Dog ends and Hot dish

[corndog_]

The English Language

A young man packs a trunk and travels
3000 miles. His whole life
is in that trunk. I mean that figuratively:
in the trunk are shoes and letters and
photographs of his life. One shows a boy

holding a stick thrust overhead, his eyes
on the high tip, his face triumphant. It is not
the man’s face, but it resembles his.
The photograph accompanies a letter
that reads “See? A part of you remains
even when you are far away.” This, too,

is figurative: all of him is now
at his destination. He opens the trunk
and fingers the worn edge
of the photograph. Then he removes
everything from trunk. Literally:

the shoes and letters and photographs
are placed on the lid and on the floor.
He takes a job. He builds a house.
An old man repacks the trunk
and travels 3000 miles. He finds

a young man with a face
like his own. He studies the lines
formed by the jaw and ear. I mean that
literally: his eyes and fingers trace
the sharp curves. When they speak

the old man talks of what it means
to leave, the young man talks of
what it means to not leave. They talk
about the stick. They talk until
the distance between them is small.
I mean that both literally and figuratively.

::

 

[corndog_]

It's a first draft. Dig in.

 

[butters]

i'm digesting it, first. figuratively

 

[corndog_]

Stephen Hawking’s Genes

Who can blame the stars, their immeasurable
distance, for suffering so small?
Every once-in-awhile (it’s an
algorithm) they line up, and you
stood on the night of misfortune
in their fateful wind. The error

slips our grasp: chromosome 21
or a prenatal sidestep; who
claims astral intent for your small
space? But life is like that: big
and small at the same time,
an information paradox. Your genes

contain you, as hers do
tonight. On a blanket
beneath a violet dome I point out
constellations and tell stories
of astronomers that looked
before us. Each tried to tease out
some large truth. In the silence

that follows I can hear
her mind travel between thoughts
as far apart as stars. When
she sets down her glass and unsnaps
her jeans I know that fate’s winds
are warm and gentle tonight.

::

 

[butters]

In the silence that follows I can hear her mind travel between thoughts as far apart as stars.


belissimo


srsly, i am unfit tonight for lucid discussion of such poetry this board affords - but my mind ... it's traveling in the silence

 

[corndog_]

You don't mind the cheap pun?

 

[butters]

You don't mind the cheap pun?

no. no i don't.

 

[champagne1982]

The English Language

A young man packs a trunk and travels
3000 miles. His whole life
is in that trunk. I mean that figuratively:
in the trunk are shoes and letters and
photographs of his life. One shows a boy

holding a stick thrust overhead, his eyes
on the high tip, his face triumphant. It is not
the man’s face, but it resembles his.
The photograph accompanies a letter
that reads “See? A part of you remains
even when you are far away.” This, too,

is figurative: all of him is now
at his destination. He opens the trunk
and fingers the worn edge
of the photograph. Then he removes
everything from trunk. Literally:

the shoes and letters and photographs
are placed on the lid and on the floor.
He takes a job. He builds a house.
An old man repacks the trunk
and travels 3000 miles. He finds

a young man with a face
like his own. He studies the lines
formed by the jaw and ear. I mean that
literally: his eyes and fingers trace
the sharp curves. When they speak

the old man talks of what it means
to leave, the young man talks of
what it means to not leave. They talk
about the stick. They talk until
the distance between them is small.
I mean that both literally and figuratively.

::

I like it, it's a draft though, and I can tell. Too narrative and way to much junk in the trunk. I mean the metaphorical trunk, not the figurative one, although, my hips are a mite wider than a couple of years ago.. hell, my boobs are bigger, too. But back to The English Language.

Prune away those articles of the and "a". You do a disservice to poetry by being prose-like. Remember rhythm rhyme assonance and the senses. I enjoy being told some things but this poem, while rich in story isn't feeding me any experiences. I'm not able to sit and read it and feel smug or empathetic really ... but that could be because i'm not the intended audience. I would like to be... can you make me feel how heavy his baggage is?

I love the way you show that old and younger can draw together, especially as maturity brings life experience to the younger and then they stand on common ground. Keep telling us stories, baby. Just gimme some kinda lyrical rush as i read it. Know what I mean?

 

[The_Fool]

I like it, it's a draft though, and I can tell. Too narrative and way to much junk in the trunk. I mean the metaphorical trunk, not the figurative one, although, my hips are a mite wider than a couple of years ago.. hell, my boobs are bigger, too. But back to The English Language.

Prune away those articles of the and "a". You do a disservice to poetry by being prose-like. Remember rhythm rhyme assonance and the senses. I enjoy being told some things but this poem, while rich in story isn't feeding me any experiences. I'm not able to sit and read it and feel smug or empathetic really ... but that could be because i'm not the intended audience. I would like to be... can you make me feel how heavy his baggage is?

I love the way you show that old and younger can draw together, especially as maturity brings life experience to the younger and then they stand on common ground. Keep telling us stories, baby. Just gimme some kinda lyrical rush as i read it. Know what I mean?

Sharp knife

and I am stuck on the imagery of Carries hips and boobs.

 

[corndog_]

Thanks, Champ and Fool (and good to see you, Fool!).

Before I make any trimmings, however, I'm interested in knowing if the conceit of the poem works. Are there details that do not advance my metaphor of "the English language"?

Both of you know me well enough to know this is not my usual writing style, and if doesn't hold your interest I may make drastic changes.

But if the poem is going to compete with Carrie's boobs it is doomed to fail.

 

[Angeline]

Thanks, Champ and Fool (and good to see you, Fool!).

Before I make any trimmings, however, I'm interested in knowing if the conceit of the poem works. Are there details that do not advance my metaphor of "the English language"?

Both of you know me well enough to know this is not my usual writing style, and if doesn't hold your interest I may make drastic changes.

But if the poem is going to compete with Carrie's boobs it is doomed to fail.

I like this more narrative style you're trying out. I think you should continue to try it on for size. And if not, I'll throw my jar of Klockner's Jewish Mustard at you, Corny.

Here's my take on the English language poem: You need to not put so much emphasis on the colons (yeah that puntuation I just used). They're getting you into trouble because you can't match up their placement. Also just my opinion, but I think a colon at the end of a line (in strophes one and three) just hangs there. I think a period would work better in both cases, as well as the colon in the middle of a line in strophe five. Why? Because as I reader I don't want to think about punctuation, so it becomes too obstructive. To my thinking that overshadows any gain you get from indicating a cause-effect relationship. Your meaning is inherent in the line that follows in each of those cases.

Also why put figuratively before literally in the final strophe? To me it's counterintuitive (we generally recognize things literally before we get figurative connotations) which, again, sort of disengages me as a reader. Maybe it's a six of one, half dozen of another kind of thing, but it stood out to me so thought I'd mention it.

And otherwise it's a good poem, an interesting poetic style for you to explore.

 

[corndog_]

I like this more narrative style you're trying out. I think you should continue to try it on for size. And if not, I'll throw my jar of Klockner's Jewish Mustard at you, Corny.

Here's my take on the English language poem: You need to not put so much emphasis on the colons (yeah that puntuation I just used). They're getting you into trouble because you can't match up their placement. Also just my opinion, but I think a colon at the end of a line (in strophes one and three) just hangs there. I think a period would work better in both cases, as well as the colon in the middle of a line in strophe five. Why? Because as I reader I don't want to think about punctuation, so it becomes too obstructive. To my thinking that overshadows any gain you get from indicating a cause-effect relationship. Your meaning is inherent in the line that follows in each of those cases.

Also why put figuratively before literally in the final strophe? To me it's counterintuitive (we generally recognize things literally before we get figurative connotations) which, again, sort of disengages me as a reader. Maybe it's a six of one, half dozen of another kind of thing, but it stood out to me so thought I'd mention it.

And otherwise it's a good poem, an interesting poetic style for you to explore.

As always, I am indebted. Thanks for your feedback, Ange!

Carrie is right-- it is an early draft. It was born of an exchange here wherein I misunderstood the Britishism "dog ends" and UYS wondered what in the world "hot dish on a stick" could mean. The poem explores the movement, isolation and development of the english language in two locales (3000 miles is the approximate distance across the pond).

The punctuation, while revealing my grammatical underbelly, was meant to draw attention to conventions of language, as were the repeated references to figurative and literal interpretations. I'm with you on the order, which is why I wonder if you misread.

I'll be back to this one when I get some time.

 

[corndog_]

You can't scare me. I grew up within a sneeze's distance of the National Mustard Museum.

 

[butters]

Dog ends and Hot dish
The English Language

A young man packs a trunk and travels
3000 miles. His whole life
is in that trunk. I mean that figuratively:
in the trunk are shoes and letters and
photographs of his life. One shows a boy

here are my thoughts as i read through your piece, dawg:

why not use the words 'three thousand miles' to deepen the effect of the distance... but then would that detract from the statement 'His whole life'? - as it lays on the page now, with the numerical 3000, there's a nice white space opened at the end of the line which focuses my attention on reading that line as a whole '3000 miles. His whole life' even though it's a run-on into the next line. ... i wouldn't think trimming back a little would harm this opening stanza, as in:

'in the trunk are shoes, letters,
photos of his life.One shows a boy'

you'd retain that strong O sound which resounds against the background of soft 'f's and the 't's running through tying it together with sound.

holding a stick thrust overhead, his eyes
on the high tip, his face triumphant. It is not
the man’s face, but it resembles his.
The photograph accompanies a letter
that reads “See? A part of you remains
even when you are far away.” This, too,

i'd suggest trimming back further as this continues, to make it read and feel, personally, a little more poem, something more like:

'stick thrust overhead, eyes
on the high tip, his face triumphant. It
is not the man's face, but resembles his.'

the wording of the letter is immediately accessible to readers, familiar, engaging them and making them a part of the poem. again, your use of sound lends continuity and, more than that, makes me feel the first 2 lines shout 'I, I, I,' (the viewpoint of the narrator), the less intimate 't's create a more factual resonance, which is then softened with your use of small 'i's, gentle double 'c's and the long 'aaaa' sound of 'away'. so, throughout, there's more than one voice here, a duality as i mentioned earlier as in between teacher and poet; the letter's words hold a femininity of sound, a maternal sense...

is figurative: all of him is now
at his destination. He opens the trunk
and fingers the worn edge
of the photograph. Then he removes
everything from trunk. Literally:

although this comes across a touch pedantically, i don't think that's a problem since i'm reading this almost as a lesson given by one whose frustration with the misapplication of the figurative and literal has given rise to its birth; something wonderful is being used as an illustration of correct usage. i feel 'schoolteacher, frustrated poet' as the voice of this piece's narrator. i'm sure teh pedantic thing is quite deliberate - almost ... Quaker... doesn't matter if that's not the intent, dawg, it's simply what i hear. i like the ambiguity of L2/3/4 - or at least it's allowing the reader to get more than one image - fingering the worn edge of the trunk as well as the edge of the photo ... both indicators of distance traveled, time passed... a looking back

the shoes and letters and photographs
are placed on the lid and on the floor.
He takes a job. He builds a house.
An old man repacks the trunk
and travels 3000 miles. He finds

i'm not sure that cutting back the 'and's would improve this, as, for me, they underline the sense of repeated movement - the taking out and the placing of, over and over, of all the items instead of one big stack of stuff all in one go. does the line 'An old man...' come too soon after L3? although L3 illustrates the passage of time, i don't feel convinced it's quite enough for L4 to follow so hard on its heels. it feels as if there's something small missing, some other smal phrase omitted from the end of L3, as if another 'He...' should close that line with another word or two to begin L4... just thinking aloud, dawg. soundwise, it's less obvious but there are still subtle triggers throughout this stanza that affect its overall impression.

a young man with a face
like his own. He studies the lines
formed by the jaw and ear. I mean that
literally: his eyes and fingers trace
the sharp curves. When they speak

and back to the 'I, I, I', closing the distance visually, making them part of the same heritage, the same identity... why do i see an image underlying the face of a boy? the coastline of southeast england? 'the lines formed by jaw and ear' ... yeah, i guess i dropped a 'the'; it felt more natural to me as a reader... the fingers tracing the outline of britain's down south map ... norfolk, kent, to plymouth ... plymouth, where the ships left from

the old man talks of what it means
to leave, the young man talks of
what it means to not leave. They talk
about the stick. They talk until
the distance between them is small.
I mean that both literally and figuratively.

this draws me in further and further. when i read 'the stick', you might well be referring to a former conversation, dawg, but i read 'gun', same as i saw both gun and baton - two images, one laid atop the other - with your lines about the boy triumphantly holding the stick overhead

i like how the distance is shrunk with understanding, brought about by dialogue.

sorry, this isn't probably much help with any editing you might have in mind, but it is what your poem made me see, feel, and think as i read it.

 

[Angeline]

As always, I am indebted. Thanks for your feedback, Ange!

Carrie is right-- it is an early draft. It was born of an exchange here wherein I misunderstood the Britishism "dog ends" and UYS wondered what in the world "hot dish on a stick" could mean. The poem explores the movement, isolation and development of the english language in two locales (3000 miles is the approximate distance across the pond).

The punctuation, while revealing my grammatical underbelly, was meant to draw attention to conventions of language, as were the repeated references to figurative and literal interpretations. I'm with you on the order, which is why I wonder if you misread.

I'll be back to this one when I get some time.

Hmmm yeah I guess I did misread that last bit--well, lol, I'm glad to see we agree. I don't get all that background you explained to me; I mean I didn't when I read it, so how would any reader? Yes I figured it was an early draft. But you know me: if I love you, I will lovingly hack away at a poem where I can.

You can't scare me. I grew up within a sneeze's distance of the National Mustard Museum.

ee puts mustard and catsup on his hot dogs. I find that deeply disturbing.

 

[corndog_]

Dog ends and Hot dish

...

here are my thoughts as i read through your piece, dawg:
.....
]

Wow! Thank you for your thorough exegesis! And it is an enormous help. Your focus on the sound of the poem reminds me that poetry is a many-faceted art, and the best poems reveal several.

The pedantry of "literal" v. "figurative" was not intentional, but that may well bleed into the poem from personal bias-- it irks me when folks use "literally" simply as an emphasis ("That poem literally blew me away!"). But my use here was meant to convey nothing more than the idiomatic character of dialects.

I owe you a back rub.

 

[corndog_]

Hmmm yeah I guess I did misread that last bit--well, lol, I'm glad to see we agree. I don't get all that background you explained to me; I mean I didn't when I read it, so how would any reader? Yes I figured it was an early draft. But you know me: if I love you, I will lovingly hack away at a poem where I can.



ee puts mustard and catsup on his hot dogs. I find that deeply disturbing.

ee's poetry must lie about the place in quivering, bleeding chunks!

Your comment on backstory is invaluable: many poems, mine included, begin with the author's mind in midstride. If care is not taken to bring readers alongside, the poem founders.

 

[butters]

Wow! Thank you for your thorough exegesis! And it is an enormous help. Your focus on the sound of the poem reminds me that poetry is a many-faceted art, and the best poems reveal several.

The pedantry of "literal" v. "figurative" was not intentional, but that may well bleed into the poem from personal bias-- it irks me when folks use "literally" simply as an emphasis ("That poem literally blew me away!"). But my use here was meant to convey nothing more than the idiomatic character of dialects.

I owe you a back rub.

i only hope i didn't go too far off the track from what you intended us to see, as i took a bit of a tour if anything i say, ever, helps anyone i'm more than chuffed.

now i could use one of those for sure - what a day. good though. very positive!

 

[butters]

Hmmm yeah I guess I did misread that last bit--well, lol, I'm glad to see we agree. I don't get all that background you explained to me; I mean I didn't when I read it, so how would any reader? Yes I figured it was an early draft. But you know me: if I love you, I will lovingly hack away at a poem where I can.



ee puts mustard and catsup on his hot dogs. I find that deeply disturbing.

me too! with loads of onions as well. yum

 

[Angeline]

ee's poetry must lie about the place in quivering, bleeding chunks!

Your comment on backstory is invaluable: many poems, mine included, begin with the author's mind in midstride. If care is not taken to bring readers alongside, the poem founders.

I'll let you in on one of the secrets to the longevity of ee's and my relationship: He completely ignores any advice I might attempt to offer about poetry. He's a dharma bum of a poet in that he gets the urge to write, he writes and he generally doesn't even read it again. I otoh work over my poems like a neurosurgeon. Writing that way would drive him totally nuts.

Ok, I know that was kinda boring, but you didn't think I'd let you in on any of the really good secrets, did you?

 

[Angeline]

me too! with loads of onions as well. yum

Omigod! You're related to him. Tell me your last name doesn't start with Mc.

 

[butters]

Omigod! You're related to him. Tell me your last name doesn't start with Mc.

it's nothin' without the mustard *nods*

not today, but i here there's a big famous clown out there running his own chain of fast food stores... Mc something....