head.


It's great Jerry! :thumbs_up

[PrinceMyshkin]

Highway 40: Kingston - Montreal: 2

Two crows
stand beak to beak
over a split bag
of blood and guts
on the shoulder of the road.

[Sweets America]

Highway 40: Kingston - Montreal: 2

Two crows
stand beak to beak
over a split bag
of blood and guts
on the shoulder of the road.


Hmm, you're in a gory phase of your writing? :p
I like it, Shoutie, not as much as the other one, but still.

[PrinceMyshkin]

An elderly couple,
done ripening in each other’s direction,
shuffle contrapuntally
along the street.
They sway toward each other, then apart,
toward each other, then apart,
toward each other...

[Sweets America]

An elderly couple,
done ripening in each other’s direction,
shuffle contrapuntally
along the street.
They sway toward each other, then apart,
toward each other, then apart,
toward each other...


Excellent!! I love it, how you can see patterns everywhere, it's like every little thing or gesture is a representation of something more general, that's just great. Damn that's just GREAT!!

[Umbilical]

Highway 40: Kingston - Montreal: 2

Two crows
stand beak to beak
over a split bag
of blood and guts
on the shoulder of the road.


This one's fabulous.
Funny how no matter what, people will manage to make love,
over a desecration of it.

[PrinceMyshkin]

This one's fabulous.
Funny how no matter what, people will manage to make love,
over a desecration of it.

Interesting reading, butter-cup, and as valid as any other since I tried to present what I'd seen as objectively as I could. My own take insofar as I had one is that each was watching out that the other didn't get to pick at the carrion first. More fancifully, I saw them as Hillary and Barack, standing over the corpse of the Democratic Party.

[Umbilical]

The shoulder of the road is when it turns into another arm (of the law)?

"eat crow".

[Pendragon]

An elderly couple,
done ripening in each other’s direction,
shuffle contrapuntally
along the street.
They sway toward each other, then apart,
toward each other, then apart,
toward each other...


Love this one, Jerry! :thumbs_up Encore! Encore!

[PrinceMyshkin]

A woman with a face
as mean as a 3-cornered nickel
stands beside her car
aiming her displeasure
at random passers-by

[Pendragon]

"A woman with a face
as mean as a 3-cornered nickel..."

This line makes me glad I didn't see her! ;) :) Bravo!

[PrinceMyshkin]

A sickly-complexioned woman,
thin, hunched as if to contain
her body’s ache, slowly unwinds
her dog’s leash from a tree
outside the café
and, clutching a cardboard cup of coffee,
slowly, slowly walks away.

[CdnReader]

An elderly couple,
done ripening in each other’s direction,
shuffle contrapuntally
along the street.
They sway toward each other, then apart,
toward each other, then apart,
toward each other...


Ahhh..... the way of life.... I love it, Jer.

[CdnReader]

thin, hunched as if to contain
her body’s ache,

This speaks to me of an entire lifetime of pain. Well said, my friend.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Junkin’ at the supermarket

I go right by the section of fresh fruits
and produce, my cart clattering happily
on the tiled floor, I’m headed
for those gorgeous packages
made of plasticized cardboard,
cellophane, styrofoam
with something inside, like
-–remember those packages
of Cracker-Jack we bought as kids
that contained a free prize inside?

Remember the heady expectation
of fishing through the sticky goop
to find that prize! Oh no, not a-
nother pressed-tin piece of crap!
Oh well, there would surely be something better
next time. (“Next time,” come to think of it,
was the tense they forgot to teach us
in elementary school.)

I manage to collect a cart
full of foodish stuff
and head for the cash
to flirt amiably while I hand over
my hard-earned money.

[Sweets America]

A sickly-complexioned woman,
thin, hunched as if to contain
her body’s ache, slowly unwinds
her dog’s leash from a tree
outside the café
and, clutching a cardboard cup of coffee,
slowly, slowly walks away.


God damnit, Jerry, you are a real genius!!! You have such talent!!! You make me want to cry!


Junkin’ at the supermarket
I go right by the section of fresh fruits
and produce, my cart clattering happily
on the tiled floor, I’m headed
for those gorgeous packages
made of plasticized cardboard,
cellophane, styrofoam
with something inside, like
-–remember those packages
of Cracker-Jack we bought as kids
that contained a free prize inside?

Remember the heady expectation
of fishing through the sticky goop
to find that prize! Oh no, not a-
nother pressed-tin piece of crap!
Oh well, there would surely be something better
next time. (“Next time,” come to think of it,
was the tense they forgot to teach us
in elementary school.)

I manage to collect a cart
full of foodish stuff
and head for the cash
to flirt amiably while I hand over
my hard-earned money.

You are wonderful, this is so great. You really are a poet, for me. Your poems have this Jerry-thing, it's really you, I love it.

[amanda_isabel]

first time to post on this thread, but have been reading, and I love it Uncle Jer :D!

[kiz_paws]

A sickly-complexioned woman,
thin, hunched as if to contain
her body’s ache, slowly unwinds
her dog’s leash from a tree
outside the café
and, clutching a cardboard cup of coffee,
slowly, slowly walks away.


I have seen this thanks to your precision. Beautiful, PrinceM! :)

[dibyendra]

A sickly-complexioned woman,
thin, hunched as if to contain
her body’s ache, slowly unwinds
her dog’s leash from a tree
outside the café
and, clutching a cardboard cup of coffee,
slowly, slowly walks away.


I admire the way you capture the moments and sculpt them in the form of poetry. It's fabulous! Like Pen, I would like to say, "Encore!"

[Smoogles]

Your imagery is like a motion-picture put into words playing through my mind. Very good job.

[dibyendra]

Junkin’ at the supermarket

I go right by the section of fresh fruits
and produce, my cart clattering happily
on the tiled floor, I’m headed
for those gorgeous packages
made of plasticized cardboard,
cellophane, styrofoam
with something inside, like
-–remember those packages
of Cracker-Jack we bought as kids
that contained a free prize inside?

Remember the heady expectation
of fishing through the sticky goop
to find that prize! Oh no, not a-
nother pressed-tin piece of crap!
Oh well, there would surely be something better
next time. (“Next time,” come to think of it,
was the tense they forgot to teach us
in elementary school.)

I manage to collect a cart
full of foodish stuff
and head for the cash
to flirt amiably while I hand over
my hard-earned money.


Jer, it's interesting one! Loved it! :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

From above his long, grey,
straggley beard, a Khassid,
sunk deep in his wheel-chair,
glares at me as if to ask,
“What right have you?
What right have you?”

[Sweets America]

From above his long, grey,
straggley beard, a Khassid,
sunk deep in his wheel-chair,
glares at me as if to ask,
“What right have you?
What right have you?”



This is very powerful, Jer, even though I'm not sure how to interpret it, but I have my own feeling about it. Love it.

[ampoule]

Sometimes people cannot see just how vacant our looks really are, that perhaps we aren't really looking at them at all.
Wonderful snapshot Prince. I would like to sketch this one.

[dibyendra]

From above his long, grey,
straggley beard, a Khassid,
sunk deep in his wheel-chair,
glares at me as if to ask,
“What right have you?
What right have you?”



Never heard the word "Khassid" before, but the description of the man is quite interesting. And what does the underline at the last line signifies?

[PrinceMyshkin]

Never heard the word "Khassid" before, but the description of the man is quite interesting. And what does the underline at the last line signifies?

"Khassid" is my attempt to approximate the Hebrew sound of the name of a member of the "Hassisim," a group of ultra-orthodox Jews, the males recognizable by their long, often curled sideburns, beards, skullcaps or round fur-trimmed caps, long black coats and white cotton stockings. The women wear wigs, orthopedic-looking stockings and dowdy clothes.



A rugged-looking guy
walks by, a tiny parcel
of a baby in the crook
of his left elbow.
The baby’s pink,
bare legs hang free,
scissoring the wind.

[Sweets America]

"Khassid" is my attempt to approximate the Hebrew sound of the name of a member of the "Hassisim," a group of ultra-orthodox Jews, the males recognizable by their long, often curled sideburns, beards, skullcaps or round fur-trimmed caps, long black coats and white cotton stockings. The women wear wigs, orthopedic-looking stockings and dowdy clothes.



A rugged-looking guy
walks by, a tiny parcel
of a baby in the crook
of his left elbow.
The baby’s pink,
bare legs hang free,
scissoring the wind.


Interesting mix between roughness, sharpness on one side, and innocence and sweetness on the other. (I mean, innocence and sweetness as they usually are associated to babies by people...). Very nice poem. You are so talented, you really have the mind of a poet. I admire you so much, you are wonderful.

I had not heard the word Khassid before either, but searched and found 'Hassid' and I thought your Khassid reflected the way it was prononced by Jewish people. So I was right, eh?

[PrinceMyshkin]

I had not heard the word Khassid before either, but searched and found 'Hassid' and I thought your Khassid reflected the way it was pronounced by Jewish people. So I was right, eh?

You are ALWAYS right - sometimes more so than others. "Kh" is I think an accepted way to approximate the Hebrew guttural "ch" which is represented in the Semitic alphabet by either one of two letters, the "khet" and the "khaf" ח כ

[Sweets America]

You are ALWAYS right - sometimes more so than others. "Kh" is I think an accepted way to approximate the Hebrew guttural "ch" which is represented in the Semitic alphabet by either one of two letters, the "khet" and the "khaf" ח כ

Thanks, teacher! ;) Yes, the Hebrew sound 'ch' like in Ich or dich (or is it Yiddish?). Actually we write 'ch' here, not 'kh', but I think that 'kh' looks good at the beginning of words. Anyway.

[ampoule]

So, Prince, if you don't mind my asking, where were you this morning? You don't have to actually tell me WHERE you were but why weren't you here. You don't have to actually tell me WHY you weren't here. I guess what I'm trying to say is this. If I don't see a post from Prince early in the morning I get all worked up. :D Anyway, I'm glad you're here.

[PrinceMyshkin]

So, Prince, if you don't mind my asking, where were you this morning? You don't have to actually tell me WHERE you were but why weren't you here. You don't have to actually tell me WHY you weren't here. I guess what I'm trying to say is this. If I don't see a post from Prince early in the morning I get all worked up. :D Anyway, I'm glad you're here.

Wow! Many thanks, and in apology may I offer this:


Sometimes we dance
with others, a tango, a fox-trot
or the slow tantalizing steps of romance
but sometimes, unseen, alone,
we dance with our dreams,
and that might be
the best dance of all.

We set the scene, a magnificent ball-
room or a forest glade under a canopy
of stars, winking at us
from light-years ago
as if to promise that our light
will continue to shine long after
our mortal bodies no longer
emit light or warmth or hope
or love. We are love!

Arms, legs, hearts
that burn for love, for sex,
for forever, but above all,
We are love!

Take us sweetly and softly.
Take us with hands
that could bend steel
but that would not bruise
the wings of a butterfly.

The fear of loving
has bruised the heart
of many an angel
and left it broken
by the side of the road.

[PrinceMyshkin]

On Bagg Street a man sits
in the lawn chair
he appears to have grown from:
whiskers, unruly hair,
paunch, and softly spreading derriere.

[ampoule]

Wow! Many thanks, and in apology may I offer this:


Sometimes we dance
with others, a tango, a fox-trot
or the slow tantalizing steps of romance
but sometimes, unseen, alone,
we dance with our dreams,
and that might be
the best dance of all.

We set the scene, a magnificent ball-
room or a forest glade under a canopy
of stars, winking at us
from light-years ago
as if to promise that our light
will continue to shine long after
our mortal bodies no longer
emit light or warmth or hope
or love. We are love!

Arms, legs, hearts
that burn for love, for sex,
for forever, but above all,
We are love!

Take us sweetly and softly.
Take us with hands
that could bend steel
but that would not bruise
the wings of a butterfly.

The fear of loving
has bruised the heart
of many an angel
and left it broken
by the side of the road.



Wow! Apology accepted! You're setting the bar pretty high or is that you're sitting high at the bar? :D Truly, that is a lovely, lovely poem.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A young middle-aged woman
strides purposefully by
in shorts, middle-aged knees,
cellulite thighs. She notices
me noticing her.
Doesn't like it.

[Umbilical]

Haha,
that's funny...
How you notice her 'down-falls' and her fall-downs and her-knees falling DOWN and yet you still? look at her with adoring eyes because you're hiding your
downfalls, and she's not?
OR - Alternate and yet still fu.cked up reading:
The paradox of the woman being "young" and yet "middle ages", and two of both, and both... at the same time
"striding purposefully by" connotes an unrelenting confidence not wavered by the looks of others who project fear of their age and death onto her for they're jealous of her youth but simultaneously worshipping it.
You could be writing it from her own self-castigation, but that would be your egotistic presupposition that you can see into her mind and thus see yourself as a woman, through a woman's eyes.
Or you could be seeing her as yourself, and therefore you're either blind to her faults or she doesn't like you looking at her because you don't think that you're 'beautiful' (haha silly word) enough to lot at her, or you assume your imminent rejection...
which comes,
but yet maybe it doesn't come because you're only reading into her 'LOOK' from your own self-judgment.

I APOLOGIZE (not really) if that was ALL OVER THE PLACE,
I'm doing a massive assignment at the moment and am in the process of drinking V and wont hide my fear of my stupidity.

Jodi

[PrinceMyshkin]

Haha,
that's funny...
How you notice her 'down-falls' and her fall-downs and her-knees falling DOWN and yet you still? look at her with adoring eyes because you're hiding your
downfalls, and she's not?
OR - Alternate and yet still fu.cked up reading:
The paradox of the woman being "young" and yet "middle ages", and two of both, and both... at the same time
"striding purposefully by" connotes an unrelenting confidence not wavered by the looks of others who project fear of their age and death onto her for they're jealous of her youth but simultaneously worshipping it.
You could be writing it from her own self-castigation, but that would be your egotistic presupposition that you can see into her mind and thus see yourself as a woman, through a woman's eyes.
Or you could be seeing her as yourself, and therefore you're either blind to her faults or she doesn't like you looking at her because you don't think that you're 'beautiful' (haha silly word) enough to lot at her, or you assume your imminent rejection...
which comes,
but yet maybe it doesn't come because you're only reading into her 'LOOK' from your own self-judgment.

I APOLOGIZE (not really) if that was ALL OVER THE PLACE,
I'm doing a massive assignment at the moment and am in the process of drinking V and wont hide my fear of my stupidity.

Jodi

Yes, you could be right about any or all of that or, on the other hand, she might have been a young middle-aged woman who strode purposefully by
in shorts, middle-aged knees, cellulite thighs, who noticed me noticing her and didn't like it.

[Umbilical]

Haha, yes, that is true. :)

Sorry I got a bit carried away having too much fun there...

[Tuninks]

A young middle-aged woman
strides purposefully by
in shorts, middle-aged knees,
cellulite thighs. She notices
me noticing her.
Doesn't like it.


Wow Prince, this one is both amazing and funny, good job, just a few nit picks but nothing serious.

[Sweets America]

So, Prince, if you don't mind my asking, where were you this morning? You don't have to actually tell me WHERE you were but why weren't you here. You don't have to actually tell me WHY you weren't here. I guess what I'm trying to say is this. If I don't see a post from Prince early in the morning I get all worked up. :D Anyway, I'm glad you're here.

Ah, here's one girl who understands how I feel! I ditto everything you said! :p

Shou! Your poem 'sometimes we dance' grows more wonderful with each stanza! The last one is just marvelous! That's YOU! That's my Shou! :) :banana:

[PrinceMyshkin]

On downscale, somewhat dilapidated
Fairmount a young woman gets out
of the passenger side of a Bentley convertible
next to the Greek depanneur,
and gets into her gleaming
Lexus C350 coupe.

“Must be fun to drive that,”
I say with an edge of envy in my voice.
“Not bad,” she replies with a laugh
and, pointing a manicured finger
after the departing behemoth,
“but not as nice as that!”

[Virgil]

On downscale, somewhat dilapidated
Fairmount a young woman gets out
of the passenger side of a Bentley convertible
next to the Greek depanneur,
and gets into her gleaming
Lexus C350 coupe.

“Must be fun to drive that,”
I say with an edge of envy in my voice.
“Not bad,” she replies with a laugh
and, pointing a manicured finger
after the departing behemoth,
“but not as nice as that!”



Oooh I love that "pointing manicured finger." Very strong image. I think you really captured something with this snapshot Prince. I like it!

[PrinceMyshkin]

Fiftyish guy goes by, tipped forward
like the brim of his safari hat,
tan cotton shirt, vest
and trousers, moustache
like a rhinoceros.

[Pendragon]

Fiftyish guy goes by, tipped forward
like the brim of his safari hat,
tan cotton shirt, vest
and trousers, moustache
like a rhinoceros.
You get these to where I can see the people! Nicely done, my friend! Bravo! :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

You get these to where I can see the people! Nicely done, my friend! Bravo! :)

Thanks and think of this as a test more for my benefit than yours: How do you imagine the man's body, the size or shape of it? I thought of specifying that but try not to overload these snapshots.

[firefangled]

Thanks and think of this as a test more for my benefit than yours: How do you imagine the man's body, the size or shape of it? I thought of specifying that but try not to overload these snapshots.

He has no camera, this poet,
day after day, like a bee
gathering the pollen of humanity
at the café, his window seat,
occasionally engaging you
or you in his dance, which is to say,
uncommon flowers make nectar sweet.

[PrinceMyshkin]

He has no camera, this poet,
day after day, like a bee
gathering the pollen of humanity
at the café, his window seat,
occasionally engaging you
or you in his dance, which is to say,
uncommon flowers make nectar sweet.

Thanks, bro. I can't believe I've posted 50 of these! I do worry that I might one day son run out of film, though never of subjects.

[amanda_isabel]

so far, still so strong.. :D

I loved the rhinoceros crack! Such a vivid image...

mornin', Uncle Jer! (er, I have no idea what time it over there...)

[PrinceMyshkin]

so far, still so strong.. :D

I loved the rhinoceros crack! Such a vivid image...

mornin', Uncle Jer! (er, I have no idea what time it over there...)

5 pm, 13 hours earlier than in Manila...

[PrinceMyshkin]

Five white, black wing-tipped seagulls
swoop down in formation
on a scrap of food in the gutter.

They peck at it like attention-hungry politicians
then rise separately, circle and glide
in the air, landing briefly

on suspended electric cables
and the roof of the huge
former synagogue across the street.

[Pendragon]

Thanks and think of this as a test more for my benefit than yours: How do you imagine the man's body, the size or shape of it? I thought of specifying that but try not to overload these snapshots.

Body bent by time,
Whipcord thin, slightly emaciated,
He looks in need of a good meal,
Light playing off the thick glasses,
His cane taps the pavement
As if checking for hollows
Slow walking, but walking...

He was probably just the opposite, but my view! :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

Body bent by time,
Whipcord thin, slightly emaciated,
He looks in need of a good meal,
Light playing off the thick glasses,
His cane taps the pavement
As if checking for hollows
Slow walking, but walking...

He was probably just the opposite, but my view! :)

Fine poem of your own and you're undoubtedly right one way or the other! In fact he was pretty stocky which was so much a feature of what my eye took in that I imagined it would convey itself but other than the reference to the rhino, I couldn't see how to cue the reader

[PrinceMyshkin]

Sitting alone at a table
outside The Arts Café
I run over the names of the women
I’ve recently hungered for:

Marie1, Nancy, Margaret,
Marie2, Shen Li, Gita,
Gita, Gita!

Rosary beads in a string
that stretches from here
to the Goddess of Unfulfilled Desires.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Good-looking Eric
and mannish Kate
walk by each week-day morning
with their two young, fair-haired,
sweet-berry sons,
Samuel on Eric’s shoulders,
Henri hand-in-hand with Kate.

[PrinceMyshkin]

These two are the best of buddies,
teachers at the College Français
across the way: the chubby,
balding, wise-cracking Quebecker
and the handsome, soft-looking
transplanted Egyptian.

[Umbilical]

Write a lesbian poem please Prince.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Write a lesbian poem please Prince.



These two are the best of buddies,
teachers at the College Français
across the way: the slinky,
dark-stockinged Quebecker
and the demure, bi,
honey-bunch from Australia.

[Umbilical]

You sure do know how to 'pervert' a poem into something gay. Thank you. :)

[ampoule]

Sitting alone at a table
outside The Arts Café
I run over the names of the women
I’ve recently hungered for:

Marie1, Nancy, Margaret,
Marie2, Shen Li, Gita,
Gita, Gita!

Rosary beads in a string
that stretches from here
to the Goddess of Unfulfilled Desires.


Oh me, oh my. I love this. Women you have lusted for and rosary beads.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Oh me, oh my. I love this. Women you have lusted for and rosary beads.

Thanks, Amp, but it's not the beads,
you know, the beads
are all equally round and smooth
and pleasing,
it's the way the fingers caress them
hoping to bring out
the singular essence of each.
*
Snapshot:


Grey-faced Greeks
on the balcony of a restaurant
on Av. Du Parc
address their cigarettes
like the toughest of questions
directed at each of them
by Socrates in the ancient Agora.

[ampoule]

Snapshot:


Grey-faced Greeks
on the balcony of a restaurant
on Av. Du Parc
address their cigarettes
like the toughest of questions
directed at each of them
by Socrates in the ancient Agora.



And I smile and yell up to them,
Kalimera!
It does not matter,
About anything,
I raise my hands and dance
down the street like Zorba.
Oupa! Oupa!

[Virgil]

Grey-faced Greeks
on the balcony of a restaurant
on Av. Du Parc
address their cigarettes
like the toughest of questions
directed at each of them
by Socrates in the ancient Agora.

Good one! Love the image.




Sitting alone at a table
outside The Arts Café
I run over the names of the women
I’ve recently hungered for:

Marie1, Nancy, Margaret,
Marie2, Shen Li, Gita,
Gita, Gita!

Rosary beads in a string
that stretches from here
to the Goddess of Unfulfilled Desires.

Even better one. Love the association to a religious ritual. ;) Great metephor.




Five white, black wing-tipped seagulls
swoop down in formation
on a scrap of food in the gutter.

They peck at it like attention-hungry politicians
then rise separately, circle and glide
in the air, landing briefly

on suspended electric cables
and the roof of the huge
former synagogue across the street.


Perhaps the best of the three. Very strong simile, and while I can't put my finger why, the synagogue adds power to this.

[PrinceMyshkin]

while I can't put my finger why, the synagogue adds power to this.

Nor can I say exactly why I included it. It is there, indeed: a great hulk of a building, uncommonly assertive for a N. American synagogue, and the birds did several times land on it, but there were any number of other details I might have cited from the scene in front of me and yet I didn't.

One of the pleasures for me in writing poetry is the experience of living in suspension for a time between one's conscious mind and one's subconscious, how the former sometimes humbly makes way for the latter.

[Umbilical]

I dig that.
But can something that's not humble, ever humbly make way?
Or does it make way in another way?

Just wondering. :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

Kalimera, Ampoule, evcharisto, te kanis?



A young woman jounces along the street
with such energy
that her young, underdeveloped breasts
seem, at ever step,
about to leap free of her chest.

[Sweets America]

Kalimera, Ampoule, evcharisto, te kanis?



A young woman jounces along the street
with such energy
that her young, underdeveloped breasts
seem, at ever step,
about to leap free of her body.



Very good!

[dibyendra]

Kalimera, Ampoule, evcharisto, te kanis?



A young woman jounces along the street
with such energy
that her young, underdeveloped breasts
seem, at ever step,
about to leap free of her chest.



Interesting! :)

[Swamidragon]

Snapshot:
Hanging in the air,
Just a foot from the earth,
Waiting for impact.
God! I hope it won't hurt.

[Umbilical]

Kalimera, Ampoule, evcharisto, te kanis?



A young woman jounces along the street
with such energy
that her young, underdeveloped breasts
seem, at ever step,
about to leap free of her chest.



This is how I feel but my breasts are
developed.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Ellen and Jean-François,
though they may not know it,
are having a love affair
on my behalf!

He with his young, young
clean-cut French-Canadian face,
smiling eyes and sketch
of a beard that appears on
and disappears from his chin

and she, with her Oregonian innocence,
puppy fat and voice
unsullied by a cigarette
or, I assume, a single off-colour word.

[ampoule]

The photographer handed the camera to his assistant. "Perfect," she said, "I can see them perfectly."

[Sweets America]

Ellen and Jean-François,
though they may not know it,
are having a love affair
on my behalf!

He with his young, young
clean-cut French-Canadian face,
smiling eyes and sketch
of a beard that appears on
and disappears from his chin

and she, with her Oregonian innocence,
puppy fat and voice
unsullied by a cigarette
or, I assume, a single off-colour word.

Oh. Nice portraits.

Umbilical said:

This is how I feel but my breasts are
developed.

Mine are not. And so what? :)

[Umbilical]

What so?
I don't have a problem.
I'm not judging breast size.

[Sweets America]

What so?
I don't have a problem.
I'm not judging breast size.

I was joking! :p

[Umbilical]

:P

Oh, sorry.

:D

Well, I must have been judging size then
as a measure of development
not desire. but I desire, so...

I have to be careful.
Seeing myself as an innocent breast-less youth is only setting me up
to be destroyed for my own pleasure by older evil.

Have a good day :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

Shen Li

I met a woman the other day.
The encounter was such
that I knew I would never want to impress her.
I thought that she saw me
as an extension of her field of freedom.

She had questions for me.
Some of them were things I needed answers to
myself. I had just the one or two questions
for her, such as Who are you? And
For how long will I be privileged to know you?

[CdnReader]

Shen Li

I met a woman the other day.
The encounter was such
that I knew I would never want to impress her.
I thought that she saw me
as an extension of her field of freedom.

She had questions for me.
Some of them were things I needed answers to
myself. I had just the one or two questions
for her, such as Who are you? And
For how long will I be privileged to know you?


I like this very much indeed. :)

[Pendragon]

Shen Li

I met a woman the other day.
The encounter was such
that I knew I would never want to impress her.
I thought that she saw me
as an extension of her field of freedom.

She had questions for me.
Some of them were things I needed answers to
myself. I had just the one or two questions
for her, such as Who are you? And
For how long will I be privileged to know you?
Nice one! :)

[Sweets America]

You're a sweetheart, Shou. :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

Waiting for Shen Li

After Shen Li and I chatted the other day she discovered that the Café was currently unable to accept credit cards. Since she had too little or no money on her she would have to go and get some which might make her late for work, I offered to pay for her. She hesitated, wondering as any woman might what I’d be expecting in return. There were no strings attached, I assured her sincerely. She questioned me about when I would be there again, thanked me and left...



Because she is Chinese
I assume she will be eager
to discharge her indebtedness.
But if only there were some other reason
why she might return.

I wait in my sandals, Bermudas
and wind-breaker. It’s a damp,
somewhat chilly day
and I’ve never been good at waiting
for a bus, a plane, the mail
or love. (Especially not for love!)

But if you’ve been waiting as long as I have,
what’s another ten, fifteen,
fifteen and a half, fifteen
minutes and forty-five, forty-six
forty-seven seconds...

[Umbilical]

Haha aaaow I like it...

What's another 15, 15.5 YEARS... we were meant to think,
until we saw that you said MINUTES
a new line LONGER...
and then we all laughed, thinking... he's lying, he's been and will be waiting longer, waiting for the repetition of your numbers.

84, 56, 694...

I'm so shi.t at waiting for a bus.

What's another 10 seconds,
VERY LONG if you're counting each second - you're extending each second,
and yourself, with no-one to meet you in each direction.

Sometimes waiting for my TV to START is painful enough...
I haven't yet counted how many kilometers I am away from my non-Lover in another country.

Jeezus Christ, this is fun.

<3 enjoy ya day

[PrinceMyshkin]

The city hums today,
but off-key, somewhat distracted,
as if one of its most closely-guarded secrets
were about to leak out.

[Sweets America]

The city hums today,
but off-key, somewhat distracted,
as if one of its most closely-guarded secrets
were about to leak out.


Love it!

[PrinceMyshkin]

Two kids
arm in arm
sipping kisses
from each other’s lips.

[Pendragon]

Two kids
arm in arm
sipping kisses
from each other’s lips.


Beautiful! Just simple poetry capturing a moment as a camera does! :thumbs_up

[CdnReader]

Two kids
arm in arm
sipping kisses
from each other’s lips.


Delightful! :D

[ampoule]

Mmmm....sipping kisses. Cdn says it all...delightful. :D

[PrinceMyshkin]

Beautiful! Just simple poetry capturing a moment as a camera does! :thumbs_up

God bless your front window! (And ALL your windows!) Perhaps you sensed what a struggle it was not to add another word or two of interpretation or commentary.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Mmmm....sipping kisses. Cdn says it all...delightful. :D

She DOES have a way with words, that Cdnreader, doesn't she? And her phrasing!!

[ampoule]

She DOES have a way with words, that Cdnreader, doesn't she? And her phrasing!!

Yes, she does, but it was YOUR 'sipping kisses' that really got to me. And I am taking 'kids' to mean young adults??

[PrinceMyshkin]

Yes, she does, but it was YOUR 'sipping kisses' that really got to me. And I am taking 'kids' to mean young adults??

Hardly adults, I would say. I judge them to have been, tops, about 16.

[Umbilical]

16 on a good day!!

Like me. :D

[PrinceMyshkin]

A late-twentyish woman walks by
on bare shapely legs
the length of many an entire
smaller woman, and before
I’ve had my fill of looking at her,
she’s two blocks over and gone!

[ampoule]

A late-twentyish woman walks by
on bare shapely legs
the length of many an entire
smaller woman, and before
I’ve had my fill of looking at her,
she’s two blocks over and gone!


Wonderful! Perfect lighting on this one.

[Sweets America]

A late-twentyish woman walks by
on bare shapely legs
the length of many an entire
smaller woman, and before
I’ve had my fill of looking at her,
she’s two blocks over and gone!


This is great!! Very vivid!
Hey Shou, have you noticed all these women who post here that they love your poetry?? :p We love you, Shou! :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

A man with a scowl
as hefty as the 300-odd pounds
he carries around with him, bullet head
and dark, dark beard,
heaves his way up
the three concrete steps
into the café

[PrinceMyshkin]

A young guy approaches the cash,
his lower lip
underslung by a tuft of hair
as wispy as a butterfly’s fart

[PrinceMyshkin]

Deborah at the café
turns out to speak Hebrew,
broke up with her lover
that morning.

After we’ve exchanged
the basics of our lives, she tells me:
“I’ve travelled half the world.
That was easier
than what I went through this morning.”

[Sweets America]

Deborah at the café
turns out to speak Hebrew,
broke up with her lover
that morning.

After we’ve exchanged
the basics of our lives, she tells me:
“I’ve travelled half the world.
That was easier
than what I went through this morning.”


I like this one. I understand this feeling of overwhelming sadness, which is very well expressed here.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I take a seat at an outdoor table
next to Joseph, a fellow Jew,
and we launch into a discussion
bemoaning Israeli treatment
of the Palestinians and of
Jewish chauvinism.

Just beyond us a light wind
trembles the leaves of the trees.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A young girl, thin as a twig,
clack-clack-clacks her way
on stiletto heels
at the end of her even thinner legs

[ampoule]

I take a seat at an outdoor table
next to Joseph, a fellow Jew,
and we launch into a discussion
bemoaning Israeli treatment
of the Palestinians and of
Jewish chauvinism.

Just beyond us a light wind
trembles the leaves of the trees.


It used to be that when things moved the picture blurred. Amazing what these new cameras can do. Those last two lines made me tremble.

[PrinceMyshkin]

It used to be that when things moved the picture blurred. Amazing what these new cameras can do. Those last two lines made me tremble.

Thank you, P. There's a saying in Yiddish I mostly deplore: "It's hard to be a Jew!"

Truth is, for some of us, It's hard to not be a Jew! I do try to take a holiday from it from time to time.