The great, when they have fed us

[PrinceMyshkin]

The great, when they have fed us,
what have they kept for themselves?

A sigh, a moment of rest
before the fever seizes them again,
a quiet fever, a cold fever to make
another story, another poem,
a universe better tied together
than our own, for they have seen
our universe in all its unruly disconnectedness
at the heart of which, they suspect,
there is a knot, firm and unyielding.

Others have written, have sung
to the Imperium, the multi-faced
Master Magician, He or She
with Her wand that reaches to infinity,
She of the million churches,
Abbots, Imams, Rabbis, the mumbling hordes
with their incantations, but the greats,
the Flannery O’Connors, the W.B. Yeats, they feed us
and feed us, and their bottomless pots
give out more.

[hillwalker]

An ode in praise of those who inspire us all to write as best we can - an honourable poem Prince.

Perhaps the word 'stewpots' is slightly jarring in such a piece - not the most appropriate term for the founts of wisdom and knowledge that give birth to their art. Personally it put me in mind of Irish stew..... (maybe that was what you had in mind all along - a tongue-in-cheek coda?).

But I enjoyed reading it and it gets better on repeated study.

H

[PrinceMyshkin]

An ode in praise of those who inspire us all to write as best we can - an honourable poem Prince.

Perhaps the word 'stewpots' is slightly jarring in such a piece - not the most appropriate term for the founts of wisdom and knowledge that give birth to their art. Personally it put me in mind of Irish stew..... (maybe that was what you had in mind all along - a tongue-in-cheek coda?).

But I enjoyed reading it and it gets better on repeated study.

H

Many thanks, and I've made the small change that I hope is not as incongruous as "stewpots" was

[hillwalker]

Prince - call me all the names under the sun for pestering you.....

I'm now thinking 'bottomless pots' is a bit too cumbersome.

The original two-syllable word 'stewpots' fitted the line, it was just the choice of word (conjuring up images of an Aga cooker in someone's kitchen).

Perhaps 'cauldron' is a better fit - the sense of an ancient broth of creative juices bubbling away over an open fire (and the Irish connotation is a little more lyrical than practical) - or at least something along the same lines?

Feel free to shoot me down in flames, kind sir.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Prince - call me all the names under the sun for pestering you.....

I'm now thinking 'bottomless pots' is a bit too cumbersome.

The original two-syllable word 'stewpots' fitted the line, it was just the choice of word (conjuring up images of an Aga cooker in someone's kitchen).

Perhaps 'cauldron' is a better fit - the sense of an ancient broth of creative juices bubbling away over an open fire (and the Irish connotation is a little more lyrical than practical) - or at least something along the same lines?

Feel free to shoot me down in flames, kind sir.

Cannot at the moment think of any name vile enough to call you, nor a metrically satisfying replacement for "stewpot": "cauldron" strikes me as somewhat too literary, but I'll be back as soon as I've found a solution to either of these conundrums...

[dizzydoll]

Its so much fun to see the poets put their heads together to fine tune their poetry. :hurray:

[AuntShecky]

Oh, please don't use "cauldron." At best that word connotes the three witches at the beginning of the Scottish play, and at worst some kind of campy Halloween
send-up. "Stewpot" brings consistently to the central "feeding" image in the title. Additionally, though "stewpot" may bring to mind a hobo hovering over a campfire, it also alludes to the "starving artist" (or poet) suffering in a garrett. It's a nice, ironic word choice which helps keep the poem from being overly ponderous.

You know, last night during the Mets v. Braves, somehow the conversation shifted to baseball on the West Coast. When the commentators talked specifically about California, Keith Hernandez mentioned how much he liked an author associated with that part of the country, John Steinbeck. "He was moody though," Keith said. "Writers are always moody." What do you think, Prince, are we always "moody?"

[kittypaws]

I am rather new here but would like to post my suggestion....perhaps it could read....And from their infinite widsom give out more.

Just a thought...very well done and it does speak of writers who were all moody!!

Kittypaws

[lallison]

I'm not moody, never. And you'd better not call me moody again, because if you do, you'll regret it. Got it? And don't say I'm too sensitive either!

By the way PM, your poem made me hungry, think I'll order pizza, with extra cheese. Wish you could get real pork peperoni in this place.

To me, your poem seems less artful than what I've come to expect from you, although it is an interesting stream of thought. Reminds me a bit of The Long Legged Fly, one of my favorites. So, this is just to say, enjoyed it none the less.

[Hawkman]

Hi Prince,
I love this poem with its metaphor of spiritual nourishment. I’m afraid I didn’t get to see it before the edit as I was working all day yesterday and got home late, so I can’t comment on the change of analogy re pots, crocks caldrons or stewpots!

It works for me.

Personally I find these verses inspirational, so thanks.

[hillwalker]

I think we all got in a bit of a stew for a while there and now tend to agree with AS that 'cauldron' is not perticularly fitting - which is why I added the rider 'or something along the same lines.'
There must be a word for some more ancient kind of cook-pot that doesn't sound like it came from an up-to-date kitchen equipment catalogue.

And I'm afraid that 'bottomless pots' makes me think too much of 'bottomless pits' - I give up.....

[MorpheusSandman]

I love the sentiment behind the ode to the great artists who do indeed feed us. My only complaint is that they also do this to feed themselves! I'm afraid most of the great artists are often also the most selfish. They do what they do because they have to with no thought of anyone else; others liking it is just a nicety.

[PrinceMyshkin]

I love the sentiment behind the ode to the great artists who do indeed feed us. My only complaint is that they also do this to feed themselves! I'm afraid most of the great artists are often also the most selfish. They do what they do because they have to with no thought of anyone else; others liking it is just a nicety.

How can we know with certainty which of these conjectures - yours or mine - is true of any or all artists? And then there is a third possible explanation of their motives: Flannery O'Connor was once asked why she wrote, to which she responded: "Because I do it well."

[blank|verse]

Yes, it's expressed with all the articulate insight one comes to expect from you, Prince.

Perhaps it's a generational thing, but I found it slightly too sycophantic, although I'm not sure if that's necessarily a bad thing, as it's charmingly free of cynicism. I think it would be hard to imagine a younger writer being so idealistic about artists, without including some sordid details of their private lives or whatever, to make them seem more human and feeding the modern reader's suspicion of authority. So maybe there should be more like this. I applaud such a laudatory poem.

And I like the assonance of 'bottomless pots' and rhythmically, it slows the reader nicely before the end.

[MorpheusSandman]

How can we know with certainty which of these conjectures - yours or mine - is true of any or all artists? I think it would be foolish for anyone to make a blanket statement why all artists create. Some, do indeed, do it well. Some do it because they have a drive to express themselves. Some do it because they do get satisfaction out of watching others enjoying what they do. There's certainly not any one all-encompassing answer. I just thought the poem was perhaps too one-sided on the issue. But I guess it doesn't really rule out the other reasons so I guess I'm just nit-picking here. :)

[Greymure]

Others have written, have sung
to the Imperium, the multi-faced
Master Magician, He or She
with Her wand that reaches to infinity,
She of the million churches,
Abbots, Imams, Rabbis, the mumbling hordes
with their incantations, but the greats,
the Flannery O’Connors, the W.B. Yeats, they feed us
and feed us, and their bottomless pots
give out more.


love it

[PrinceMyshkin]

Many thanks Morpheus, B|V and Greymure.