on some deleted poem
1 Dec 2003, 11:37 AM
Poems about poetry writing I find a bit naff. The stand out here is 'so many long, artistically vacuous lines of prose' because that is exactly what it is. Good show.
on some deleted poem
1 Dec 2003, 11:51 AM
like it, especially verse two, the quick rhythm then image 'sour grapes'.
on some deleted poem
1 Dec 2003, 11:56 AM
I guess this is a play on - infinity is a monkey typing the entire works of shakespeare an infinite number of times.
Nicely written.
Playing with its absurdity.
Nicely written.
Playing with its absurdity.
on For Brianna by MaliqaTara
1 Dec 2003, 12:00 PM
It is oddly strange. The realisation (only about half way through for me) that the other person looking after your baby was god (whichever). Gave this a kind of playful theme out of context.
Good though
Good though
on Leap! by Jill Stockinger
1 Dec 2003, 2:11 PM
Reads well, each line a small packaged thought.
I must continue leaping is a fairly weak end though.
Not sure if I would call it concrete either
I must continue leaping is a fairly weak end though.
Not sure if I would call it concrete either
on some deleted poem
2 Dec 2003, 6:25 AM
The journey is to their death. Six men set off on a journey, and there were two you did not mention?
Anyway one for you:
An ancient inheritance law says the fortune of a rich man can only go to one person. When Mr McRich died he had two sons. The executor of the will set a task for the two brothers to see who would get the money.
The task, to see whose camel made it into town last. The brothers set of from the outskirts slowly, one raced ahead, pulled backwards. Soon they realised they would never get into town, so they asked a wise man what to do.
What was his answer.
Anyway one for you:
An ancient inheritance law says the fortune of a rich man can only go to one person. When Mr McRich died he had two sons. The executor of the will set a task for the two brothers to see who would get the money.
The task, to see whose camel made it into town last. The brothers set of from the outskirts slowly, one raced ahead, pulled backwards. Soon they realised they would never get into town, so they asked a wise man what to do.
What was his answer.
on some deleted poem
2 Dec 2003, 1:18 PM
'for her son, for the nude young male who lounges against a rock displaying his dildo ... whose works are but extensions of power to charm? From this weathered outcrop'
Auden knew about the rise of the limestone too.
This is quite cute, very readable, the end is plain daft though. Like the funny names too
Auden knew about the rise of the limestone too.
This is quite cute, very readable, the end is plain daft though. Like the funny names too
on They who would have me forget by BleedingRose
2 Dec 2003, 1:22 PM
good rhythm I think. Acid does not ache you though, it burns. In fact acid rain is too weak to do much at all, dissolve gravestones slowly perhaps.
on some deleted poem
2 Dec 2003, 2:09 PM
very good, little else to say.
on some deleted poem
3 Dec 2003, 12:20 PM
hmmm, consciousness I think does not mediate anything.
The information processing, the neurons within the brain attend to stimuli. If attention is sufficient that stimulus is brought into consciousness.
And did you know that bar decay of the brain we never forget anything. It just can become too distantly connected to be retrieved.
Other than that, a clever idea, memory vs memories. Like the half rhyme consciousness and synapse too
The information processing, the neurons within the brain attend to stimuli. If attention is sufficient that stimulus is brought into consciousness.
And did you know that bar decay of the brain we never forget anything. It just can become too distantly connected to be retrieved.
Other than that, a clever idea, memory vs memories. Like the half rhyme consciousness and synapse too
on my hunger has become a hunger for revenge by nentwined
3 Dec 2003, 12:24 PM
'Hmmm I need some inspiration/ want to write a poem/ feeling a bit hungry/ heh hungry for revenge/heh heh heh.'
on some deleted poem
4 Dec 2003, 9:22 AM
Like the line spacing, and it certainly reads well. Quite cold/ clinical even. Always beware of pop psych cliches though for they are the worst kind.
on The War On Pedophilia by miraclemaker
4 Dec 2003, 9:27 AM
ok the first half if not a little confusing. The number of images drag the reader about too much. The second part you seem to be writing about yourself for some reason, did you get bored of the paedophilia thing.
on Thankless by shadowaura
6 Dec 2003, 10:07 AM
too many poems about seeing yourself in the mirror, no fresh insights here.
This one is fairly lucid though, like the little rhymes.
This one is fairly lucid though, like the little rhymes.
on ~haiku~ by Entelechist
8 Dec 2003, 3:52 PM
Liquid sadness is a little crude a description. A teardrop drowns the world? why rain (the sky weeps) does not drown the word.
I know what you are trying to say but it just doesn't seem to track.
I know what you are trying to say but it just doesn't seem to track.
on One Moment in Time by katie_jean
8 Dec 2003, 3:57 PM
Scarcely an image in the entire poem. I want to believe you I do. But its so distant, just words.
on To Dark Angel by zagerXizer
10 Dec 2003, 11:19 AM
I love the way you say this poeme took five minutes to write before you even reached the end.
As an end line I suggest this poem should be:
'it only took me 6 minutes to write, 6.02 now, damn 6.10....
.....
.....
.....
As an end line I suggest this poem should be:
'it only took me 6 minutes to write, 6.02 now, damn 6.10....
.....
.....
.....
on Dolphins Of Dorset by Caducus
11 Dec 2003, 3:04 PM
like the idea dolphins of dorset (there are no dolphins in dorset) it sounds kind of folklore, gives a nice gentle feel.
Like the snappy wisdom (almost beatish) of searching for god, and memory is a friend.
One quibble, the final verse 'my thorns'. Seems detached from the earlier metaphor. Needs to follow through the image of cutting yourself on the thorns.
Like the snappy wisdom (almost beatish) of searching for god, and memory is a friend.
One quibble, the final verse 'my thorns'. Seems detached from the earlier metaphor. Needs to follow through the image of cutting yourself on the thorns.