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5976. arkymalarky - 10/20/2007 3:48:16 AM My reluctance about posting revisions has been to avoid turning this into my own private workshop as we watch Seamus make tiny change after change. Talk about an unfair way to win the M word laurel!
I was just thinking how I'd like to share this stuff with my AP English kids for that very reason. They need to understand more about process and the significance of word choice and how people discuss literature as peers, and so many other things this thread offers.
Like a number of other Moties, I rarely post here, but it's an irreplacable part of the Mote to most of us.
And I really don't think Thoughtful meant to be unkind. She's had several rapid-fire kicks in the gut lately, and I think sometimes when you're introspective and trying to wrestle with your own demons and figure things out, something speaks to you in a poem or painting or anyone else's artistic expressions, and your response may have enough internality to it that others misread and may even take offense at what you've said.
Or maybe not. But I still believe the last thing she wanted her post to evoke was offense.
5977. arkymalarky - 10/20/2007 3:49:54 AM Oooooh, see what misreading can do?
"Thoughtful's" as a possessive is not what I saw at first. I thought you said "Thoughtful is so unkind." A thousand pardons, Seamus! 5978. alistairConnor - 10/20/2007 2:27:25 PM Speaking of hay (well technically it's silage) 5979. NuPlanetOne - 10/20/2007 4:26:00 PM Seamus,
I only asked that you sit quietly in the corner because I realized I had been going on and on as if you were not there. A parenthetical interjection without punctuation suggesting kindly needling from the lectern as you suffered through a critique bandied betwixt alistair and I. My only command, had I any authority, is that you remain fully engaged and vocal. And if this is not yours or any other Moties' private workshop, then its reversion to stagnation intervals will remain constant. I for one, as always, do not like to see conflicts in personality aired here. But I would never object if the clashes are the result of consumption and consideration of our meagre works of poetry. Flaming in here dies a quick death. Yet, I have always admired your attempts at mediation as with a few of those even being successful. I too like the side by side view. Nice touch Wabbit. Job description: Poet: Comparison challanged. Or: Must have the ability to compare things or thoughts or imaginings in such a way as to invoke an elusive, yet profound connection with the universal shared soul of humanity. Experience helpful. Some training provided. Need own tools. E-commute O.K. E.O.E 5980. Seamus - 10/22/2007 3:28:39 PM arky, what is "AP" as in "AP English"? I had thought Alexander Pope, but then I realised you'd never do that to students you were fond of unless you intended to follow such a course with intensive therapy.
If following my tattered trail through a poem's creation and improvement is of any help, then you are welcome to it. In The Mysterious Case of The Haywain Who Didn't Bale above, I'm basically stymied at a near, but not there, point right now.
In such a case, my one bit of advice to anyone listening in would be to let such a poem "rest". When stymied, back away for a bit.
Although mine above clearly needs work, the worst thing possible is for me to hack around at the edges when I know I'm close but cannot find what I need to bring it off. There is no crime whatsoever in letting this poem nap for a while, perhaps a long while, until I'm ready to take it up again with a fresh wind. There is no crime in realising that I am not satisfied with it and setting it by for now.
Sometimes it is clear from others' comments or from my own "reading" that aspects of a poem (e.g., voice, subject, figures of speech, tone, tense, person, number, devices, sonants, beat, colour, form) need bumping up (or more often down). And sometimes, those changes present themselves to me in real time, that is, quickly and while I'm actively facing the poem. That is where workshopping a piece such as we do here helps so much. I never tune out the suggestions of others, even the tone of voice others use in responding. I may or may not use what is suggested to me, but I always will consider everything.
Other times, no matter how much good advice I've gotten over a poem or how much I know the poem isn't home yet, I simply cannot work it any further and remain productive with the changes.
When that happens, I've learned to give it space. I know I will come back to it. Frequently, it works its own improvements in the passive part of my mind long before I'm aware I've even really taken it up again.
A disclaimer: I'm in no way comparing myself to good writers. But anyone requiring proof that the very best poets laboured long and hard over their poems and may truly never have been fully "finished" with them need only look at AC's depiction of Shakespeare's reworking of his sonnets. Or take a glance at Billy Butler's (sorry, Yeats') lifelong self-editing frenzy. Sexton, Wright, Szymborska, Crane--All examples of the "it's never truly finished" school.
No need to apologise in re misreading what I said. In fact, I could have cast that much better. And I'm sorry to be the cause of additional pain for thoughtful, here and elsewhere. 5981. Seamus - 10/22/2007 3:34:58 PM I love those pics, Alistair. That looked to be a fun day.
(Now look what you've done...You've caused me to consider the need for a silage poem!) 5982. Seamus - 10/22/2007 3:40:21 PM Nu, I understand perfectly what you were and are saying...I was just trying to tell you how grateful I am for your generous words. Coming from you, it means much, my friend.
I'm in agreement on the "stagnation intervals". I've been a frequent contributor by absence to the stagnation, so I will try to help remedy that by being more consistently present.
Brings to mind, where is our good landlord, Rick, these days? And mac, I hope you are about and well. And so also to everyone here. 5983. Seamus - 10/22/2007 3:51:33 PM So, since I've put that one by for now, I will turn to this one. A lighter tone, I hope. It's quite new, still very raw, has some easily recognisable whole line problems ("but as you can see, even then" just for starters). Who knows what else problems. The title feels placeholderish for now, although it grows on me. I've been focused on progression here, but we'll see.
As always, I think of every thing said about something I've written as a gift, responses, comments, crits and suggestions all.
The theory of almost everything
Those effin' jays
are the callous keys
to the centre of every last universe.
Without shame, they lead with their tits
to guide my wandering hands home.
In the beginning, I goosed those bumps
on Frannie and Jill
just to watch them die
Gtsmmor smf Ko;;,
but as you can see, even then
I couldn't completely erase them.
I've tried big banging
with my eyes closed,
but always throw something out in the end.
Up here with Al and Isaac,
I'm in a better place now.
Maybe my horizon has limits,
but I'm done with those damn [4e6e,
inching closer to Y_R.
Seamus 5984. arkymalarky - 10/22/2007 6:50:05 PM arky, what is "AP" as in "AP English"? I had thought Alexander Pope, but then I realised you'd never do that to students you were fond of unless you intended to follow such a course with intensive therapy.
Haha! I wouldn't do that to myself. ;-) It's advanced placement. If they pass a standardized test at the end of the course they get college credit. 5985. arkymalarky - 10/22/2007 7:15:57 PM arky, what is "AP" as in "AP English"? I had thought Alexander Pope, but then I realised you'd never do that to students you were fond of unless you intended to follow such a course with intensive therapy.
Haha! I wouldn't do that to myself. ;-) It's advanced placement. If they pass a standardized test at the end of the course they get college credit.
If this is a double, please excuse. 5986. Seamus - 10/26/2007 10:46:44 PM Thanks, arky, for the explanation.
Well, I've got hay for brains...I've scratched the haywain itch and here's how I'm putting it to rest for now:
Hay wagons at sunset
All day, cathedrals have grown
out of blocks of hay
from the second cutting.
Wheeled fortresses
ring the dusking fields.
Thick with the shaved and seated,
the nearest moans low
under its mass—
that tester of bearings.
Deep, umbered ruts
join one parish of takings to next—
until they line at last behind the jutted arc
of far, haloed oak,
where bricks of sun
continue to assemble and rise
before a faith still bright. 5987. Seamus - 10/26/2007 10:51:10 PM I've also been working this one, posted not so long ago. It's tighter, but I don't know if it's tight enough yet. Although the liturgy is wound better, I'm still not satisfied with the end line, among other things. All criticisms appreciated.
Sursum corda
(for Conall)
Cultivo una rosa blanca
en julio como en enero
(from “Cultivo Una Rosa Blanca” by José Martí)
Footballs and ewe grass and summer sunlight
fill a white, high memory
I'm supposed to tend, along with you,
who laughed and looked up to me.
It is right that I should do this.
But my memories ochre over time.
They all go plumb in the end. And also with you:
We are in a pack-like preening
of brave bobs, flexing
with cigarettes and conceits
outside the sanctuary
of the cinema.
Someone claims an insider’s knowing
how black the furry baz grows
on that one’s growler
and someone else is oh didja catch
the brilliant diddies
on that coppernob?
You cried out, once,
from your wounds inside the sacristy.
I listened to the silence.
I'd rooted myself away in dark Dublin
to brood over books
in the lamps' round cheeses of light
when they lifted you up and cut you down
off the dying chestnut in the grey snow
across the wet lane from the rectory.
Under that tree
I'd often footed reckless balls.
You'd stop then skim them back--
a perfect two touch, passing,
like our voices,
over the green
and into the shadows.
Let me give thanks for warm grasses. 5988. wonkers2 - 10/27/2007 9:18:10 PM Nice! A few words are Greek to me--"diddies," "copperknob," "furry baz on one's growler." 5989. wonkers2 - 10/27/2007 9:23:57 PM growler=beer to go?
diddies=titties?
copperknob=? 5990. Seamus - 10/29/2007 5:12:31 PM Thanks, wonk. I appreciate that.
about the slang,
you are correct on "diddies"
"coppernob" is slang for a redhead
"growler" is a vulgarism for female genitalia
"baz" is a vulgarism for pubic hair
I'm intending that stanza to work in a way that doesn't actually require word-for-word knowledge of the irish slang...my aim is a flavour instead. An image of a group of teenage males hanging around in public, up to no general good. The talk in such a setting goes where the talk frequently goes.
The goal there is to keep the reader from "perfecting" the subject, which would be the tendency, but to see him (and the narrator) as "plumb"--as human. I am hoping to avoid having the poem falsify the subject by polishing it up. 5991. wonkers2 - 10/29/2007 6:25:44 PM Thanks for the translation. A fine poem, even better after the translation! 5992. NuPlanetOne - 10/30/2007 10:40:00 PM Seamus...that one evokes memories of one I wrote a few years back for/about the loss of my brother. Although, yours evokes quite a few more losses on a few different levels. When I read it the first time it appeared here, I thought, hmmm, he will be pleased with that one. It's fairly pretty much all done, even by your standards. I like it. Tons of good stuff in there.
5993. NuPlanetOne - 10/30/2007 10:40:39 PM At some point last year my daughter and I took it upon ourselves to stop in at Salem, Ma. We had time to kill, as one of my brothers lives not far from there. I had recently imposed upon her to read some Hawthorne and she loved it. No Rappaccinni's daughter her. (Plus I wanted to see the statue of Liz Montgomery, after all.) I have always lived within an hour or so of the place and have seen all the changes through the years. It is quite the trap now. Anyway, it was a weekday afternoon fairly close to Holloween, but not crowded. She challanged me to write some kind of epic poem in the style and language of Hawthorne, Poe, et.al. Being a rhyming fool, I took her up. So in the Halloween spirit I composed, over the next few months, most of a little contrivance I've entitled 'The Ascension of Rachel.' I swore to finish it by last week. It is raw, and has holes, but it had the desired result, I think. Cut and paste to http://freewebs.com/zeezo99xx. Click on Rachel. The lenghth of the damn thing demanded its own space. Let me know if it has the Halloween feel....
5994. Crafty Critter - 11/1/2007 2:25:22 AM Hi Seamus,
As Wonkers, I have a couple of questions about your poem "The Theory of Almost Everything". First, I'm not really sure what the poem is about ( not being a sarcastic here) but the codes you have in there totally have me stumped. Such as "Gtsmmor smf Ko;;, " and "[4e6e,
inching closer to Y_R. "...Can you enlighten me ? I also know that the word "jays" is used symbolically for several things, do you mind expounding a bit on this one for me ? Thanks, Crafty_Critter 5995. alistairConnor - 11/1/2007 2:55:20 PM Hullo Critter!
Just as a starting point, have a look at your keyboard. The F and J keys most likely have bumps on them.
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