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: Fazli Sameer (@ cf2-1.isu.net.sa)
on: Tue Feb 6 03:38:01
I am a Sri Lankan male, 53 years old, who has been living and working as an IT Consultant in the Middle East (Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, Oman, Dubai) since 1979. Sometime back, in 1992 when I was stationed in Oman, immediately after the Gulf War, I took it upon myself to express the feelings that have matured inside me for this desert paradise in a poem I wrote titled SANDS. Would like your review, comments, and discussions on this please. - Fazli Sameer, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
SANDS
I set foot on the sands of the Arabian Gulf
In Nineteen Seventy Nine;
The sands, since then, have swallowed me up,
And consumed all of my time;
My time has been spent, in work and in prayer,
Through the warm Arabian Nights;
The nights have exploded and lifted me up,
To wondrous towering heights.
The streets are all paved with 24K Gold,
In the mystic Middle East;
The Gold is so pure, spreading an array,
Of a gala sumptious feast;
The feasts are so many and time has so sweetly,
Played on my favorite song;
The love songs of life, that keep on playing,
Moving me on and on.
The nights are lit up, from the skies above,
By a million or more stars;
The twinkling stars that shine out of the dark,
Are like watchful eyes from mars;
The eyes that peer ‘neath black silk veils,
Of sweet and charming faces;
The faces of fortune, in oil rich sands,
Of sleek and flowing graces.
How many times have I left these sands,
To return and roost back home;
Ut the sands keep calling, luring me back,
To its great mosques and domes;
The domes that keep shining, reflecting the warmth,
Of the sizzling noon day sun;
The sun that keeps rolling, simmering the sand,
Around almost everyone.
A Home away from home, is what I’ve found,
In these hot burning sands;
The sands of time, that have kept me so close,
To these wonderful Arabian Lands;
The land of Prophets and a great belief,
That one man toiled and taught;
A teacher so mighty that none could defeat,
Even though, they, in vain fought.
Let me rest beneath the burning sand,
When my day s over and done;
Let my day be near, so I can lay my head,
Beneath the scorching sun;
Let the sun shine bright, through all of time,
In this beautiful bounteous land;
Let the land flourish and grow on to become,
A heaven on earth so grand.
Muscat, Sultanate of Oman 1992
- From: Vishvesh Obla (@ unknown-24-9.pilot.net)
on: Tue Feb 6 10:00:54
Dear Mr.Sammeer,
Man, that was a piece of poetry ! The rhyme is very irregular (when you write a metered poem the number of syllables that make a line play a very important role)and forced at most of the lines, but still there is a fine movement of sense and sound that creates a fine atmosphere of ruminating over a delicate feeling. I admire very much the tone behind the poem, the tone that is never in a hurry to capture the feeling of passion for the desired object. You have built that passion poetically that adds so much of charm to the inward movement of the poem, in spite of its technical deficiency. The feeling that arises from the love of the land culminating towards the spiritual is so natural, just because of it. The movement appears to be so much Browning-like to me. Browning always builds up a feeling through such a leisurely building up of images. (Unfortunately, I don't seem to remember all the lines of one of his short poems titled "The Day's at Morn". I could have compared the leisurely movement in that poem with this one if I remembered it). It is nice to start a day after reading a fresh piece of work like yours.
- From: Ramji (@ 205.177.170.109)
on: Tue Feb 6 11:26:18
Here is my echo. If orgy is usually the result of a group of people wanting to give and receive pleasure without inhibiton, here is a group wanting to give and receive pain. In a philosophic sense, pleasure and pain are two sides of the same thing.
I am also eager to see your reply to Udhaya's questions, poet to poet.
- From: nalini (@ 169.144.224.107)
on: Tue Feb 6 12:22:06
vj,
I too read your poem clearly as a metaphor, and have the same questions as Udhaya. These are some of the thoughts that crossed my mind when I was reading your poem. Does the "oblong white room" represent an unsullied, protective environment (like an egg)? Is the poem about a "group" enslaved in a "white" enviroment trying to "escape"? Waiting to hear your intent.
- From: nalini (@ 169.144.224.107)
on: Tue Feb 6 12:50:32
Fazli Sameer,
Welcome!
You have captured the beauty and spirit of the "desert paradise" very well in your poem. And your love for the land comes through beautifully.
I enjoyed the following expressions:
"The nights have exploded and lifted me up,
To wondrous towering heights"
..
..
"The eyes that peer ‘neath black silk veils,
Of sweet and charming faces;
The faces of fortune, in oil rich sands,
Of sleek and flowing graces."
..
..
"The sands of time, that have kept me so close,"
Hope to hear more from you.
- From: Udhaya (@ 63.89.188.242)
on: Tue Feb 6 13:08:58
Mr. Fazli Sameer,
Thanks for sharing with us a poem that must be very personal to you. As such, I won’t treat it like a regular poem and mark it up with comments. As Vishvesh suggested, the tone you chose is perfect for the sing-songy meter used in SANDS. The second last stanza works best for me since it hints at the place’s history and tells me something about it besides the sun and the sands. When writing about a foreign land for others, it’s beneficial to put the place in a historic, geographic context unless you narrate it through your personal experience and make it personal for us too. But for the kind of ode you wrote, this effluence of rhymes works best, I guess. Regardless, the warmth of your feelings for the place comes across clearly.
- From: vj (@ chme6pc4.ecn.purdue.edu)
on: Tue Feb 6 16:14:09
The central idea is metaphorical.. and Ramji kind of wrote what I had in mind. The term 'Orgy' is used to signify the consensual coming-together of a group for a free-for-all.. and the poem supposes that we understand the fine line between opposites (pain and pleasure).
The spotless room signifies purity (purity is a state essentially free of rules) and the oblong shape by its very strangeness acts as a precursor to the unreal incident set to take place.. but absolute purity invites un-realism. (Udhaya, the oval office is something I would never write about!). Drowning in their own blood is about how they take individual responsibility for making a choice.. and I found it ironical and may be even amusing that they would die from drowning.
Another view I have of this poem is to do with how we always feebly try to push the boundaries which we have created for our own protection. I just wanted to take that urge to the fullest.
Thanks for your comments,everyone.
Udhaya: I was wondering if we can re-post poems from the old poetry thread for workhopping purposes.
- From: Udhaya (@ 63.89.188.242)
on: Tue Feb 6 16:42:22
vj,
Sure, go for it. You can rework those poems here.
- From: Ramji (@ 205.177.170.125)
on: Tue Feb 6 18:21:39
vj,
It was personally rewarding for me to be on a somewhat similar wavelength with you as with Udhaya earlier.
Sameer,
My mind is still dwelling on your SANDS. Tell us more.
- From: Sundar (@ access-isdn2-25.oz.psu.edu)
on: Tue Feb 6 20:19:10
Sameer..
My $0.02 worth =)
When you want to go with rhyme, and when you have the occasional lyric flash like you do.. I loved the lines like "The eyes that peer ‘neath black silk veils, Of sweet and charming faces;", and "How many times have I left these sands,
To return and roost back home; Ut the sands keep calling, luring me back,"
Read Kipling. Lots of him. Especially the short stories and poems. He had a deft lyric touch, and worked with rhyme so well. Primarily because he wrote the songs with tunes in mind.
Think of the camp chant of "SIr Richard's SOng" from Pucks of Pook's Hill
"How so great man's strength be reckoned, There are two things he canriot flee.
Love is the first, and Death is the second-And Love in England hath taken me!"
Or the one that I love, the Astrologers SOng from Farewell Rewards and Fairies:
"Then, doubt not, ye fearful--
The Eternal is King--
Up, heart, and be cheerful,
And lustily sing:--
What chariots, what horses
Against us shall bide
While the Stars in their courses
Do fight on our side?"
This uncommon 11.11.11.11 meter springs out as a likely rhythmic source for this piece with the feel of a hymn. It sings like a battle hymn of the Cosmic Republic.
If you are going to be panegyric in your work, either to some place or a person - I allude to "That one man toiled and taught;
A teacher so mighty that none could defeat,", you have to try harder than the rest of us who go with putting out our personal and unique takes on the world.
- From: Udhaya (@ 63.89.188.133)
on: Thu Feb 8 16:49:33
Cant
We lie to each other everyday
expressing feelings
through words;
from feeling to thought
the transfer loses something,
thought to word
loses something more.
Science believes in research
until cure,
but somehow language closed the shop
on words
as if, meaning were dough
measured perfectly by the cookie cutter
language.
In conversations we play
an unresolved charade
articulating the elusive notion beyond
the boundaries of a specific term,
we flounder with metaphors,
adjoin parallels,
prefix and suffix,
leaving the other person to fill in
with grab bags of clichés
jargons to nail
down the indescribable.
Poetry and legalese
offer the only viable review of language
as we know it.
Music and paintings can
map the gulf of abstract notions
with more success than language; for instance,
Blue in Green¹
can be played
or Christina’s World²
can be displayed to convey
clearly that we are somewhere
between despair and peace
longing and redemption
loneliness and comfort.
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Blue in Green¹=a Miles Davis jazz tune
Christina’s World²=a painting by Andrew Wyeth
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