A poem is...

[PrinceMyshkin]

...a stick
with which to beat back death.
*
...a sabbath
for the heart.
*


_______
© 2009, J. Newman. This is an original work posted under the name of PrinceMyshkin on http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?p=756383#post756383. Any unauthorized reproduction of it constitutes theft.

[amuse]

like the first snippet. it's like a ray of light dancing on the waves. :)

[Pendragon]

You amaze me by you ability to say in just a few words things that have such great meaning!

[PrinceMyshkin]

...a conversation
you've been neaning to have
with someone who left
half-way through it

____
© 2009, J. Newman. This is an original work posted under the name of PrinceMyshkin on http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?t=45966. Any unauthorized reproduction of it constitutes theft.

[Pryderi Agni]

Heh, nice! A live update poem...I like the idea, though your metaphor's somewhat haiku-ish.

[Buh4Bee]

I like to think of death as an poetic muse as a means to express my agony. I try to embrace it, not fight it off. Still love the lines though.

[PrinceMyshkin]

...an accident
that turns out, on occasion,
to be right

_____
© 2009, J. Newman. This is an original work posted under the name of PrinceMyshkin on http://www.online-literature.com/forums/newreply.php?do=newreply&noquote=1&p=757537. Any unauthorized reproduction of it constitutes theft.

[blazeofglory]

...a stick
with which to beat back death.
*
...a sabbath
for the heart.
*


_______
© 2009, J. Newman. This is an original work posted under the name of PrinceMyshkin on http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?p=756383#post756383. Any unauthorized reproduction of it constitutes theft.

This is deep

[PrinceMyshkin]

Sisyphus
as the rock
begins to roll back on him

[PrinceMyshkin]

...a moment that will pass,
that knows it will pass
and that is here
in the act of eluding us.

[Nimor]

... a glimmering shadow to show the very kernel of your heart.

[Virgil]

...a stick
with which to beat back death.
*
...a sabbath
for the heart.
*


_______
© 2009, J. Newman. This is an original work posted under the name of PrinceMyshkin on http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?p=756383#post756383. Any unauthorized reproduction of it constitutes theft.

Oh I really like this. :)

[PrinceMyshkin]

... a glimmering shadow to show the very kernel of your heart.

Beautiful! I hope you'll add another as it occurs to you and that other Lit-netters might do so as well.

[firefangled]

not the bottle,
though the sand that made it
conspired in its seething,
nor is the cork
any more than patience―
firm and pliable.

Listen to the decanting,
but do not be fooled―
the wine
is not the poem,
its redolence warns,
but its piquancy along a tongue.


© Copyright, Originally composed and posted on http://www.online-literature.com/for...splay.php?f=14 under the penname firefangled, August 8, 2009

[PrinceMyshkin]

not the bottle,
though the sand that made it
conspired in its seething,
nor is the cork
any more than patience―
firm and pliable.

Listen to the decanting,
but do not be fooled―
the wine
is not the poem,
its redolence warns,
but its piquancy along a tongue.


© Copyright, Originally composed and posted on http://www.online-literature.com/for...splay.php?f=14 under the penname firefangled, August 8, 2009

How I admire your comfortable, respectful, joyful relationship with language, the way the whole of any one of your poems is contained in every word of it!

[firefangled]

Thank you, my friend. And thank you for this potent thread of yours.

[PrinceMyshkin]

...a parachute
for the soul.

[Smoogles]

...a pair of glasses
for minds' eye.

[Delta40]

a poem is...

the slow blink of an eye

[white camellia]

...a round trip
to your
never-
never land

[PrinceMyshkin]

Smoogles, Delta40 7 White Camelia: Thank you very much for your contributions

[PrinceMyshkin]

...a hint,
a gesture,
a trail of crumbs
enroute the gingerbread house

[blazeofglory]

...a stick
with which to beat back death.
*
...a sabbath
for the heart.
*


_______
© 2009, J. Newman. This is an original work posted under the name of PrinceMyshkin on http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?p=756383#post756383. Any unauthorized reproduction of it constitutes theft.

It has primeval truth, something very deep. Something as deep as the Original Sin. It is a few words but within these few words lie great truth.

[PrinceMyshkin]

...your mind
clearing its throat

[Delta40]

...a dog gnashing the evasive flea

[PrinceMyshkin]

...a dog gnashing the evasive flea

Thanks, Delta.



...a number of words
twice as many of which
say half as much
or not so well.

[Pendragon]

imagination encapsulated in words,
meaning mouthed by careful phrasing,
eternity captured on a page...

Pendragon

[PrinceMyshkin]

imagination encapsulated in words,
meaning mouthed by careful phrasing,
eternity captured on a page...

Pendragon

Thanks, Pen. These things are appealing to write, aren't they? I try to watch out in composing my own to see that they aren't merely 'clever.'

[qimissung]

a poem is...

the world, as seen from
the corner of your eye

[firefangled]

..setting the hours and minutes free,
holding the seconds before the light.

[PrinceMyshkin]

..setting the hours and minutes free,
holding the seconds before the light.

You and the few others who have added to it make me proud to have started this thread: "holding the seconds before the light," yes, and it reminds me of how often light has been a character in many of your poems.

[PrinceMyshkin]

a poem is...

the world, as seen from
the corner of your eye

Apart from the elegant conciseness of this, it seems to me to hint at an interesting truth: that there are things we can see only out of the corners of our eyes, that there may be blind spots in our forward vision... which I think you may have touched on in an earlier poem of yours that dealt with an awkward or painful moment in a romantic relationship.

[Pendragon]

a poem is...

the essence of life
distilled into words...

[PrinceMyshkin]

a poem is...

the essence of life
distilled into words...

Thank you for this. The concept is somewhat addictive, isn't it?

[PrinceMyshkin]

...a bit of pandemonium
in the gulag of Reason

[ampoule]

A poem is...a cleansing breath of words.

[PrinceMyshkin]

A poem is...a cleansing breath of words.

Indeed it is. thanks!

[firefangled]

...a hint,
a gesture,
a trail of crumbs
enroute the gingerbread house


I like this one because writing a poem is often a willingness to take one's bag of words, technique, and experience and get lost in the woods.

[Delta40]

a snatch of roses and nettles
brewed into tea

[PrinceMyshkin]

I like this one because writing a poem is often a willingness to take one's bag of words, technique, and experience and get lost in the woods.

Thanks and as you could probably tell, there was some pleasure in the writing of it - but I did wonder about my fidelity to the source of that gingerbread house reference because in the original the trail of crumbs are eaten by crows, and as a certain infamous poet once said there's no excuse for a poem to be inaccurate or untrue (or words to that effect). But being a sometimes sophist, I could argue that although the overt trail of crumbs can still be seen if one reads back once one has arrived at the gingerbread house, the hidden, subconscious crumbs may no longer be visible.

[The Walker]

...a parachute
for the soul.





...your mind
clearing its throat


I liked these very much prince!

[AdoreroDio]

a poem is...
a memory made
a dream forgotten
and then remembered once more

[PrinceMyshkin]

a poem is...
a memory made
a dream forgotten
and then remembered once more

I agree, thank you and the hesitation, before the final line, is a dramatic one. Too bad it doesn't appear in the original.

[a_little_wisp]

a poem is...

the tempo in the dance of your heart,
the quarter rest when it breaks.

[PrinceMyshkin]

a poem is...

the tempo in the dance of your heart,
the quarter rest when it breaks.

I love it! Thanks.

[PrinceMyshkin]

...the history
of its own,
brief existence

[PrinceMyshkin]

...an argument
with your more facile self

[DanielBenoit]

a poem is. . .

the quick shutter of a camera

[DanielBenoit]

...a stick
with which to beat back death.
*
...a sabbath
for the heart.
*


_______
© 2009, J. Newman. This is an original work posted under the name of PrinceMyshkin on http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?p=756383#post756383. Any unauthorized reproduction of it constitutes theft.


this poem is. . .

a cry out of truth
from the soft sweep of sound

[PrinceMyshkin]

this poem is. . .

a cry out of truth
from the soft sweep of sound

Wonderful how the dry authoritativeness of "truth" is joined with or overcome by the alliteration in the next line: philosophy giving way to music?

[PrinceMyshkin]

...an attitude
in search of an audience

[qimissung]

A poem is... iridescence undistilled

[qimissung]

A poem is...a door closing and a window opening

[PrinceMyshkin]

A poem is...a door closing and a window opening

Thank you for both your last posts apropos which, as well as your "Etude," I want to say that




A poem is...

...a gift
to those capable of appreciating it

[firefangled]

a poem is the breath
of a lie unmasking truth

[firefangled]

a poem is truth alone
only when it wakes us for awhile

[PrinceMyshkin]

a poem is the breath
of a lie unmasking truth

Thank you, but... I'm confused by this: if the truth is "unmasked" does that not mean that it is/was a lie? Or is "the breath / of a lie" falsely "unmasking" what is in actuality the truth? Holy moly!

[firefangled]

Thank you, but... I'm confused by this: if the truth is "unmasked" does that not mean that it is/was a lie? Or is "the breath / of a lie" falsely "unmasking" what is in actuality the truth? Holy moly!

This comes on the heels of reading Louise Gluck's essay Against Sincerity again regarding the "truth" in poetry, or stories and novels.

As Gluck writes, much of contemporary poetry is an attempted portrayal of the world "as it really happens." More often than not this is not interesting in and of itself, Gluck explains.

You yourself, Prince, have written about the veils of perception. The idea has been around from the east for 6000 years and in modern physics and even psychology it is somewhat accepted that we do not "see things exactly as they are."

I am saying that yes, truth wears the mask of reality. A poem is lie about what really happened (so is a novel) to expose the truth that we failed to see. What Gluck postulates is that this it is necessary most of the time to be insincere and detached when writing.

The few times in a poets life when that is overridden are the times when the world shows its blinding light to us and we experience insight.

The elements a writer brings to a poem or a novel are devices and methods that produce synthesis, much the same way a good detective solves a crime. The saying goes (in so many different forms) there is more here than meets the eye.

To think there is a vast difference between Home Burial and The Bourne Identity in method is false. The results may demonstrate a greater number and more sophistication of devices with language (Frost), but both stories are a lie (fiction) both stories open our eyes to hiding and deception and coercion.

[PrinceMyshkin]

This comes on the heels of reading Louise Gluck's essay Against Sincerity again regarding the "truth" in poetry, or stories and novels.

As Gluck writes, much of contemporary poetry is an attempted portrayal of the world "as it really happens." More often than not this is not interesting in and of itself, Gluck explains.

You yourself, Prince, have written about the veils of perception. The idea has been around from the east for 6000 years and in modern physics and even psychology it is somewhat accepted that we do not "see things exactly as they are."

I am saying that yes, truth wears the mask of reality. A poem is lie about what really happened (so is a novel) to expose the truth that we failed to see. What Gluck postulates is that this it is necessary most of the time to be insincere and detached when writing.

The few times in a poets life when that is overridden are the times when the world shows its blinding light to us and we experience insight.

The elements a writer brings to a poem or a novel are devices and methods that produce synthesis, much the same way a good detective solves a crime. The saying goes (in so many different forms) there is more here than meets the eye.

To think there is a vast difference between Home Burial and The Bourne Identity in method is false. The results may demonstrate a greater number and more sophistication of devices with language (Frost), but both stories are a lie (fiction) both stories open our eyes to hiding and deception and coercion.

Good grief, I responded to this but somehow my response didn't get posted. Despite my sometimes rabid response to 'believers,' I don't have a mind that is suited to metaphysics or philosophy. I'm often tempted to respond as Samuel Johnson did when asked how he would refute Bishop Berkeley's exposition of solipsism.

"Thus do I refute it," answered Dr Johnson, administering a sturdy kick to the table between himself and his interlocutor.

(Not that I would want to kick you or any furniture in your proximity.)

[PrinceMyshkin]

...words about anything else
that are, in effect,
portions of your autobiography

[blazeofglory]

...a moment that will pass,
that knows it will pass
and that is here
in the act of eluding us.

This poem is so short, but is consolidated and compacted.

A suffusion of a great m anythings compressingly.

[blazeofglory]

not the bottle,
though the sand that made it
conspired in its seething,
nor is the cork
any more than patience―
firm and pliable.

Listen to the decanting,
but do not be fooled―
the wine
is not the poem,
its redolence warns,
but its piquancy along a tongue.


© Copyright, Originally composed and posted on http://www.online-literature.com/for...splay.php?f=14 under the penname firefangled, August 8, 2009

This is really beautiful

[PrinceMyshkin]

prose
on steroids

[will kilmartin]

the waterboatmen that float on cold coffee lakes
in the bone white flooded caverns
behind the back of my mind
scattered dead on a page

[PrinceMyshkin]

the waterboatmen that float on cold coffee lakes
in the bone white flooded caverns
behind the back of my mind
scattered dead on a page

Wow! And thank you.....

[will kilmartin]

...a sabbath
for the heart.
*


_______
© 2009, J. Newman. This is an original work posted under the name of PrinceMyshkin on http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?p=756383#post756383. Any unauthorized reproduction of it constitutes theft.

thankyou sir. this contribution was quite wonderful.

[PrinceMyshkin]

...a thought
perched at the end of a high-diving board,
trembling before the expanse
of water below, trembling
or thirsty for it, savouring
in advance the waterless air
through which it will glide
on its way
to some other element.


____________________
Please feel free to add your own definitions

[Delta40]

....a bargain
snapped up by a shopper
in the marketplace
weighed, priced, bagged
placed in a basket
next to the bread

[dafydd manton]

....a way for mortal man
To speak with the gods.

[hillwalker]

A snazzy way of putting down words
on paper
without having to go all the way across to the end of the right-hand margin

H

[Silas Thorne]

A clipped breath

[PrinceMyshkin]

....the underside
of logic’s grim domain.

[Silas Thorne]

a drain
clogged by filth
that occasionally backs up
spewing forth yesterday's toasts
onto tomorrow's rose gardens.