I got to thinking about my closing haiku yesterday and I think a better arrangement is:
cut grass falls
on the side of the road
buildings grow
I don't write poetry like I used to and I miss that spontaneous loquaciousness that I used to have. I mean, maybe it wasn't great, but I felt much more accomplished. And I sat down and wrote. Now it seems that when I have the time to sit down and write poetry (versus prose, which is completely different) I have this feeling that I'm sitting down 'to write poetry'. The mindset is completely different and I stall before I engage.
It's hard to let go of that concept, to quite those monkeys, to slip just beneath that line of demarcation that isn't a line at all, because once you point at it, you see. And the point, the goal, is not to see it, let alone look for it.
Thus, writing poetry becomes meditation and, following on yesterday's theme: is the appreciation of others always important? I know it is for some. A certain crowd out in the world needs praise, needs to be told how good they are, and how much talent they have. I would posit that poetry was 'written to be poetry' versus those who write. They write for themselves, and let those who appreciate, do. That is poetry that is written.
Of course I could just be philoso-meta-ing something that needn't be done so. I just get bored with attitudes of 'I know better than you and I don't like what you've created and obviously I don't like you either if that's what you come up with.' Especially when it isn't followed up with at least a modicum of 'perhaps you could try x, y, z to help with the a, b, c.'
Ultimately, the question is, can I write a set of haiku (three sets of three) that aren't in the strict 5/7/5 syllabic structure, that are less than 20 syllables and that has a chance rhyme in the last lines? We shall see.
uncoiling
a dancer moves
to winding flutes
18 May 2007
17 May 2007
How to and what to do when someone says you 'how to'd' wrong
I'm now in a poetry group (yes, I know it's been decades) and said poetry group is comprised of mostly older adults and, ehem, professionals. Looking younger than I am is not a benefit amongst this group I think, and looking, ehem, as subversive as I guess I appear, is just one more knock.
My friend that I attend with is far more upstanding than I, but she's also ::gasp:: young. And she writes simple, sweet poetry that moves with a gentle rhythm.
Goodness, what we must represent to these hallowed bastions of What Poetry Is and We Will Also Tell You What It Is Not. The women (the men are polite and encouraging when they aren't silent, hobbled by FEMININE POE-OUTRAGE) tend to be quite... well, let's just say they go for the critique without doing much in the way of constructing. Unless, apparently, they like you, or you are 'old enough' to pass their test.
When I heard 'it's good to want to be different, but' I knew I was swimming in suspicious waters.
Sadly, I missed the last meeting and wasn't there when my friend's poem got bludgeoned, along with her sense of self. Perhaps I'm too polite to say 'that's juvenile shite, right?' to anyone's creation, but maybe that will garner me some points?
Next week is the next meeting and I'm doing haiku. (Someone just brought me a free turkey sandwich!) See, my friend told me she once read a villanelle and they didn't know what it was and harangued her for her attempt. O_O So, I figure they'll know exactly what haiku is and will no doubt tell me exactly How Wrong I am Doing It. Because they would know.
Cut grass falls
Buildings grow
on the side of the road
My friend that I attend with is far more upstanding than I, but she's also ::gasp:: young. And she writes simple, sweet poetry that moves with a gentle rhythm.
Goodness, what we must represent to these hallowed bastions of What Poetry Is and We Will Also Tell You What It Is Not. The women (the men are polite and encouraging when they aren't silent, hobbled by FEMININE POE-OUTRAGE) tend to be quite... well, let's just say they go for the critique without doing much in the way of constructing. Unless, apparently, they like you, or you are 'old enough' to pass their test.
When I heard 'it's good to want to be different, but' I knew I was swimming in suspicious waters.
Sadly, I missed the last meeting and wasn't there when my friend's poem got bludgeoned, along with her sense of self. Perhaps I'm too polite to say 'that's juvenile shite, right?' to anyone's creation, but maybe that will garner me some points?
Next week is the next meeting and I'm doing haiku. (Someone just brought me a free turkey sandwich!) See, my friend told me she once read a villanelle and they didn't know what it was and harangued her for her attempt. O_O So, I figure they'll know exactly what haiku is and will no doubt tell me exactly How Wrong I am Doing It. Because they would know.
Cut grass falls
Buildings grow
on the side of the road
12 October 2006
[moved]
What's the most extreme weather you've been in? A memorable storm? Heat wave? Or something else?
I guess this is as good a place to start as any! Here I am avoiding chores again.
Well, we have our share of combined heat/humidity here and I do remember a power outage once in the summer and mother had some M&Ms she was going to bake with that actually sort of exploded from the chocolat inside melting. But being in the south, heat and humidity is the norm. What really does us in is the cold when it comes with ice and snow. Yankees Northerners come down and mock southerners for not being able to drive on ice, in the snow, et cetera. Well, we have snow of any account (that is, more than half an inch) once every decade if we are lucky, so yeah, why would we? It's like people in El Paso knowing how to drive in the rain. They don't. Why would they? It never rains for more than ten minutes and when it does, it floods.
Once winter we had my grandmother stay with us as the weather was particularly cold and getting treacherous. Our power went out so she slept with me and we were in sleeping bags with blankets piled on top of us. I filled my bag with my stuffed animals so they wouldn't get cold either. >_>
The power didn't come back on and it was going to be days before it did. The city was covered in ice. So we went to my aunt's who still had power and a bit more room. The four of us joined the three of them. Then, my other aunt and uncle, with no power and out in the country joined in: four more people. Ok, the house wasn't that big. My uncle (the uncle of the original house, not a visitor) couldn't take it and went out to see what sort of good he could do; removing limbs, helping the elderly, deliving food, he was just that sort of person.
In the end I think we were all there for nearly a week. For the kids it was just playing, fighting, making up and playing again. We played a lot of He-Man. I still remember Skeletor fondly. Our fishtank at home froze nearly solid. I don't recall how big it was, 75 gallons maybe? I can stretch my arms out and it's about the length it was. We had one of those sucker fish (placostamus?) that we'd had since he was tiny and he'd grown to almost 8 inches. It was sad. We never had fish after that.
El Paso gets very hot. One summer we were out there and our AC went out about 6 hours outside of the city. I spritzed dad with a spray bottle of water and we rode with the windows down. The next morning mom and I took the car to a dealership to get it repaired and while waiting for the ride back the radio news said 'Goooood Morning El Paso! It's 10am and 104º!' That's too cheery a voice for that kind of heat. On the other hand, I've heard people in Mesilla, NM complain about the high humidity. 'Oh I can't take this, it must be what, 30%?' HAHA. Try 100% humidity with no rain. At least you can escape to the shade. Here, the shade just drips on you.
In Zagora, Morocco however I experienced the most amazing heat outside of a kerosene heater. It was estimated to be 135º but as this was July I assume it could have been higher after the guy up north told us they lie about the weather there just to make sure poeple won't avoid it. We would get in the pool just to cool off, not swim or goof off. Just hover in the water and slowly climb out. We were bone dry in five minutes, like we'd never been in the water. Martin came down and asked 'Aren't you getting in the water?' 'We've been. Twice. We're resting.'
Saw a tornado once. Luckily we were driving the opposity direction. It removed my cousin's apartment building completely. Gone. Her father came home from a business trip that night and thought 'wow, I'm really tired, this seems like a longer walk than normal.' He walked straight to the building behind them over where theirs used to be. So yeah, it was a nasty one. All the power was out as we drove home and mom was driving like a bat out of hell. She never drives like that so I know she was scared.
I guess this is as good a place to start as any! Here I am avoiding chores again.
Well, we have our share of combined heat/humidity here and I do remember a power outage once in the summer and mother had some M&Ms she was going to bake with that actually sort of exploded from the chocolat inside melting. But being in the south, heat and humidity is the norm. What really does us in is the cold when it comes with ice and snow. Yankees Northerners come down and mock southerners for not being able to drive on ice, in the snow, et cetera. Well, we have snow of any account (that is, more than half an inch) once every decade if we are lucky, so yeah, why would we? It's like people in El Paso knowing how to drive in the rain. They don't. Why would they? It never rains for more than ten minutes and when it does, it floods.
Once winter we had my grandmother stay with us as the weather was particularly cold and getting treacherous. Our power went out so she slept with me and we were in sleeping bags with blankets piled on top of us. I filled my bag with my stuffed animals so they wouldn't get cold either. >_>
The power didn't come back on and it was going to be days before it did. The city was covered in ice. So we went to my aunt's who still had power and a bit more room. The four of us joined the three of them. Then, my other aunt and uncle, with no power and out in the country joined in: four more people. Ok, the house wasn't that big. My uncle (the uncle of the original house, not a visitor) couldn't take it and went out to see what sort of good he could do; removing limbs, helping the elderly, deliving food, he was just that sort of person.
In the end I think we were all there for nearly a week. For the kids it was just playing, fighting, making up and playing again. We played a lot of He-Man. I still remember Skeletor fondly. Our fishtank at home froze nearly solid. I don't recall how big it was, 75 gallons maybe? I can stretch my arms out and it's about the length it was. We had one of those sucker fish (placostamus?) that we'd had since he was tiny and he'd grown to almost 8 inches. It was sad. We never had fish after that.
El Paso gets very hot. One summer we were out there and our AC went out about 6 hours outside of the city. I spritzed dad with a spray bottle of water and we rode with the windows down. The next morning mom and I took the car to a dealership to get it repaired and while waiting for the ride back the radio news said 'Goooood Morning El Paso! It's 10am and 104º!' That's too cheery a voice for that kind of heat. On the other hand, I've heard people in Mesilla, NM complain about the high humidity. 'Oh I can't take this, it must be what, 30%?' HAHA. Try 100% humidity with no rain. At least you can escape to the shade. Here, the shade just drips on you.
In Zagora, Morocco however I experienced the most amazing heat outside of a kerosene heater. It was estimated to be 135º but as this was July I assume it could have been higher after the guy up north told us they lie about the weather there just to make sure poeple won't avoid it. We would get in the pool just to cool off, not swim or goof off. Just hover in the water and slowly climb out. We were bone dry in five minutes, like we'd never been in the water. Martin came down and asked 'Aren't you getting in the water?' 'We've been. Twice. We're resting.'
Saw a tornado once. Luckily we were driving the opposity direction. It removed my cousin's apartment building completely. Gone. Her father came home from a business trip that night and thought 'wow, I'm really tired, this seems like a longer walk than normal.' He walked straight to the building behind them over where theirs used to be. So yeah, it was a nasty one. All the power was out as we drove home and mom was driving like a bat out of hell. She never drives like that so I know she was scared.
06 April 2006
controlling the weather and first crushes
http://web.njit.edu/~ronkowit/poetsonline/prompt.htm
"magic thinking"
when i wanted rain,
i got thunderstorms and lightning,
but never snow
i convince them to grow,
assuming the plants hear me
(but never snow)
i find lost treasure
by wishing and hoping
but never just snow.
and no, this isn't part of the prompt, but something made me start thinking and well, it reminded me of something.
i can't tell a girl
i think she's pretty,
(like nothing i'd ever seen)
i'm too young to think of words like
'enchanting' and 'enraptured'
but i knew what they felt like
(never mind when i saw her again
in high school the remnants were there
but that pretty little girl,
so so enchantingly pretty,
was gone, replaced by a thin,
mean, harsh, stark girl
never mind that)
i couldn't help but stare.
she was prettier than any doll,
eyes like candy,
we weren't friends.
i just liked to look at her.
i knew i couldn't tell her
how pretty she was.
i couldn't tell anybody.
"magic thinking"
when i wanted rain,
i got thunderstorms and lightning,
but never snow
i convince them to grow,
assuming the plants hear me
(but never snow)
i find lost treasure
by wishing and hoping
but never just snow.
and no, this isn't part of the prompt, but something made me start thinking and well, it reminded me of something.
i can't tell a girl
i think she's pretty,
(like nothing i'd ever seen)
i'm too young to think of words like
'enchanting' and 'enraptured'
but i knew what they felt like
(never mind when i saw her again
in high school the remnants were there
but that pretty little girl,
so so enchantingly pretty,
was gone, replaced by a thin,
mean, harsh, stark girl
never mind that)
i couldn't help but stare.
she was prettier than any doll,
eyes like candy,
we weren't friends.
i just liked to look at her.
i knew i couldn't tell her
how pretty she was.
i couldn't tell anybody.
08 February 2006
i'm not
Far be it for me to presume what others are thinking, but. But.
Sometime ago I composed a post in my head and it was really good. I promptly forgot it. But later on I remembered bits and pieces of it. I just never remembered what prompted it.
There were elements of my natural, seemingly inborn scepticism, my innate doubt (wound tester perhaps? I dunno) and my distrust/dislike of people but at the same time, the way I'm often charmed by them and. Well, ok, not so much that last part. I forgot the elements involving the last part.
I remember being on the army base back when the hospital somewhere where it was before where it is now. Maybe this was a clinic for GIs. It was long ago. I haven't the faintest clue of how old I was. Young. Very young. Tiny. Wee. I don't know if I was with Mummy or Daddy, but what I do recall is being alone--not the scared, where is everyone alone, just, 'wait right here little girl, the authorities are telling you what to do' kind of alone. A soldier boy gets my attention. And boy he must have been. I don't recall anything about him, but he had to be young. He was just a GI. He got my attention. I watched him warily, like a cat watches someone who has them cornered. I don't think I was old enough to be suspicious, but I do recall having the vaguest feeling of doubt.
Did I remind him of a younger sister? A niece? A cousin? Some dear female relative? Perhaps. But I shook my head. I didn't go. He continued to beckon, waving me over, trying to convince me. He wasn't ever crude or mean I don't think. I have the slightest feeling that toward the end he might have got slightly frustrated, and oh yes, I think he had a bandaged foot. Looking back I can't see what he would have wanted out of me. He couldn't have had candy to offer. ^_~ On the other hand, there was little privacy, so I don't think he could have hurt me. But I can't second guess him on either count. Maybe I did remind him of someone. Maybe she was better off with him far away.
Some years later, many years later, I found myself at a computer convention with my parents. I think I was around 14/15. Nice and impressionable. And a girl at a computer convention. I was eyeing a hot programmer and struck up a conversation with a nice man, about 10+ years my senior. (Nice, but not the hot programmer. Oh and he was cute. I still remember his lovely brown hair.) Pleasant, but... there was that same doubt that I'd had some 10-12 years previous tickling the back of my head like a thin wire. Nothing substantial, nothing to point at or touch, but I could feel it nonetheless. He asked if I wanted to go out for a walk to his car. Here I should point out that he had a cane and limp. I don't know if it was temporary or permanent. Perhaps he needed to make sure he wasn't alone for the venture and had assistance if he needed it. Perhaps he just enjoyed my company and was a genuinely nice man. Perhaps other girls have since found out different.
I choose not to second guess and I think I'd rather be closed.
his hands touch me and
when it hurts i breath hard, cry--
i hear dogs barking
him
uneasy trust
touching me please don't touch (me)
i didn't think it'd feel like this
you
[i'm not]
please do not touch me
open skies, low cut, salsa
don't assume i'm--stars
forget--when i dance,
and i don't know what they see,
i'm not here for you,
stargazing, dancing--
(i forget they always will)
sometimes it's the same
the sky never looks
so please, do not touch me, and
don't assume i'm yours
Sometime ago I composed a post in my head and it was really good. I promptly forgot it. But later on I remembered bits and pieces of it. I just never remembered what prompted it.
There were elements of my natural, seemingly inborn scepticism, my innate doubt (wound tester perhaps? I dunno) and my distrust/dislike of people but at the same time, the way I'm often charmed by them and. Well, ok, not so much that last part. I forgot the elements involving the last part.
I remember being on the army base back when the hospital somewhere where it was before where it is now. Maybe this was a clinic for GIs. It was long ago. I haven't the faintest clue of how old I was. Young. Very young. Tiny. Wee. I don't know if I was with Mummy or Daddy, but what I do recall is being alone--not the scared, where is everyone alone, just, 'wait right here little girl, the authorities are telling you what to do' kind of alone. A soldier boy gets my attention. And boy he must have been. I don't recall anything about him, but he had to be young. He was just a GI. He got my attention. I watched him warily, like a cat watches someone who has them cornered. I don't think I was old enough to be suspicious, but I do recall having the vaguest feeling of doubt.
Did I remind him of a younger sister? A niece? A cousin? Some dear female relative? Perhaps. But I shook my head. I didn't go. He continued to beckon, waving me over, trying to convince me. He wasn't ever crude or mean I don't think. I have the slightest feeling that toward the end he might have got slightly frustrated, and oh yes, I think he had a bandaged foot. Looking back I can't see what he would have wanted out of me. He couldn't have had candy to offer. ^_~ On the other hand, there was little privacy, so I don't think he could have hurt me. But I can't second guess him on either count. Maybe I did remind him of someone. Maybe she was better off with him far away.
Some years later, many years later, I found myself at a computer convention with my parents. I think I was around 14/15. Nice and impressionable. And a girl at a computer convention. I was eyeing a hot programmer and struck up a conversation with a nice man, about 10+ years my senior. (Nice, but not the hot programmer. Oh and he was cute. I still remember his lovely brown hair.) Pleasant, but... there was that same doubt that I'd had some 10-12 years previous tickling the back of my head like a thin wire. Nothing substantial, nothing to point at or touch, but I could feel it nonetheless. He asked if I wanted to go out for a walk to his car. Here I should point out that he had a cane and limp. I don't know if it was temporary or permanent. Perhaps he needed to make sure he wasn't alone for the venture and had assistance if he needed it. Perhaps he just enjoyed my company and was a genuinely nice man. Perhaps other girls have since found out different.
I choose not to second guess and I think I'd rather be closed.
his hands touch me and
when it hurts i breath hard, cry--
i hear dogs barking
him
uneasy trust
touching me please don't touch (me)
i didn't think it'd feel like this
you
[i'm not]
please do not touch me
open skies, low cut, salsa
don't assume i'm--stars
forget--when i dance,
and i don't know what they see,
i'm not here for you,
stargazing, dancing--
(i forget they always will)
sometimes it's the same
the sky never looks
so please, do not touch me, and
don't assume i'm yours
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