Ophelia's Nun
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Comments
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no doubt about it!
meaning takes precedence in my little world of poetryWrite. 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.0 -
Define meaning in poetry.
Better still, define meaning.0 -
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.0 -
I would be pleased to read your poetry sometime, exhale.0
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cannot define meaning,
that´s why I write....
endless cycle, neverending story...
glad you listen,
thank youWrite. 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.0 -
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.0 -
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.0 -
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"0 -
We apologise for the loss of poetic vision. Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.0
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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.0 -
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 morningWrite. 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.0 -
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
.......0 -
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.0 -
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 .....0 -
Have you got an interloper here, Unkie Fins?I don't live today.....Maybe tomorrow?-Jimi Hendrix0
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Welcome all to the lurrve thread. From now on this is a thread for happy lovers of life.0
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You're very patient with the patients, Fins!
I'M a lover of life, i hope that's good enough for this thread......:Dsome things once spoken, can't be taken back0 -
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.0 -
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 tooWrite. 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.0 -
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,
Fins0
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