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  • ISN
    ISN Posts: 1,700
    you are funnly....
    ....they're asking me to prove why I should be allowed to stay with my baby in Australia, because I'm mentally ill......and they think I should leave......
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    Let me tell you about a recent event in my life…

    After a looooooong day at the university, as usually, I was waiting for the bus to go home. A girl I´ve never seen before approached and asked: “Excuse me, are you from Slovenia?”. Completely astonished by what I´ve just heard, I somehow managed to answer with a very short and quitet: “Yes, how do you know?”
    “Well, I´m taking the same course as you and I heard Prof. K. asking you some questions about the ´voicing´ in your language. Anyway, could I ask you for a favour?”
    “Oh yes, sure, no problem (stammering out this answer)”.
    “Could you write down ´I miss you´ and ´best wishes´ in Slovene for me please?”- And so I did.
    After a short conversation I found out that she´s got a friend from Slovenia… etc.

    I´m open to any comment or critique of my texts, I don´t want anybody to mistake me. But I wouldn´t want to be so selfish, if somebody wants to learn my language.
    I bet that you´ve never felt the same feeling as I have when that girl approached; I´m also quite sure that you never got gooseflesh when at the bottom of yout thread says: ´You know this is beautiful, don´t you?´ or ´Your poems touch my soul.´
    I respect your knowledge and I admire your poems but I wouldn´t be so picky about the ´crumbles´, if I were you; especially if I wouldn´t even know where Slovenia is.

    (i apologize, I didn´t get much sleep last night)
    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.
  • ISN
    ISN Posts: 1,700
    you sound slightly miffed....you're obviously open to any comments and critiques of your 'texts'.....you have a fine grasp of English....I'm an English teacher....and don't speak any Slav languages....I speak some Korean and will learn Mandarin....obviously I'll be about 93 before I start composing in Mandarin.....I asked a Korean lady if there was any famous Korean literature.....she replied....'which Century?'....we can all get a bit touchy about our languages.....it's a fair comment to say that if you want to write profound and high literature in English...you would be well-advised to learn it thoroughly first.....but if you're learning English by trial and error...then I can certainly help you, if you're open to correction.....otherwise, it's the emperor's new clothes......so sollleeee

    (I'll tell you a story....I remember trying to teach an Italian phd student English, so that he could complete his phd in that rever'd language.....the thesis he had chosen was, he thought, quite original....his thesis was why originality doesn't matter....he wrote hundreds of pages with footnotes, references and a bibliography.....yet because he couldn't come up with an original idea, this thesis was on the redundancy of originality....his English was quite good...in fact his English was a lot better than his brain...)
    ....they're asking me to prove why I should be allowed to stay with my baby in Australia, because I'm mentally ill......and they think I should leave......
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    Originally posted by ISN
    you are funnly....

    A neologismic adverb.
  • ISN
    ISN Posts: 1,700
    you're welcome
    ....they're asking me to prove why I should be allowed to stay with my baby in Australia, because I'm mentally ill......and they think I should leave......
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    Originally posted by ISN
    ....it's a fair comment to say that if you want to write profound and high literature in English...you would be well-advised to learn it thoroughly first.....but if you're learning English by trial and error...then I can certainly help you, if you're open to correction.....

    No point working only with the already acquired knowledge, is it?
    Besides, i wouldn´t expect a comment like your first one from someone that has ´a very good grounding in poetry´. He didn´t please me with his definitions, he only justified both points. I´m a teacher myself and that´s not the way you´d correct mistakes.
    I write about my experiences (internal and external) and according to those I choose words and phrases. It is strange to make some prejudgments about them without knowing the background to the current situation.

    However, thank you for making me aware of some facts and your comments are, of course, always welcome.
    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.
  • DopeBeastie
    DopeBeastie Posts: 2,513
    Originally posted by exhale
    [B
    I write about my experiences (internal and external) and according to those I choose words and phrases. It is strange to make some prejudgments about them without knowing the background to the current situation.

    [/B]



    amen to that... and it's not to say it's the only way... but it's yours, and it's mine, too


    i'm cool when ppl say chop this, add more... those i can rightfully ignore... but i've been told not to swear in my poetry...

    and i'm like, "yo mother fucker, why fucking not? fuck that fucking shit...." <walking away mumbling to self: motherfucking try to fucking tell me not to fucking cuss... sheeeyiiiiiit.... fucking ass...>


    :D:D:D:D



    crumble on, exhale :D
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    ;)

    thanks for the energy

    much appreciated

    looks like another crumbly day ... :D
    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.
  • DopeBeastie
    DopeBeastie Posts: 2,513
    i love crumbly days

    i'm sitting at my desk completely crumbled, so, yeah... i can totally relate :):):)
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    amazing, your humour Pasta

    brings back the smile on my face every time i read your lines

    always welcome

    :):)
    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.
  • nailz100
    nailz100 Posts: 1,176
    Were only people...just people. You shouldn't let it bother you about what others think about your poetry...or you heritage or anything else about you....although its hard sometimes, I agree. What most people don't get is that they could never fully contemplate what it is like being someone else...so they can never really relate. All I have to say to the critics out there....is to OPEN YOUR EYES. What means the world to one person might mean shit to someone else...so keep that in mind before you decide to drop your hammer of judgement on somebody else. I write to express what I am feeling...as do most of you I'm sure. I don't expect anybody to understand EVERYTHING I write (if anything), but I don't care because they are not me....they have not lived my life, felt my pain, or seen the world through my eyes. I like your poetry exhale...I think you are a very talented writer.
    Only with our eyes closed can we truly see
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    exhale fan club here. :) She has my support.

    Criticism when judiciously applied is a synonym for literary appraisal based on the practical application of theoretical methodologies to the reading of texts. It's essential that literature is evaluated with some attempt at trained reading or the work dies through lack of interest: especially poetry, that doesn't sell. When it's not for the marketplace, it's for the mind and heart, and it lives through constant re-reading and most importantly an understanding of one's interactive engagement in reading. We need to know what it is about a text that makes it relate to us, and we need to apply method to ask the right kinds of questions about language, form, structure, text, intertextuality and how a text can mean so many different things to so many different readers at so many different times and places.

    However, there's such a thing as injudicious criticism too, and that reads like bad journalism.

    In order to understand a poem, consideration of the feelings of the actual poet are not important, in themselves, prior to the moment of textual production, but if those feelings are successfully expressed in a poem and translate to the reader, they are transcendent. If the poet constructs a first person "I" narrator who expresses their pain beautifully, then this narrative voice is important. But the narrative "I" is NEVER the same as the actual subjectivity of the poet. There's always an arbitrariness between the two.
    Literary criticism often seeks to acknowledge HOW the forms and themes of a poem suggest deep implications of intent and effect, which create through language an attempted mimesis of human experience. And in concentrating on the language of a text we come to a greater understanding of shared human experience. Criticism, humanely used, is essential for comprehending the processes, joys, and cultural importance of reading as a means of individual and collective social understanding and expression.

    So, I'm defending criticism whilst saying there are some bad critics out there!

    ;)
  • ISN
    ISN Posts: 1,700
    I'd be a hypocrite....if I writ aught else
    but yet we have to have that warm and cuddly feeling don't we
    but I'm not a hypocrite...it's something I won't be....
    ....they're asking me to prove why I should be allowed to stay with my baby in Australia, because I'm mentally ill......and they think I should leave......
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    Originally posted by nailz100
    I write to express what I am feeling...as do most of you I'm sure. I don't expect anybody to understand EVERYTHING I write (if anything), but I don't care because they are not me....they have not lived my life, felt my pain, or seen the world through my eyes.

    It is useless expecting things to happen. You´re sitting on the thoughts that you want to forget but you keep asking them questions that are not relevant for this time of being. You are here and you can choose; choose to write your words or choose to read your words. One or the other, it will always bring you back to the same spot and you will have to start all over again. First write, then read…write, read….write, read….
    I can only laugh at my own face when I see it´s reflection on the ceiling every morning. Morning… so many of them wrote about this moment, so many will do the same in the next few lives. None will be able to construct the sounds to suit the best. Should I even bother?
    If I got it right, then I must be here because my mind wants to prove that it can make terrible mistakes and choices, but wants some practice in dealing with the consequences. I´m curious, why does it need so much practice? Surprisingly, I´m ok in this moment. I know that this mind has chosen my head and therefore I´m guilty too. Perhaps ´guilt´ isn´t the right word in this sentence. I persuaded my mind to make the choice and so I´m trying to find the best way to avoid the punishment which always falls on my body. Strange, but true.
    I cannot scream, and so I write. I regret spending lines on justifying a few words to make my mind less vulnerable. Meanwhile, I missed the butterflies resting on the blooms on my balcony. So many colours that could´ve made my day worthwhile, combined with the soft breeze of summer. Following the traces of too many others in the past, I spoiled a moment and I will never be able to bring it back. It´s like the first kiss… the absolute anticipation in the seconds before it happens and which seem like ages. You cannot fight the contraction of the muscles in your stomach, it makes you feel unpleasantly but still you couldn´t remember of a better feeling. It is the fear, the annoyance of a certain impulse that makes you almost sick, nevertheless, if given the opportunity, you´d want enjoy it´s presence all your life.

    I write to make my life an everlasting first kiss…
    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
    It is written,
    and so a life
    becomes a kiss
    felt
    beyond our time.

    Write more for us,
    exhale your sweet breath upon us
    and may eternity
    feel the electricity of touch
    in words that reach
    beyond the quivering lip
    of form

    into the

    precious

    bosom of experience.

    :)
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    My soul has never been more desperate for a rest
    Than after composition I´ve just read.
    I met the butterflies again,
    I wish you all could see the same.
    So calm, so peaceful in mind the thoughts are dwelling,
    Enjoy the day and being careful of a single sunray.


    :):):)
    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.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    Feels like he wants to talk to me,
    And when he does
    It´s like a wrapped up cage, nothing to see.

    A mysterious marvel – his name would say,
    And yet no evidence
    To draw his face, up to this day.

    Caught in a moment when this white screen wouldn´t speak,
    I feel ill at ease
    No wish to play the puzzling play of hide and seek.

    It´s his presence that can put me back on grounds,
    Touch my ghost
    And give the energy to seize another chance.

    Still wondering about the glimpse of recent set,
    Was it just occurrence
    Or is the purpose of a message to project?
    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.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    It happened quite some time ago,
    When I found the other pole
    And so I run no more.
    It is a comfort of the absolute control
    I would never want to let it go!
    Good and bad, both
    Creating an amazing fairy-tale,
    It would be odd
    If the link should never fail -
    The space that´s left
    Waiting empty to be filled in,
    Only a friend can heft
    The weight of love and not let it sink.
    I turn to you
    And my bid is decent,
    My friendship too
    With none other false sense.
    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.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    Everybody going somewhere…
    Am I the one that is still stuck here?

    The rush hour of the 90s I´ve survived,
    But queue is getting longer, i´ve been deprived

    Of my right to pause a moment.
    No one commend me for being prudent,

    They wouldn´t read my lines between the lines,
    All I had to say, the only sign.

    Very gently now, trying to touch the minds,
    Some say it is ok, some say it´s fine.

    They might not be so honest after all,
    To keep it for myself should be my goal.

    I am raising hands towards the sky,
    Exhaling everything that´s let my lungs run dry.

    …
    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
    Originally posted by exhale
    They wouldn´t read my lines between the lines,
    All I had to say, the only sign.

    Very gently now, trying to touch the minds,
    Some say it is ok, some say it´s fine.

    They might not be so honest after all,
    To keep it for myself should be my goal.
    …

    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.
    Bend down upon the bank. See how the bright
    River shimmers, moving to your art.
    Each time you breathe upon the stream, your goal
    Comes nearer. See the river's quaking soul!

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