Sunday, May 23, 2010

The poem below.

Just a note for anyone who reads the post below this one.  When I stopped writing verse over ten years ago I had been wanting to develop a form whereby rhyming, metered verse morphed into prose, and perhaps back again in one work.  This can have a humorous effect, but also, if the morph is smooth and the subject serious the effect is perhaps too uncomfortable to work.

The intention was to highlight the differences between poetry and prose, particularly at the level of meaning.  It's like the difference between singing and speaking, but not so strong.  Opera lovers will know about this, but in pure music there is no counterpart.

Writers of modern gobbledegook that avoids music, form, meter, and rhyme, and as far as I can tell, meaning arouses no curiosity in me at all.  With prose, if I don't understand it then it's probably my fault.  So if you do read the lines below please don't look for any levels of meaning but the one on top.  Thank you friends.


  1. Some of the earliest poems my mother taught me when I was still in diapers are considered racist nowadays.

    We are having some delightful weather here today. I have been out for a brief period and sat in a chair and listened to the birds singing and the mother robin scolding her baby about going there or here. The hummingbird popped in on me and left before I could really get a good look. I find I can fall asleep at the drop of a hat and it feels so good to wake up and realize it is still daylight. Your flowers are beautiful. I have some open but not much variety yet.

  2. Thank you my friend for popping in. There is more poetry in a comment from you than you find in some poetry sites. I have been thinking of you a lot since (and during) a recent severe bronchial asthma attack, starting on the night before a public holiday here on Corfu, and quickly exhausting my sprays that would have fixed it. You will know what 7 hours of fighting for breath means, but I hope you don't know what driving a scooter miles to find ALL chemists closed, and not a note of where the emergency ones are. A neighbour took me to the local health centre where oxygen plus did the trick.

    Until the next night. 10 days previously the health centre doctor had refused to prescribe my Seretide inhaler because my book needed a yearly stamp. This was after a four hour's wait for it. He could have written it - marking it as needing the number, because the chemist would have given me the drugs and wait for the number (which they did later). But this is Greece - as people like saying here.

    Your situation is desperate, and I pray that you find the best treatment. Take care, Bob

  3. Hi Corfubob, how are you feeling sir? I'm just poking about your nice site. Hope you are well.
    Mr Monkey

  4. Mr Monkey, I am well but bad. A broke computer is no excuse for not thanking you for your visit, but also this blog refuses to mail me when comments are left - I can't work out why. Do you know. I am coming to see you soon. Go well. Bob

  5. re:just a note to anyone reading the post below this one....great to hear something and readsomething about personal approach to poetry, to listening, to expression. I have a monday morning group here in Cincinnati all of whom are older folks who write with great alacrity and a sense of confrontation, a sense of immediacy, urgency and i love that. most attendees come every monday morning and read fiction, poetry something according to the draw of small green tiles (for 10 minutes) yellow for five minutes. your post reminds me to be more patient with my presentation of poetry for the element of trust is implicit in the exchange of ideas and the skill of listening. almost all writers are keen listeners and are learning to listen for poetry and the magic of it . It has been a battle to get them to listen something as they are all avid writers and i find them champing at the bit to read nd some are sitting , paper in hand, waiting for me to finish so they can talk.I don't leadthe group. there is much practical psychology in getting them to listen so my opening remarks if at all (given) are short and self-depracating which i find they easily dismiss since self depraction is a rhetorical art form of speech for the older prticipant, the older indiv.( in small groups)so even a mort (sall)sahl-ism isn't especially appreciated but when used is a wake-up call.

    anyway the fear based premptive penumbra of atonality as people stategically demurr, well... all that is stranded on the gutter bar of small ocean shoals when good poetry is read. so i am now trusted a little and trusted enough to say something of the craft and the way I am affected by craft especially in this beautiful little jewel of yours in the post above.

  6. Very interesting blog! Nice to have your comment!
    See U!

  7. Beautiful *****! Interesting blog!