tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post7683425160070491309..comments2023-06-24T14:21:13.094+02:00Comments on AppleHouse Poetry Workshop: Rewarding the ReaderLynne Reeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11852192697142140025noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-51956425377433723272009-01-12T19:09:00.000+01:002009-01-12T19:09:00.000+01:00Hello Lucy.Thanks for taking the time to comment a...Hello Lucy.<BR/><BR/>Thanks for taking the time to comment and share your ideas. I admit to being affected by the name of the poet too :-)... someone I know, or don't know, someone whose name might suggest difficulty... we're only human after all! I suppose a lot depends on how much time we have too, and how we're feeling. After all, poetry takes a different kind of attention/concentration than prose. It probably asks more of the reader in the first instance, and I think it's good to remember that when we're making our own poems. <BR/><BR/>Hope to see you here again.<BR/>LynneLynne Reeshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11852192697142140025noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-67011608556360364012009-01-12T18:42:00.000+01:002009-01-12T18:42:00.000+01:00I always scan the size and the shape of a poem bef...I always scan the size and the shape of a poem before reading it - and feel guilty (it seems such an uncouth thing to do).<BR/><BR/>I now feel a little light-headed to find I am not alone and that it may be publicly acknowledged without shame that we approach poetry warily like this.<BR/><BR/>As part of my initial assessment, I also take stock of the vocabulary. This may or may not influence whether I read it but it will affect the way I approach.<BR/><BR/>Then I think about the name of the writer. (I have read a poem by John Kenny before - and liked it - so, even though I don't know if it is the same John Kenny, that gets me off to a good start.)<BR/><BR/>And it's not just whether I know the writer, the sound of the poet's name has an impact. It shouldn't. But it does.<BR/><BR/>Then . . . I decide whether to read it!<BR/><BR/>Lucy Corrander<BR/><A HREF="http://picturesjustpictures.blogspot.com/" REL="nofollow">PICTURES JUST PICTURES</A>Lucy Corranderhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13743561298706555813noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-70163159441294447612008-12-30T20:28:00.000+01:002008-12-30T20:28:00.000+01:00This comment has been removed by the author.flybynighthttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08882050376101646025noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-53614737724939664092008-12-20T14:13:00.000+01:002008-12-20T14:13:00.000+01:00Hello Eileen - yes, your poem pulls me in with jus...Hello Eileen - yes, your poem pulls me in with just a glance at the accessible form, and with its title too, which is rather unusually expressed, intriguing.<BR/><BR/>Hello John - yes, the sonnet has history and familiarity on its side. The rhythm tends to be comforting. And your title is great - lovely sounds to a word that conjures up childhood, a hint of naughtiness. I'm reading on!Lynne Reeshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11852192697142140025noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-58851544189618915522008-12-20T14:03:00.000+01:002008-12-20T14:03:00.000+01:00PeekingYou always used to cheat at hide and seek,p...Peeking<BR/><BR/>You always used to cheat at hide and seek,<BR/>peek between your fingers, count in tens. <BR/>I'd scuttle up the stairs, avoid the creak <BR/>on the third step, under the bed and then <BR/>wait, not giggling, stifling a cough, <BR/>not breathing even, wait to see your feet. <BR/>You'd bounce upon the bed to squash me, laugh, <BR/>then drag me by the ankles from beneath.<BR/> <BR/>We haven't played that game in many years. <BR/>You hid from me, I never thought to peek. <BR/>I'd peek now, but I can't see for the tears. <BR/>I'm counting now, in years, I'll find you soon. <BR/>This is our final game of hide and seek. <BR/>You have but slipped into another room.<BR/><BR/>John Kenny<BR/><BR/>I wrote this as a sonnet because the form is familar and feels natural to both reader and writer. It is intended to give the reader an insight into something personal in return for time and interest in reading it.<BR/><BR/>The turn in a sonnet is one of those things that you know is coming but you never know quite what form it will take. I like the idea of something with a built in twistJPKhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10914052091356975176noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-562276906424184622008-12-19T19:12:00.000+01:002008-12-19T19:12:00.000+01:00Beneath his EyesWherever he wakesthere will be sea...Beneath his Eyes<BR/><BR/>Wherever he wakes<BR/>there will be sea<BR/>and angels criss-crossing<BR/>a whisper of sky<BR/><BR/>there will be days<BR/>lost in books<BR/>and speaking runes<BR/>foretelling magic<BR/><BR/>but nights<BR/>will draw in skeletons<BR/>by candle-flame<BR/>walls will moan mistakes<BR/><BR/>he will sleep<BR/>or dream of sleep<BR/>as another moth<BR/>is doomed to dust.<BR/><BR/>© echulme@hotmail.com Dec 2008<BR/><BR/><BR/><BR/>This poem went somewhere I wasn’t expecting which is not unusual. It’s a poem of two halves really which I hope come together.<BR/>I wanted it to begin very gently with lovely images but wanted to show that lurking underneath there is a darker side. Sometimes what you see is not always what you get kind of thing. I suppose it’s also about positives and negatives and how even the most beautiful (people) can have a dark destructive side or can have a past that haunts them even though they may wake up each day hopeful.<BR/>Mmm...maybe.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-16791069949094939582008-12-17T11:38:00.000+01:002008-12-17T11:38:00.000+01:00Hi Martin - are poets normal? Hmmm... It's a stran...Hi Martin - are poets normal? Hmmm... It's a strange thing, normality. Possibly, none of us want to be normal, in the sense of ordinary, run of the mill, yet we probably all want to be 'accepted' in some way too. And to be accepted we need to make connections with other people who have things in common with us. Which creates a kind of 'norm'. <BR/><BR/>Rilke says 'don't search for answers because you would not be able to live them... and the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer...'<BR/><BR/>Maybe that's the tiny solid doll at the centre of the hollow ones.Lynne Reeshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11852192697142140025noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-89591531171784548382008-12-16T23:47:00.000+01:002008-12-16T23:47:00.000+01:00You, us, and I I flicked red across canvasbecause ...You, us, and I <BR/><BR/>I flicked red across canvas<BR/>because <BR/>I wanted to be beautiful<BR/><BR/>I sowed a white orchid <BR/>because <BR/>I wanted eternity<BR/><BR/>I drew a ripen apple <BR/>because <BR/>I wanted harmony<BR/><BR/>I played a silver flute <BR/>because <BR/>I love waterfalls<BR/><BR/>You said you’d love me <BR/>if I gave up all I wanted.<BR/><BR/><BR/>Do you read and write poetry <BR/>to find answers? I write to ask questions, <BR/>answers are full stops; <BR/>questions are metaphors for a room full of doors. <BR/>Each door is a poem – <BR/>what is inside, should I go in, stay, <BR/>or open another? <BR/>I am in love with being in love, <BR/>it is a door that slams shut in the wind, <BR/>becomes another door along the corridor, <BR/>lets light in when left a jar. <BR/>I write about love because I do not understand it, <BR/>about relationships because I do not understand them, <BR/>because there are more questions in my head <BR/>then answers. Do you think poets are normal?<BR/><BR/>Above are my notes on the poem above that. <BR/>As a child I liked Russian dolls. <BR/>I try so hard to complete a circle <BR/>then another doll pops out the bottom…<BR/><BR/>MartinAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-16485365288804196312008-12-16T12:58:00.000+01:002008-12-16T12:58:00.000+01:00Hi Anne - for me, the size and shape of the poem f...Hi Anne - for me, the size and shape of the poem feel 'easy to manage' even though there's some tension suggested by the few longer lines. The title pulls me in too - the contrast of something great yet diminutive is intriguing. Yes, I'm rewarded enough to keep on reading!Lynne Reeshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11852192697142140025noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5409519305033642895.post-79794622487372385312008-12-16T12:18:00.000+01:002008-12-16T12:18:00.000+01:00Small EmperorIt must have woken from a pile o...Small Emperor<BR/><BR/>It must have woken <BR/> from a pile of logs<BR/>as we,full-bellied creatures,dozed.<BR/>An erratic angel <BR/>with tapestry wings, slight<BR/>paper thin,<BR/>eye spots stitched <BR/>with indigo, gold, azure.<BR/>Such inticate art in a gown<BR/>to soar heath-land,<BR/>rest on chestnut, zigzag moors,<BR/>fix predators with a stare, beneath<BR/>the light of a guiding moon.<BR/>Here, it circles a filament,<BR/>unaware of that fragile thread.<BR/>Like benevolent gods,<BR/>we release it <BR/>into the night air.<BR/><BR/>Anne Kenny <BR/><BR/>Just finished writing this poem. I wanted to have the surprise of seeing the moth, some contrast and description. The idea behind the poem was to do with the fragility of life. One thing I wanted to try to achieve, but didn't manage was to leave the poem open at the end, understated, with room for the reader. I think it's something I need to work on.Unknownhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12621015811241464567noreply@blogger.com