The DPS

cbc literary awards

2007-09-09T19:07:00.000-04:00

hey everyone,

in case you haven't heard, the CBC are holding a poetry/short story/creative non-fiction contest. and you guys should submit something!! :) one condition not to overlook though: we can't submit anything that's been posted online b/c it's considered "published", and therefore not eligible for submission. (which sucks b/c i really wanted to post one that i blogged!)

anyhow, hope you guys consider this. happy DPSing

DPS: Resurrection

2007-06-24T00:25:00.000-04:00

Plans are afoot to "revivify" this in some form in the coming 07-08 year. Don't say we didn't warn you.

die, dying, dead

2007-03-10T14:22:00.000-05:00

It appears that this blog, like the weekly DPS meetings, is dead. I hope the vision doesn't entirely die. The DPS should be ressurected next year if the remaining members are not all too busy.

As for now, I'm assuming this is it. God bless the DPS, we love you still! May people be blessed by this dead site still!

R.I.P

The DPS

October 2005-March 2007

the barrens

2006-12-22T23:30:00.000-05:00

well isn't this a snowy landscape
where you dwell, where you hide
beneath fallen evergreens and the sun
you're shying away from
the very thing you claim to need

i tried to show you
and you happily acquiesced
joyfully running away
merrily screaming murders

you make me want to say
that love is just the air

concerning futility

2006-12-22T23:24:00.000-05:00

today i
cast a stare into my own eyes
and their gaze envelops me in flame
of contentment

years of shattering skull
into shards of failure - a broken face
on a wall of ambition
it dies, shattered
i die, in shards

the words you said to me
the way you couldn't turn

wind in hair, glancing offshore

2006-12-20T01:22:00.000-05:00

wind in hair, glancing offshore

stand with one leg
a little twisted to the side
while within I hold thoughts
which for now I hide

hold the shoreline alone
lock my vision with watery gaze
on this ocean I find
dreams, which set this heart ablaze

liquids and masses;
I mediate between hope and fear
on this shore of reason
praying that courage is near

stand with one leg
in the fluid, one in the sand
preparing adrenaline leap
into waters of uncertain hand

in days gone by

2006-12-19T23:49:00.000-05:00

NOTE: This is a compilational work. It incorporates elements of poetry pulled out of poems gone by and amalgamates them into one work. It is not "new", just newly organized as a unit.

oh! I'd let you kill me just to put a smile on your face
and I'd die happy seeing it there

she was unreachable,
transient - shifting through my cells
mindbait or catalyst
both

staring across an expanse of sand
desert scorching all I've planned
hold me now within your hand
oasis in a barren land

felt a sleep coming over
felt a sad presence
felt nothing but death
felt nothing but death

I'm welling up with saline rebirth,
this is my salvation from you

this dream has breathed its last
and now it flickers and fades
into a collage of invisible things
hiding beneath vulture's wings

cut the neck
let the wound
run

every day a million miracles of us
because it's always about us

I will wait forever, yes
so close always; to being convinced
this solitude eternal
and for now I'll love it
so much more than anyone else
so little restraint left
rejection is my sweet embrace
how could I ever want more

just please another minute
you are my horizon

call for poetry (this should be the spot!)

2006-11-16T17:11:00.000-05:00

hi DPSers,

i'm asking if any of you talented, enlightened, creative, and mildly insano poets would like to showcase your poetry. it's for the TISA charity International Dinner called "Mama's Kitchen" in January 07. i'm helping out with their auction event, and i'm asking if i auction off your poems. the funds will go towards a World Vision project which will provide education oppurtunities for girls in China and children in various African countries. there'll be more postering and info about this fundraising event around campus in the coming week or so.

i know that last year there was talk about having a zine of our favourite poems--if you guys are interested in perhaps using the same three poems, or maybe a couple other ones you think are especially great for this auction, please let me know! or even if you want to pick one you like and want to maybe frame it, that's something that we would love too.

interests and questions and poems to val plz what.hullabaloo@gmail.com

word and flesh, the

2006-10-11T17:08:00.000-04:00

Flesh and Word, The

In the beginning was the Word and the Flesh

And the Word became Flesh and made its dwelling among us.

And the Flesh became Word and made its dwelling inside us.

And now I don't know.
Friend from Foe,
Truth from Show

Word from Flesh.

pure fragment

2006-10-05T18:40:00.000-04:00

sunken root
shake my sand!

bow to it,
spindles and fern

knuckles of pine
and grass leaves boil

pour over not to tip

when the world is yellow
(orange, i mean to say)

make sure you bite really hard

and feel the grit between
your teeth

the hourglass is broken

return, return, return

2006-09-08T10:01:00.000-04:00

Well hello folks,

Here's the low down on our friend the DPS

We will be meeting Tuesday nights at 7:00pm. Tentatively the meetings will be at The Rusty Snail pub. If that doesn't work a new location can be proposed, however this place has the perfect vibe, and we can get beer, coffee, or pop!

So, see you this Tuesday!!!

Wedding Smells

2006-08-16T12:58:00.000-04:00

Crystalline smells of Autumn flair brightly
in the nose;
Scenting their way to the wooden heart.
Would that heart become enflamed with joy?
Or guiltily sorrow and rot at the termiticity
of indulgence,
Sinning its way to the calloused depths of woe.

Breathe deeply.

-the bard

where is everyone?

2006-05-02T10:31:00.000-04:00

Ok I know people have made their own sites with their own poetry which is great but it looks like everyone has completely abandoned this one. Not so good. Just a reminder. I will post a peom soon.

Steal (the draft--edits welcomed!)

2006-03-28T10:22:00.000-05:00

________________Steal
my affections and will in the
fold of Your love
I've been stolen and the adoption
grows on me, in me.
Callouses on forehead
I know when Your toenails
have been cut.

And it's just You and me in the
room filling of smoke from the
broken alabaster jar.
I just left when You called me
Pen rolling out of my bag when
I ran to follow You.

Still now, surprised still
by the cristae that I thought I
knew well enough
to make a map of this matrix.
The solid lines of buzzing colours
have broken out
to a fury of static
black or white and movement that scares me.
And a wind blows down
the antenna, into
my marrows.

________________ Steal, You are a Collector
shivering to see the tall necks
swaying in bark skins,
my eyes cold and dry in Your fierce wind
Fierce.
(You are a Collector.)
Like fire.
(Not a thief.)
To terrify with jealous love
and penetrate with washing flames

Here, I am collected. And my adoption
runs deep
to waters I will pass through
and
rivers that will not overtake me
and
fire I'll come out from un-singed.
... I've been stolen by fierce love
and gathered to His side.

To all the beloved...

2006-03-26T12:40:00.000-05:00

... or, those who actually still read this poorly maintained and rarely updated website:

I will announce this at this week's meeting, but here as well.

Please submit to me your three favourite poems that you have written this year, while the dps has been happening. Please make sure to submit them on hard copy (by e-mail as an attachment would be swell) in 12-point Times New Roman font. Please also include a brief bio. (And I mean freaking brief, less than 200 words).

I will use these to create a small dps zine (title suggestions welcome) over the course of the summer which you will all receive in September (Caroline, I'll e-mail it to you cause you won't be around. *sniff*)

Thank you, goodnight.

Apathy Kills

2006-03-25T13:35:00.000-05:00

It's so hard to see the reality
That the end will be the end of things
And our hearts are all we get to bring
So let's go ahead and make them worth something"
Relient K - Apathetic Way to Be
_________________________________
I'm fed up
with being fed up.
I want to Care
about Something,
and everything
that Matters;
like hope
and love
and faith.
The world
has nothing to offer
that will not be lost
in the end.
So I choose Forever
now.

{Note: The capitals are there on purpose. I was trying to imitate the style of movie director M. Night Shyamalyn, who produced Sixth Sense, Signs, The Village, and other crazy movies. He marks things that are all related somehow. For example, in Sixth Sense, everything influenced by the spirit world is coloured red, such as the tent the Hayley Joel Osmond hides in, and the doorhandle to the basement at the end of the movie. So I chose to capitalize words which actually mean more than just the word, but are altered by God. For example, in the third line of my poem, Care refers to God's love in that I don't just want to pay attention, and make a difference for things that I'm interested in, but rather because God loves those things or people.}

Sun Light

2006-03-24T20:58:00.000-05:00

Sing softly to me,
I love the way you are,
Walking so gently,
Smiling so near.

I like the way the stars are shining,
The way they glisten shimmering like,
The hills rise up,
Mysterious in the fading light.

My breath is taken away,
For you are beside me,
And I realize how beautiful you are,
And how happy I feel.

For now you see me,
For how long I wonder,
For that may change,
And pass away,
As does the fading light,
Into the darkest night.

this is (not) hopping on the bandwagon

2006-02-25T12:11:00.000-05:00

hello all,
just like to let you know that i have created a seperate blog for my creative writing: www.replacingschwa.blogspot.com
hope to see you there
-val

Death III

2006-02-24T10:24:00.000-05:00

Breathing is painful beneath the heavy-laden curtain
--air scarce, our lives were like cages.
The letters on stone always before me
We had to look away whenever he came out

Even the fading radiance is too blinding
I knew my eyes would be gouged out of their sockets
Pathetic, I am proven.
But I breathe, just the same.
The same, that's the problem

Something's in the scarlet
I never noticed the colour of the veil
when we wore it--an aged tiresome shade, like brick
(yet our hearts could not be eroded)

This is freedom? We deny the law of it.

Then something, like Su Duko and Caramilk
Glory_____Mercy_____Newness
Be
cause the hour of divine abandonment brings me home
Be
cause the old curtain is removed, and new linen I'm given
Be
cause the veil, our veil, is newly torn
I cannot wait to see my Bridegroom,
when scarlet means white
and with joy and victory I run

my Love, my Freedom, my
breathing now effortless
though I'm conscious of every inhalation
through the split in the curtain

technical and general comments welcomed, as always!

Silence

2006-02-23T21:40:00.000-05:00

The shade falls off the light
CRASH
For no reason at all
OUT OF REACH
Where no one can reach it.
Clatter goes the fall,
As the sparks fly,
Upward,
Across the jagged wall.

What does it all mean,
Why do I restrain myself,
From enjoying,
Knowing,
things are not what they seem,
After all,
But things can be.

Risk,
Risk is worth taking,
Without fear,
But how to rid the fear,
Is the most insidious question of all.

Love,
How do you take the risk and not fall,
That insidious question is only answered,
After....

my new poetry blog

2006-02-17T15:18:00.001-05:00

just so eveyone knows I recently made a blog that only contains my poetry. There's a lot of stuff you know, but also a lot of stuff you haven't seen yet. A general warning however, unlike my normal blog this one is not censored.

JEALOUS : KIND

Desperate refusal of previous invitation

2006-02-04T15:28:00.000-05:00

Version 1b:
Peeking through the covers,
You entice me.
Glaring from behind the glass,
You taunt me.
Jumping in under the covers, [Noah's idea to bring temptation into the bed]
You invade me.

I have seen and the longing to taste grows.

Version 2:
The green light on the security alarm box fails to blink [inspired by Jordan's attention to detail]
as you come in.
Your shadow interrupts the flicker of the tv
on the wall behind the couch.
A shiver runs up my spine as my hand [Brendan's idea to bring the threat closer]
touches a warmth under the covers.

no.
I do not want you here.
No.
I did not ask for you to come.
NO!

But I opened the door
and did not close it when you came by.

{I think the use of the noncontracted forms (ie. do not, did not) seem to make it more urgent, though less personally convinced. I think the second version - though entirely different from the original (which I will post eventually) - is more powerful. The original was too anitclimactic.}

Thanks for Remembering Us - Dana Gioia

2006-02-04T15:20:00.000-05:00

The flowers sent here by mistake,
signed with a name that no one knew,
are turning bad. What shall we do?
Our neighbor says they're not for her,
and no one has a birthday near.
We should thank someone for the blunder.
Is one of us having an affair?
At first we laugh, and then we wonder.

The iris was the first to die,
enshrouded in its sickly-sweet
and lingering perfume. The roses
fell one petal at a time,
and now the ferns are turning dry.
The room smells like a funeral,
but there they sit, too much at home,
accusing us of some small crime,
like love forgotten, ans we can't
throw out a gift we've never owned.

Minutes from two weeks ago

2006-02-04T13:39:00.000-05:00

January 26th, 2006
Present: Noah, Mike, Erin, Caroline
"Todd is forgiven for not coming because he had half his teeth ripped out." - Noah
Noah urged us all to rewrite some of our poems using other people's feedback and share on subsequent weeks.
"The guy downtown who sings to you is cool." - Mike

Mike went first:
Random Poem about Canada (this is the one he revised and read this past week)
Poem on Canada - Part 2 - The Coming of the White Man (I missed the author's name)
- A poem about a tract of land owned by the author's Aunt Hildegard who has never actually seen the land she owns.
- Some grat discussions on Canadian nationalism came out of both these poems

"Lucy Maud Montgomery writes bad poetry." - Mike

Noah
Elizabeth Bishop - A poem about Ezra pound in an insane asylum in the form of "This is the House that Jack Built"
"Read Ezra Pound's 'Asylum Cantos'." - Noah
None of his own

Caroline
Insomnia by Dana Gioia - depressing but rhyme is powerful at the end
Home - similar to Gioia's poem - excellent use of form

Erin
Free Verse (and Wishing I was Emily Dickenson) - amazing form
Good job on bringing in copies of your work so that everyone could look at it and edit it!!

"Oh ninja, my ninga." - Mike

Meeting Minutes for # ????

2006-02-02T16:32:00.000-05:00

Meeting Minutes February 02, 06

Minutes appearing on the site are pretty near a miracle, but I thought it may be valuable considering some of the interesting and profitable excercises the group is getting involved in, particularily through Brendan (my bad if your name is spelt differently).

In any case, here are the minutes, I hope you enjoy 'em because I did... or will.

Present:
Brendan, Brent, Noah, Caroline, Todd, Mike, Jordan
(props to Caroline for representing :)

News: Two thoughts were discussed. Publishing in the Absynthe, and Making a collection of the DPS works into a book. Think it over

Excercise: Arbitrary Form

The idea of the excercise is to cultivate new lines of thought, or fresh lines of thought in each individual's writing style. The assignment was to take 5 words from a bag, and use them as the last word of a line in a poem. The order each person chose the words in determines what order they must appear in the poem. I wrote down each person's order:

Brendan: flip, hobgoblin, orange, couch, speak
Brent: pop, traveling, tissues, entertain, dedicate
Noah: memory, bill, bearhug, spring, sugar
Caroline: lard, missed, two, kiwi, time
Todd: sandy, lawnmower, elephant, fog, show
Mike: keep, juice, stomp, issue, farthest
Jordan: dedicate, fall, guitar, tell, snake

I'm excited to come and laugh my face off. Especially over hobgoblin, which seems to have been a big hit.

Mike:

Tom Mckinns (possible spelt wrong) "To Walt Whitman"

Mike Multicult to Ginsberg

-Easily the best poem i have heard Mike read. Noah and I were thinking of recording a reading of it. Good allusion with seemingly boarderline or dangerous issues.

Jordan:

Happy Vegerarianism For You

-Many agreed that this should be a Hallmark Card. It is too funny.

Todd:

Ponderings + 7 Experiments

-Very private imagery and content, which can be a major problem for the reader. Possible work to be done tying Ponderings and the 7 Experiments together. Also take a look at seemingly randomly capitalized words. Poignant imagery is fun to work with, but it needs sharpening, and clarification for the reader

Caroline:

Dana Gioia Things For Remembering Us

Caroline Desperate Refusal of Previous Invitation (Part I + II)

-I think across the board people were impressed with the fact that Caroline worked at rearanging this poem. From my perspective it was moving in a suspense-movie sort of way. Thanks for inspiring us to continually work with our poetry.

Brendan:

Margaret Avison The Crux

Brendan Tyro and the Drifter

-I love the layout of the poem. The comparison of the drunkard's life with the child's is on multiple levels which is great. I also appreciated how this poem was orated because it has the opportunity for a powerful finish.

Lay the First Stone

-unique perspective in the poem. Perhaps work with some of the words to get a proper connotation (black, murky, etc...) There were other things that I noticed, but I wrote them on Brendan's page and not my own... sigh.

So please work on the assignment, and those of you who want to try it pick 5 random words out of a group of perhaps 30, and join in the fun! I look forward to seeing you all, and laughing with you.

the bard

7 Experiments

2006-02-02T08:53:00.000-05:00

7 Experiments

Time is the un-flavoured

Fire

Balance of the polar

Goods

Incendiary thought

Flow

Brown, heart-melting reason

Stops

All minor objections

Claimed

The great plunge and Oh sweet

Death

Wonderful spiritual

Rest

Ponderings

2006-01-30T22:58:00.000-05:00

I burned my bridges for a ring
So all could see you wear my heart.
And it is best to have no security
in secular ideals, but to cling to
the Kyrios.
I'm just curious for the question.

-the bard 30/01/06

I'll leave it obscure. Its the end of a good weekend, and many thoughts are assailing my brain. And it is good. O, and it is off the cuff. Seems to work best.

Peace.

Whirlwind

2006-01-30T20:47:00.000-05:00

The world is a whirlwind of confusion,
A whirlwind that blows swiftly,
The world is a whirlpool of emotion,
A whirlpool turning frantically.

Sometimes all is lost,
Sometimes all is well,
Is it really all lost?
Or is it really all well?

Everlasting joy surpasses all,
Everlasting love to the core,
The core of the whirlwind,
The core of the whirlpool,
Gently whispers,
You are no fool.

Hold on and don't let go,
Hold on and remember,
He is there,
His love never ending,
The anchor.

undecided: "This Injustice" or "Canvas God"?

2006-01-27T22:07:00.000-05:00

Your face is hidden, faded behind
that wooden sullen pulpit.
I think we miss, or make, rearrange
who it is we'll worship.
Did we turn 'round
that smile upside down?--
why the painted frown?
Painted; that's what it is.
Endangered; that's what we've done.
Have you seen the laughing God? the Father of delights?
the dancing Love
whose tune we've seem to
turn down,
if not (mute).

-i'd really love to hear your thghts about this one, and not only on a literary note..

Emily

2006-01-23T22:46:00.000-05:00

Clearly,
the Poet was
______________blurring the lines
______________blending the lies
between what she means and
__________________what she can
________say
say. what did you say
I can’t seem to
________didn’t you
have it your way
____then-
her words in
________your mouth on
______your lips in
____your ear
will speak
_________fraudulent truths
______________-that word there, this pause here-
till her voices and
_____verses and
_________dis-
___________joint-
______________-ed lines
____are a shrine built to
all that you
____wanted to
____Here.

poly|sylla|bi|fica|ti|on

2006-01-18T16:10:00.000-05:00

______skin
_________lines
(permanent) polysyllabification

of mind.
________cold-
ness_____heat
_____________bless with persistence
overcoming
_____________bless

Conversations

2006-01-15T21:45:00.000-05:00

Speaking in codes, there are animated conversations
because the spine is the only force strong enough
to constrain the paginated enthusiasm.

Raising voices in competition to the neighbour
nestled neatly, and vertically against each other;
it gets rather loud in the library.

And only when the spines crack will the volume
spin off the dial, and nothing else can be
heard in the world.

RE: DPS in the New Year

2006-01-09T18:13:00.000-05:00

Just a reminder to everybody that the DPS is still going and we will be meeting at the same bat-time and same bat-channel as last year:

Thursday
9:00am-11:00am
OC Caf

So keep coming if you can, or if you can't make the new time keep posting here. We will be starting THIS WEEK, but if you can't make it that's okay.

Keep it real and old school (yo).

Can you guess who I am yet?

i see you through blood

2006-01-03T01:11:00.000-05:00

i see you through blood

single drops, single thoughts
all the while your wound it rots
so adept, now point the way
bleeding on us as you say:

"trust me on this
i now know bliss
close your eyes
now my disguise
will hide a face
the human race

trust me on this
while mockers hiss
close your ears
to shut out fears"
...and yet this face
you couldn't trace

we will sit and watch
the red lines draw their way on you
believe what you want
your wounds bleed
and tell us you were a liar all along

i saw you through blood
and it told me everything i needed

the mouth of the [s٨n] opens

2006-01-02T08:29:00.000-05:00

Perhaps waiting Perhaps expectantly Perhaps with sadness
Hush yields to shout as the sun opens its mouth

And a brilliance spills on these,
falling on top but
making them shine as though
they were lit themselves.

And a song spills out, in ebbs
Piercing to our ears, we are burnt by such beauty

Lightless ourselves, but wicks.
Until ignition

Then
then the moon blues, the sky falls, the rocks breathe
and the Moses complex falls on top
to fall to ourselves and
ing-ing to glory, by
that catalyst:
Brightest of lights
Could light my dead and let my life glow

happy new year dps :)
i wrote this in the morning when it was still a bit dark outside, and my backyard had this grey-blue quality to it that made it look a bit luminous. the combination of what i was reading in 2 Corinthians with what i saw made me conceive this poem. it's based on the passages in 4:6 and 3:18, "for God, who said, 'let light shine out of darkness', made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ." and "and we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is Spirit." what i mean to do in this poem is make a parallel between the illuminated scene in my backyard with the fact that we as Christians glow with God's light, as in the verses. now for some technical stuff :P
- in the third stanza, i chose the word "ebb" b/c in contrast to tides that flow out, the spilling of light already has that outward motion. the subsequent glowing of illuminated objects can only spill light "back", just as an ebb flows back to the ocean.
- in the first line of the last stanza, i tried to list a few commonly known strange or rare occurances (i guess the strange ones would be more accurate to what i'm trying to say than the rare?) i.e. a blue moon, a falling sky, something inanimate coming to life. i strange occurances to try to capture the mystery of Christ in us: something completely holy wanting to make transform us likewise.
- the "ing-ing" is about that process, b/c in 2 Cor 3:18, the tense of the verb "being transformed" is both present and past (is there a name for that??), as is the nature of how we become holy (by justification and sanctification. sorry for the big terms, they became sort of buzzwords whenever i was taught about Christian holiness :P)

The beginnings of a song...

2005-12-31T13:32:00.000-05:00

Nation from a worm
planned outside of time.
Will you wrestle again tonight
to find
some satisfaction to steal
from the Most High?

-the bard

black shoes.

2005-12-31T01:59:00.000-05:00

his mother is lying in a coffin
_____________________twenty

________________________steps

___________________________away
and we are all
standing by the floral arrangements
talking about
saturday
morning
cartoons

another day,
I am walking to the corner store
and am halted by a
funeral procession
black cars crawling by
and I’m just going to buy
milk.

I'm staring at all our
black shoes
standing by the floral arrangements
talking about
saturday
morning
cartoons
his mother lying in a coffin

_________________twenty

______________________steps

__________________________away

Grey

2005-12-21T11:48:00.000-05:00

Grey like the snow, post-December
(cigarette palace and a cardboard crown)
grey like his eyes when it rains.

walk a little faster

Grey like the gum on the sidewalk
and the tops of your over-priced shoes
grey like willful ignorance.

hurry along

Grey like the weight of two dollars
and eighty-five cents in your pocket
Grey like the state of your heart.

avert your eyes

Grey like preventable hunger
and cold, naked backs in the wind
grey like the goats on His left.

Christmas

2005-12-19T22:01:00.000-05:00

Christmas time,
The jingle of the bells,
The laughter,
The love that goes around.

Where did such a wonderful season come from?
I wonder.
From such a tiny baby,
A baby so tiny,
That left them full of wonder.

The shepherds and wise men,
Angels singing,
A brilliant star,
Ever shining,
Guiding them on.

On they went,
Led by the Spirit of God,
To find
Him,
Jesus.

But where?
Not in a beautifully crafted bassinet,
But in a manger,
Where the animals
Had their place of rest.

But still He came
To us,
Bringing with Him
The light
That saves us.

the divorce on the second day

2005-12-19T15:56:00.000-05:00

Once upon a time
the clouds were married to the earth.
and

a great distance separated them,
taking the full length of the second day.

So
clouds and earth
are actually halves
of each other.

Once upon a time
in desperation and determination,
the generousity of the clouds
swelled to such heaviness
that when provoked by peripheral temperatures,
its heart will burst

and hope

that the ground will receive
his ancient love.
sent in white envelopes new and fresh
holding loyal and fierce love
of the sky and the soil.

i wrote this in my distraction from studying at OC while looking out the window. yes (Erin), this is another poem written from nature (chuckle chuckle). it's pretty straight forward though..
and yes, i know that in the second day, the sky and the SEA were separated, but i wasn't looking at any body of water when i thought of this poem, so we'll dismiss that fact :)

first pulses

2005-12-19T11:49:00.000-05:00

I
ContractingRelaxingContractingRelaxingContractingRelaxing
then there is beginning.

engineering the invisible blueprint
laid out by all of You, and
given.
wired in everything, wired in each one

ContractingRelaxingContractingRelaxingContractingRelaxing
Fold on the flesh
ContractingRelaxingContractingRelaxingContractingRelaxing
Dust the bone
ContractingRelaxingContractingRelaxingContractingRelaxing
Entwine the ganglion
ContractingRelaxingContractingRelaxingContractingRelaxing
Trace the features
ContractingRelaxing

concealing revealing
my x-ray thinned so bright
that fatal one--yes, [εks] marks the spot
HERE, ready for death.

II
flicker flicker fleck.
trying to breathe,
i'm trying to see.
the illumination for the filament is not yet given
i'm just deadweight on
this metal line
contracting? relaxing? contracting .. relaxing ..

and PING: You come--
the bulb head breaking,
the inert gas leaking.
i'm disrupted
-more
flesh and bone and nerves demolishing

this mess You made is me
and this reparation You suggest
hurts me
Because my filament has never been lit
and i've never breathed outside the bag

But
flicker will finally GLOW
and this electricity cuts the circuit,
breaks off the tungsten.

In the beginning, the world was made with electricity
buzzing and burning and crackling and singing.

continuation of thought from 'Too Close?'

2005-12-10T11:16:00.000-05:00

A response

This poem will be deep;
Sky deep and Ocean high
with meaning.
And
Nothing to hide means
everything to hide.

But.

You are mistaken in logic.
I have no idea how you feel.

-the bard 10/12/05

Intentionally Unintentional

2005-12-09T00:27:00.000-05:00

You said, "I am intentional."
Intentionally unintentional,
intentionally shielding your eyes
from the words you swear you can see.

You said, "I won't play that game."
Playing that game of not playing that game
intentionally not playing that game
of unintentionally playing that game
of not playing that game unintentionally
not intentionally unintentionally
speaking all those words
that became so tangible to see.

You said, "I won't be vague and I'll say it like it is."
You were always so clear to me.

Too Close?

2005-12-08T13:02:00.000-05:00

Too Close?

I'm serious this time.
Its not as if you will listen,
Flying white flags over your hearts
in that
opposite way;
squashing hope like generations before.
Fire in the heart,
Fire in the soul,
Fire all around, and out of control;
But why?
Why do we associate fire with the
Uncontrollable?
Spirit of fire, in perfect control,
Bind together such hearts
who's thoughts are the reciprocal
of their proximity.

-the bard 08/12/05

Shakespeare

2005-12-08T12:36:00.000-05:00

XXVII.

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head,
To work my mind, when body's work's expired:
For then my thoughts, from far where I abide,
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see
Save that my soul's imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous and her old face new.
Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee and for myself no quiet find.

I do dream alot and sometimes it seems like rest does not truly come. It comes from the immortal soul that never truly rests. The soul that does not see with the eye of the world.

Guest Starring Eddy the Crab!

2005-12-06T22:16:00.000-05:00

"guest posting Dennis"

Eddy was a hermit crab
He never came out of his shell
Eddy, he was shellfish
You know him very well
His peers just down the sandy beach
Found him to be crabby
Was it just his stone-washed genes
That made him so unhappy?

throw your thoughts at this one folks!

drop

2005-12-06T19:22:00.000-05:00

"drop"

yes, I am trying to hurt you.
yes, I am an atom bomb.

I think that I might shatter
into infinite shards of stained glass
church windows
to press against your neck and
make you remember.

yes, I remember the words you said;
I heard of "love" in there somewhere,

never meant to
sever
your arteries with my tongue

but,
sometimes you need to

bleed.

On "Drop:"

I honestly have no idea where this came from. Your guess is as good as mine. Some of the lines are are just phrases that I had stuck in my head. The last section (never...) was an incomplete poem I wrote last year...that I guess is now "complete."

The inspiration was a pastor that I used to sit under. He took advantage of the congregation and twisted the word of God. I don't want to get into the details (forgiven and cast to the bottom of the sea, the bible says) but I guess this was just welling up in my heart for a while.

Death II

2005-12-06T11:44:00.000-05:00

When you are choosing Christ and the cross, you are choosing death." -Vivek Mukhopadhyoy

we no longer live, but rise and soar to unchartered heights with Christ!

like the river lolling over the mouths of grass,
i am drinking this in. And
how the colours sting my eyes with ineffable sweetness,
i perceive for the first time--i see the Lord, and He is beautiful!--with loose scales by my feet and praises on my lips

Be! He says, and i have become.
Follow Me! He gestures, and i leave my perishable self for an unusual exchange:
Life. LIVE! -and i do, breathing once and breathing again
for once, my lungs do not ache, for once, my hands are not stained, for once, my body is not bound.

Be! He says, and i have become
free.

i've been thinking about how to write about the resurrected life we have in Christ for some time. the last time i was at DPS, someone wrote a poem written about death, (sorry i don't remember the name of the author!) and a comment made about Hook's "death is the only adventure" quote gave me some ideas. this poem is titled "Death II" b/c the first one is my spin on our talk about strange niceness and life around death and funerals (maybe i'll put that on another time) but i also like Noah's idea about writing poetry with intentional progression. so after i wrote the first Death, i decided to write my second one about death to ourselves through Jesus. and last Sunday, an Indian missionary spoke at Ferndale and mentionned something very profound about death to ourselves when we choose Christ (hence the starting quote), and that was the final catalyst for this poem. (long story--kudos for readers who are still with me)

i didnt' want to make Death II sound like a sermon, but i really wanted to write about the freedom that Christ gives, and decided to put it in first person to show that (b/c i think freedom is best described from the experience of the freed).
i think something is missing from my poem thoughi think i've said all i've meant to say in the stanzas, and i'm trying to try poems that are not as lengthy, but it seems incomplete.. what do you guys think?

Check Mate

2005-12-05T07:52:00.000-05:00

Ok fine.
I'll play.
Since you asked so politely.
Just don't expect me to let you win.
And you can stay
poker straight with your
royal blue flush
while I blush
redblackredblackred
(it's all part of the strategy,
you know)
to king you in front of your
checkerboard friends.
And I'll let you move first
since you're white afterall
'cause they tell me that chess is a
gentlemen's game

How?

2005-12-02T00:44:00.000-05:00

Here is the poem by T.S. Eliot I read this morning.

Morning At The Window
T.S. Eliot

They are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens,
And along the trampled edges of the street
I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids
Sprouting despondently at area gates.

The brown waves of fog toss up to me
Twisted faces from the bottom of the street,
And tear from a passer-by with muddy skirts
An aimless smile that hovers in the air
And vanishes along the level of the roofs.

This is a poem I found on my friend Irene's site. It's a poem she wrote.

Players

Why do boys play girls?
When girls play boys too?
Like what the heck?
Everythings a heart-beating wreck.
Relationships are just a game,
And everybody seems to treat it all the same.
But when there's break-ups and cheating,
People are hurting and bleeding.
Whats the symbol of a dove?
For teenagers there's no such thing as love.
It's like a filthy world of dust,
Where everyone just falls deeply into lust.
Teardrops fall like rain,
To many people are feeling pain.

And lastly this is the most recent poem I wrote.

How

How can you sit there
And reveal you,
How can you sit there,
And break the view,
I thought I knew the truth.

How could I be so wrong,
False beneath the surface,
You aren't the right kind of song,
How can your face,
Shine like that without a trace.

Of the mud behind the scales,
of the insanity behind it all,
The light flashes through the nails,
I can hear your shrill call,
I love you,
After all.

'Self-Evident' by Ani Difranco

2005-12-01T00:34:00.000-05:00

Here is a link to streaming audio of an anti-war poem, called "Self-Evident" written, performed & produced by Ani DiFranco from the album “So much shouting, so much laughter”© 2002 Righteous Babe Records Ltd.

streaming audioneeds Flash Player:
http://www.peace-not-war.org/Music/AniDiFranco/

I couldn't do it justice reading it myself, but wanted to share it.
I'm not very political, but I think there is some really powerful lines, especially,

"i'm looking out over my whole human family
and i'm raising my glass in a toast
here's to our last drink of fossil fuels"

Overall, I love her delivery.
I think it comes off as an interesting stream of consciousness.

-Vanessa

Summation

2005-11-29T16:32:00.000-05:00

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.

Sparkles In The Night

2005-11-27T20:04:00.000-05:00

Beautiful,
Speechless loveliness,
Soft shimmering whiteness,
Plentiful.

Entranced,
Sweet caring eyes,
Sparkles breaking the ties,
Enhanced.

Profound,
Blossoming wholeness,
Red blush of roses,
Spellbound.

Wonderful,
Breathtaking stillness,
Unprecedented this,
Beautiful.

By Cindy Lonsberry

-Untitled-

2005-11-24T23:43:00.000-05:00

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

2005-11-24T01:44:00.000-05:00

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.

The Wood Nymph

2005-11-23T10:39:00.000-05:00

The secret paths of the woods,
The golden paths,
Are there.

The wood nymph bounds along cheerfully,
Along the golden paths,
With a crown of leaves in his hair.

How he dances and laughs,
As the world passes by.
He sings and calls,
To the trees nearby.

The trees just laugh,
And shake their heads as if to say,
Good day to you,
Da derrilay.

He sings and calls,
To the birds up high.
They whistle their song in tune to his,
What a happy wonderful day it is.

The wood nymph,
Stops for a moment,
Then turns and bounds along home,
As the sun glistens.

I will follow up on this next time I am at DPS. I will not be able to come tomorrow.

what the snow does to you :P

2005-11-20T21:59:00.000-05:00

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

2005-11-20T21:27:00.000-05:00

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:

Cannot use "I"
All narration from the first person omniscient perspective
People (other than God) will not be named, but may be given a title
Each section must attempt to present the spiritual truth taught in the corressponding beatitude but not neccessarily in an obvious way.
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.

Revised Version

2005-11-18T22:10:00.000-05:00

I revised this again to better follow the rhyme scheme. =)

Think

Speak to me what you are thinking?
I cannot read your mind,
Trying to do that is confusing,
And that way I bide my time.

Who are you?
Why are you?
Why?

That I may know your mind,
And figure out your world,
Is so in depth to find,
Your not so precise in your word.

How do I discover you?
Who are you?
What are you inside?

So I played around with this to have more rhythm so the last stanza was not so broken, in so doing I created a new stanza.

The Woman and the Angel

2005-11-18T15:14:00.000-05:00

A angel was tired of heaven, as he lounged in the golden street;
His halo was tilted side-ways, and his harp lay mute at his feet;
So the Master stooped in His pity, and gave him a pass to go,
For the space of a moon, to the earth-world, to mix with the men below....

Never was seen such an angel-eyes of heavenly blue,
Features that shamed Apollo, hair of a golden hue;
The women simply adored him; his lips were like Cupid's bow;
But he never ventured to use them-and so they voted him slow.

Till at last there came One Woman, a marvel of loveliness,
And she whispered to him: "Do you love me?" And he answered that woman, "Yes."
And she said: "Put your arms around me, and kiss me, and hold me - so -"
But fiercely he drew back, saying: "This thing is wrong, and I know."

Then sweetly she mocked his scruples, and softly she him beguiled:
"You, who are verily man among men, speak with the tongue of a child.
We have outlived the old standards; we have burst, like an over-tight thong,
The ancient, outworn, Puritanic traditions of Right and Wrong."

Then the Master feared for His angel, and called him again to His side,
For oh, the woman was wondrous, and oh, the angel was tried!
And deep in his hell sang the Devil, and this was the strain of his song:
"The ancient, outworn, puritanic traditions of Right and Wrong."

Robert Service (1874-1958)

I know alot of people did not like this poem but it was asked that we post what we speak about at DPS. The thing I really want to point out with this poem is cling to what God has commanded in the Bible in the way of relationships and do not think them old and outdated. Is God old and outdated? I don't think so.

Meeting # 6 Lesson

2005-11-17T15:58:00.000-05:00

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

2005-11-16T01:37:00.000-05:00

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

The Official Super Awesome DPS Award of Greatness and Supreme Excellence

2005-11-15T21:21:00.000-05:00

The first Official Super Awesome DPS Award of Greatness and Supreme Excellence goes to Cindy for being the only person who consistently responds to everyone's posts.

Good job!

A Silken Purpose

2005-11-14T20:47:00.000-05:00

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!

2005-11-13T08:41:00.000-05:00

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"

2005-11-11T21:54:00.000-05:00

'My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.'Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak.'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?'I never know what you are thinking. Think.' T.S Eliot

I was sitting at my computer reading through several poets work and this quote popped out at me as it did before when I was reading it. Then all these random thoughts started shooting through my head and as I wrote the thoughts developed into words. It was cool. It is a very spontaneous poem, not planned and it took me like 2 minutes to write it. All of my peoms do not take long to write but the spontaneity of this one surprised me.

Think

Speak to me what you are thinking,
I cannot read your mind,
Trying to do that is confusing,
And that way I bide my time.

Who are you?
Why are you?
Why?

That I may know your mind,
And figure out your world,
Is almost impossible,
And difficult to find,
How do I discover you?
Who are you?
What are you inside?

Comments

2005-11-11T17:06:00.000-05:00

I am just adding to0 what was mentioned earlier on the site about commenting on peoples work. Feedback is very crucial in development and if we want to grow closer as a small group community more people really need to be commenting. Just a reminder!

Blake, deviousness and kisses

2005-11-10T21:39:00.000-05:00

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

2005-11-10T16:18:00.000-05:00

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

2005-11-09T01:19:00.000-05:00

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).

2005-11-08T22:50:00.000-05:00

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.

Poem~~~~

2005-11-08T17:56:00.000-05:00

I wrote this poem at work today. Please let me know what you think, how it speaks to you.

The Power

I

I stand at the door and knock,
Do you hear me?
Do you love me?
Will you let me love you?

I stand at the door and knock,
My heart aches to know you,
I long for you,
Do you hear me?
Will you let me in?
What I have to offer you is eternal,
Without end.
I just want to be your friend,
You cannot see me,
But you know me,
By my words,
And I have known you before your birth.

I love you,
Please open the door,
So you can see me,
Please let me be,
Close to your heart,
And you to me.

II

I offer you comfort,
Yet you refuse me,
Yet I'm still here,
And still knock,
Bringing my life.

I love you so much,
That I have offered myself for you,
I died for you,
Please do not refuse my comfort,
It grieves me you cannot see me,
After you willingly,
Opened the door and embraced me.

It hurts,
I want to help you,
Do not rely on your own strength.

Your heartbroken,
I can feel it,
For we are like one,
I know when my bride hurts,
I feel ever tear drop,
On your face,
I sense your bitterness.

Everyone you love rejects you,
And I know it,
I will repay their deeds,
Not to worry,
For I am jealous,
Remember wait,
WAIT!
Trust in me,
And I will strengthen your heart.

III

I am amazed O Lord,
By Your devotion,
You pull me back,
Gently yet persistently,
Into Your arms,
You give me,
Peace that I cannot comprehend,
Nor fully understand.
To fully grasp Your love,
Seems impossible,
Yet I know You will heal my broken heart,
And bind up my wounds,
And through it ,
Will become stronger,
Only by leaning on You.

I am bitter and I am sorry,
I love you,
You are my life,
And are concerned about my worries,
I feel so inadequate,
So low,
But that's what he wants,
Not to feel as who I am.

I am sorry,
Thank you for boosting my confidence again,
I know that there is no need to be bitter,
Bitter has turned sweet in my soul,
I see again,
Am reminded,
That I am whole.

And I know I most likely will need reminded again.

Give me Your boldness,
May I firmly stand,
And walk through the fire,
In this dry land,
And I know that yes I do fall,
But you catch me each and every time,
And then carry me,
Through it all.

I love you,
My Saviour,
My friend,
The One Who has no end,
Thank You for everything,
Your love,
Eternal life,
Thank You for loving me without end,
AMEN!

Surrender

2005-11-04T19:34:00.000-05:00

The sun shines across the marble hall,
The light glitters in her hair,
Across her lacy veil,
She smiles so brightly,
And a tear glistens on her face,
As she meets his beautiful gaze.

She is so happy to begin a fresh new life,
With this man,
Her soon to be spouse,
Her friend,
His beautiful smile,
His wonderful eyes,
His caring personality,
And his love for her Saviour,
Have won her over,
Beautiful surrender

Forgive me for not explaining this one I will leave it to you to figure out.

(untitled for now)

2005-10-30T07:23:00.000-05:00

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 jealour cold, the impatient frost,
she'll 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 dealth that crunches
crunching and crushed to ash

ash makes us forget.

and we, her wayward lovers
will find ourselves entralled and terrified by her white ghost-
her vengence in null colour
"remember me, remember no more
a year away until i return"

woohoo my first dps poetry post :) hiya, i'm valerie for those in the dps that i may not have met yet.
i wrote this thinking about the drumlin at Trent (LEC overlooks it and i am a LEC-dweller). i was thinking about the colours of the trees and it really takes my breath away, but lately the leaves have fallen down. it reminds me of Dorothy Livesay's poem "Fantasy in May". Livesay personifies tulips as harlots, and it made me think of the autumn leaves as something similiar-in the way that the colours are there, then they're blown away, and all that's left are bare branches.
so in my poem, i also personified the autumn trees as a woman who draws attention and love to herself through her colours.

the winter can be understood as either the worser side of herself, or another "woman". i didn't really intend to have this dual meaning, and would like to stick with one (i like the former). in the text i highlighted, particularly the jealous cold verse in the second stanza, do you think i should delete it completely, and hopefully eliminate that "second woman" perception of winter?

also, i really don't like the word "flush" in the second stanza. i'm looking for a colour word that's more metallic (in consistency with "gold", "bronze") but i'd like to keep the monosyllabic pattern.

in the last stanza, what do you guys think about the word "white"? i was thinking maybe "ice" instead, b/c the "null colour" sort of already implies white.
and in the last two verses, i'm trying to write that as what the autumn trees are saying to us, who forget about autumn b/c we're so caught up with snow. the way that i ended up writing these two verses, it sounds as though there should be a rhyming couplet, but i'm terrible with rhyming. do you think that i go w/ a rhyming couplet? either way, i really need to change that word "return". and the first-person "i" doesn't have to be there.

thnx :) see you guys on Thurs

Where Is The End Of The Rainbow?

2005-10-29T23:38:00.000-04:00

I am sorry but this post is going to be quite long.

A couple weeks ago I was driving to my parents, when it started raining while the sun was shining and I automatically thought, "Where is the rainbow?" I continued driving and as I was almost to my hometown I drove by a lake and there it was, the rainbow, a perfect arch stretching across the entire length of the lake and I pulled over to gaze at it's wonder which was funny because all the cars I had just worked so hard to pass, passed me LOL.

I, all of a sudden, had a tremendous thought that God placed in my mind and I struggled to understand the significant meaning of this thought even though it was so amazing and too wondrous for my mind to grasp. I felt a peace and a calm in my heart; the peace that passes all understanding that God gives his children and I realized that home is where the heart is; my home is with God, that's where my heart is, that's where I belong and the words flashed through my mind, that's it, that is the answer to the ever asked question, "Where is the end of the rainbow?"

God is the end of the rainbow. He is the reason it exists and if you look to Him in your life He is the pot of gold at the end. Who's bow is it anyway? The ultimate Creator's of the Universe.

He is telling us that He is turning in His bow and arrows. He held that bow when He destroyed the world and it is a gentle reminder that He will never do that again.

As I continued on home with everything still lingering in my mind I actually saw the end of the rainbow for real and I did find that picture up above that kind of looked like it. It was only a quick glance but there it was, as clear as a bell, for an instant in time. The end of the rainbow dropped right down into the lake and I could not believe it, but there it was.

Brilliant color,
Spreading across the sky,
Red, yellow, purple, blue,
It's all so beautiful.

Thoughts of God my Saviour,
Enter my mind,
Whispers in the sunshine,
Dew drops glisten,
Full of wonder,
Words cannot describe,
The awesome wonder of God,
He is here with me now,
Just like that arch spread across the sky.

Laughter, calm and peace inside of me,
Home in this world of dark,
Home in my heart,
I smile,
How wonderful His treasure eternal,
How satisfying,
A glimpse of Heaven just beyond.

Shimmers in the sunlight,
Dance across the water,
Underneath the magnificient colors,
Blue sky with a few clouds,
Sun shines so bright,
Life at it's fullest,
Through this mystical light

"Seek the Lord while he may be found, call on Him while He is near."
Isaiah 55:6

"Wait on the Lord, be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart; wait, I say, on the Lord."
Psalm 27:14

Prometheus stole the fire...

2005-10-29T02:03:00.000-04:00

In Greek mythology Prometheus stole fire from the gods and gave it to humankind. This enraged Zeus because it gives men the power of gods. So Zeus sentenced Prometheus to be tied to a mountain and have his liver eaten out by an eagle every day, only for it to grow back every night. The sentence was to last 50 000 years, but Prometheus was later set free by Zeus' son Hercules who was allowed to kill the eagle to show Zeus' power.

...

Stealing the Fire:

An open letter to Prometheus:

When Zeus looks down into your eyes
He'll seal your fate, and all your fame,
If you're going to steal the fire
You'll have to touch the flame.

...

Was it one year or one second? It's so blurred in my mind...

Healthy Reminder

2005-10-27T15:59:00.000-04:00

Just a healthy reminder to all who post poetry on this site: Make sure you follow up your post with explanations/interpretations at either a DPS meeting, or in a DPS posting.

Thankyou,

DPS Admin

I made it....finally

2005-10-27T00:38:00.000-04:00

Hey Guys and Girl,
I finally made it onto the site. It looks great. Cindy and I held our own DPS on Wednesday night at midnight (so really it was Thursday morning). So ha. Though it wasn't official since everyone wasn't there, we discussed T.S. Eliot's Portrait of a Lady (as transcribed by Cindy), some personal poems by said attendees, and Emily Dickenson's This World Is Not Conclusion. Fun was had by all. Being me, and Cindy. And we also discussed attire for the upcoming Halloween Parties. Chocolate was consumed vigorously and quickly. We partook
(please check spelling on this) of Cream Soda and became overly hyper. The transpiring of the evening resulted in Halloween decorations being constructed and displayed in the windows, harkening the arrival of dark festivities. MWAHAHAHAHA. (I'm sure you heard Cindy's evil shriek from there). Signing off on my first of a never ending line of posts...
me (Caroline)

This World Is Not Conclusion

2005-10-25T14:04:00.000-04:00

This World is not Conclusion.
A Species stands beyond-
Invisible, as Music-
But positive, as Sound-
It beckons, and it baffles-
Philosophy-don't know-
And through a Riddle, at the last-
Sagacity, must go-
To guess it, puzzles scholars-
To gain it, Men have borne
Contempt of Generations
And Crucifixion, shown-
Faith slips- and laughs, and rallies-
Blushes, if any see-
Plucks at a twig of Evidence-
And asks a Vane, the way-
Much gesture, from the Pulpit-
Strong Hallelujahs roll-
Narcotics cannot still the Tooth
That nibbles at the soul-

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

To follow up on this as DPS Admin requested I posted this poem because it spoke of life after death and there are several good points about how we cannot completely understand the meaning of life after death.

MEANING

2005-10-23T14:16:00.000-04:00

MEANING

I may speak sacred words,

I may seek to learn,

All knowledge,

Mysteries unknown,

The mind of the learned,

Intellect well known,

In a sea of glass,

Impenetrable,

Who am I without love?

Worthless,

Without Love.

An empty sound,

Without meaning,

Annoying,

Clang,

Bang,

Crash,

Deafening,

Words, dangerous words,

Without love to guard them.

Faith may be strong,

But on what,

Selfish inner desires,

Or on the love of God.

Action without meaning,

Action to please,

What others see,

Men-pleasers,

That may be!

Faith even to death,

Why?

For Him or me,

For Him or what others think?

Earnest love,

Of the one on High,

Perfect love,

Combined with faith,

Mixed with hope,

Faith, love, hope,

Greatest of all,

Without it empty shell,

Love.

I wrote this poem based on 1 Corinthians 1: 1-3

FULFILLING LOVE

Smiles and songs,

In my heart.

Love reaching into my very soul,

Pulling me gently out of the dark endlesness,

lifting me out, new start.

He loves me,

loves my soul,

Shows me the sun,

In the worst of times,

He whispers my name,

Through His Son,

Trust again,

Love.

Do not despair,

Revel in His love,

And take time to care,

Care for His people,

Your companions,

Your friends,

Show them His love,

Right to the end.

By Cindy Lonsberry

Doubly Blind

2005-10-20T13:48:00.000-04:00

Doubly Blind

The quiet heart amidst a sea of noise
Peace, tranquility; it is alive.
Empty stares pierce the blind
Such rush, its a wonder they don't trip.
O yes, it is in a different sense,
What danger then, to be blind
And not know.
Let dirt and spittle fly!
Perchance to hit the eye
And now doubly blind they'll cry!

-the bard

Meeting #3 Minutes

2005-10-20T13:18:00.000-04:00

Dead Poet's Society Meeting #3 Minutes

Present: Cindy, Caroline, Venessa, Valerie, Noah, Todd.

Motion for name change: Cancelled again due to the absence of our beloved Jerry

Todd
1. Yeats The Second Coming
-spent time focused on the 'gyre' image, which was created by Yeats. A general encouragement was pronounced that Poetry should be something unique. Create images and symbols, invent words and ideas (but always be ready to explain them!)

2. Todd Doubly Blind
-Contrast of spiritual and physical blindness
-Use of a punctuating rhyme scheme at the end of free verse.
-Idea that human kind will never cry out until they recognize they are blind spiritually.
-Allusion to Jesus healing a blind man by putting mud in his eyes.

Caroline
1. Caroline (possibly: Walking on Dragonflies)
-Contradiction of terms makes for an interesting comparison in thought.
-One can't literally walk on dragonflies.
-A sense of the fantastical. Good use of imagination and originality to help provoke thought and ideas.
-Is poetry limited to what we can understand of it?

Vanessa
1. Vanessa Selina Pierson (graveyard poetry)
-Very unique style of poetry, which is a fantastic addition to the group.
-Very vivid descriptions, which assault the senses.
-Good perspective. The graveyard perspective is one where good and bad memories flow just as easily.

Valerie
1. Valerie Al Purdy "Rhodedendron" inspired this poem > Celestial Citizens
-Description of Heaven, with a very different mix of elements.
-Based on Revelation 7:9-10. Some example are the "glass sea" and "tongues of fire"
-Elaborate description of simple concepts (or specific concepts) heightens the poetry.

Noah
1. Noah To See Lines in Her Name
-Very honest love poem about his future wife, whomever that may be.
-this woman is the most beautiful poetry to Noah. *sniff, tear* :)

Transaction
-language controls us (specifically English)
-Is that a positive or a negative thing?
-unique use of enjambment throught the poem (When a line is carried over the the next line in a poem)
ie. The dog ran toward
my house.
And ate my slipper.
-the bard

2. T.S. Eliot Journey of the Magi
-Superimposition of three different periods: Christ`s birth, death, and return.
Noah`s Essay on Journey of the Magi
-Closure - Birth of Christ leads to the death of other Religions
-Closure for the Magi
-What kind of closure is there for the reader?

Cindy
1. Gerard Hopkins The Caged Skylark
-Musical nature to Hopkin`s poetry.
-moved from being a Protestant to being a Catholic... his wife was not pleased...
-Comparison of Bird and Man
-Body is a cage for the soul, just as a bird is caged from flying away.
-Death is freedom from that cage, freedom for the soul.

2. Cindy Fallen
-Allusion used in this poem. Leaves falling from a tree synbolic of... I`m not sure what.

Yellow Ball
-good style. Very descriptive look at a walk.

Next Meeting: Novemeber 03, 2005.

Next meeting:
- poem from an artist/poet
- personal poem
-There will be some general discussion about Literary Terms in Poetry (ie. metaphors, polysyndenton, etc...) as well as discussion on Poetic formats of meter and rhyme (Iambic Pentameter, couplets, sonnets, etc..)

Have a great reading break one and all!!

-the bard

The Last poem

2005-10-19T21:58:00.000-04:00

where there is a period at the end of a sentence a new verse was supposed to start but it did not work right for WALK

Hi It's me Cindy

2005-10-19T21:11:00.000-04:00

Thank you DPS Admin for inviting me to this site. It's really appreciated. I went for a walk this morning and then I wrote a poem about it. It was quite the walk as you soon will see.

WALK

I went for a walk today,

Thinking it wouldn't rain,

But all in vain.

A blowy, blustery day,

Crunch,

Crisp, crunch,

Is what the leaves have to say,

Mounds to run through,

Fun,

Child instinct,

Running through the field,

Unable to contain excitement,

Unable to resist the thrill.

What is that?

Drops on the rocks,

Drip drop,

Spotted rocks.

The brisk wind on my face,

Flocks of geese,

Coast down to the river,

Disappear behind the trees.

What is this?

A rain shower,

Oh well,

Keep walking,

The wind is picking up,

Wildly blowing on my hair.

Look,

A squirrel,

Big green apple,

In its mouth,

I stop to stare.

He stares back as if to say,

How dare you challenge me,

It's my apple,

Not yours.

Now the rain,

Is falling down in torrents,

Completely drenched,

Down the narrow lane,

Homebound.

It did rain,

After all,

And for me to say it wouldn't,

I shake my head and laugh,

It was a good walk,

Just the same,

And I will walk again.

Meeting #2 Minutes

2005-10-19T10:56:00.000-04:00

Dead Poet's Society, Meeting #2 Minutes

Present: Caroline, Cindy, Noah, Todd

Motion: Change the name of the club to: The DPS
-since the motion was to be nominated by Jerry Bolton it will post-poned until next the next time Jerry is at the meeting.

Caroline
1. Analysis of On Monsier's Departure
-interesting discussion on whether it was written by a male or a female.

2. Caroline's Poem
no title given - "... it is so easy to forget."

Some thoughts to consider about this piece:
- do not let this be one in a series of mistakes.
-instant gratification brings some consequences.
>Caroline played a pun with the word "deja vu" (very sneaky)

General thoughts flowing from this discussion:
-What is the purpose of poetry?
-Should it be purely the author's interpretation, or the reader's? Or should there be balance?
-What about ambiguity/understanding?
((btw, the bathroom is a creepy place for pictures of your friends!))

Cindy
1. Gerard Hopkins: The Caged Skylark (to be discussed next week)

2. Friend's Poem: Christ - The Sunrise of My Soul
-Discussion about Structure in Poetry ensued
-Noah commented that he tends to be cynical toward poetry

Noah
1. T.S. Eliot
-Influenced by Fascism and Christianity

The Hollow Man
-Allusion to Julius Caesar, Heart of Darkness, and Gunpowder plot.
-A hollow man is basically a man with no character.
-"not with a bang but a whimper"
- party bang, or destruction bang?

((the unknown exists between the reality and the thought))

2. Silent in Your Car (Noah Salo)
-As long as you've been in a car and in love this poetry should be fairly straightforward.
-the key to this poem = Noah

Todd
1. Beloved Derek Webb

2. 10 O'clock

sorry about being late folks, i'll get on it quicker next time. Jerry i want to here what you got. Assignment for this coming thursday:

1 poem from an artist/poet
1 personal poem

(just like last time except a different piece to discuss)

-the bard

To See Lines in Her Name

2005-10-19T01:24:00.000-04:00

Hmm... It appears as though Todd is slacking and not putting up the minutes. Just kidding, no big deal. Toddy's probably busy with a billion essays right now.

Here's a poem I wrote at 1:30 am a few days ago. It's probably the most authentic "love" poem I've ever written... and I don't even think its bad. Funny thing, there isn't a "special someone" its aimed at... it's a general expression of that feeling I get when I really fall for someone. It's what I want to feel for my wife someday. The quotation is from Amber (though again, the poem itself is not about her). She told me that when I talk I don't just speak, instead I make essays in my head out of ordinary things. Interesting thought.

To See Lines in Her Name

She said that I
"speak
like an essay"
and "weave
arguments"
in my brain.

But I
think
like a poet
and see
lines
in her name.

Life's Answer

2005-10-19T01:18:00.000-04:00

Note: This poem and notes by Cindy. I am posting by proxy at the moment until she activates her membership.- The DPS Admin

Life's Answer

Is life a waste,

If you spend it in haste?

Is life a passing dream,

That dances like a sunbeam?

With moonlit nights,

With shadows and starlight,

With laughter and rippling brooks,

With kindness and pleasant looks,

With those special people who really care,

And who will stretch out there hand,

To help a stranger.

So many questions,

Thant need answers,

There is one answer that I know,

And it is just so,

when the mortal body shall fade away,

The human soul will either live eternally,

Or suffer the wrath of the most high God,

The Almighty

Cindy's Notes:

My reason for writing is because I love it. Ever since I have been able to hold a pencil I have been writing. When I first really was interested in poetry writing was when I was thirteen years old and since then I have not been able to stop. I have also written a children's fantasy story which is currently being illustrated and am starting a novel about my mother's life. My inspiration through the years has been nature, my mother and my Heavenly Father. I do not really determine my writing style before I start writing. I determine it once I start writing the poem and try to follow the structure as closely as I can.

Obituary For A Dream

2005-10-10T21:45:00.000-04:00

This is one of my favorites:

this dream has breathed its last
and now it flickers and fades
into a collage of invisible things
hiding beneath vulture's wings

and the carrion shall feed
and my heart will mend
and the world will change
and this dream has come to an end

I'm trying to be like Gertrude Stein

2005-10-10T19:50:00.000-04:00

When I read a poet I've never read before, I like to try and get inside his or her head a bit by writing a poem in his or her style. So here's my attempt to be like Gertrude Stein, with all my "they're killing us" intact...

foot note # 40:15

shiny elephant hippopotamus broken bloody split skip
rope
esophagus
filthy hippotopamus tales like tails like see dar's cedars feeders feed
her's
behemoth elephant hippopotamus
phil the phil the fill the philanderer philander her fill and her
philandher phil and her
split body
broken gore apple core

Meaning

2005-10-07T20:27:00.000-04:00

This is one of Caroline's poems. It is about meaning disappearing. It was her goal to skew the meaning of the poem as much as possible in order to create the effect of meaning disappearing in the structure of the poem itself. She enlisted me to do some grammatical / line editing. We collectively worked on the line breaks and punctuation (while she most likely should have been helping someone sign out books at the Trent Library):

Meaning; why
have
you left this waste
land devoid
of sense and
nonsense
where one
cannot
be found without
the
other?

PS: Caroline, this is my favourite poem of yours. Keep it up.

Coming on board.

2005-10-07T10:49:00.000-04:00

Greetings. I'd just like to point out that Todd and Noah are stand-up fellows, and that this society needs a new name... maybe it can be just "THE DPS". Works for me anyway.

Will edit to add something poetical.

More Meeting #1

2005-10-07T03:01:00.000-04:00

Quotation from Meeting #1 Minutes:

"Jerry pointed out that it disrupts the flow of the rest of the poem by drawing the reader's mind to a song in which these lines are used at the ending."

Actually, not a song. It's from the poem "The Hollow Men" by T.S. Eliot, though Project 86 alludes to it in the song "Hollow Again."

Allusion seemed to be the topic of the day. The main question was: When does allusion cease to be effective and become plagiarism?

In a way all allusion is plagiarism, but it is also a form of respect. For a poet to effectively use allusion as a poetic device the poet must have a thorough understanding of the text being alluded to, and the allusion itself must be appropriate. A forced allusion shows a shallow understanding of the source text as well as immaturity as a writer.

We all go through this stage, and I'm sure in six months I'll blush reading my current work.

Next week I intend to discuss Eliot's "The Hollow Men" since it became a point of interest.

Prepare to have your work thoroughly edited. Ideally, bring a typed manuscript of your work so we can peer review.

I'll Allude to You

2005-10-06T16:48:00.000-04:00

I'll Allude to you
However I like;
Unpublished and unknown.

But you will never
Understand the effect;
Detached and all alone.

Fresh thoughts found under the sun;
Fresh verse which brings such joy;

If you can find it,
I'll allude to you.

-the bard
(October 06, 2005)

Meeting #1 Minutes

2005-10-06T16:19:00.000-04:00

Dead Poet's Society, Meeting #1 Minutes

Present: Carolyn, Cindy, Jerry, Noah, Todd.

1. William Carlos Williams
Red Wheelbarrow (56) Selected Poems --->see Noah
To have Done Nothing (42) Selected Poems

-what can I say? we tore apart a couple of his more loved (and hated) poems. Noah and Jerry were torn on whether a wheelbarrow was too ordinary a concept to be the primary subject of a poem. Noah also provided some key background information and a semi grueling (though I always love it) grammatical explanation of "to have done nothing".

2. Walt Whitman
Birds of Passage (181) Leaves of Grass -Part 1---> see Noah

-just a light read, no analysis given.

3. Noah Salo
specific analysis of:"Un-Deliever"

-As a group we analysed the validity of Noah's middle stanza, with particular reference to the structure. Jerry made some very interesting comments about the discord between the bold lines (as seen below) and the rest of the stanza. Jerry pointed out that it disrupts the flow of the rest of the poem by drawing the reader's mind to a song in which these lines are used at the ending. (Sorry guys I forget the song) Some interesting discussion ensued, but ultimately it is up to Noah to decide what to do with it. (i also like the revision to include 'irate')

Closing with a bang
And a whimper!

With a lie
and a shudder!

With an enemy
that's a brother!

4. Jerry Bolton
Project 86 (The hand, the Furnace and a Straight Face)

-The basic interepretation was generally accepted about the lyrics in this song, but the title and the last lines were discussed quite extensively. Many ideas were brought forth as to the meaning, but a general consensus (but by no means a concrete verdict) was that it spoke of God's refining work in our lives as believers. The straight face is an acceptance of the pain (or discipline) that often accompanies sanctification. Props to Jer for unpacking this one.

5. Cindy (I forget your last name and probably should be shot)
King Lear (a poem by Cindy)
Hope
Wood Nymph

-Cindy presented an interesting style of poetry to the group, which excited me due to the growing diversity of the Dead Poet's Society. 'Hope' presented the reader with a clear description of where our hope is found, namely God.

6. Todd
I wrote a poem in the middle of the meeting... I'll post it seperately for comments.

7. For Next Week
-Each person is to bring a poem or lyric from a secondary author as well as one of their own creation. Be prepared to discuss.

-the bard

Two Poems by William Carlos Williams with Close Readings

2005-10-01T01:11:00.000-04:00

The Red Wheelbarrow

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens

(From "Selected Poems" ed. Charles Tomlinson)

Close Reading:

Williams uses simple words and objects in an impersonal manner, yet this is subverted by the phase “So much depends / upon” which insists that no matter ho simple the subject matter it is important.
The poem is a single sentence, stretched over four stanzas, with eight total lines, half of which contain only one word. This elongates the reader’s experience, forcing the reader to focus on each individual image.
The poem shows the influence of cubism, a French art movement in which the painters would paint the subject from all available angles to create the most complete picture possible. Williams’s poem implants simple, distinct, colourful images in the mind of the reader and effectively becomes a poetic painting.
James E. Breslin notes “…short jagged lines and long vowels slow down our movement through the poem, breaking off each part for exact observation.”
There is a clear passion in the poem, developed by the continued study of the subject.
Charles Tomlinson argues that, “…what depends on the wheelbarrow…is that its presence can be rendered over into words.”

To Have Done Nothing

No that is not it
nothing that I have done
nothing
I have done

is made up of
nothing
and the diphthong

ae

together with
the first person
singular
indicative

of the auxiliary
verb
to have

everything
I have done
is the same

if to do
is capable
of an
infinity of
combinations

involving the
moral
physical
and religious

codes

for everything
and nothing
are synonymous
when

energy in vacuo
has the power
of confusion

which only to
have done nothing
can make
perfect

(From "Selected Poems" ed. Charles Tomlinson)


Close Reading

Williams wrote in the margins of the manuscript, “I was trying to think out loud.”
This poem could be seen as Williams’s manifesto: the removal of the person from the poetry to focus on images. Instead of focusing on the Speaker’s interpretation of the subject of the poem, the readers must rely on their own interpretations.
The poem is an exercise in grammatical deconstruction.
The phrase “Nothing I have done” is immediately dissected into its components: the word “nothing,” “the diphthong // ae,” (I) and the “first person / singular / indicative // of the auxiliary / verb / to have” (simply, have).
The main focus of the poem is, as Christopher J. MacGowan argues, the “capability of the infinitive ‘to do’”
“To do” potentially has “an infinity of / combinations,” but is limited by “moral / physical / and religious // codes”
This is because “to do is what all verbs, as parts of speech expressing action, do.” (Sherman Paul)
“Everything / and nothing” become synonymous when the “energy” of the language is destroyed by all the “codes” making “nothing” and “everything” feel the same.
In this situation, Williams argues that only “to / have done nothing / can make / perfect.” Note that “to have done nothing” is in the past perfect tense.
The main thesis of the poem becomes not what has been done, but what could be done.

Bibliography:

Breslin, James E. William Carlos Williams: An American Artist. New York: Oxford UP, 1970

MacGowan, Christopher J. William Carlos Williams Early Poetry: The Visual Arts

Background. Ann Arbour, Michigan: UMI Research Press, 1984

Mariani, Paul L. William Carlos Williams: The Poet and His Critics. Chicago: American Library Association, 1975.

The Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry. Ed. Ramazani, Jahan, et al. New York: Norton, 2003

Paul, Sherman. The Music of Survival. Urbana, Chicago, London: U of Illinois P, 1968

Tomlinson, Chirstoper, ed. William Carlos Williams: Selected Poems. By William Carlos

Williams. New York: New Directions, 1985

Williams, William Carlos. The Collected Poems of William Carlos Williams ed. Litz, A.

Walton and MacGowan, Christopher. Vol. 1:1919-1939. 2 vols. New York: New Directions, 1991

Response to Walt

2005-09-30T17:16:00.000-04:00

The first poem "O Me, O Life" inspires me every time I read it. When I think about it through the lenses of faith, I agree with Walt on so many levels. "The endless trains of the faithless", "of cities filled with the foolish", speak a great deal of how lost our society is. Where is the meaning to life found? His answer: The fact that you are alive! Thank God! For that is where I find identity. And more than this, I am able to contribute to this life. What will I do? How will I live for Christ? These are the questions that inspire me to live a more godly life. I am not sure if this is how Whitman meant it to be taken, but this is how I take it.

In the Second Poem, I am inspired by the thought of leadership. Lincoln was a great leader, and in the same way I think I aspire to be a good leader in whatever role I am placed in(marriage being foremost on my mind). "The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won;" speaka of a consistent lifestyle. A man who's character is of good report; godly character. Also, I see Christ as a metaphor for Whitman's "captain". When the day is done, I will follow my captain no matter where he goes, through whatever danger.

More Walt

2005-09-30T15:43:00.000-04:00

Here's a poem I wrote in response to Walt Whitman's "One's-self I Sing"

"Old Walt"
Your words etched in the rock, breaking the water.
Still there, forever, greeting me as I sing.

Your words etched by a different hand, my fingers in the cracks:

Of democracy I sing.
Of working men, with their tired lives and broken eyes.
Their flat words, empty, they sing.

Reverberate off pale walls. Sing them your songs.

Of dignity and value I sing, and all are equal.
Of lonliness and dead ideals,
Shattered love I sing.

Oh, my tongue is not worthy of the Muse!

Of Postmodern Man I sing, and my voice cracks with the sound.

What drew you to the particular poems that you posted? What is your interpretation of them?

Response to "The Beginnings"

2005-09-30T15:38:00.000-04:00

Added lines:
I was reciting the poem to myself in my head and started ad-libbing, however, I haven't actually said it out loud yet. I'm still in the editing phase of course.

"The Things I Will Not Do Today:"

This is intentionally sarcastic. I had recently been rebuked (somewhat unfoundedly) for questioning someone's doctrinal beliefs. I was a bit upset by the response, and I wrote this. The serious lines are interspersed with false ones, so its really up to you to decide which voice is actually mine.

Uncle Walt again...

2005-09-30T14:43:00.000-04:00

O Captain! My Captain!

by Walt Whitman

O captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the stead keel, the vessel grim and daring.

But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red!
Where on the deck my captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

II.

O captain! my captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up! for you the flag is flung, for you the bugle trills:
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths, for you the shores a-crowding:
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning.

O captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck
You've fallen cold and dead.

III.

My captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will.
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done:
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won!

Exult, O abores! and ring, O bells!
But I, with silent tread,
Walk the spot my captain lies
Fallen cold and dead.

Uncle Walt

2005-09-30T14:39:00.000-04:00

Walt Whitman

O Me! O Life!

O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless--of cities fill'd with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light--of the objects mean--of the struggle ever renew'd;
Of the poor results of all--of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest--with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring--What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here--that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.