Topic started by Udhaya (@ 63.89.188.114) on Tue Jan 2 16:37:51 .
All times in EST +10:30 for IST.
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This thread is for English poems whether they be free verse, sonnets, or other metered poems. While wondering how to state the purpose of this thread, I was struck by all that this thread isn’t meant to be. So let me state what it isn’t and leave it up to participation to continue to define what it is.
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Responses:
- Old responses
- From: nalini (@ pa-bethelpark2c-677.pit.adelphia.net)
on: Wed Jan 31 22:04:04
John,
I am really glad you felt the sincerity in the poem. That means a lot. Thanks.
dhana,
Didn't give it much thought at the time, but I suppose I used the words "they say" to convey anger through sarcasm and a certain detachment.
>>Shaken, then collapse, then crumbled seems some ascending sequence<<
Good point.
vj,
It's both. You are right about the black and white characteristics attributed to those terms. But by and large, positive sentiments are associated with the words, especially Mother.
Thanks all for your reactions and feedbacks.
- From: nalini (@ pa-bethelpark2c-677.pit.adelphia.net)
on: Wed Jan 31 22:23:57
Sundar,
First of all, I see no need for apologies.
I was quite intrigued by your poem. Could sense the "philosophy", but it didn't quite come together for me until I got some background from you and John. Can't say I understand all the concepts yet, but I do appreciate the poem a lot more now. Somehow the tone of the poem seems to match the premise.
- From: Rajarangan (@ 202.144.64.4)
on: Wed Jan 31 23:01:16
Udhaya,
I am late in joining the analysts of your poem and they have not left much for me.The 'step up'
is clearly from the point of view of others not
coinciding with that of the poet.I am reminded of
the hero in an allegory of Khalil Ghibran who
starts climbing a ladder to heaven loudly complaining about the misery of his fellowmen weeping on the ground but as he moves up,looks down and says 'Oh,these chaps are not really suffering at all.I can't hear their wailing'.
You have luckily kept up the sensitivity.
Nalini, As a spontaneous reaction to the tragedy,
your poem has come out well,full of pathos. But
the last lines!
The fault,they say,
Lay with nature-
Mother nature,
A force truly unworthy of its name.
Two things.'The fault' has come as an unintended pun.The entire area of Los Angeles,earth quake
prone,is situated on a Fault.
Nature is impervious to what happens to living
things in a calamity.Why name it as Mother with
sentimental connotation and then blame it.If you
know Tamil,read Bharati's
Vedipadumandatthidi padu thalam poda-verum
Veliyil iratthakkaliyodu bhootham pada ....
- From: Udhaya (@ 63.89.188.242)
on: Thu Feb 1 13:05:10
Sundar,
A clarification:
The rule about "adolescent honesty" refers to assuming license to deride a poem under the guise of honesty. Don't confuse that with airing a poem written during your adolescence.
aruL,
Sorry I didn't acknowledge your comments. Thanks.
Rajarangan,
Thanks for your comments on Toast and for pointing out the relationship between fault and earthquake. How did I miss that in my reading? But I do think that Mother Nature is used perfectly in the poem by Nalini, for she didn't single-handedly anoint nature as Mother Nature. It's a widely used term in many languages and she took it for an effective spin in her poem.
- From: John A. Fife (@ coltrane.sjsu.edu)
on: Thu Feb 1 19:28:10
In no way wanting thwart continued comments and discussions of Nilini's and Sundar's poems, I post this and do not need immediate feedback. Let Quaker spirit move whomever it chooses.
CONVERSATIONS IN THE STACKS
I
first hear
your familiar voice, a low
whisper between volumes.
We then ignite into a conversation,
like so many others that came before,
of your admiration for Schopenhauer,
which would explain your indistinguishable Will
pervaded with your fictional appeals to sympathy;
of Time and how you continuously refute and defy
its attempts to bind material things to chronologies.
Probably what I am reminded of most
after the long stretches between visits
is how you treat all the world's writings
as one massive tome dwarfed in the library
that is your mind.
And again, in solitude, you inspire me
beyond labyrinths to larger ideals,
my friend,
Borges.
--John
- From: Ramji (@ 205.177.170.144)
on: Fri Feb 2 09:34:47
Sundar:
At first, I found your poem totally baffling and intriguing, and after your explanation, read it again and it was less baffling but much more intriguing than before.
I would urge you to continue the same way, that is, give the poem w/o any explanation, wait for others to come up with their ways of seeing it and then give us your view. I enjoy that challenge and don't mind missing the point.
I don't think I can add any insight into the concept.I am still ( as they say in Tamil) wetting my feet on the shore of the sea of Zen and Tao. What I don't know can fill the Library of Congress. And this is not vein modesty.
- From: nalini (@ pa-bethelpark2c-677.pit.adelphia.net)
on: Fri Feb 2 11:47:27
Rajarangan,
Thanks for your comments on my poem. Since Udhaya has already addressed the Mother nature issue (thanks Udhaya), I'll leave it at that. About the pun on 'fault', it was not quite unintentional!
John,
A beautiful poem, a tribute made so very personal by using conversations to describe the experience of reading his books. You've managed to say a _lot_ about Borges in a few lines.
Also, the poem visually matches the flow of the subject perfectly. Starting with short lines as "low whispers", slowly building up to a full-fledged conversation, and then receding to the poet's own thoughts and recollections in solitude.
As a fan of Borges, I enjoyed the poem immensely.
- From: dhana (@ figment3.gs.com)
on: Fri Feb 2 13:04:35
Sundar, I agree with Ramji with his views on your work.
Well, As Ramji stated, there are a lot of insights which I might be missing, but I have this question though. I couldn't get the thought why the crow fallen from the nest was taken as subject of reference.
The crow in the poem, (fledgling) out of the nest, doesn't it symbolise helplessness, rather than suffering for the sake of others. The concept of Buddha, sacrificing for the sake of others, was at a point in his life, where he couldn't be portrayed as pathetic.
I would be glad if you add more insights.
- From: Ramji (@ 205.177.170.120)
on: Fri Feb 2 13:54:36
John:
I continue to be in awe of your poetic thought and expression. I did not need to have read Borges. I could almost feel him in your poem.
O, what a thread this is! It has the potential for a great anthology.
- From: Udhaya (@ 63.89.188.242)
on: Fri Feb 2 14:22:47
John,
Where else would be an ideal place to converse with Borges but a library? I loved everything about the poem, the concept, the subject, etc. And the surreptitious build up to the subject's revelation is honoring Borges indeed.
This is the kind of poem I would hold up in defense of free verse poetry.
I love the "tome" usage, but if I had to nit pick, I would pick a different word for "dwarfed".
- From: Sundar (@ access-isdn2-35.oz.psu.edu)
on: Fri Feb 2 22:34:41
dhana -
seemed to me like the crow was perfectly accepting of what happened to him, and i wasn't. spent 3 days wresttling with the question of should I put the chick back in its nest or let nature take its course. so while the crow provoked a lot of (maybe too much, instead of action) thought in me, seemed like the crow itself was beyond being helped. it was helping me in some way ? of course, that is the i-centric perspective, that seemed to be rather absent from this crow.
- From: Sundar (@ access-isdn2-6.oz.psu.edu)
on: Sun Feb 4 20:23:45
Hmm, a whole weekend without activity.
Has everyone gone into spontaneous satori from reading poems here? =)
Wake up, folks, I hope y'awl are well and let's hear from you =)
- From: vj (@ chme6pc4.ecn.purdue.edu)
on: Mon Feb 5 15:16:28
A short poem from me.
Orgy
Sometime back,
in a white oblong room,
a ghastly thing happened.
Eight men with iron-studded clubs,
shut themselves in,
and hammered away at each other.
The next day,
they were all found dead,
drowned in their own blood.
- From: Udhaya (@ 63.89.188.242)
on: Mon Feb 5 17:55:59
vj,
Looking at “Orgy”, from a structure and mood standpoint, it’s very tightly structured and intriguingly effective. Contextually, it begs more questions than it answers. I have included my questions and comments in italics alongside the poem. I’m waiting to hear your idea behind the poem.
Orgy [orgy of violence or is the title metaphorical as well?]
Sometime back, [as this poem is like a riddle, I’m noticing this event took place in the past]
in a white oblong room, [oblong could be pentagon, white could allude to white house, but room? Is it the oval office?]
a ghastly thing happened.
Eight men with iron-studded clubs, [golf clubs?]
shut themselves in,
and hammered away at each other. [hammered away is usually a figure of speech to mean “go through the motions of a procedure”, but here they hammer away at each other and literally it seems!]
The next day,
they were all found dead,
drowned in their own blood. [Is this metaphoric blood or real blood? Could drowned in their own blood mean, downed by their own schemes or by their own nature?]
- From: Udhaya (@ 63.89.188.242) on: Mon Feb 5 17:57:27
closing italics
- From: Udhaya (@ 63.89.188.242) on: Mon Feb 5 17:57:27
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