Ophelia's Nun

1…78101213…48

Comments

  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    no doubt about it!

    meaning takes precedence in my little world of poetry
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    Define meaning in poetry.

    Better still, define meaning.
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    You're not allowed to consult a dictionary. They describe. They claim to define.

    They don't define.

    I'm asking you to define meaning. And I ask you to enjoy yourself in the process of constructing this product of definition.

    :)
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    I would be pleased to read your poetry sometime, exhale.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    cannot define meaning,
    that´s why I write....
    endless cycle, neverending story...

    glad you listen,

    thank you
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    If one argues that meaning takes precedence in poetry, then one is engaged in the business of trying to represent "signifieds" in "signifiers", to limit the concept to words, to define the semantic parameters of meaning in language. To say one writes because one can't define meaning is taking a contrary methodological tack, born of Derrida.

    There's a paradox here, if not a cop-out.

    Now, I hope that's over. A person could start to get bored.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    A word to poets: Do not care.
    Just sit awhile and see.
    You poems will grow nicely, there.
    Just watch, and let them be.

    remember ? :)
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    I remember. Meaning takes little precedence in my world of poetry.

    Good day to you.

    HAMM: We're not beginning to ... to ... mean something?
    CLOV: Mean something! You and I, mean something! Ah that's a good one!

    Beckett, "Endgame"
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    We apologise for the loss of poetic vision. Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.

    ;)
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    Damned peculiar fellow, Holmes.
    He drank from a musket gun.
    Kept false teeth in his knickers and shouted out poems
    To chat up Ophelia's nun.
    When anyone cried "Book 'em Danno"
    He'd hide like a felon, undressed.
    They found him beneath a piano
    with beans rubbed all over his chest.

    I do believe he works for MI6
    Planning ways of tickling Hans Blix.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    Coming down, slowly
    searching for the sign in her breath,
    a small mistake in fixed intervals.

    Blending her motions, bounding the meshes,
    will she be able to escape?
    Treacherous shine in his eye.

    Floating on feathers she learned in the fields
    no thirst for death, no hunger for life.
    Just there, nowhere,
    she´s waiting for him to come by.



    ... good morning
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • myblood2
    myblood2 Posts: 74
    Originally posted by cicatrice
    up 'til today, the only other person who read that was my ex (now friend), it was good to get an un biased view. and fast, brutal and in your face was the aim. so, thank you,oh first critic of mine.
    it would just be nice if everybody's autobiographical writings were about fluffy kittens and pretty flowers. boring, yes, but...

    im really glad you shared this poem and really glad i got to read it. thanks heaps.
    .......
    Forever and ever ....Pearl Jam
    .......
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    Ophelia's nun is looking pale
    It wasn't the tomato
    But since she's looking rather ill
    (from poisoning by play-doh)
    She needs a break until she thinks
    Normality is back.
    Right now she must take forty winks
    And sleep off this attack.
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    Originally posted by exhale
    Blending her motions

    Dirty Frank used to get them motioning a bit after they went in the blender. Now that Dirty Frank was a badmothershutyourmouthhey
    i'mjusttalkin''boutdirtyfrank .....
  • corduroy_vedder
    corduroy_vedder Posts: 66
    Have you got an interloper here, Unkie Fins?
    I don't live today.....Maybe tomorrow?-Jimi Hendrix
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    Welcome all to the lurrve thread. From now on this is a thread for happy lovers of life.

    :)
  • albino_rocker
    albino_rocker Posts: 26
    You're very patient with the patients, Fins!

    I'M a lover of life, i hope that's good enough for this thread......:D
    some things once spoken, can't be taken back
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    What's that Who song? "Welcome."

    "Come to this house, be one of the luvverleee people."

    :)

    Ed quoted Johnny Winter: "Bad news travels like a wild fire..Good news travels slow." Let's have some slow burnin' grace and good happiness.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    I´ve accepted your thoughts, that´s why I´ve chosen this thread as well.

    you want to keep it safe and private,
    no colours from a different portrait,
    that´s fine.

    keep up with the purple!

    thanx and good day to you too
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    To provide colours from a different portrait you have to steal them from someone's canvas first, picking their dried crust off flake by flake and hoping to stick them onto another painting by sheer violent pressure. It won't work.

    Neither will imitating too closely or aberrantly decoding the compositional hue of another's work, work. The off-orange degrades itself in its aim of tainting the original.

    But fresh paint of any colour is welcome. This is an interactive (but, I hasten to add, not a communal!) effort, in pursuit of capturing the true light and dynamics of Ophelia's nun's mythical red tomato. True vivacity of fusing creative energies across the world is our artistic dream. But some negative interaction impedes this multicoloured web of mixed-media affinities. Love is all we need anywhere to make work work.

    Love to all,
    Fins

Categories