writing live

[HarryHill]

Oh, now I feel like writing about elephants. I might return to that, later.

And ugh... resist... temptation... to edit... Give me strength, smithpeter.

O the oont, O the oont, O the Gawd-forsaken oont! Rudyard Kippling, "Oonts"
..
^^

 

[butters]

O the oont, O the oont, O the Gawd-forsaken oont! Rudyard Kippling, "Oonts"
..
^^

haha! one i've never read before

 

[HarryHill]

All alone, smithpeter, me and the stones
chipped to Stonehenge domino sized monstrosities
that I cant tip for the life of me to begin the fall of all
in linear progression, cause and effect
chaotic minefield of verbiage
now there's a idea, a few sticks of TNT
but for the life of me, I don't think that'll work
need something atomic to start the cascade
low yield or I am
ash

 

[Tsotha]

O the oont, O the oont, O the Gawd-forsaken oont! Rudyard Kippling, "Oonts"
..
^^

I feel so stupid... I have no idea what I've just read. Or maybe "no idea" is an exaggeration, but still.

 

[Tsotha]

Hot air condenses to join
the mist. Cold cheeks red
warm blood running
he speeds away on small feet
crushing dry needles, crossing
boundaries of light, chasing
something immaterial.

A branch to fend off enemies
hits a rock, something's
revealed — reach for it,
cold little fingers growing
still, lively, curious — still
the thing stings, he is
unaware of danger.

Hated shriek,
to put it down,
to make aware,
to protect.

 

[Tsotha]

Trees are falling
I notice
only as much as you, until
there is nothing to hide
behind, only
useless stumps and no sprouts,
no green
in a vast barren land.

 

[Tsotha]

Hot air
a red balloon,
a shot in the dark.

Deflated,
trampled underfoot,
breathe right through it.

 

[Tsotha]

Heh. Six months since my first poem.

00:01

effusive fudge, civilized
smart monkey and smart
phonies, like a sheep in
wolf skin

and the wolf,
the wolf, to the jugular.
Hm, tasty.

00:04

 

[Tsotha]

Take that mummy outta
your closet, it's getting old
smelly and the garden needs
a scarecrow
win-win, watch the worm
crawling crows cawing
meanwhile
the sun
a new golden age in the making

 

[Tsotha]

what a strange way to
nurture new hands
Poética Obscura
paint it red,
bloody breaking of walls
rocks into gravel
groveling

Cat's call,
first row in the theater
a ridiculous person
I may be, but
I'd rather take the kiss

 

[todski28]

............... Sorry smithpeter but you know it was for the best

 

[Tsotha]

............... Sorry smithpeter but you know it was for the best

Damn, I read it quickly this morning, but didn't comment...

 

[todski28]

Hot air condenses to join
the mist. Cold cheeks red
warm blood running
he speeds away on small feet
crushing dry needles, crossing
boundaries of light, chasing
something immaterial.

A branch to fend off enemies
hits a rock, something's
revealed — reach for it,
cold little fingers growing
still, lively, curious — still
the thing stings, he is
unaware of danger.

Hated shriek,
to put it down,
to make aware,
to protect.

Interesting opening line, had me hooked, had to read it half a dozen times to reveal the scene, enjoyed the imagery of a young boy running through trees you captured the light that flashes through trees perfectly. I think the use of still twice in the same line detracts a bit, I think you could clean this up into a good poem, the ending reads awkward to me, hated shriek to put it down sounds more like the introduction of a second character than a possible interior monologue? But all in all for alive write I like it.

 

[todski28]

Trees are falling
I notice
only as much as you, until
there is nothing to hide
behind, only
useless stumps and no sprouts,
no green
in a vast barren land.

Hurt my head in a cool way it's like you are using the second line as both a follow on line and a possible second line,

Trees are falling, I notice

Or

I notice only as much as you, until

Then

If you read as enjambing you get

Until, there is nothing to hide

Or

There is nothing to hide behind, only

That first half made my head swirl

 

[Tsotha]

Hurt my head in a cool way it's like you are using the second line as both a follow on line and a possible second line,

Trees are falling, I notice

Or

I notice only as much as you, until

Then

If you read as enjambing you get

Until, there is nothing to hide

Or

There is nothing to hide behind, only

That first half made my head swirl

*Tsotha gets up from his chair, clenched jaw trembling as a single tear rolls down his face.*

OMFG. Do you have any idea what you just did, Tod? You just made the Unroll a real thing. *points around like a madman, at no one, eyes roaming* I told you it was real! It is not just in my head! Oh, it's ON. *puts on tinfoil hat, runs out the door*

----

Tod, the above is a joke. Every once in a while I try one of these poems, in which the same words can be used to form different sentences. A straight read will leave the feeling that it's a very badly formatted poem, but — if they do what you did — they will find different sentences, sometimes with opposed meanings.

I know, it's confusing, both in the sense that it's hard to read, but also in the sense that the poem/story is in these sentences you find, not in the straight read.

The problem is that it is too confusing. I think you're the first person to notice it without me pointing it out. That is, until now, this was a nonsensical idea, that worked only inside my head. Now it's just a bad idea (not nonsensical!), since more often than not people will think "wtf, this is really sloppy".

 

[Tsotha]

Interesting opening line, had me hooked, had to read it half a dozen times to reveal the scene, enjoyed the imagery of a young boy running through trees you captured the light that flashes through trees perfectly.

Oh, I did not expect that to be difficult to read. *takes notes* Thank you for pointing it out. It is a mini-unroll, Tod. See, they mostly work against the reader, rather than for the reader.

Here is the text:

Hot air condenses to join
the mist. Cold cheeks red
warm blood running
he speeds away on small feet
crushing dry needles, crossing
boundaries of light, chasing
something immaterial.

And here are the sentences I hid in it:

Hot air condenses to join the mist -> when it's cold, and you exhale, vapor is formed. Also, there is mist.
Cold cheeks red -> blushing due to cold
red warm blood running -> this person is doing some physical activity
running, he speeds away -> he is running
on small feet -> he is a child
small feet crushing dry needles -> dry pine needles. he is in a forest
needles, crossing -> not sure if this will make sense to others, but this is what I had in mind
crossing boundaries of light -> running through shafts of light, created by trees
light chasing something immaterial -> light chases darkness, it's a misty morning
chasing something immaterial -> he is chasing something immaterial. A child playing in a misty forest.

I think the use of still twice in the same line detracts a bit,

Thank you, and yet another unroll. I definitely should stop trying to use those...

Here is the section:

A branch to fend off enemies
hits a rock, something's
revealed — reach for it,
cold little fingers growing
still, lively, curious — still
the thing stings, he is
unaware of danger.

And what I wanted to convey:

cold little fingers -> straightforward, his fingers are cold
little fingers growing still -> reinforcing the idea that it's a kid, his small fingers are growing
growing still -> he suddenly stops moving, due to what he saw under that rock
still lively, still curious -> he isn't still, he is curious about what he's found — for now
cold little fingers growing — still -> he is dead, his fingers are cold
still, the thing stings -> despite being lively and curious and happy, this thing stings, it's dangerous.

My intention was that the reader could read:

1) that he is frozen in place, looking at this strange thing he has found (it's a scorpion, though I don't say it anywhere — it's not important)
2) that he stopped for a moment and then reached for it, because he's curious
3) that the outcome of this scene is that he is still alive, with little fingers still growing
4) that the outcome of this scene is that he is dead on the forest floor, cold fingers growing still.

I think you could clean this up into a good poem, the ending reads awkward to me, hated shriek to put it down sounds more like the introduction of a second character than a possible interior monologue? But all in all for alive write I like it.

"Hated shriek" can be understood as the kid saying he hates being shrieked at (by his father/mother). Or you can read that it's the narrator who is saying that the interference (to protect the kid, to make aware of danger) is something to be hated, and that the kid should have been allowed to either die or defend himself.

Thank you so much, Tod, for the feedback. I really appreciate it, without it I can't tell what I'm doing wrong, what works and what doesn't.

 

[todski28]

Oh, I did not expect that to be difficult to read. *takes notes* Thank you for pointing it out. It is a mini-unroll, Tod. See, they mostly work against the reader, rather than for the reader.

Here is the text:

Hot air condenses to join
the mist. Cold cheeks red
warm blood running
he speeds away on small feet
crushing dry needles, crossing
boundaries of light, chasing
something immaterial.

And here are the sentences I hid in it:

Hot air condenses to join the mist -> when it's cold, and you exhale, vapor is formed. Also, there is mist.
Cold cheeks red -> blushing due to cold
red warm blood running -> this person is doing some physical activity
running, he speeds away -> he is running
on small feet -> he is a child
small feet crushing dry needles -> dry pine needles. he is in a forest
needles, crossing -> not sure if this will make sense to others, but this is what I had in mind
crossing boundaries of light -> running through shafts of light, created by trees
light chasing something immaterial -> light chases darkness, it's a misty morning
chasing something immaterial -> he is chasing something immaterial. A child playing in a misty forest.



Thank you, and yet another unroll. I definitely should stop trying to use those...

Here is the section:

A branch to fend off enemies
hits a rock, something's
revealed — reach for it,
cold little fingers growing
still, lively, curious — still
the thing stings, he is
unaware of danger.

And what I wanted to convey:

cold little fingers -> straightforward, his fingers are cold
little fingers growing still -> reinforcing the idea that it's a kid, his small fingers are growing
growing still -> he suddenly stops moving
still lively, still curious -> he isn't still, he is curious about what he's found
cold little fingers growing — still -> he is dead, his fingers are cold
still, the thing stings -> despite being lively and curious and happy, this thing stings, it's dangerous.



"Hated shriek" can be understood as the kid saying he hates being shrieked at (by his father/mother). Or you can read that it's the narrator who is saying that the interference (to protect the kid, to make aware of danger) is something to be hated, and that the kid should have been allowed to either die or defend himself.

Thank you so much, Tod, for the feedback. I really appreciate it, without it I can't tell what I'm doing wrong, what works and what doesn't.

I got all of your references it did take 6 reads to unravel but it wasn't arduous reading I was intrigued, the imagery was very good once my head started to come to grips with it, open field write one that was commented on in the new poems*thread that was similar but more minimal. Trying to cram too much into the line with still twice was a big hurdle and I personally would have preferred a definitive ending

I have used this technique a little bit but not tried to write a whole poem interlocking like that.t, you pointed it out in one of my poems, so I twigged you may be attempting similar. When you are attempting things you tend to notice it more in others work,

*puts on own tin foil hat, raises glass of nesquick and jacks for magnetron and has a shot* hahaha

 

[HarryHill]

Quarter to twelve
rates have gone up
Lucy still sits with chin in hand, wondering what Freud would do
working for peanuts like that...
so then,,
roll on big river, until you unroll, back through your tributaries,
gravity negated, rising up and none elated
at the sudden shift in the water table,
the rapid escalation of boat sale and the scarcity of life jackets
no time to make stilts and all is spilt
and none is
One

 

[HarryHill]

The Short Cut Less Traveled

The road ran south with a yellow line
dividing both the lanes
where I drove at 60 per in the pounding rain

Swerving to the left and right on my reckless flight
to the all night market a mile away to buy a bag of joe,
the wipers weren't working but you said 'Damn it, go'

The road split. I hit the brakes, but continued straight ahead,
smashing through the shrubbery, mowing down the hedge
right into an empty parking lot, skidding to a stop

Pleased with having survived the crash,
I stood with shaking knees, walked around my vehicle
in a neon glow, of the all night market sign, 15 minutes off my time

.. For the parody thread, The road less traveled by Frost?

 

[butters]

The road ran south with a yellow line
dividing both the lanes
where I drove at 60 per in the pounding rain

Swerving to the left and right on my reckless flight
to the all night market a mile away to buy a bag of joe,
the wipers weren't working but you said 'Damn it, go'

The road split. I hit the brakes, but continued straight ahead,
smashing through the shrubbery, mowing down the hedge
right into an empty parking lot, skidding to a stop

Pleased with having survived the crash,
I stood with shaking knees, walked around my vehicle
in a neon glow, of the all night market sign, 15 minutes off my time

.. For the parody thread, The road less traveled by Frost?

just so long as it's all parody and you didn't mow down any hedges!

 

[greenmountaineer]

Father O'Leary's Secret Cache of Poems

XLIII

Among the Mennonites
everything appears so nice.

However, what gives me the shites is

God wants a different price
among the Mennonites.

 

[HarryHill]

Damn I've grown old, smithpeter, slow too. The first sunburn of summer smiles brightly from my shoulders, welcoming me to those days of dazed laziness...
Your pardon, a cold wash cloth and I'll continue...
Ah, better. There was another old man in the mirror just now, wearing ridiculous black bib overalls with one gallous lost, t-shirt sacrificed to the lord of solstice, the promise held in cool green refuge; seemed a cheery fellow, smiled back at me, face ruddy as St. Nicholas, might have been a distant kin, too poor to afford the utility bills at the North Pole or the commute, Oy. but anyway,
I just wanted to say if felt good to feel the ground in my hand, poke a seed into a hole, water, tamp, repeat. There's still some light left and a fresh Pepsi and lots to say to you inside, but maybe later

 

[Tsotha]

Father O'Leary's Secret Cache of Poems

XLIII

Among the Mennonites
everything appears so nice.

However, what gives me the shites is

God wants a different price
among the Mennonites.

Damn, you're good even on live writes.

Damn I've grown old, smithpeter, slow too. The first sunburn of summer smiles brightly from my shoulders, welcoming me to those days of dazed laziness...
Your pardon, a cold wash cloth and I'll continue...
Ah, better. There was another old man in the mirror just now, wearing ridiculous black bib overalls with one gallous lost, t-shirt sacrificed to the lord of solstice, the promise held in cool green refuge; seemed a cheery fellow, smiled back at me, face ruddy as St. Nicholas, might have been a distant kin, too poor to afford the utility bills at the North Pole or the commute, Oy. but anyway,
I just wanted to say if felt good to feel the ground in my hand, poke a seed into a hole, water, tamp, repeat. There's still some light left and a fresh Pepsi and lots to say to you inside, but maybe later

Don't forget to wear sunscreen.

 

[butters]

deep orange blossoming
falling into the silence as
red

read

reddy or not

the volume's turned all the way down, baby
and the mad girl spins meanings
to words without sound
words in her head
where a burning orange world turns red
and falls

 

[HarryHill]

deep orange blossoming
falling into the silence as
red

read

reddy or not

the volume's turned all the way down, baby
and the mad girl spins meanings
to words without sound
words in her head
where a burning orange world turns red
and falls

She asked, "what's dead grandpa?"
it's when you're not around anymore; one day I'll be dead
before the tears that welled fell, I continued,
Don't worry, I'll still love you, I just wont be able to visit anymore