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like an inflamed parody
with a bantam end
the copais muckdulling
with Robin Hoods prayer book
acting like a slush boy's town

there i moaned like miss muffets
pounding slope
with pipers moon-glove
like a whispering slammed door

with gherking wings i
savaged the voiding crags like
twin-glitter in a bottle of seven day's
where the poor glimbglilms
got wasted in the tattoo's sink

the tight-lipped mirrow
poring northhanger's thorns
my sham-shampoo...becoming a skulded horn
with wippingcream-claws

let me rawl like blustered scorn

quaileyedsnowfish wrote:like an inflamed parody
with a bantam end
the copais muckdulling
with Robin Hoods prayer book
acting like a slush boy's town

there i moaned like miss muffets
pounding slope
with pipers moon-glove
like a whispering slammed door

with gherking wings i
savaged the voiding crags like
twin-glitter in a bottle of seven day's
where the poor glimbglilms
got wasted in the tattoo's sink

the tight-lipped mirrow
poring northhanger's thorns
my sham-shampoo...becoming a skulded horn
with wippingcream-claws

let me rawl like blustered scorn

.. um quailfish -- is that you???.. hmm.. I thought you were the, uh, better half of Ren1, an ornery homosexual in love with this Vince person??.. As for your, uh, picture there.. well, being in touch with your feminine side is one thing, but you look like you want a lot of others here to be in touch with it too, if you see my point.. I suggest finding a picture where you're wearing something a bit more prim and proper. I mean, this is the literary section of a pretty prestigious forum, after all.. (??).. (it's also where you're expected to perform with your pen.. in case you somehow missed that).

.. alright, well.. I'm neck deep in snow right now.. it makes me feel rather hemmed in. I had some shopping to do, but I forgot to finish my wilderness training course of I don't know how many years ago, and so I'm not too sure I should risk it.

.. talk to you later, blowfish.. (actually, that's a poor nickname for you just now).. anyway, maybe I'll give your new poem some further considera-- actually, here's my theory about you:

.. now, you were doing some pretty nice romantickie pometry, which might actually have been coming too close to your actually having some "feelings".. do you know what feelings are, fishie?.. ANYWAY.. since you're probably a man (especially as thou dothest protestethest too muchethest with that pic, fish).. you were uncomfortable with said feelings (typical man behavior), and so had to throw some interference into the works. (Actually, I'll check see if this newest poem of yours has got any wrench imagery, come to think of it, which should pretty much clinch things for me.)

.. okay.. so, why don't you do as I am trying to do: take some time to step back and reflect a bit. Nothing's going anywhere, I can tell you that much.. (too much snow around for that).. so.. it's a good time to just collect yourself-- or selves.. and be a bit still. Maybe you'll have a epiphany or something.. I mean, stranger things have happened, fish.. so..

.. alright.. let's see if I can dig myself out of here.. or at least make another cup of tea..

v.

quaileyedsnowfish wrote:like an inflamed parody
with a bantam end
the copais muckdulling
with Robin Hoods prayer book
acting like a slush boy's town

there i moaned like miss muffets
pounding slope
with pipers moon-glove
like a whispering slammed door

with gherking wings i
savaged the voiding crags like
twin-glitter in a bottle of seven day's
where the poor glimbglilms
got wasted in the tattoo's sink

the tight-lipped mirrow
poring northhanger's thorns
my sham-shampoo...becoming a skulded horn
with wippingcream-claws

let me rawl like blustered scorn

.. okay, blowslutfish.. I am here just for a moment tonight, and am doubtful I can finish this critique. [later note: famous last words] I may only get to a few of my highlighted items just now. [uh: ibid] Oh, by the way, I am mad at myself since I kept wanting to come back here to do this today, no matter how hard I tried to talk my more sensible side out of it. [that's right: it was my more irrational side that was talking sense for a change]

Anyway, did Robin Hood really have a prayer book?.. and if so.. what sort of prayers were unique to Mr. Hood, do you think?.. (I have no answer to this, just asking).

.. now, Miss Muffet, as I recall, was sitting on a tuffet. That her little stool was pounding, is news to me. Why was the tuffet pounding?.. (again, I don't know, I'm just asking).. (actually, I just realized she was being pounded at an angle [obviously].. I sometimes fail to pick up on these sexual innuendos, largely since I'm the one making them up).

.. oh, by the way, what does 'copais' mean?.. and if it dulls muck, it must be very dull indeed.. then again, certain muck could be rather glistening, now that I think about it.. (but do I have to?).. (is really the proper question here).. (I mean, considering just what sort of muck might, in fact, glisten). (Crap, I wish I didn't just say that.)

OH.. CONTRAST: let's look at this issue carefully. Using contrast as a poetic device, such as light and dark, loud and soft, etc., is not in itself very interesting. This does not mean that contrast can't be used to good effect. HOWEVER.. don't RELY on such contrast to "jazz" something up, if you see what I mean. "A whispering slammed door" is either compelling, or a load of crap. Given my mood.. (and the fact I should be reading Proust, and so be snuggled up in my warm, cozy bed by now).. I would say: it's a load of crap.

.. by way of CONTRAST, however.. (oh, and note how spot-on MY use of CONTRAST is).. (watch 'n learn, as they say).. now wha-- oh.. yes, so.. "wipping-cream claws," while not exhibiting the spelling I might choose, does make for an interesting image, contrasting soft and sharp.. actually, having sex using whipped-cream somehow comes to mind, although, once again (as is becoming habitual with you, fish) the word "claw" is something of a show stopper. [Fortunately, we'll be getting to castration a bit further on.]

.. okay, so.. "let me raw like blustered scorn" could well be the title of a Cormac McCarthy novel.. and so, there is an obligatory sense of violence.. sex.. oh, and some Western states might possibly be involved.. that, along with a theme that either annoys or entices, depending on how desperate one is to either crown or defame. [Note to aspiring literary critics: make rather confounding statements like this (oh: and note this is an excellent use of contrast) so to keep your readership guessing].. (truth be told, I've only dipped my pinky toe into McCarthy at this point, but feel I've probably covered things pretty well here, in spite of that embarrassing fact).. (embarrassing for a literary critic, I mean).

.. now, while "glimbglilms," pronunciation-wise, are a common cause of mucus.. actually, that's all I have on that. Moving right along.. it seems that "savaged the voiding crags" combines your obsession with urination with its near neighbor, "castration," and so Freud need not even be mentioned. That I did mention him, suggests nothing. (I love teasing him like that).. Now.. "Poring northanger's thorns" is a Lilliputian reference, no doubt.. (with a reference to an Austen novel thrown in for good measure, I think).. Anyway, that you should find thorns even in something as minute as a pore also takes us back to castration, and the rest of it. [Note to aspiring literary critics: notice my use of the expression "the rest of it".. it's a real time-saver.]

.. oh, "gherking".. (combining Deli pickles with burping, perhaps -- another of your "word conflations," no doubt).. this, astride the word "wings".. makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. Congratulations. [Note to confused Reader: what fish has succeeded at, in this instance, is sort of a teflon device, meant to keep over-zealous freudian-analytical types from making good as literary critics.] [bravo, I say]

.. okay, slutwhorefish.. I think we've made some progress. Actually, I'd love to take an adult education course with you: French. I mean, we've both obviously mastered this language (obviously), why not take it to the next level?.. then we can read post-structuralist theory in the original French, too. [only quailieeyedslutfish understands such of my understated humor-- I mean, that I care nothing for French, but have an abiding love of post-structuralism is something only quailieeyedpantyfish truly understands][night, fish]

.. actually, "sham-shampoo".. "twin-glitter".. and a few others in there deserve mention.. while "mirrow" (meanwhile) does not. [oh: sorry if I "skulded" you there, fishie]


later edit: I noticed I had the word "burbing," as opposed to "burping".. burbing, of course, is how city folk such as myself "slum it".. (in the burbs).. it can lead to burping, of course, when (as I said) Gerkins are taken, and thus word use itself changes, as quailfish well knows. [J. F. Hazard, A Guess at Basic Etymological Concerns, 6th Ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986)36.]

you do not understand my work
in a cascade of yesterdays
silence inverted
white trumpets hail my only thinking
streams of unconsciousness
a river full of habits
knowing the present
a gifted thought if ever
now or never

qualieydsnowfish wrote:you do not understand my work
in a cascade of yesterdays
silence inverted
white trumpets hail my only thinking
streams of unconsciousness
a river full of habits
knowing the present
a gifted thought if ever
now or never

.. first off, qualieeyedblowfish, I can't help but take this first line of yours personally somehow. Unless you are speaking in that more generalized 'YOU' that you artist types are prone to. Actually, I'm also not sure you should be championing this "my only thinking" bit very much.. (just a tip I thought I'd share).

.. you know, this poem, especially, has required my simmering down a bit after laughing [hard] for a time. Not sure why that is, as I'm sure you were quite possibly even distraught when writing this. Anyway, don't think I don't understand the indignation one feels when being confronted by the seemingly blunt, and uninformed opinions of a critic. Any Critic. Remember, I once wanted to be a poet myself, so don't think I don't understand.

Having said all that (and choosing to ignore it).. I do like "streams of unconsciousness".. it's sort like a bedroom whore, just rolling over in the morning. "A river full of habits".. also draws me in. Obviously, in your whore-ish, morning state, you're not thinking too clearly.. maybe the only thing you're even cognizant of is this whirl of bad habits you keep trying to free yourself of, not the least of which is advertising your, uh, wares, here at this prestigious forum.

.. now.. "a gifted thought if ever".. [???????????????????].. my god, I think not, young lady. I mean, let's get something straight,

.. okay, "in a cascade of yesterdays" would be acceptable if you were writing a coming of age story about a twelve-year-old girl, with this line showing up in her diary.. now, that it should be submitted here as a serious offering, well.. maybe you're beginning to understand my concern, quailfish. "Silence inverted".. ??.. try this for "silence inverted": IS ENGLISH A SECOND LANGUAGE TO YOU????!!!!!.. how's that???????... (silence inverted.. geez)..

.. Alright, I know I'm being a bit tough on you, but only because I suspect you have talent. Now, maybe take that blowfisheyed claw of yours, and start wielding a pen with it for a change. Poetry is not a lunch break between johns. Let's at least try and break you of that habit.

v.