tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post5800249777686256379..comments2023-06-24T14:21:13.094+02:00Comments on AppleHouse Poetry Workshop: Welcome to 2011Lynne Reeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11852192697142140025noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-1753350417517992722011-01-18T14:37:57.565+01:002011-01-18T14:37:57.565+01:00Some belated comments on the first post of 2011:
...Some belated comments on the first post of 2011:<br /><br />@ gautami - I'm not exactly sure what the poem means but I am intrigued by it, the surrealness of it, but also the very recogniseable world (wheel, cart, place, wall) that it happens in. Should the first line be 'we hold hands'? given the second line uses the 1st person plural? <br /><br />@ Keith - I wonder if you could get away without the 4th line, as the subsequent lines go onto show what this is saying? I like 'tied to canvas' - I like how it makes me think of family ties.<br /><br />@ Martin - this is a great compressed biography. I like it. The only line I'd question is the 4th - where it seems to have been chosen for the rhyme rather than what it's contributing? Or perhaps the rhyme is a little too heavy there? The poem might work without it.<br /><br />@ Glen - I think this is a really successful list poem. My only suggestion is perhaps to consider re-ordering for a different ending? The impact of the mother's note is dramatic and shifting away from that feels a little unsatisfying... perhaps the last 3 lines can be re/moved, and, maybe, the mother/note image extended slightly to reinforce the theme of 'crazy'?<br /><br />@ redjim99 - I don't think I've ever read a poem about a knot... I like it, for all the wonderful metaphorical suggestions it contains. <br /><br />Be back with a writing prompt very soon.<br />L xLynne Reeshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11852192697142140025noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-13785615987876680782011-01-07T22:47:39.322+01:002011-01-07T22:47:39.322+01:00Let the noise subside,
choose your moment,
and sho...Let the noise subside,<br />choose your moment,<br />and show then your crowning glory.<br />The knot of such delicate intricacy.<br />Woven and rewoven,<br />not a single slip in its whorls.<br />Each curve following its prescribed route.<br />Each strand strengthened by its partner.<br />And in the following silence,<br />in the awe, in the spectacle,<br />of such convolutions.<br />Allow them to finger its smooth dimensions,<br />giving proof, that it is only you,<br />and no one else, that has the power,<br />to create such a knot as this.<br />You alone.redjim99https://www.blogger.com/profile/04902719199921889493noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-28406332749567709342011-01-07T22:44:00.457+01:002011-01-07T22:44:00.457+01:00This comment has been removed by the author.redjim99https://www.blogger.com/profile/04902719199921889493noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-54047312197545951382011-01-05T20:33:49.747+01:002011-01-05T20:33:49.747+01:00Crazy
I find crazy in the damnedest places,
in my...Crazy<br /><br />I find crazy in the damnedest places,<br />in my yogurt, as a lump<br />in the middle of my quilt,<br />in the left sleeve of my ribbon shirt,<br />in Bledsoe’s breakfast,<br />borrowed from Bing,<br />copied from Yahoo,<br />behind my hiking boots,<br />on the shelf right between<br />NIGHT AT THE OPERA and<br />A DAY AT THE RACES,<br />while reading William Burroughs,<br />or Hunter S. Thompson, or Phillip K. Dick,<br />in the cat box, in Taffy’s dog house<br />three years after she left us weeping,<br />holding her while she received the<br />prick of death, in the dusty jewelry box<br />I inherited from my stepfather that never<br />has held any bling, in the plain brown<br />envelope that holds the last note<br />my mother wrote before<br />she went to the hospital, <br />and in every production shot<br />of every theatrical play<br />I boldly appeared in.<br /><br />Glenn ButtkusGlenn Buttkushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10680725814199700692noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-34067686781252569572011-01-05T13:55:22.061+01:002011-01-05T13:55:22.061+01:00Junior school
me, a jester
the queens fool
no ea...Junior school <br />me, a jester<br /><br />the queens fool<br />no earl of Leicester<br /><br />my hat has bells on<br />jangling toes<br /><br />years later on<br />the ringing never goesMartin Cordreynoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-7974642175538641772011-01-05T10:04:58.225+01:002011-01-05T10:04:58.225+01:00oops over-essed the canvas in the poem - though ca...oops over-essed the canvas in the poem - though canvass makes for an interesting slant ! Now I'm befuddled as to whether or not to leave it as it is !!!Keith Wallishttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04780087068444798682noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-86966123957702900162011-01-04T18:23:37.892+01:002011-01-04T18:23:37.892+01:00I glance up;
you look down from your frame -
our e...I glance up;<br />you look down from your frame -<br />our eyes meet.<br />My expression changes<br />with the warming of cheek<br />and tightening of eye.<br />Your expression,<br />tied to canvass,<br />conveys only the love<br />you had <br />when the shutter fell.<br /><br /><br /><i>Happy New Year Lynne, enjoy your holiday.</i>Keith Wallishttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04780087068444798682noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-10308778670324593852011-01-04T15:23:45.155+01:002011-01-04T15:23:45.155+01:00I hold hands
we turn into a wheel
its like carryin...I hold hands<br />we turn into a wheel<br />its like carrying a cart<br /><br />a person has to unload it<br />the search for a place<br />becomes a project<br /><br />that number on the wall<br />who will carry that?gautami tripathyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04192356825699543613noreply@blogger.com