Snapshots

Quote:

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Originally Posted by ampoule

I will give you a word......Pierian Spring. Okay, so that's two.

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That's Pope, right? "Essay on Man"? Something about drinking deep or not...? You feel my "sips" are too shallow? :bawling: :bawling: :bawling:

Lunch-hour at Tutto Bene,
every table is occupied ,
every conversation pitched
full-tilt against the one
social faux-pas, which is silence.

It sounds as if a single
multi-lunged voice rises,
dips occasionally, then rises
again in quest of any corner of the room
that might not yet be filled with sound.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

That's Pope, right? "Essay on Man"? Something about drinking deep or not...? You feel my "sips" are too shallow? :bawling: :bawling: :bawling:

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Oh Prince, no no NO. I was taking it from the angle that it is the sacred time for the muses, a time of inspiration. Your snapshots are both inspired and inspiring. Now no more bawling. Sit up. Dry your eyes. Now get snapping!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

Lunch-hour at Tutto Bene,
every table is occupied ,
every conversation pitched
full-tilt against the one
social faux-pas, which is silence.

It sounds as if a single
multi-lunged voice rises,
dips occasionally, then rises
again in quest of any corner of the room
that might not yet be filled with sound.

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Jesus Christ! That's great, Jer! That second stanza is the cherry on top of your poem! My Jer's got talent!!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

Lunch-hour at Tutto Bene,
every table is occupied ,
every conversation pitched
full-tilt against the one
social faux-pas, which is silence.

It sounds as if a single
multi-lunged voice rises,
dips occasionally, then rises
again in quest of any corner of the room
that might not yet be filled with sound.

---

Woohoo! woohoo! now this is awesome :D

Quote:

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Originally Posted by ampoule

Oh Prince, no no NO. I was taking it from the angle that it is the sacred time for the muses, a time of inspiration. Your snapshots are both inspired and inspiring. Now no more bawling. Sit up. Dry your eyes. Now get snapping!

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There's an empty chair
across the table from me
at my 'synagogue'
and it bears, in avance,
the imprint of your derriere!

'Synagogue' is how I refer to the Arts Cafe, corner Fairmount and Esplanade, should any of you care to drop in for the norning service of espresso and croissant, NOT the very best croissants in Montreal, for which we'd have to go to Le Paltoguet, Van Horne near Outremont

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Sweets America

Jesus Christ! That's great, Jer! That second stanza is the cherry on top of your poem! My Jer's got talent!!

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Merci, ma petite ange pas entierement peccable! I know what a hard marker you are!

But at the risk of sounding boastful, I suggest you wait for a subsequent one written in the same place more or less at the same time, maybe not so striking as poetry but written with great, great tenderness...

At Tutto Bene part 2

One arm flopped
around his neck,
a young girl sleeps
against her father’s
chest and shoulder
as if painted there

That's how I feel when I'm with a woman/

Sacre bleu! It's all happening North of the border! Maybe if the Expos had read your Snapshots, they never would've moved to D.C.

Certainly they played better in the shadow of the Laurentians rather than in the bright lights of the Potomac!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

At Tutto Bene part 2

One arm flopped
around his neck,
a young girl sleeps
against her father’s
chest and shoulder
as if painted there

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Beautiful snapshot!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Pendragon

Beautiful snapshot!

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Yes, I adore it.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

At Tutto Bene part 2

One arm flopped
around his neck,
a young girl sleeps
against her father’s
chest and shoulder
as if painted there

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Wow!!! This is wonderful, surprising, and so sweet. And of course, very well written. ;)

Tutto Bene lxxx, poetic genius, so balanced, so many nuances in so few words. Amazing.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

Lunch-hour at Tutto Bene,
every table is occupied ,
every conversation pitched
full-tilt against the one
social faux-pas, which is silence.

It sounds as if a single
multi-lunged voice rises,
dips occasionally, then rises
again in quest of any corner of the room
that might not yet be filled with sound.

---

Tutto Bene lxxxi, not a snapshot, but a portrait of a most exquisite composition. So beautiful.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

At Tutto Bene part 2

One arm flopped
around his neck,
a young girl sleeps
against her father’s
chest and shoulder
as if painted there

---

Getting to read them in one sitting - Priceless!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by firefangled

Tutto Bene lxxx, poetic genius, so balanced, so many nuances in so few words. Amazing.



Tutto Bene lxxxi, not a snapshot, but a portrait of a most exquisite composition. So beautiful.



Getting to read them in one sitting - Priceless!

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Thank you indeed. It must be apparent how much pleasure I get writing these. Not that I always achieve this, but my two aesthetic rules are 1) Do it with the absolute minimum of words; and 2) keep the author's ego - or even the shadow of his ego - out of it.

A thin, white Rastifari
with one dreadlock
trailing from under his knitted cap
where, he assures me, he’s got
a whole lot more, announces his arrival
before I catch sight of him,
by talking out loud to himself,

pauses at my table, apologizes,
introduces me to his Pit Bull, Akira,
which means “love” in Japanese, he says.

He offers three times to buy me a cup of coffee
though there’s one on the table in front of me.
“Allen,” he says, when I ask for his name,
“but some folk call me ‘Stretch.’”

A sort, dark-bearded khassid
waddles up Van Horne,
like not much more
than legs
attached to a broad-brimmed black hat

From where I sit I can hear
the clack-clack tch-clack
of high heels on the hard pavement,
and I reflect how each of us
has his or her own unique
clack-clack tch-clack clack-clack tch-clack
as we hobble or stride
around the universe.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

From where I sit I can hear
the clack-clack tch-clack
of high heels on the hard pavement,
and I reflect how each of us
has his or her own unique
clack-clack tch-clack clack-clack tch-clack
as we hobble or stride
around the universe.

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I liked it very much. :thumbs_up

At the table just ahead of mine
sit a young couple, she
facing me with one of those thin,
cigar-like cigarettes in her hand,
he with his wiry, somehow purposeful
back to me. After a moment or so
he gets up without a wasted motion,
bends his body over her seated one,
gives her a kiss without lingering
then heads briskly across the street
towards the Institute there.

I cannot see her eyes
behind her dark green sun-glasses
but her face immediately drops
a tone, seems to fill with unreleased
tears. She takes a last sip of her coffee,
stubs out her cigarette,
unwinds herself from the table
and walks off in a different direction.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

At the table just ahead of mine
sit a young couple, she
facing me with one of those thin,
cigar-like cigarettes in her hand,
he with his wiry, somehow purposeful
back to me. After a moment or so
he gets up without a wasted motion,
bends his body over her seated one,
gives her a kiss without lingering
then heads briskly across the street
towards the Institute there.

I cannot see her eyes
behind her dark green sun-glasses
but her face immediately drops
a tone, seems to fill with unreleased
tears. She takes a last sip of her coffee,
stubs out her cigarette,
unwinds herself from the table
and walks off in a different direction.

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Beautiful emotion here. I might be repeating myself, but you have this thing to capture moments like this.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

At the table just ahead of mine
sit a young couple, she
facing me with one of those thin,
cigar-like cigarettes in her hand,
he with his wiry, somehow purposeful
back to me. After a moment or so
he gets up without a wasted motion,
bends his body over her seated one,
gives her a kiss without lingering
then heads briskly across the street
towards the Institute there.

I cannot see her eyes
behind her dark green sun-glasses
but her face immediately drops
a tone, seems to fill with unreleased
tears. She takes a last sip of her coffee,
stubs out her cigarette,
unwinds herself from the table
and walks off in a different direction.

---

Ah, what an outstanding poem you've written, Jerry. I'm really carried away by your poem. Keep up your great work! :thumbs_up

A man approaches the café
wearing one of those hunter/fisherman vests
with more pockets
then there are things to put in them,
pristine white sneakers,
and spends each footstep
tentatively, as if the ground
might be radio-active

I love it when you get home and bring me a special treat.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

A man approaches the café
wearing one of those hunter/fisherman vests
with more pockets
then there are things to put in them,
pristine white sneakers,
and spends each footstep
tentatively, as if the ground
might be radio-active

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Funny ending!
Hey, where are you? It feels as if you just slipped through my fingers!

These Khassidic women and girls
in the dowdiest of clothes
and with their solemn, long-suffering faces...

Is it not some other form of vanity
to present oneself so unattractively?

Oh, I couldn't agree more. Makes me think that the Amish are a horse 'n buggy gang. ;)
Another good picture.

Very good snapshot. I agree with your perception. Vanity is a human trait. It presents itself in all cultures regardless of technological proclivity. It is dangerous if it becomes more than playful pride or the other extreme of purposeful disdain for adornment, which, as you point out, is false adornment itself.

I think the cure is to have a nude barn raising.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by firefangled

Very good snapshot. I agree with your perception. Vanity is a human trait. It presents itself in all cultures regardless of technological proclivity. It is dangerous if it becomes more than playful pride or the other extreme of purposeful disdain for adornment, which, as you point out, is false adornment itself.

I think the cure is to have a nude barn raising.

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Ah, you were prompted in this last by the estimable Dona Ampoule's reference to the Amish, which reminded you of that glorious scene in Witness ?

At the end of the terrace
a scruffy, emaciated guy
in loose green t-shirt,
capris and flip-flops,
his bicycle nearby,
front wheel minus a tire,
tugs at the cigarette he bummed from me

and runs a monologue
either at the air
or at the young woman
at the table between us,
one-third his age,
twice his size,
brimming with physical good health

I notice N. go by without seeing me,
an older woman I once thought
had her sights on me,
now seemingly fallen in on herself,
4/5 her former height

There are ample of great poems to read and you have portrayed so many captured moments here in this thread. Thanks a lot for keeping this thread alive. This will be a great poetry book after compilation. Keep up your great work!!! :thumbs_up

Over lunch with Hazel
at Maiko Sushi, I fight as hard as I can
to resist her effort to flatten everything
-–including my love-affair with Sweets
--into a cliche

a young woman,
who makes me think of a jolly stuffed cabbage,
chats animatedly
with her somewhat
dry-looking male companion

Quote:

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

Over lunch with Hazel
at Maiko Sushi, I fight as hard as I can
to resist her effort to flatten everything
-–including my love-affair with Sweets
--into a cliche

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I understand that feeling (in my own way).
Sometimes I walk away from discussions feeling like they might have taken my childhood away from my excitement of adulthood, and it's not fair,
they can cry themselves to sleep - just don't take me with you.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

Over lunch with Hazel
at Maiko Sushi, I fight as hard as I can
to resist her effort to flatten everything
-–including my love-affair with Sweets
--into a cliche

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Though I LOVE this one just as much, it doesn't seem to go along with the other Snapshots. I have no picture of Hazel unless it would be my own cliched version of a woman like that.
Now, that guy at the end of the terrace, now that's a picture. :D

Quote:

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Originally Posted by ampoule

Though I LOVE this one just as much, it doesn't seem to go along with the other Snapshots. I have no picture of Hazel unless it would be my own cliched version of a woman like that.
Now, that guy at the end of the terrace, now that's a picture. :D

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Yes, I see your point. It's more an inner snapshot than the sort I prefer to make.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Umbilical

I understand that feeling (in my own way).
Sometimes I walk away from discussions feeling like they might have taken my childhood away from my excitement of adulthood, and it's not fair,
they can cry themselves to sleep - just don't take me with you.

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You know, with some sensitive attention to the line breaks, this might make a poignant poem.

Jer, you have such a beautiful way of capturing the things you view into these lovely short 'n sweet poems.

I love the way you look at life, and I like how we can see a little of you in each snapshot -- a man with a twinkle in his eye who misses nothing.

Keep 'em coming!

K♥zzo

Quote:

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

Over lunch with Hazel
at Maiko Sushi, I fight as hard as I can
to resist her effort to flatten everything
-–including my love-affair with Sweets
--into a cliche

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Love the way this works, or the way I think it works with sushi. Never could figure people like that.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

a young woman,
who makes me think of a jolly stuffed cabbage,
chats animatedly
with her somewhat
dry-looking male companion

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I had to laugh trying to envision an animated woman who looks like a jolly stuffed cabbage. The sounds go so well against the comparison with her companion.