Summation

Waited.
This moment
Taking hours of the mind to
Coerce this moment,
Finally here.

Guilt, stains, and a thousand broken promises.

As I shed inhibition
(While all of these clothes confess)
The quick of this endless instant
Cut deep with machines and nakedness;

Nakedness, death, and a burial within.

My greatest of moments
(And as all of eternity hangs)
Your greatest hope of me
Shattered with spasms and pangs;

Pangs, violence, and a fallen angel.

Suffered.
That moment
Taking that aeon of the mind to
Project that moment
Finally
Finally
Finally
Replay in my mind
One thousand times.

-Untitled-

Tumults of Snow

Forged amidst the

expanse

of soil and void,

brandish the heart.

An old friend,

well journeyed; now

returned

sets fire to the conscience.

What once used to freeze now burns,

Closing the lids of these urns.

-the bard 24/11/05

The poem compares the falling of snow to temptations to sin. The imagery of snow is contrasted throughout the poem by words usually associated with 'fiery' things, or 'hot' things. The key lines are the rhyming couplets, which are a comment about how sin use to freeze the soul, hardening the heart to God, as it hardens water to ice, but now (having been saved) it melts the soul, and reminds a person that they must cling to Christ because it is only through His righteousness that we are free. The whole idea about urns, is how we are dead to sin if we are in Christ, so that it has no power concerning salvation, only in our sanctification. The idea of 'brandish' is two-fold. Firstly, to brandish is to threaten with a weapon (ie. a sword, but in this case the snow is threatening ), and secondly, to brand, is to burn an image into something (ie. the heart). The idea then is that sin threatens to (and often does) callous our hearts to God, slowly changing our character so we are less like Christ. The fact that it is snow doing the branding is a piece of imagery that strikes a chord in my mind. This poem has brought forth quite a few more complexities then I first thought, thanks to the wonderful critique of the group.

Godspeed all,

-the bard

To ----- By Edgar Allan Poe

TO -----
by Edgar Allan Poe
1829

Not long ago, the writer of these lines,
In the mad pride of intellectuality,
Maintained "the power of words"–denied that ever
A thought arose within the human brain
Beyond the utterance of the human tongue:
And now, as if in mockery of that boast,
Two words–two foreign soft dissyllables-
Italian tones, made only to be murmured
By angels dreaming in the moonlit "dew
That hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill,"
Have stirred from out the abysses of his heart,
Unthought-like thoughts that are the souls of thought,
Richer, far wilder, far diviner visions
Than even seraph harper, Israfel,
(Who has "the sweetest voice of all God's creatures,")
Could hope to utter. And I! my spells are broken.
The pen falls powerless from my shivering hand.
With thy dear name as text, though bidden by thee,
I cannot write–I cannot speak or think-
Alas, I cannot feel; for 'tis not feeling,
This standing motionless upon the golden
Threshold of the wide-open gate of dreams.
Gazing, entranced, adown the gorgeous vista,
And thrilling as I see, upon the right,
Upon the left, and all the way along,
Amid empurpled vapors, far away
To where the prospect terminates–thee only.

THE END
__________
I love how Mr. Poe was so speechless at the thought of those two words
that he wrote an entire poem about it.
I don't think we settled the matter of whic two words he refers to.
I think its the greeting of the letter.
It actually reminds me of a poem I had to write in OAC english
where the teacher gave us a line and we had to write the peom.
The line I had was "I would take words..."
I don't think I liked the poem I ended up writing.

what the snow does to you :P

10 to 10 on Nov 17

An old friend arrives,
So familiar that the door does not bar
Treading lightly, as he may sometimes do--
but I remember when with clamour and commotion did he make his way in, barging and intrusive, foiling my plans.
Turning my house upside down, lampshade and curtains caught in his fury.
GUSTO was such an understatement.
yet GUSTO is what we expected
But this time, this year/season, perhaps faint or weary from your travels from yesteryear...
light
faint
subtle
smudgin my glass-pane in that timid way that you can
You can, and you will,
quiet and lamb-like. This will only last the day. But the precursor of your stronger self,
Stamps my driveway and warns me most:
You are here to stay, and I'd better make room.


i wrote this at Bata on Nov 17 when i looked out the window and noticed the first snowfall of the year. initially i didn't see it b/c the flakes were so small and faint, and it made me remember all the other first snowfalls i've seen. the personification (i know--AGAIN) in my poem is of winter itself, and how his entrance can be fantastic and showy, or "quiet and lamb-like" such as the 17th.
i'm not sure i like how the last stanza turned out--the first-person "I" seems to be a big contrast w/ the rest of the poem (even though i've been using "me" throughout), and i'm not sure if i like how that reads.

and i think i need to start writing about things that aren't always about nature :P i started a small series about punctuation, but i'll put that on later on. i'm more confident about this one :)

Reflections on Blessing

I am currently in the midst of writing some experimental prose-poetry in the vein of WCW's Kora in Hell. It's based mostly on my Pastor's preaching on the beatitudes. I've also drawn some influence from Flannery O'Connor (an African-American writer of fiction and essays from the post- civil rights movement south Georgia). She often writes on spiritual matters with a distinct wit and surprising / disturbing edge. I plan on writing one "section" for each beatitude, on Sunday afternoons after church. I've given myself some "rules" to follow to make it more challenging:

1. Cannot use "I"
2. All narration from the first person omniscient perspective
3. People (other than God) will not be named, but may be given a title
   
4. Each section must attempt to present the spiritual truth taught in the corressponding beatitude but not neccessarily in an obvious way.
5. Each section must be written in prose style (with some poetic presentation allowed). Poetic devices (such as rhyme) may be used.
   

I've currently got section I and II finished. Tell me what you think:

How to Live with a Curse

I.

How to live with a Curse. The first cut off the chopping block. A gold ring in a pig's snout. That woman. A gold ring. A pig's snout. The Bull's horn slams into her ribcage. Choke, choke, gurgle. Like a gold ring.

The Bull tramples your flowers and drinks your clean water. Tell the Bastard to get him outta here. Tell the Bastard how to live with a Curse. Crack a smile when the Bull comes running. He who loves discipline is wise. He who mocks correction is stupid. Keep mocking. The Alpha and Omega.

Your gold ring is a curse. Your Alpha and Omega. You look like a pig under your skin. Your false Christ. Tell the Bastard he ain't got love. Your Christ is Bull. A Curse.

You're a queen in a pig's snout. The horn in your heart is an adequate decoration. The blood that drips out of your mouth matches your dress. You're a queen.

Where's your golden crown?
The ring lay bloody on the ground.

II.

A little black with envy and a little green with strife. You thought you'd be a good man and you thought she'd be your wife. You were always so metaphysical, glazed with years of permanent dismissal.

Come down.
So walk down and fall down, always standing and laughing. On the inside. But you sit down and eat. On the outside. So come down. He is the maker of all things but for you is somehow only worth this fraudlulent apology. So come down, walk down, fall down. He who mourns will be comforted.

Meeting # 6 Lesson

Dead Poet's Society Lesson from #6 Minutes
Date (November 17 2005)

Present: Cindy, Caroline, Noah, Todd, Sarah (guest), Megs, Erin

Lesson: Rythm vs Meter

When we speak in English, we place stress on every word. The value of the stress (stressed or unstressed) corresponds roughly with the loudness with which those words are spoken. Every word containing more than one syllable has a dictionary-defined way of 'stressing' the word. The word 'marble' (referring to the small round object used in games) is only pronounced correctly when the stress falls on the first syllable (ie. MAR-ble rather than mar-BLE).
Rythm in poetry is the natural way the speaker pronouces the piece.

Example

The dog attacks the man,
and runs out of the land.

When you say this utterly horrible couplet (please don't write like this :) ) you are forced to pronounce 'attacks' by laying the stress on the second syllable. However, you can decide (to some extent without sounding silly) what one-syllable words you are going to stress in the poem. Nouns and Verbs tend to be stressed, while conjunctions (and) and prepositions (of) tend to be unstressed. In the above example, the syllables I have chosen to emphasize are in bold, and I think it accurately represents how you would read it, if you spoke normally. This is rythm. Some people might choose to emphasize the word 'the', which would change the meaning slightly. When we read poetry we should always look at how we emphasize the words, and perhaps emphasize different words for another perspective.

As a comparison to rythm, I will briefly consider meter. (i know. You are all like, ya right... brief) Meter is to a large extent objective. That is to say that it is determined by the writer, not the reader. Meter in a particular piece of poetry will always be the same, because it is the underlying 'beat' of the poem (for you musical folk), or the type of canvas you use to paint (for the artistically inclined) Just as some beats change within a song, and some visual art changes media, so it is possible for the meter in a piece to change. However it does not change nearly as easily, and some poets would argue that there is always an underlying meter, and everything else is a diversion from that. So what is it then?

Example

The dog attacks the man,
and runs out of the land.

Meter is the underlying stress in a poem. There are many different types of arrangements, but the most common is called iambic. Iambic basically means (unstressed, stressed) and is seen in the above example. The stress falls on the blue syllables. Poets design their poetry using meter, but they rarely speak the meter. It would sound odd to our ears to hear the word 'of' pronounced so strongly. To a certain extent even free verse (as seen in example 2) follows meter, but in lines 2 and three the meter breaks down (if we were going to call it iambic). You get the idea.

Example 2

Hello I said to her,
with a voice deeper than all the oceans
could conceal.

Meter and Rythm are important because the interaction of the two says alot about the meaning of the poem. If the meter and rythm go together, a sense of harmony could be intended. If they are drastically different, the poet might be creating tension. Take these things into consideration when you write your poetry. I know most of the group writes in the ever-so-popular free verse, and I love to do so myself, but I would encourage you all to work at developing your meter, and then playing off the meter and the rythm. It will give a lot of depth to your poetry.

Please comment if you have questions about using meter and rythm, or if there are problems or queries of my analysis of rythm. I will post the rest of the minutes later, I have class, and this was a bigger post than I originally intended. Good ol' longwindedness.

-the bard.

Britannica

it’s the encyclopedia!

eee-en-see-why-see-ello-pee-ee-dee-aye-ay

Ian see why see.

hello? p. e. d. eye. a.

die. eh.

crowded kitchen, on my stomach

legs in the air, just after the wake

supper on the stove, rosaries said.

page ex. eye. vee.

volume one for P.

six years old and jiminy cricket sings

‘Ian see, why see’

why see?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I've been stewing over this poem for a week. It refers to a very old Wonderful World of Disney song that used to be on a phonograph at a neighbours house in Lakefield. I have memories of laying on my stomach flipping through her copies of the Encyclopedia Britannica after a funeral, with little comprehension as to what was going on around me.

I tried to play on that idea with the sounds in the poem. The use of phonetic spellings and the focus on sound is intended to be childlike. In addition to that there's plays on words like 'die', 'see', 'eye' and 'why' that underscore the funeral idea with the confusion it holds for a kid. Anyway, it's a work in progress, but I like how it looks so far. Your input would be fantastic.

Meags

A Silken Purpose

A Silken Purpose

A spider curled outside my window,
Hammered by whirlwinds of indifference.
His livelihood unravelled;
Numb earnings plummet to the ground.
And now, as he slowly, wordlessly,

surveys,

From many eyes, righteous to protest,
He covers his mouth and spins, while the sun sets in the west.

-the bard 03/11/05
-----------------------------------------------------

Line 2: Whirlwinds of indifference speaks about how the winds which destroy the spider's web don't care at all about the spider. Is this my experience? Are the events in my life a product of indifference?

Line 4: Numb earnings compares the things of the world that man chases after with a spider's meal for the day. Both are numb. Worldy things are numb in comparison with Godly things.

Line 6: The spider surveys his broken life as it were. This is an intense moment, like the calm before the storm. Will the spider give up, protest, freak out?

Line 7: Reference to Job of the Bible. Everything ripped from him, Job still praises God's name, though he has done nothing wrong.

Line 8: Job's response to God. Our response to God.

-the bard

now with a title and rhyming couplet!

thanks to Erin, i now have a title for my "She sways in one sweeping movement-" poem! November. Erin pointed out how she sees how i'm writing about autumn, and the last stanza that repeats "remember" makes her think of November--which is still autumn (from this side of Canada). and althgh i dont' want to attach Rememberence Day with my poem, i like the clean beginning that a proper noun gives. So "November" it shall be.

and thinking on the bus last night coming back from Toronto, i was going through words that rhyme with "more" in my head and i was surprised to find a fitting word (b/c my rhyming normally SUCKS).. voila:

November

She sways in one sweeping movement
and we all see and gape.
the feathers of Her hair-
the tremble of Her red brown red.
flaunting and floating, firmly rooted in the sky;
soon She'll have neither hair nor colour to cajole.

and by the jealous cold, the impatient frost.
she's melt in pieces:
preciptating loudly
RED GOLD RED BRONZE RED FLUSH RED
coaxing her admirers back before the jealous blanche
washes the world white in ice.

her resplendency in pieces before her; a
train of life and death that crunches
crunching and crushed to ash

ash makes us forget.

and we, her wayward lovers
will find outselves enthralled and terrified by her white ghost-
her vengence in null colour
"remember me, remember no more
await a year is what i implore"

Blake, deviousness and kisses

Here are all the poems that I presented and some of my (brief) thoughts

William Blake, "Eternity"

He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sun rise

T. S. Eliot on William Blake's Poetry:

"...It is merely a peculiar honesty, which, in a world too frightened to be honest, is peculiarly terrifying. It is an honesty against which the whole world conspires because it is unpleasant. Blake's poetry has the unpleasantness of great poetry."

Me on "Eternity:"

If we cling to the things that give joy without sharing them, we will either destroy it or it will destroy us.

...

Because You are So Devious

Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened and devious spirit
(Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Evangeline, II, iii, 143)

Because your weapon lies there,
in your right hand in his left,
they all will laugh and smile and cry
and know that you are bless'd.

Because you are so devious,
you hid it there so all could see,
and hear and touch and taste and smell
the words of him who speaks.

On "Because You are So Devious:"

Partially inspired by Wadsworth's definition of "devious." (See OED)

About holding on... and letting go.

...

Proverb

Like a lamb led to the slaughter,
these virgin kisses on your lips.

On "Proverb:"

Not really discussed as much as briefly interjected. Inspired by the book of Proverbs in the bible and Blake's "Proverbs of Hell" in The Marriage of Heaven and Hell.

A proverb is a brief statement that is meant to teach about a basic truth. They are often impactful and easy to memorize, often including metaphor and simile. This one is a simile.

Compare:

"Like a gold ring in a pig's snout
is a beautiful woman without discretion."
(Proverbs 11:22, ESV)

"As the catterpillar chooses the fairest leaves to lay her eggs on, so the priest lays his curse on the fairest joys"
(William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, 55.)

Note that both the biblical proverb and Blake's create powerful and dangerous images. My proverb is an attempt to describe the loss of virginity from a negative viewpoint (e.g. the "your" is directed at a degenerate corrupted person).

The virginity being lost (signified by the kisses) is compared to a lamb being slaughtered. The lamb is a traditional and biblical image of innocence and sacrifice.

I understand this to be a bit jarring, I hope you understand my intentions.

See you all next week.

Meeting #5 Minutes

Dead Poet's Society Meeting #5 Minutes
Date (November 10 2005)

Present: Noah, Caroline, Jerry, Valerie, Erin, Todd, Meaghan (hereafter Megs)

Motion for name change from "The Dead Poet's Society" to "The DPS" was brought forward, and carried (though Jerry actually changed the site name before the vote could be held).

Caroline
1. Caroline (Refrain OR Coda)
-starts with a cliche (creativity and meaning lost)
-very cyclical ideas flow in this poem. The song being lost and found again.

2. Elizabeth Browning (There is no God-)
-quick to blame God for the bad things
-when things get bad for us, we tend to call out to "God", but are we really calling out to Him?

Erin
1. Jewel (Sometimes)
-interesting difference between Jewels songs and her poetry (vastly different :)
-spent some time thinking about free verse, and how a lack of punctuation effects where stress is placed in a poem.

2. Erin (This world is a breathing graveyard-)
-vast colour imagery.
-gold pretense - presentation of who we want people to be think we are.
-brittle honesty - to be afraid about what people think.
-Erin presented an interesting depth to imagery, which is a unique style in the group. The smashing together of colour and illusion should bring about some interesting poems in the future. Keep it up!

Valerie
1. Valerie (she sways in one sweeping movement-)
-FLUSH excellent word. Much discussion about the imagery used when incorporated with the colour red.
-"Crunch... to ash, ash makes us forget": Interesting how the reader is lulled into the sound created by the word crunching, so much so that we (as Megs put it) forget what the poem is about.

Jerry
1. ("Smile")
-Nice use of the future perfect tense.
-About looking back on an event from an already future perspective. (figure that one out!)
-You is the 1st person, not plural. Interesting problem with English not distinguishing between the two.
-Marriage of Love and Death. Reminded (Erin) of Othello. Interesting dichotomy of thought concerning the two. Love, Hate relationship.

Megs
1. D.G. Jones (The Stream Exposed with all its Stones)
-what lies underneath everything we do?
-Things are not always as they seem...

2. Megs (Of Scissors and Shredded Hearts)
-Heavy thoughts about what God is doing about Disasters.
-Response to negative attitude and seeming inappropriateness of Christian labels/lingo like "I push a broom for Jesus!"
-What is our Christian community doing?

Noah
1. Blake
A. Eliot on Blake
-merely peculior honesty
-unpleasantness in great poetry
B. (Eternity)
-if we have something which gives joy we either destroy it, or it destroys us.
-if we let it give joy and move on, we will be full of joy forever.

2. Noah
A. (because you are so devious)
-"That reminds me of those Christians you want to punch in the face." (Erin)
-"devious" to be doing something other than what you should be -Longfellow
-inspired by personal encounters, but the end of the poem underminds and saves the thought process from going down a problematic path.
- 2 stanza: People hiding God's goodness, or the experience.
B. Proverb
-Lamb led to a slaughter these virgin kisses on our lips (probably needs some explanation)

Todd
1. Todd (A Silken Purpose)
-Is there meaning in life to spending our energy?
-Analogy taken from the spider who rebuilds his web over and over, regardless of what happens.
-Can the spider, like Job, respond righteously and justly by protesting the problems in his life? Can you, can I?

Alright folks, I know I have been slacking on getting these minutes off, but I am on the job now!

Remember to post the poems you shared, and add additional information in the COMMENTS (so as to leave the poem unmarked and unanalyzed at face value). And please make quality comments on people's poems. I want to see everyone who was at the meeting post the stuff listed in the minutes by next week!)

And feel free to post whatever else!

Next week the poetic lesson will be a deeper understanding of RYTHM as a counter-point to some of William Carlos Williams, and Jerry, and Noah's interesting style of writing.

Seeya next week everyone!

-the bard

a note of significance

To all involved: in the next week or so you will be seeing some changes to thedps site. Plans include a better navigation system for archives, as well as an improved and blogspammer-proof commenting system, as well as some aesthetic upgrades that should give this page a more... well... poetic feel. Hope you enjoy, and if you have any ideas, throw me an email anytime.

So I can feel good about myself (again).

Assent of mind.
In theory;
I believe everything you say (said)
And when the time is
Ripe
...Right
I might:
Do nothing
(though since nothing is something:)
Do something
(though since this is only my theory:)
Do what feels good.
(though since this assent is stale:)
Return.
Assent of Soul.