Dovina
replying on Archivist of Emotion by Dovina
14 Oct 2004, 5:28 PM
Illumined means illuminated. How is it forced?
illumined? Its nice writing but it sounds a little forced.
<3 Jason
Reminds me of alot of Beowulf. I would have called it Grendel.
Last Stanza, "Allow 'Your' grace", other than that, a nice prayer. -8-
In Verse 1, the two couplets seem unrelated until I get to the last line of Verse 2. The first 2 lines of Verse 2 seem choppy and wordy. It's a good thought, but you might want to consider rearranging the lines.
Thank you.
this is funny
um, it wouldnt rhyme(sp?)
The poem is wonderful. I am happy that you wrote this poem rather than thinking about some of these pointless comments.
As -=D_A=-,P.I. recently expostulated, you leave your work so open to interpretation as to undo any actual impact of your confused use of adjectives.
A brogue can not be a truth, a brogue is a reality and in its very form lies its beauty conceal withered heels and Bill Oddies clawed feet whilst at the same time conveying a sense of beauty to those who behold the mesmerising chimera of its ancient patterns.
You are too kind. I shall try as best my humble efforts can to incorporate your suggestion.
BROGUEISM:
In London pubs we listen
For brogue truth we need
While the pavement tells another tale
Unthinkable, unseen
Practicality plays to an empty house.
Sneakered feet of distance walkers,
Appreciated, not inspected
Speaking truths to peasants
To look with fashion eyes
Clouded dim by lack of blisters
Trust and obey
We’ll show you the way
Much better
end last line with
thats why i hate most
poems of love
better flow, good blast of words
A story unfortunate as I have heard,
But yet t'would never have occurred,
Had thou heeded the cobbler's word:
"Listen now Master and thy feet gird,
Not with shoes so plainly absurd,
As Poulainnes or it will be inferred,
That you are a huge festering turd"
Astounding.
Wilfred Owen was ruined for me by a bearded teacher whom in our third year (Really year 10? I didn't realise attending a Royal Grammar School meant you had the same form structure as Grange Hill) informed us all that Wilfred has a bum sexual who liked to receive it from Siegfried Sasson. Having recently reread Memoirs of Fox Hunting man I feel sure that Siegfried hunted both foxes and badgers but still like to believe that you don't have to be a massive homa to write good poetry.
By the way, did you see that your old physics teacher was such a dunce he had to sit his GCSE Maths? I hope you never told people you went to a "public school" whilst at college and instead pointed out you went to a fee paying grammar school.
A splendid juxtaposition. Answering as many questions as it poses, closing as many doors at it opens. A maginicent edifice upon which to build the real foundations of a splendid career in observational poetry. Not many people take on the whole God versus Darwin theme and fewer still succeed in such a candid and abstract formulation to illustrate the stark, and when highlighted, glaring similar differences. The whole poem revolves around the forest/record counter-analogy which is such a subtle play on the words as to probably escape the grasp of most rankers.
Although a pithy crumb to offer up to an altar of omni-knowledge, I would like to highlight that there is a word which transcends the two halves of this poem. And that I am afraid is the brogue. Neither the creation, alone, of a deity nor the result of man's need to clad his feet, the brogue typifies the grey areas left untrammelled by your fine words. The brogue is an example of the expedience of evolution confronting the glory of ornate religion combining to suffuse the surface of an otherwise ugly, plain shoe with the beauty of a greater more magnificent entity.
In summary I believe this poem would be better had you alluded to the brogues role in whole creation debate. I believe Darwin himself was a man clad from ankle to toe in the finest brogues from the whole of Northampton.
Excellent, but I don't think punctuation improves on haikus. Meaningful and thought provoking, friends are such rare and fragile things.
I have decided upon re-reading my own work that the main portion of this item was designed merely as a prolongment of my true message.
As this goes against my belief in the truest qualities of communication, I have left only the portion that has ever had real meaning.