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Passions in Poetry

Cineaste

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bsquirrel
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Member Rara Avis
since 01-03-2000
Posts 8382


0 posted 07-31-2003 05:56 PM       View Profile for bsquirrel   Email bsquirrel   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to Submit your Poem to Passions  View IP for bsquirrel

Bright lights up ahead
but I can't recognize the city.
Spires cut the sky too weirdly,
throw misplaced shadows in the street.

When it snows,
I'lll know I'm home.
The cityscape won't matter then.
Everything equal under the grey
definition of growing drifts.

The streets weighed down in monochromatics.
Cheap symbolism abounds in winter --
you are your own film, without edges,
winding on the reel.

A girl will cut across the landscape;
crunching snow will fill the soundtrack.
She will carry a sack of groceries.
She won't stop or notice the stranger.

I won't reveal the denouement
portrayed in a dazzling mise-en-scene
that leads to the moaning ring of the alarm,
and her words. "Life is not a poem."
© Copyright 2003 MPC - All Rights Reserved
Wind
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since 10-12-2002
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1 posted 07-31-2003 06:03 PM       View Profile for Wind   Email Wind   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Wind

half of me understood this..but then again, half of me didn't. Good job though, it had great images and fit together nicely

insanity is not a crime

bsquirrel
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 01-03-2000
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2 posted 07-31-2003 07:05 PM       View Profile for bsquirrel   Email bsquirrel   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for bsquirrel

Thanks, Wind. You captured me in a talkative mood, so I'll lay my case out here.

I prefer poems that resist simple platitudes or meaning. I love layer, depth and resonance in poetry -- poems that have a unique character and whittle out little-known places in the subconscious. So then they go from being poems ABOUT something to poems that make you recollect a feeling or impression that you couldn't otherwise feel.

Read Wallace Stevens ("Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird," or "The Planet on the Table," or "Bantam in Pine Woods," or "Anecdote of the Jar" for example). He's a poet I go back to again and again when I want to be reminded what poetry can do. To some he's obscure and ponderous. To others, he sings a song and flits images across the screen like no other.

So I guess it all comes down to a matter of preference. I've been writing poetry for 13 years now, and have been reading and writing and meeting people and taking up causes and dropping others during that time. If I read this 13 years ago, I probably would have hated it, and that, alone, tells me I've come a-ways from where I was.

It's a poem that sort of resists an easy explanation. I could say "This poem talks about cinematic imagery, the strata of dreams and the slow evolution and failing of personal relationships," but even that needs more explanation.

In other words, I've done my job.

Mike
Wind
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3 posted 07-31-2003 07:09 PM       View Profile for Wind   Email Wind   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Wind

that was not an insult, I enjoy things that I don't understand. There was that thing that told me that I understood it, but something else. so I guess you did do your job

insanity is not a crime

Aenimal
Member Rara Avis
since 11-18-2002
Posts 7451
the ass-end of space


4 posted 07-31-2003 08:35 PM       View Profile for Aenimal   Email Aenimal   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Aenimal

Fantastic and I agree over the years I've developed and refined my tastes in film for example. I abhor hollywood fare especially having discovered french film in particular.
Some things are better left unsaid, to be slowly unraveled by the viewer and yes the same goes for good poetry and literature. My first thoughts of this were pleasant. I pictured you surprising a certain someone in calgary. Though the second thought was of you returning home(not sure if you've always been in California) and how you'd be a stranger having changed over the years. Well i didn't say they were good thoughts yet. grin. I'm not done with this has to be read over and over and will be.
Janet Marie
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since 01-22-2000
Posts 18986


5 posted 07-31-2003 11:50 PM       View Profile for Janet Marie   Email Janet Marie   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Janet Marie

Bright lights up ahead
but I can't recognize the city.
Spires cut the sky too weirdly,
throw misplaced shadows in the street.

When it snows,
I'lll know I'm home.
The cityscape won't matter then.
Everything equal under the grey
definition of growing drifts.
=====================================


You always keep your imagery vivid and illusive at the same time....
surreal and concrete...
textures and layers...
COOL and COOLER YET

I like Raphs interps of this..I had similar thoughts as well...

snow... like the ocean, always makes for high inspire in your groovy gifted pen.

"How could I stand here with you and not be moved by you."

LH

brian sites
Senior Member
since 06-25-2002
Posts 1500
usa


6 posted 08-01-2003 12:17 AM       View Profile for brian sites   Email brian sites   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for brian sites

yes
as in this poem
you do

take sledgehammer to the old mildew
of crumbling sewertunnels

make the life within
taste a little fresh
air

maybe see something
it could never have
had its semicircle of
ancient bricks

never been touched
by the macktruck snowfeather

of your words


Local Parasite
Deputy Moderator 10 Tours
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since 11-05-2001
Posts 2929
Transylconia, Winnipeg


7 posted 08-08-2003 03:32 PM       View Profile for Local Parasite   Email Local Parasite   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Local Parasite's Home Page   View IP for Local Parasite

It interests me to read what you say about poetry, how you've grown out of the self-restriction of poetry that has meaning and instead opted for poetry that invokes a certain reader response.  Funny, because myself, I've found that I grew the opposite direction... I once wrote poetry for the purposes of creating a subconscious response and now write only with specific meaning to what I'm saying... the evolution out of what I had thought to be "empty" poetry.

What do you enjoy with this poem?  The image that I got in my mind, is that what you were looking for?  Then I'll share it with you... it made me think of how my mother used to look when she'd come home carrying groceries and the way the snow speckled her winter jacket, and how sad the streetlights looked with that layer of snow resting on their heads... and the sound the snow used to make under my boots when I'd walk to school in the winter... how cold I felt and how I reassured myself by looking up and imagining the number of steps until I reached my destination.

I disagree that winter is full of cheap symbolism.  I find it rather rich.  But hey, that's just me.

Thanks for the food for thought, Mikey... mine was getting hungry.

Parasite

Faith is a fine invention
When gentlemen can see
But microscopes are prudent
In an emergency.
~~~Emily Dickinson

bsquirrel
Deputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Rara Avis
since 01-03-2000
Posts 8382


8 posted 08-09-2003 08:05 PM       View Profile for bsquirrel   Email bsquirrel   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for bsquirrel

Exactly, LP. The poem evoked an image in your head -- its own poem. That's why I enjoy keeping things at a more resonant level than a concrete one ... then everyone can have their own thoughts and ascribe what they want to the poem's meaning.

As for cheap symbolism, I realized while writing the winterscape that it was turning into a black and white film. These things can be done artfully, or they can be done heavy handedly. I tried to strike a balance between the two, giving off both the sublime and the overdone (the "it was just a dream" ending is pure corn).
Wind
Deputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Elite
since 10-12-2002
Posts 3185


9 posted 10-13-2003 08:59 PM       View Profile for Wind   Email Wind   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Wind

geesh mikey..as for you bumping mine

This is my favorite one of your so far.

I never told you..did I?

the half of me that didn't understand this needed to reread it a couple thousand times. because something terrible happens in the end..at least in my opinion.

second materpeice to be bumped in our revived haven. congradulations.

'life is not a poem.'

I think you've proved her wrong, only that life is not a movie.

Cineaste: a person involved in filmaking.

What about China? Have you seen the Great Wall?
All walls are great, if the roof doesn't fall.
-yorke/bjork

 
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