MADNESS IN SEARCH OF

[MrMrsMrsMr]

A simplistic view on parasitic poems.

The poet’s poem always reflects a truth about the poet. Sometimes self serving. Sometimes brilliant. Sometimes skill fully written. Often delusional. I can love a poem because it is fuggly. Perfectly fuggly poems are stunning. There is always a imaginative runt in every litter. I should know.

What is the difference between being engaged and parasitic? Perhaps the difference between being a parasitic poet and being engaged is the source poet’s invitation to interact with thier idea. Like last year’s monthly poem suggests, including threads like this. All are open invitations to interact. I appreciate that.

Conversely a parasitic poem / poet intentionally leeches off another poet’s poem. I love IGNORING them. Thanks Lit for the iggy button.

But! Does that mean a found poem is a parasitic poem?

IMHO the difference is, a found poem is sourced from intentionally un-poetic writing. A found poem is a deviation from the original intent.

A found poem is a deviant form

 

[_Land]

A simplistic view on parasitic poems.

The poet’s poem always reflects a truth about the poet. Sometimes self serving. Sometimes brilliant. Sometimes skill fully written. Often delusional. I can love a poem because it is fuggly. Perfectly fuggly poems are stunning. There is always a imaginative runt in every litter. I should know.

FUgly

I wrote this poem
in the dark
with my knees

screaming

because sitting on talent too long
makes it numb?; or maybe just emotionally constipated, you know like a Virgo dating a clown.

The rhyme scheme
got drunk
and made out with syntax

oops

now they’re texting at 2am
about meaninglessness:! and trauma; with no metaphor for protection except maybe, duct tape and a vibrator?

This line’s
not
going anywhere

exactly

like my ex’s mixtape
entitled: "Feelings but Make It About Me" ft. Daddy Issues in B minor!!!

I tried to edit
with a scalpel
but it bled

forever

so I stapled the bleeding to a napkin
& called it art; the critics clapped, one sobbed, and I got banned from Applebee’s?

The poem
wore fishnets
on its vowels

why

because consonants are repressed
& sometimes a semicolon just wants to be spanked? don’t judge.

I gave it structure.
It gave me
the finger.

respect.

honestly this is
less a poem than a tantrum—a jazz solo on a kazoo with feelings in a leotard.

 

[NivKay]

Sorry, coming in late to this discussion, but I’ve always tried to take a leaf out of Samuel Beckett’s book. He said once that the title should never reveal what the text is about, but should, by some tangential way, point in the opposite direction or take a neutral path. Such as ‘Happy Days’ or ‘The Lost Ones’ or ‘Waiting for Godot’.

Titles, to me, tend to be frosted windows, they let in light, but vision is blurred.

Take Carol Ann Duffy’s ‘Shooting Stars’ the title suggests some hopeful interlude, but you read and you realise, she means, shooting stars (The Jewish people).

Jacques Rancierre has written elsewhere about whether it is possible to represent everything, such as pain. Kafka said that metaphors can’t ever capture the reality we want to portray. Titles then, at least in my mind, should be Beckettian. If they can’t capture the thing-in-itself, then we go the other way.

Herein ends my catechism, as Falstaff would say

 

[MrMrsMrsMr]

Lie to me I am hopeful, that advanced sufficiently breaks with the Ghazal radif rhyme requirement.


Silence

You wrote, the Vandals were lovers of romance. Silence.
In sandals, I abhorred your hairy toed slam dance. Silence.
You knew, in love’s inroads we could build our own Rome.
A relationship in frescos painted over happenstance. Silence.
In the city of light, we climbed the Eiffel Tower. My hand in your hand.
Your roads always led back to Rome, even after the South of France. Silence.
One day I woke broken in cubits cut. Our mosaics lay separated,
You said, love is a colosseum, a bedroom, a ritual trance. Silence.
In the aftermath, in the silence of your making, I embraced your lions.
With wetted tongue I divorced your form with advanced silence.

 

[42BelowsBack]

I wonder if unequal syllables constitute imperfect rhymes?

Romance/dance verses Romance/fragrance?
Conversely Dance happenstance rhymes perfect to me??
Is happenstance/France a perfect rhyme?
France/trance/advanced does jar.

 

[42BelowsBack]

Sorry, coming in late to this discussion, but I’ve always tried to take a leaf out of Samuel Beckett’s book. He said once that the title should never reveal what the text is about, but should, by some tangential way, point in the opposite direction or take a neutral path. Such as ‘Happy Days’ or ‘The Lost Ones’ or ‘Waiting for Godot’.

Titles, to me, tend to be frosted windows, they let in light, but vision is blurred.

Take Carol Ann Duffy’s ‘Shooting Stars’ the title suggests some hopeful interlude, but you read and you realise, she means, shooting stars (The Jewish people).

Jacques Rancierre has written elsewhere about whether it is possible to represent everything, such as pain. Kafka said that metaphors can’t ever capture the reality we want to portray. Titles then, at least in my mind, should be Beckettian. If they can’t capture the thing-in-itself, then we go the other way.

Herein ends my catechism, as Falstaff would say

Brilliant. Thanks @NivKay

 

[42BelowsBack]

I had this unfinished poem floating around. It appears pg 1 in this thread. Ironically, I was struggling with the title. In comparing NivKay and Tzara’s posts on titles I realized they were saying the same thing in different perspectives. With that possibility in mind I completed the poem and worked out its title.

Man Management.

Traffic lights, indecision Traffic lights, indecision,
red green goes orange red greenOrangeRed
Green separated from the rev counter in my
mind, loss of traction, bumper to bumper,
the red light burning in my head.

Compare the same poem with a different title.

Road Rage.

Traffic lights, indecision Traffic lights, indecision,
red green goes orange red greenOrangeRed
Green separated from the rev counter in my
mind, loss of traction, bumper to bumper,
the red light burning in my head.

The power of the title allows the same poem to imply different meanings, to a careful reader. In my onion anyway.

 

[42BelowsBack]

In Which the Poet Writes a Poorly Constructed Sonnet
in Defense of Deviance

Can form poetry be quite deviant?
Can a ten-footed iamb be kinky,
A sestina a sultry miscreant,
Who refuses all rules, downright slinky?
Is personification offensive
If a triolet sports glitter in drag?
Does my worshipping feet make you pensive?
Shall my villanelle be shushed with a gag?
Oh let's bring on the ruffles and leather
And lube up my ghazal in scented goo:
I take poems with a large side of pleasure
And joyfully recommend this to you.
Poems are great when they're a straightforward ride,
But more fun slutting on the wild side.

Deviate? I am absolutely going to cheat! SWAN LAKE my broken paradelle matinee version haha

 

[MrMrsMrsMr]

A Druid Isles Haiku

Woods,
Autumn,
Sun peers through
Oaks in acorns
ritual summer leaves upon the ground.

 

[MrMrsMrsMr]

"Euclid, the mathematician of classical times, considered the number series 1, 2, 3, 4 to have mystical significance because its sum is 10, so he dignified it with a name of its own - Tetractys. The tetractys could be Britain's answer to the haiku. Its challenge is to express a complete thought, profound or comic, witty or wise, within the narrow compass of twenty syllables." - Ray Stebbing


Not a Tetractys in 17 syllables

Triskele

Spell
Druids
Sun, Earth, Sky,
lite spiraling
Autumnal ritual leaves.

 

[SmilingLez]

It seems like people reading poems/prose believe the words reflect the artist's emotions. However when it comes to story telling, fiction is the default.

Fiction, not truth;
Words don’t reveal who I am,
Judge the tale, not me.

 

[Angeline]

It seems like people reading poems/prose believe the words reflect the artist's emotions. However when it comes to story telling, fiction is the default.

Fiction, not truth;
Words don’t reveal who I am,
Judge the tale, not me.

Great point. People do tend to believe poems are true and the narrator is actually the poet. For me, fiction is a tool as much as any other in the poetry toolkit. I have no problem inventing if feel it'll make the poem more interesting. Most of my favorite poets are good storytellers, not prose but a strong narrative element in their writing.

 

[42BelowsBack]

It seems like people reading poems/prose believe the words reflect the artist's emotions. However when it comes to story telling, fiction is the default.

Fiction, not truth;
Words don’t reveal who I am,
Judge the tale, not me.

Interesting. I think all writers have a starting position. A foundational philosophy with which they build upon. As Angeline says, thanks for sharing your great point; I add with confidence. And share my love of onionated opinions. Onionated isn’t even a word yet there it is.

I like the writing maximum, write what you know, then write what you don’t know. Which sentiment is expressed in different ways throughout this thread, though few would agree with me. Which I appreciate.

After all: Great minds think a like and fools never differ.

 

[42BelowsBack]

"Euclid, the mathematician of classical times, considered the number series 1, 2, 3, 4 to have mystical significance because its sum is 10, so he dignified it with a name of its own - Tetractys. The tetractys could be Britain's answer to the haiku. Its challenge is to express a complete thought, profound or comic, witty or wise, within the narrow compass of twenty syllables." - Ray Stebbing


Not a Tetractys in 17 syllables

Triskele

Spell
Druids
Sun, Earth, Sky,
lite spiraling
Autumnal ritual leaves.

Form breaking. I like this 17 syllable blending of two forms to a poem’s will.

 

[42BelowsBack]

This isn’t a
Syllable
alphabet
tetractys

A
Belief
Chemical
Deprivation
Enthusiastically
Facilitates
Genuine
Human
ill.


This is a gobble gargle
(Ménage à trois poem).


Yay!

(a smack in my chops).

 

[SpermFactory]

Random thought: Poetic forms much desired are thoughtful movements of my tongue.

Forms be done 42.

What madness are you thinking about now?

 

[SmilingLez]

Random thought: Poetic forms much desired are thoughtful movements of my tongue.

Forms be done 42.

What madness are you thinking about now?

I will be going toe to toe with the fiction story tellers on every writing challenge. You don't need 10 chapters to tell a good tale when 147 words will do

https://www.literotica.com/p/femme-and-the-fist


Edit: Just submitted my prose for the AI challenge.

 

[42BelowsBack]

Random thought: Poetic forms much desired are thoughtful movements of my tongue.

Forms be done 42.

What madness are you thinking about now?

I’m thinking I’ve ironed out some kinks with help. Now I feel punched out. In need of a creative rest.

 

[MrMrsMrsMr]

I’ve been thinking about how to end a poem. The aha moment poem, the everything comes crashing down to land on a dime poem. The pretty as you like bow tied off poem. The float off for ever never ending poem…

 

[SmilingLez]

I’ve been thinking about how to end a poem. The aha moment poem, the everything comes crashing down to land on a dime poem. The pretty as you like bow tied off poem. The float off for ever never ending poem…

have you ever used the "in your face" first line in your poem as the catalyst to end it?

 

[Angeline]

I’ve been thinking about how to end a poem. The aha moment poem, the everything comes crashing down to land on a dime poem. The pretty as you like bow tied off poem. The float off for ever never ending poem…

This will possibly sound dumb but I think you'll know when the ending is right. Sometimes I have to walk away from a poem for a while before I can recognize what will end it with a POW. For me that's because a poem may end in a very different place than I expected when I planned it. I need time to figure it out.

Of course sometimes a poem will end with a whimper instead of the hoped-for bang. To me that says I'm on the wrong track or I need to come back to it or maybe I've written a piece of a poem instead of the whole thing. Or maybe I just produced a turd instead of a poem.

It does help me to read poems I love that I think have especially strong or meaningful endings and think about why they work so well.

 

[MrMrsMrsMr]

have you ever used the "in your face" first line in your poem as the catalyst to end it?

Very interesting. No I haven’t. A in your face first line isn’t something I’ve ever thought about. The creative possibilities are very, very interesting…. thanks for sharing.

 

[MrMrsMrsMr]

This will possibly sound dumb but I think you'll know when the ending is right. Sometimes I have to walk away from a poem for a while before I can recognize what will end it with a POW. For me that's because a poem may end in a very different place than I expected when I planned it. I need time to figure it out.

Of course sometimes a poem will end with a whimper instead of the hoped-for bang. To me that says I'm on the wrong track or I need to come back to it or maybe I've written a piece of a poem instead of the whole thing. Or maybe I just produced a turd instead of a poem.

It does help me to read poems I love that I think have especially strong or meaningful endings and think about why they work so well.

@Angeline you write with the level of creative control I aspire to. A lot to unpack here. Reading with a specific focus never entered my mind.

 

[MrMrsMrsMr]

have you ever used the "in your face" first line in your poem as the catalyst to end it?

First attempt at an in your face first line that ends the poem. Probably needs a better name etc.

Hot Joe

Suddenly,
the coffee
in my cup
tastes of
crows

your eyes
are ants,
they race
over my tits
the crows
in my coffee
fly.



2nd play around.


Brunch at Sessrúmnir after the battle at Singasteinn.

Freyja frying in a pan. Skull cracked brain yoke speared. Loki is an egg.

 

[42BelowsBack]

Years ago a guest speaker at a thing, extolled the virtues of free writing everyday. They had a technique that worked for them. It didn’t work for me.

Feeling creatively flat, I decided to reread a poem RAIN by @Wat_Tyler. Rain is a good example of how writing through flat moments generates raw material to craft a poem. I like the imaginative invitations, scent, sight, a deeper philosophical post hurricane purpose.

Don’t get me wrong, feeling flat, it’s not a muse thing for me. It’s a thinking too hard kind of thing, looking at the tools in my tool box. Instead of using them. In reading this poem I can see, flat moments can be productive.