Interact

[SeattleRain]

I was asked a question on a Public Comment about a recent poem by two separate readers (cool!)
I thought this might be a good opportunity to start up a new thread......

A place for readers to ask questions about poetry out in public,
and writers or others may choose to respond.


Like my favorite teacher used to tell us....

For every person brave enough to ask a question,
there are ten wishing someone would ask.

There are many poems I am left thinking
“Hmmm what was that all about”
“Where did they get that idea?”
and this may work as a more open forum.


Please be constructive, not destructive on this thread.
Curious, not critical.
If someone is an ass, I suggest that we give them a Talk to the Hand sign and
ignore their ignorance.



SeattleRain

 

[Angeline]

This is an excellent idea! I thought about it too but--unlike you--was too lazy to start the thread, lol. I'm glad you did. Sometimes I'm not sure I'm really understanding a poem I've read, in which case my suggestion(s) may not apply. Alternatively, I've seen comments about my poems where I've wanted to explain, but not muck up public comments with my ramblings.

It'll be interesting to see where this goes.


Ange

 

[SeattleRain]

sand, jim and splinter

splinter

Some interesting images...
02/16/04 by jthserra
but I have some difficulty seeing the connection between the first stanza and the rest of the poem. I may be missing something, but it seemed like 2 poems, the second was very good. Combined I am a bit befuddled.

jim
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

can you explain this poem
02/16/04 by sandspike in usa
I like the way it reads but it seems to be 2 poems in one.
It is like my present followed by youth.

You are both correct of course, and yet it turns out, so is the poem.

I originally typed this out into the "passion thread"
but I could not stand to not edit it so I cut and pasted it into word and touched up a few things,
racked my brain to come up with the word "Milt" from my middle school learn about fish sex days, etc.
So it began as a stream of consciousness poem and I suppose it shows.

It is two poems. I did not even realize it, but it is.


It was not intentional, but I am glad you mentioned it,
because it helped me to understand where I was coming from...
which I probably would not have done otherwise.

*I write mostly to learn.*

It is all about the present and how we are tempted
and sometimes actually do...
go back to more carefree days.

"After the pronouns are asleep"-- our committments....
can we go back to carefree days before reproduction
and income get in the way of everything that is good fun?

Thank you for your questions,
they were very meaningful to me.

And thanks for the nice comments on my other poems,
and Senna thanks for the forgiveness
for the god awful last two lines on my " black wool hat" poem,
you are right, I should be spanked



SeattleRain

splinter
by SeattleRain ©
I am the luckiest girl in the world,
no one would know it of course
because that is how it usually goes
behind heavy doors
upon cold steel
or down pillows

after pronouns have fallen
into sleep
and silence

we jump off splintered docks
iron oxide nail stains
tannic acid brown skin
tastes of fish milt
released over egg masses

kicking sole flapping
summer stained chuck taylors
over flat dock peninsula
into quieter waters

 

[SeattleRain]

woolen hat

Goodness I hope I am not the only person going to use this, feeling silly.

Maria and Champagne and Senna,
Not intended as a handicapped guy
just the sensitive side of usually violently passionate romance-

hence the tools and bites and bruises
which may not have been important to the reader
but they were important to me

of course, a poem has its own life once it is written

take it for how you take it of course
that is what it is there for and
I really only write this stuff for two people
the rest is icing.
Sweet but secondary


Having said that, I really appreciate your comments


best to you,

Seattle

 

[champagne1982]

Hello SeattleRain,
Thanks for the explanation of the verse in question. I think it ruins the flow of the voice of your poem. As your coherency begins to unravel in the 3rd stanza, the poem takes on an, almost, Alzheimer patient ramble that makes me work too hard to get it and I wind up frustrated. Please, bear in mind this is only my opinion. There are others out there who found this piece exceptional. Congratulations.

 

[SeattleRain]

Hello SeattleRain,
Thanks for the explanation of the verse in question. I think it ruins the flow of the voice of your poem. As your coherency begins to unravel in the 3rd stanza, the poem takes on an, almost, Alzheimer patient ramble that makes me work too hard to get it and I wind up frustrated. Please, bear in mind this is only my opinion. There are others out there who found this piece exceptional. Congratulations.

Carrie! How funny really. ALzheimer patient, no wonder Senna thought it was about an old guy. Oh well, que sera sera. I do appreciate feedback and do not take questions personally as I post here for spiritual exercize and usually stream of consciousness. Hence the Alzheimer status lol. Just my brain is all.

Easy does it,
SeattleRain

 

[Guest]

I question a good poem having to be explained.

Should it not be accepted at face value?

Sometimes the poem may not make sense to me but is an attractive read - a tasty arrangement of words.

If a poem is written about something apparently personal then I feel it would be intrusive to question it.

I, too, am interested to see where this thread leads us.

 

[SeattleRain]

I question a good poem having to be explained.

Should it not be accepted at face value?

Sometimes the poem may not make sense to me but is an attractive read - a tasty arrangement of words.

If a poem is written about something apparently personal then I feel it would be intrusive to question it.

I, too, am interested to see where this thread leads us.

Excellent, excellent points Tristesse--
and I agree on the tastiness of words 100%

Sometimes it is cool to be able to ask a question, have a discussion, but not always, and maybe not in this more open setting. I have done this in the past on a more private basis and it has been cool to pick up on things that I missed in my reading. Maybe I am just thick headed.

I kind of miss my creative writing classes when we got to discuss things. Maybe I should just go back to school!

SeattleRain

 

[HomerPindar]

I question a good poem having to be explained.

Should it not be accepted at face value?

This is something of a puzzle to me, but in what way is questioning rejection?

I often question, and then have to sit and listen to the defensive reaction such an act seems to entail. And I'm nice.

To have an authors, or even other readers, input on a poem is hardly a bad idea. In my limited experience, writing and lit classes are nothing more than a group of poeple sitting around trying to figure out what the heck was going on for the last-how-ever-many-pages-were-just-read.

If the unexamined life be not worth living, perhaps the unexamined writing is not worth reading?

Ah, but now I've gone and questioned your suggestion Triestesse... a terrible bout of dizziness encompasing encroaching circular logic is about to drive me to get something to eat

HomerPindar

 

[champagne1982]

I question a good poem having to be explained.

Should it not be accepted at face value?

Sometimes the poem may not make sense to me but is an attractive read - a tasty arrangement of words.

If a poem is written about something apparently personal then I feel it would be intrusive to question it.

I, too, am interested to see where this thread leads us.

A chaque ses propres. If face value is determined by a commitee then every member of the commitee needs decide what it's worth.

I appreciate the sound and feel of words, too, but with warning. When I am introduced so softly into a setting (particularly a loving place like SR's poem described) the jolt to dischordant images was confusing to me.

Besides, this thread invites the question.

I really did want to know what it was about this poem that had the other readers so enthused. Have you never felt that you were on the outside looking in, when you didn't "get" what the cool kids were all talking about?

Maybe, instead of asking the poet, I should ask all of you: What made this poem snow from his woolen hat so outstanding or not, in your view?

 

[Rybka]

If face value is determined by a commitee then every member of the commitee needs decide what it's worth.
. . .
Maybe, instead of asking the poet, I should ask all of you: What made this poem snow from his woolen hat so outstanding or not, in your view?

And a camel is a horse designed by a commitee.

Re the poem snow from his woolen hat: Who said it was "so outstanding"? Is it interesting, Yes. But outstanding? No.
Few poems on this website are "outstanding". And that includes mine and almost all those of everybody else. - If you truly think that you write "outstanding" poetry then do what some of our better contributors have done. Pull your words and send them elsewhere. Literotica is not for "outstanding" poetry. - Just MHO.

Regards, Rybka

 

[champagne1982]

. - If you truly think that you write "outstanding" poetry then do what some of our better contributors have done. Pull your words and send them elsewhere. Literotica is not for "outstanding" poetry. - Just MHO.

Regards, Rybka

Huh? Is it the word you have a problem with? I can change it...

 

[SeattleRain]

holy shit
what the fuck was I thinking
so much for the pie in the fucking sky idea
what the fuck was I thinking

pux phil
stay down in that hole
man stay down that hole
nothin to see up here
the pie is falling!
the pie is falling!

stir up a pile of shit
course you are gonna make a stink

eat it up girl
you made it

holy shit
what the fuck was I thinking
forgetting my reason for existance
sorry, reason, for flinging this shit on you

back into the hole....

 

[Maria2394]

Hi Seattle

I also was not criticizing your poem, I really liked it, but I couldnt seem to match the tool part with the rest of the poem. I also agree that personal poems are hardest to post and accept FB on, you are doing an excellent job, as you see many of us are opinionated and outspoken and some of us are shy and wimpy ( talking about me, here, dont ya'll freak out)

I thinkn this thread is a great idea, and I had a couple of people ask me what my chocolate poem actually was about, well, in fact the line where I went and confused was about contemplating suicide... okay, I admitted it, now get me from there to here and I am okay..
thank you for posting your work, I have enjoyed it all immensley if not for the sheer talent you have of putting words and phrases together, I woudl have to say for the experience of getting inside your thoughts for a while, you are an interesting person

hey Rybka, you have never read not a single outstanding poem on here? I actually think that YOU yourself have a couple of them there outstanding poems posted...

****** okay, I just saw your disclaimers on your post, sorry****

and you must remember, not everyone who writes has the ambition to go nationwide

 

[Guest]

So, how will this work? Does the poet look at the PCs and take it from there if there are criticisms and questions? Or do the confused readers come to this thread and post their queries?

 

[HomerPindar]

So, how will this work? Does the poet look at the PCs and take it from there if there are criticisms and questions? Or do the confused readers come to this thread and post their queries?

Yes.



Homer"the-always-so-accommodating-even-when-it's-none-of-his-damn-business"Pindar

 

[HomerPindar]

Is it just me, or is there a common thread, a duality if you will, with these two poems:

controlled burn by SeattleRain

and

duldrum by Liar

Both, to me at least, also talk about relationships, specific ones.

Speak to me/swirl/just a breath

and the later use of stalemate - seems to me the doldrum, the stagnation, is only in part about being on the water and as much about being in a relationship that needs a breath of life.

And

with underbrush trimmed
you keep your cool.

splintered vines wind between
and the peel of birch bark reminds
us of our way as we hide
among the ghosts of the forest,
eating haiku sandwiches


I like lovers light brown crisp
caramelized on the end of a stick

the "you" and "I" in controlled burn seriously address the presence of a relationship between the two. Though "candy-coating" the relationship, it's still one where control and passion are in question.

Or am I way in left field here?

And, if someone might be so bold, some further insight before our authors remove all delusions with what they were thinking. (inversly, remember authors, our insights into your brilliance is all to your credit for the taking )


HomerPindar

 

[SeattleRain]

Is it just me, or is there a common thread, a duality if you will, with these two poems:

controlled burn by SeattleRain

and

duldrum by Liar

Both, to me at least, also talk about relationships, specific ones.


and the later use of stalemate - seems to me the doldrum, the stagnation, is only in part about being on the water and as much about being in a relationship that needs a breath of life.

And

the "you" and "I" in controlled burn seriously address the presence of a relationship between the two. Though "candy-coating" the relationship, it's still one where control and passion are in question.

Or am I way in left field here?


HomerPindar

Hi Homer, I have heard that poetry is just what the reader makes of it so if you are out in left field, it is a good thing-- at least you are soemwhere

and as a writer, I have been successful because someone thought for a minute or two about me and about words, which is the goal of every narcissistic writer, no? Maybe it is just me.

Okay. Passion. Control. Yes, but not in the way you might have been thinking.

More of an attempt to *convince* one's self that they have any say in the controlling of the burn....

Read the one that burst out two days earlier.

stand back stay low

Hell I will just paste it here, save the click

baby we feed our fire with fire
burn hotter than the rest
for you baby, just for you

black vinyl melts
paper burns
words into ash

we burn with such intensity
they squint for a week
and still see spots
where we once stood

leaving them
searing
branded
singed

we are heat

they have to crawl low
belly to ground
to avoid burn
of nostril and lung

don't you love that-
to watch that crawl, baby,
to watch that crawl?

Who is to say what is best

something about rust never sleeping


I love the flash fire of pine needles and cones
but it is nice to have that easy, steady warm glowing embers
inside the ring too who knows certainly not me, just know enough to ask

Thanks for thinking and asking--

SeattleRain

 

[Liar]

Is it just me, or is there a common thread, a duality if you will, with these two poems:

controlled burn by SeattleRain

and

duldrum by Liar

Both, to me at least, also talk about relationships, specific ones.


and the later use of stalemate - seems to me the doldrum, the stagnation, is only in part about being on the water and as much about being in a relationship that needs a breath of life.

You could say that to me (The Reader has just as much right to intepretation as THe Writer IMO) this poem is about treading water. Not so much in a specific relationship per se, but more in a "next year my life will start for real" endless loop. I adress this poem to the world in gereral, or Faith, or maybe a possible God that I've never been up and personal with.

Your read is just as valid as mine though. I don't speak for you, so take the poem and let it speak to whoever you wish to listen. Then my work is done, in more ways than I's ever hoped for.

#L

 

[SeattleRain]

I hereby deem this thread revived.


Tara come play.

 

[twelveoone]

I hereby deem this thread revived.


Tara come play.

er, I know Tara is better looking than me,
I had asked Tara to post her poem, I guess she did over in comments and questions.
but let me suggest this, for here, for now
nominations for something you would want most explained as far as intent, construction, wording, anything except what should remain personal, i.e. who it is about, unless of course they're dead, (they have trouble in court, it's tough to get a jury...)
l

 

[twelveoone]

for starters, I have questions about these

Just like Venice
by annaswirls
http://www.literotica.com:81/stories/showstory.php?id=155133

Dust Colony
by WickedEve
http://www.literotica.com:81/stories/showstory.php?id=151303

Road of Judgement
by Tathagata
http://www.literotica.com:81/stories/showstory.php?id=156638

any other burgers for the grill?

 

[twelveoone]

came up, with two more, any seconds, I am going to start contacting, what we are doing explained here.
https://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=271668

angle and view, deja vu
by Maria2394
http://www.literotica.com:81/stories/showstory.php?id=152867

Brothers on the Crossed Hill
by PatCarrington
http://www.literotica.com:81/stories/showstory.php?id=158818

 

[WickedEve]

for starters, I have questions about these
Dust Colony
by WickedEve
http://www.literotica.com:81/stories/showstory.php?id=151303

I think it's about dust...
I really have to go read it and see what it's about. I don't write my own poetry. d dixon writes it, then submits it under my name. I told her to stop it. All I want to do is streak around the poetry board and act silly and insane. Yes, act!
Okay, let me get out the duster and crawl under the bed. I'll be back with an explanation or a screaming dust bunny.

 

[WickedEve]

Oh god... it's a terzanelle. I never understand what I'm writing about when I use that form. I think I was in one of my "my poetry sucks, i'm depressed, i'm uninspired, boo hoo" f...ing moods.

I dwell with soft denizens,
my purpose gray on cover gloss.
Gone are the Poes and Tennysons.
I'm just an ignored piece of dust. My purpose is undefined/gray as I lie there under the bed on top of a forgotten magazine (probably a poetry mag.) Gone are the Poes and Tennysons--gone is poetry, poetry inspiration.

Words lay till they're at a loss.
I am draped over seasons frayed,
my purpose gray on cover gloss.
Let's see... that first line... I don't know. I'm draped over frayed magazines of seasons past.

Sweet muses are never staid.
Motion sends currents beneath.
I am draped over seasons frayed.
muses are never permanent. I think it's the muses that go by and send a current of air beneath where I am. So, they must be trying to stir me. That sounds good. Have I mentioned that I'm really in touch with my poetry?

Writing of beauty is a thief,
leaving me dry when she moves.
Motion sends currents beneath.
Damn. Let me think. I guess she is the muse and she moved and sent the current beneath to stir me but I was left dry/uninspired. Writing of beauty is a thief... wow, I like that line.

Through sieves, into the grooves,
filtered from the inspiration,
leaving me dry when she moves.
That first line is a real stumper. lol Umm... Well, I'm filtered away from inspiration and I have fallen into the grooves of being uninspired.

In this dull hibernation,
I dwell with soft denizens,
filtered from the inspiration.
Gone are the Poes and Tennysons.
Dull hibernation=Being uninspired is like having your senses dulled, being in a stupor, almost asleep and unaware of everything around you.

This was hard. Too much time has gone by since I wrote this dusty poem.