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5911. Seamus - 8/24/2007 9:28:17 PM I like each of these from you, Nu.
In "Please God, Help Them" Message # 5904
this, where you invoke the god you go on to conclude is not invocable because she is not there to be invoked, is wonderful:
please help me
it is happening
now
every day I love the tension in that.
And this is particularly fine:
what exactly
am I praying for
this week To the extent that
Can we have
A God
If we can't imagine
A dialogue
That's the fucking
Problem represents your own philosophy and is not merely a point-of-view assigned to the voice here, you and I are perhaps busily not-praying to the same damn not-god. As you say, "forget/I mentioned it".
As it was for Jen, I too was concerned in response to "Funeral Mass Family Picnic" Message # 5905
and I am sorry to hear of your loss.
I don't have one thing
Eligible
For damnation Would that it were true for me. Or would that it were true if it were also true there were a god to hand out the damnation. Which there is not, so what the hell, right? (Of course, the subjunctive mood was invented expressly for the purpose of my torturing you with a paragraph such as this one.)
In any event, I particularly like those lines.
And once again, there you go demonstrating your mastery of the wonderful image in "Convenience Store" Message # 5910.
So much to enjoy here. So much to admire, Nu. I thank you.
And I'd no idea you were a novelist as well! What is the old line?
Q: "What's it about?" A: "About 300 pages."
Seamus
(The slowly retreating battery guy)5912. Seamus - 8/24/2007 9:41:59 PM This is a far more Serious Topic™, and it's directed to arky as well as anyone else who thinks that just because I may seem perpetually unawares, that I am, at all times, unawares. The fact is, I am indeed preternaturally unawares, but it is also the quite remarkable case that, for the moment, I’m awake. For the moment.
And towards that end…
I do not believe I've ever achieved an "It Which Must Not Be Named" here. The m-word. In the 8-ish or so years here (correct?) and in all the years at this place's predecessor, our former home, I do not think I've ever worn the laurel.
And I'd name it, save I cannot remember after all of the debates about its proper spelling what its proper spelling is. One "l" or two? One "n" or two? Zed zero?
We all realise that pigs fly about as often as one of these presents itself in Mote Poetry.
Here, I can be seen practising for the final sprint:
I
may
fall
miserably
short,
but
I'm
going to
try
for
it!
(Line breaks!
Ideal!
I could claim it is found poetry!)
So...
To arky and all other pretenders:
I'm going to fight you with every sentient ounce of my being for this one. Which adjective of course means you've not much of a threat in me.
The rest is silence.
5913. wabbit - 8/25/2007 12:26:03 AM Darling, sweet Seamus,
I have no poetry, but
you may count on me
for assistance in
the quest for the
M victory
which, once achieved,
I shall hope with my every breath
the rest from you will
not be silence. 5914. arkymalarky - 8/25/2007 12:50:17 AM OOOOh, a challenge! 5915. Seamus - 8/25/2007 4:06:11 AM wabbit, you are very kind.
arky, yes, the game is afoot.
(Or as a dear friend from the Czech Republic, who loves Shakespeare but whose idiomatic English is less than precise, says: The game is underfoot.)
5916. alistairConnor - 8/25/2007 11:38:51 AM Seamus : And I'd no idea you [Nu] were a novelist as well!
I am pleased and proud to say that it started here (the unfinished Chicken Piccata Test).
Next comes the work in progress Tony, or Proof it existed.
Pleased, proud and frustrated, because he isn't letting us look at the process at the moment...
Next question is for you, Seamus : would you consider a contribution to that 5917. alistairConnor - 8/25/2007 11:46:41 AMNext question is for you, Seamus : would you consider a contribution to that autofiction thread? 5918. alistairConnor - 8/25/2007 11:48:06 AM Hmm Po'try Olympics?
How can I help?
I have a prose soul. 5919. arkymalarky - 8/25/2007 4:07:32 PM Make every post rhyme with the one previous. 5920. alistairConnor - 8/25/2007 6:01:34 PM That requires a soul that is twisted and devious.
A project more ambitious : a collective sonnet? 5921. arkymalarky - 8/25/2007 8:10:21 PM Haha! Okay! You start! Get right on it! 5922. wabbit - 8/26/2007 12:18:58 AM the Motean sonnet, a new rhyming scheme,
AA BB CA seems too obvious. 5923. Seamus - 8/26/2007 2:55:34 AM A collective sonnet would be a Motean dream,
But when my turn, you'd need to be forgivious. 5924. Seamus - 8/26/2007 3:01:07 AM I am pleased and proud to say that it started here (the unfinished Chicken Piccata Test).
I'm grateful for the link, alistair. That is a fun collection.
Next question is for you, Seamus : would you consider a contribution to that autofiction thread?
I'd be honoured to do.
5925. wabbit - 8/26/2007 8:38:32 PM
it will be a success if Seamus and NuPlanet
will grace the project with their verses most excellent
Ok, I should bow out now.
AA BB CA CA BB so far 5926. NuPlanetOne - 8/29/2007 3:55:03 PM seamus
Thank you for your comments and analyses.
And yes my friend, I believe we do pray to the same absent God. Even if it is by habit. The God fearing, God hearing, God sighting, God fighting and God righting and wronging, I suppose, are the ones, perhaps, less likely to experience the phantom limb of excised belief. That I pray at all is just the hammer tapping the nerve. The leg kicks out in reflex. When I am jabbed in the soul, God jumps out, and I am surprised by the response once I see it. Actually, there are times when I am glad the reflex is healthy, as even in my most God railing moments I would not truly disrespect the notion of faith nor anyone devoted to it. The reflex reminds me, whether I like it or not, God exists, even if only as an idea. And from all I have observed thus far in my simple existence is, it is, arguably, the most primal of ideas. It’s the big one. Even bloodthirsty killers consult icons and spirits of some sort. Besides, how could I truly describe this existence we are in if I were to declare God dead? Ha, what in the hell would I write about! God forbid.
Anyway, I have decided to worship gravity.
Also, I’m not sure exactly what the sonnet project is as proposed, but I’m always ready to rhyme!
Oh, and yes, I say have a go at the fiction thread. Get me off the hot seat.
5927. NuPlanetOne - 9/2/2007 3:33:56 PM Crushed Hope
There is gravity
Or there is nothing
Everything combines
Eventually aligns
Is tugged
Into the center
Sometimes
The center collapses
Everything is crushed
Goes dark
Invisible
Only gravity remains
If you shook off
The water
And people
And put the earth
On a giant planet
It would sit
Like a pebble
In the desert
There should
Be a reason
Why everything
Must obey
This one force
Of course
Reasons
Are crushed
As well.
5928. Ulgine Barrows - 9/8/2007 10:45:41 AM Gasping in the afternoon sunlight
reaching for a drink of water
from my lover 5929. Seamus - 9/10/2007 9:41:55 PM Blenheim Palace, 1882
What I marshal are my tin marines and my
reserves. Within my arena and with my toys,
I captain energies to defend my home.
With a proper kiss, I doom each to follow its
orders—hopelessly posted to defend home's walls,
already stove in, breached, eaten alive.
I receive reports from the fronts as I cower here,
made captain to repel so many Zulus in waves.
Straight on come Zulus, like vomit, straight on in waves,
Then left, enfilade left, nothing's left on the right.
The reserves I commit to the fight—so poorly placed
at the battle's start—allowed surrounded and surrendered
without entering the fight would be a breach
of faith. Across the breadth of my command
I stride to know the degree of my defeat.
This loss, today, will be a great one. None will
be taken alive; none will be repatriated.
Already, the enemy mount the stairs at my feet.
I would wear the blue coat with gold epaulets
for my surrender, but they will not accord
me my sword—Zulus sweep through me, past and on.
Seamus
5930. NuPlanetOne - 9/16/2007 12:59:53 AM Seamus
I know little about English history or where exactly the historical allusions connect in that piece, but, that aside, the way you let the motion fall into the next stanza without interrupting the mood or current in the present stanza is exceptional. I’ve never been able to do that quite as well. I shy away from it, actually. And it is vivid. The tragedy is precise. Very nice.
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