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che wrote:

mickey_one wrote: I do know very well how Leonard regards parody of his own work, not just from his reaction at the Green Note yesterday but his previous responses to ones I have written. mickey_one

mickey_one this thing is so cool that Leonard talk to you in the Green Note Cafe about your parody of his work and that he have wrote you before this time about your other making of his parody. This must make you feel most happely proud.

Sadly, the previous responses have only been at a distance. They were comments passed on after he viewed the tapes of the Events where we have open mic sessions and poetry jams as well. I am certain he is equally complimentary about all the performances he sees.

Jimmy O'Connell wrote: Some of us poets get much too touchy, be times...

Jimmy

hee hee.

but meantimes other poets thank the critic for his time and attention and even make their revisions and repost.

such poets receive less attention from the professional rescuers here, who are often just stirrers in disguise. (Stirrer Guidelines - if you have offered less crits than alpha male theories then you're a stirrer. If you are trying to revive a minute and worn-out spat youa re a stirrer. If you emerge from the silence to moan about others you are just a stirrer. I see Jimmy is comfortably on the right side of this balance. The hardon footprint of certain egos is equally clear to see).

some good poetry exercises go on here which may be a little too demanding for the stirrers who rarely seem to have the time or care to take part.

lizzytysh wrote:I hope you don't keep losing your shoe beneath the romaine.
A little too much punch in your salad.

It wouldn't be so bad if the romaine didn't keep slipping off my feet.

~~

Charlie Chaplin showed the proper way to boil a shoe, in "The Gold Rush",

They're done when the shoe laces are "al dente".

(which means "to the teeth" in Italian, and comes from
the ancient Italian proverb, passed on from mother to daughter
for generations, about the husband who bashed his wife's teeth in
when she ruined the spaghetti.)

Well, I guess that's one way to implicitly sanction spouse abuse... make a proverb of it .


~ Lizzy

warning: the weather has made an abrupt change here, and my head is all a'fuzz. This post may make no sense.

William deleted, but (thanks, Greg) first wrote: If, as they say, the world was different then,
what is it now but different yet again?
So much of the past is held inside your heart,
showing itself in the ways you make an art
of everything. Your hedges neatly laid,
crops all tended, logs stacked with care, drills well made.
And from your deft hands the animals run loose
finding shape and contour in the woods you use.
In lilac, birch, chestnut, oak. Alive, complete,
each creature recovering its true heartbeat.

Treasuring the warmth we feel in being your friends,
we are drawn magnetic to you. In the end,
the knowledge gathered in all these years of living
returns in your generosity and giving.

The first two lines tell us that if a is different from b, then b is different from a. This is one of the obvious truths of the world that is covered in infant cognitive development. If left to themselves, I would roll my eyes at these two lines, but the following line makes me question that reaction.

...be there as he learns to love the woods and the farm
I'll be holding in my heart, the baby in my arms...

It's the third line that connects the past and the present, and what it says about the past and the present is that they are connected. We have memory, and I start getting the sense that this is going to be a human condition kind of poem.

but then you start talking to this backwards Noah-God figure who keeps plants all neat and stewarded, and lets the animals run loosey-goosey. At first, it seems like you're talking to a guy who is a farmer who has learned agriculture from a family tradition or something. But then he morphs into God, in control of everything, holding a well-made drill. And on subsequent readings, whether you're talking to mankind or to God never clears up for me, so I begin to consider that it's about the man-God relationship.

And then I think about Cain & Abel (because I recently watched East of Eden again), and I remember that Abel gave God meat, and God liked that, and Cain gave God some harvest, and God didn't like that. And I always felt bad for Cain.

And then I think about your poem again, and wonder if you meant to bring any of that to mind at all. In fact, I start to wonder if you wanted to bring the stewardship issue to mind at all. Did I mention that I thought about that? Imentioned Noah, anyway. Maybe you're just in wonder of nature here.

and I read it yet again. I think what led me to think that in the first place was the word recover. But on this reading, I get the idea that God is in control of evolution.

I think what you're trying to say is that it's all going to be as it should be, or that it is all as it should be, or that it's all as it is, anyway, with God in control.

generosity and giving are pretty much the same thing.
--~--
This stirrer of alfalfa sprig tea is very pleased that the discussion has taken place. Watching people interact & interacting myself allows me to get to know you all a bit more.

ps. I missed it, did someone mention rule of thumb?

lizzytysh wrote:Well, I guess that's one way to implicitly sanction spouse abuse... make a proverb of it .

Yes, except that that's just the first half of the proverb.
It's the way the Sicilians tell it, since the patriarchy (or cosa nostra)
is very ancient in Sicily.

However my mother came from the Naples' campania,
where the matriarchy goes back considerably earlier than that.

And when matriarchy mothers tell their daughters
these kinds of male chavinist proverbs, they always
include "the answer" (or "response") half.

Which, in most cases, is some variation on

Occhio per occhio, dente per dente.

(an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth)

If I didn't understand it, I at least believed I did and felt no confusion.

When I read the first of the first two lines, I thought of how 'old-timers' look back and talk about how different things used to be... and leading with that line made me think of the "olden days" ~ the second line then looked 'forward' to emphasize that things really are different now from the way they used to be... and markedly so [and the phrase "but different yet again" suggests there having been even more degrees/generations of change, and therefore difference, since the time that the first line refers to].

The third line for me referred to the "old-timer"'s heart, where quality of being and doing remain from those good old days when things were done and crafted with care, instead of in a rush, in a hurry, and in a shambles; mass produced; and a pretty well recognized sense of isolation and alienation between people in today's world [think cellphones/iPods/computers/etc.].

The art of being and doing that this man has managed to hold inside his heart [despite the passage of time] are shown in the way he makes an art of everything he does. He's a craftsman of his life. Everything is fastidiously done and cared for... quality can be seen everywhere. The animals he carves are so well-crafted that they 'come alive' in their realness. He's created a virtual forest of 'living, breathing' animals through the deftness of his hands... and his care in choice of woods, four of them mentioned, each with their own qualities of colour, hue, pattern, and all the other variables that make for a finer piece of carving. Beautiful results are all 'round him. His exquisitely carved animals [so well done, you'd swear they were breathing, hopping, running... ], his hedges neatly laid, his
crops all tended, his logs stacked with care, and his drills well made.

The last stanza reiterates how someone who cares so deeply about the manner in which he lives his own life generates admiration and love for the person doing it; and it appears that he cares just as deeply about his friends, as he does about everything else [in the first part of the poem]. The writer expresses how irresistable a person this man is by talking about everyone being magnetically drawn to him. He ends by saying that this man's knowledge of so many other things [such as those evidenced previously] extends to how he has treated his friends, with the same level of craftsmanship and care. For me, "generosity and giving" are different enough to not be redundant. You can give, by giving something; and then you can give generously, by giving a lot. You also can give, by giving to one person; and then you can give generously, by giving to many. It seems he has given in both measures of generousity. From the tone and sentiment of this poem, it seems that the same quality and care that is visible in the concrete measures of his life; have been just as visible in the abstract ones... friendship, caring, generousity, giving.

Unless I got it wrong, and I may not have gotten it perfectly, I didn't have trouble understanding the intent and meaning of this poem. It communicated strongly to me. I couldn't care less whether or not it's a literal sonnet... I guess if he enters it in a Sonnet contest, he'll need to get it 'right' ~ as for me, however, it already is... I love it.


~ Lizzy

Thanks for the second half of that, Greg. Had I read the 'answer,' I'd have responded differently the first time out. What the Sicilian, patriarchal proverb conveyed, the Naples' campania rendition countered. It didn't seem to end the spouse abuse, but made the 'killing fields' more even. They showed some humour about it, too, with their pun.


~ Lizzy

Occhio per occhio, dente per dente.

"Guidelines - if you have offered less crits than alpha male theories then you're a stirrer. If you are trying to revive a minute and worn-out spat youa re a stirrer. If you emerge from the silence to moan about others you are just a stirrer. I see Jimmy is comfortably on the right side of this balance. The hardon footprint of certain egos is equally clear to see"

God (help us) has spoken so it must be true!!!! Let us all bow our heads.

mickey_mate,
I'm sorry for daring to post on your forum, it's just that pomposity brings out the worst in me.
Cheers mate!


Greg, exercise or not, you took someone else's work and changed it (for the worse, as it happens). So why not accept that fact - your illustration was a travesty of the meaning of the original.

What an amazing rendering !! He looks double-angry. His original plus that for his current condition and shock at her meted justice. She looks a bit confused, yet self-satisfied, in her victory. Victory, as she saw it, given the circumstances. Where does this graphic statue sit? In a dedication to matriarchy somewhere in Naples?


~ Lizzy

So far Red Poppy has posted 3 posts to this thread.
And Jimmy O'Connell has posted 2.

And not a one of those 5 posts contains a single specific point
about William's poem.

( Jimmy came the closest, when he implied that he could
have said something specific if he wanted to, when he wrote:
---- "The only 're-write' I would have done is my old chestnut
---- ... punctuation, grammar and spelling"
So Jimmy must have seen some punctuation, grammar, and spelling mistakes
in William's poem. And it is just all that much more unfortunate for William
that Jimmy didn't point them out, to let William correct them. )
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



William called his poem a "sonnet".
And its first two lines

If, as they say, the world was different then,
what is it now but different yet again?

are in iambic pentameter.

So there is no doubt that William knew what a sonnet is.
And that he'd read some. Some of Shakespeare's, certainly.
But perhaps also some of the metaphysical poets' sonnets.

John Donne wrote, in "Wilt thou love God, as he thee? Then digest"

...
'Twas much that man was made like God before,
But, that God should be made like man, much more.

- which is about God being incarnate in Jesus
(vs man having been made in God's image)
But I was reminded of it by those opening lines of William's poem,
because William's poem then goes on to say

So much of the past is held inside your heart,
showing itself in the ways you make an art of everything.

(I trust that these associations will become crystal clear shortly.)

Indeed the world was different then.

lyzzytysh wrote:When I read the first of the first two lines,
I thought of how 'old-timers' look back and talk about how different things used to be...
and leading with that line made me think of the "olden days" ~ the second line
then looked 'forward' to emphasize that things really are different now
from the way they used to be... and markedly so ...

And what I thought was: and who doesn't, in their mind, add:
"Indeed, the world was different then. And better"

But, unlike Lizzy, I didn't read the 2nd half of the couplet --

what is it now but different yet again?

--- as simply emphasizing "that things really are different now".

Nor did I didn't read it, like Manna did, (or did at first, I think)
- as if it was a vacuous tautology.

What I thought was:
If the past is the different,
then how can the now be different yet again?

And my conclusion was that this could only be if
the past (ie, the different) isn't really past,
but is, in some sense, still present.

Which, of course, is exactly what William's poem goes on to say.
It says that the past is not really past, because "John" still keeps
much of it in his heart.

And he reveals it, too, in the present,
in the ways he makes "an art of everything".

I liked what lizzytysh said about that

This is really beautiful and so true with old people...
and I love the truth in this reflection of this person, as well.

It reminded me of Ezra Pound's

THEY will come no more,
The old men with beautiful manners. -

That the past is still present in John's heart,
and that he reveals it (makes it incarnate) in the present,
in his art, ---is what reminded me of Donne's ending couplet,
about God incarnate in Jesus.

But of course Donne's, and William's, poems are more complicated
than that.

If Jesus is God's begotten son, then Donne is God's son by adoption.
(Or, anyway, God's love, or grace, or whatever, makes Donne
feel that way. Or something like that.)

Donne wrote: ....
How God the Spirit, by Angels waited on
In heaven, doth make his Temple in thy brest,
The Father having begot a Son most blest,
And still begetting—for he ne'er begun—
Hath deign'd to choose thee by adoption,
....

Which (going the other way) reminded me of Williams last stanza -

Treasuring the warmth we feel in being your friends,
we are drawn magnetic to you. In the end,
the knowledge gathered in all these years of living
returns in your generosity and giving.

(note: i do think these last lines of William's poem
are its weakest - and that in particular the word "magnetic"
isn't good. But maybe somebody else will explain that.)

It's sort of like - - - -

God, incarnate in Jesus, and revealed in His life,
- with the benefit of it (the Temple in the chest)
rubbing off on Donne,
.......
is like
the past, incarnate in John
and revealed in the way he makes an art of everything,
-with the benefit of it (the Treasure) rubbing off on William.
....

~~~~~~~~~

William's presumption that I had presumed certain things
probably made me more breathless
than the presumptions that he presumed I had made
had made him.

First of all was his presumption that I had misread his poem,
His first example of it being this-

William wrote:

I wrote:When so much that's gone, and lost in your heart,

My point was the past is NOT lost in this man's heart,
it is there. So you have contradicted what I intended

Now look here young man! .....

(I have always wanted to say that.
I mean, to be old enough to say it.
But now that I am, - how very weird!)

William read my "lost IN his heart",
as if I had written: "lost TO his heart".

But these two things have very different semantics!

To say "lost IN his heart"
is to take the omniscient narrator point of view.

That is, the past is lost TO the material world,
But God, and William, and we, his readers,
and John, know perfectly well where it is.
It is still present, in John's heart..

So.
Where is it lost? - In John's heart.
What is it lost to? - The material world.

And that is exactly what "lost IN his heart" means.
It means exactly the same thing that William meant.

(THIS ANYWAY IS WHAT I HAD IN MIND.
And whether or not it holds up would be an
appropriate question only if I meant the exercise
to be a poem. Which I didn't. It was just a metric
template. And so there's no point in defending this
any further.)

I have more to say, but I'll stop here for now.

~greg wrote:So far Red Poppy has posted 3 posts to this thread.

And not one of those posts contains a single specific point
about William's poem.

Wow, what a surprise. that is just so out of character for him.

btw Greg I am in the middle of writing a new ancient proverb. What do you think of this?

"if a person's pomposity blows up too much, a little prick will always follow to point it out".

I just can't decide whether it is only brilliant or whether it can more objectively be described as wonderful.

The word-plays with "prick" and "point it out" are obviously quite delicious. Every time I read them I don't need to eat for several minutes afterwards.

all the best

michael (Pompous Since 1953)

William,
Sonnet - John

If, as they say, the world was different then,
what is it now but different yet again?
So much of the past is held inside your heart,
showing itself in the ways you make an art
of everything. Your hedges neatly laid,
crops all tended, logs stacked with care, drills well made.
And from your deft hands the animals run loose
finding shape and contour in the woods you use.
In lilac, birch, chestnut, oak. Alive, complete,
each creature recovering its true heartbeat.

Treasuring the warmth we feel in being your friends,
we are drawn magnetic to you. In the end,
the knowledge gathered in all these years of living
returns in your generosity and giving.


I declare that I, the afterandforementioned in the singnature below, am happy with the punctuation, spelling and grammar of said poem by one William as posted and quoted above.
imprimatur seal I:

And I further declare that any re-write as presented in the above thread is deemed inadmissable in the court of my appeal.
imprimatur seal II:

Signed in the presence of MsMuse:

James Descendent of Connell -- a Taxpaying Citizen of the Island of Ireland.

Greg,
I have written about the sonnet, in a PM to William.

Mickey_mate,
here's another ancient proverb you might like to try for size:
"Because a man is pictured in a woman's clothes doesn't mean he's not a prick."

I prefer mine