Belfast

Yellow

Originally posted by FinsburyParkCarrots
Mr Ved is major league by anyone's reckoning.

major major major


plaque on the wall says that
no one's slept here
it's rare
to come upon a bridge that has not been around
or been stepped on

oh man...

FinsburyParkCarrots

The railway bridge near my house is always always getting around. There are bricks falling off it. In fact it's a bridge that has only half been stepped on because it has a footpath only along one side...the cars take up the rest of the space.
I always somehow in the background think of that bridge, for some reason, when I hear that song!

setaside2

I realize that this may not be the best time but while I enjoyed Omeros, I did not believe it was really all that impressive. Not that I have anything to say (nor do I have the right but oh well) about it and perhaps because the first time around it was a forced read but the second time around I found that, both to his credit and otherwise, I did not gain anything by a second reading. This IS impressive due to the conciseness of his allegory and metaphor, it is impossible to misconstrue his meanings. However, for me, it didn't give it that lasting power. I agree that the beauty intrinsic in his words was top class and that there was no doubt that he loved and truly gave to the words he wept to the page... I suppose that the best way to put it is that I just did not connect with it in the manner that I was either supposed to or that people wanted me to. But then I have always been the outside child.

All poets bleed, that is the standard by which we all follow. If we did not, it would be a false statement, a miscolored dream, and we would be lying to ourselves and our fellow man. When I write is not the pain that drives me, it is the level of conscious nirvana on the other side. Lucid dreaming by ballpoint and blue, iconoclastic typeset by Mac.

I will admit that I can never and that I never will be able to quote the great writs of the human genome. I have read many and have incorporated many, but I am not a classicist by any stretch of the imagination. I prefer the dirt of common language mixed with the albino molasses of dream. On a good day, I may refer to my writings as the Poor Man's Neil Gaiman's Pet Allen Ginsberg. aka Kerouac Dakota Burroughs. If you will. I admit to striving for grace but not as any other does but merely to prove to myself that I do, infact, have something to say and that, perhaps, if it affects me in such an unearthly manner, it should be passed on to others for spiritual consumption. Like any good child with something to share.

Such is the Tao of poetry. However I have always laughed at the thought of having to study for enlightenment. How saddeningly human that we must understand our material selves first before we may understand our spiritual. How tragically backwards. The modern human takes classes for natural childbirth because they are unsure that perhaps instinct may or may not take over and it is that primal feeling that scares them so.

A mountain is indeed a mountain and a tree a tree and they all have their roles and their place in our minds and on this mother earth. To me it is no leap of faith to take them as they are and I will never be able to do otherwise. The issue is not noticing them around you daily as you flail your way through the material routine. It would the height of pretentious ignorance if we did not notice ourselves ignoring others. Also, the height of the poisoned persona.

Your poetry above is beauty in all it's lingual glory. Take that as it is and breathe life into more words as you go. Painting is merely another word for creation and it is creation that is the larger than life term that will allow the greater freedom. Painters require brushes and paint and a canvas, they are extraordinarily high maintenance. Creators, on the other hand, merely require the air to breath and a little thought. Much easier to deal with. And while the name is placed as an identifier I am pleased to report that the name Creator implies infinite possibilities so this is one area where a name may not limit at all, and such is the greatest gift given to any one human being.

Thank you for sharing your love of words, it is most refreshing and I most certainly feel blessed that you chose to share your work here. Ironically, I liked the poem Belfast and phish's C- better than the whole of Omeros. I often feel that lack of structure gives far more life and color to a single sentence than an entire novel may contain.

seta

FinsburyParkCarrots

Depends on your perspective, of course: The Beats in all fairness haven't had a fantastic impact on British or postcolonial literatures in English, apart from on the marvellous work of Adrian Henri, Roger McGough and Brian Patten.

Also, British and American NOVELS are so vastly different in conception these days. The US still in many respects strives toward the Great American Novel (just as the Victorian British did for their time), whereas the UK is preoccupied with the irony and understatement of post-imperial, local themes of suburban tristesse.

cassia

first/yellow: thanks for all your thoughts ! I loved your phrase "to paraphrase from my own palette." wow, fav song is always tuff call ....classics usually black/RVM

seta~incredible thought-spin, and energy-infused reply. I super appreciate the concision of your responsive intellect, and the experience you bring to the table. I think where I enjoy Walcott is at the level of pure word (maybe i might even agree with you as to novel/poetic voluminous ongoingness....)

but sometimes in just the word, words, clusters, i get off rhapsodizing on the beauty, but yes, i can see where it can get "old" after awhile, too.

And i loved your lines about creating, just breathing.
I AM SO THERE WITH YOU ON THAT.
awesome. yes, lucid dreaming. Dreamers, creators,
SKY PAINTING oxygen brushing H 2 Om.
as to the Tao of poetry, yes,
the free-blossoming wu wei gentleness of yielding to the essence of .....
and....so much more Fun! so that all things Are, and that's pretty much ok and yes, we have Everything we need right now:
AIR, love, some good pearl tunes....

Awesome you: saying: you "prefer the dirt of common language mixed with the albino molasses of dream."

such wonderful juxtaposing. ooh la. thanks again for the close read and precision of creatorly application. Truly inspiring~peace

cassia

i haven't read much--and hope to read more Canadian authors and poets. I thoroughly love the Canadian sense of humor, and sometimes see their perspective as an organic synthesis of english-american and of course a lil french, with scot ferocities..haha

so if any reading could suggest fav poets, let me know.
I enjoy Atwoods so much. and when joyce carol oates returns from the north, she always brings back such story gems.

fins Re: name change...how bout Richmond, or Richfield....
chuckles R.T. is classy, too.....

phishgod

Peeps--Okay, I am remiss in replies (and not in perusing others work enough on this board and commenting), but I have some catching up to do to you who have been here longer than I....so,
in no particular order....

Seta--what a wonderful and thoughtful response to this thread, the Tao of Poetry indeed, wonderful, & I know for a fact you just made Cassia's night by favoring her post over Walcott (and sacrilegious as it may be for me, to say of one of her top fives, I agree with you!), but your post was truly one of the best yet and deserves high praise for its depth, breadth and creative understanding. I have now read it three times and just love all the gems you have embedded in there, from the sentiment, to the words, to the insightfulness with which you have scribed it.

Fins--another high mark on the quink zone for you, since C. just discovered Henri amongst my some 600 volume poetry library and has been raving over him for the last few weeks, and since I do not know McGough (think I have heard of Patten, but not read him), I am now likely to go trudging off to my favorite bookstore again this weekendb to drop another 100 bones on lit if they are even half a good a read as Henri.

It seems that bridge by you is a lot like like the ones we have over on this side of the pond, the ones where the bricks and mortar keep crashing through some poor chap's windshield during rush hour--some times either the Ved-man's tunes, or the poems and words have a greater purpose than that brick at waking folks up & by the way--yes yes Mr. Ved is indeed major league, but over here in Michigan, we don't call da prez a BushLeaguer, we call him "Shrub" since he's just the baby son of a Bush.

--Yellow, not to leave anybody out of course, and yes the thoughtbabies thing is right with it-- keep painting those things that move you with your own palette, and if you are as lucky as I have been to be able to come across peeps (like C. has been for me) who can expand your palette with all the sparkly colors of the universe, you will certainly be a creative force in your own "write' for other thoughtbabies to follow.

Regards, all..../

FinsburyParkCarrots

Your library sounds like mine....I'm trying to catalogue at the moment. It's taking forever.

Roger McGough was also in a band called The Scaffold; he wrote the song Lily The Pink. The lead singer of that band was Paul McCartney's brother Mike.

McGough has been a "canonical" popular poet, on British secondary school syllabuses since the eighties, but he's been around since the sixties. He knew Ginsberg et al, and took part in those legendary Royal Festival Hall poetry-ins in the mid-sixties. Lots of sugarcubes consumed, apparently.