Removed - reason explained below
William
Sonnet
Re: Sonnet
I love this verse. Especially, these lines: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.
All of the last verse, as well... who is John in your life to have been gifted with such beautiful verse?Alive, complete,
each creature recovering its true heartbeat.
~ Lizzy
"Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken."
~ Oscar Wilde
~ Oscar Wilde
Re: Sonnet
Im not much of a writer but i like this a lot
My father is John and I am who he was
it could be one of his stories to me................
I realy like it regards jimbo
My father is John and I am who he was
it could be one of his stories to me................
I realy like it regards jimbo
love is not forgotten......
Re: Sonnet
Well, I reread it and now I'm not sure why I isolated out what I did without isolating out even more. I guess because I was having to rush to leave work.
I like the way it begins with the truth of this reflection:
Such a unique and colourful, carefully and well-crafted tribute.
I love it.
~ Lizzy
I like the way it begins with the truth of this reflection:
It sets up the poem for the passage of time and how everything passes along that continuum, and so many things change along the way.If, as they say, the world was different then,
what is it now but different yet again?
This is really beautiful and so true with old people... and I love the truth in this reflection of this person, as well.So much of the past is held inside your heart,
showing itself in the ways you make an art
of everything.
I love the representative variety of all the things that John has done with equal care.Your hedges neatly laid,
crops all tended, logs stacked with care, drills well made.
Such a unique and colourful, carefully and well-crafted tribute.
I love it.
~ Lizzy
"Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken."
~ Oscar Wilde
~ Oscar Wilde
Re: Sonnet
The sonnet is the most dignified form.
So it's very appropriate for this kind of thing.
In English, the rhyme scheme, and the number and partitioning of lines,
are not so important. By far the most important thing in English
is scansion. And to begin to approach the dignity of a sonnet, you need
iambic pentameters. That is, the majority of lines must have
exactly 5 iambic feet (de DUM de DUM de DUM de DUM de DUM)
These must, of course, be varied with a few lines that scan differently.
But without exception every line should have exactly 10 syllables.
This is not an arbitrary rule.
To violate it is much the same as playing music "out of time".
It really ruins the dignity.
And particularly since your sonnet does start out with two iambic pentameter lines,
the expectation is very great that it ought to continue that way.
And when it doesn't, it seems to be a fault.
It's the easiest thing to fix.
Once you have any iambic pentameter line, you simply keep
it invariant that way. You tweak it in small steps,
adding and subtracting the same number of syllables
on each step, until you have the line you want .
I tried this on your sonnet, just to show how easy it is to do,
and to show, sort of, somewhat, what it might look like
with exactly 10 syllables per line.
(I also changed a few other things, to try to make
your ideas seem more connected. (The connections
seemed kind of loose.) And I changed the last 4 lines
the most, since they were the weakest.)
my excercise: ......
================
If, as they say, the world was different then,
What is it now, but different yet again,
When so much that's gone, and lost in your heart,
Is returned in the way you make an art
of everything. When the hedges are made,
And the crops tended, logs stacked, drills mislaid,
Then from your hands the animals run loose
At contours. In whatever wood you choose -
Lilac, birch, chestnut, oak, - alive, complete,
Each creature recovers its true heartbeat.
If, as they say, the world was warmer then,
What is it now, but warmer yet again
For your generous wisdom. We, your friends,
Know you as the true treasure unending.
So it's very appropriate for this kind of thing.
In English, the rhyme scheme, and the number and partitioning of lines,
are not so important. By far the most important thing in English
is scansion. And to begin to approach the dignity of a sonnet, you need
iambic pentameters. That is, the majority of lines must have
exactly 5 iambic feet (de DUM de DUM de DUM de DUM de DUM)
These must, of course, be varied with a few lines that scan differently.
But without exception every line should have exactly 10 syllables.
This is not an arbitrary rule.
To violate it is much the same as playing music "out of time".
It really ruins the dignity.
And particularly since your sonnet does start out with two iambic pentameter lines,
the expectation is very great that it ought to continue that way.
And when it doesn't, it seems to be a fault.
It's the easiest thing to fix.
Once you have any iambic pentameter line, you simply keep
it invariant that way. You tweak it in small steps,
adding and subtracting the same number of syllables
on each step, until you have the line you want .
I tried this on your sonnet, just to show how easy it is to do,
and to show, sort of, somewhat, what it might look like
with exactly 10 syllables per line.
(I also changed a few other things, to try to make
your ideas seem more connected. (The connections
seemed kind of loose.) And I changed the last 4 lines
the most, since they were the weakest.)
my excercise: ......
================
If, as they say, the world was different then,
What is it now, but different yet again,
When so much that's gone, and lost in your heart,
Is returned in the way you make an art
of everything. When the hedges are made,
And the crops tended, logs stacked, drills mislaid,
Then from your hands the animals run loose
At contours. In whatever wood you choose -
Lilac, birch, chestnut, oak, - alive, complete,
Each creature recovers its true heartbeat.
If, as they say, the world was warmer then,
What is it now, but warmer yet again
For your generous wisdom. We, your friends,
Know you as the true treasure unending.
Re: Sonnet
Dear Greg,
what you have done in your post leaves me breathless at the extent of your presumption.
To take the metric range of someone's work as a yardstick by which you believe you can then rewrite something that misses the heart of what and why I wrote the piece astonishes me.
You are free to make metric suggestions but to take it upon yourself to reshape the meaning and, more importantly, the feeling in a piece of writing is to make enormous assumptions about your own ability. To take upon yourself the right to tell someone what they should be writing, in terms of the content and intent is nothing short of staggering.
You have assumed you should tell me, not alone HOW but WHAT I should be writing, an important and extraordinary difference.
Your rewriting of my work reads, with my comments:
If, as they say, the world was different then,
What is it now, but different yet again,
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)
Is returned in the way you make an art
of everything. When the hedges are made,(You have used the verb made twice in succession which is lazy)
And the crops tended, logs stacked, drills mislaid,(How could the drills be mislaid? Again you undo the meaning in your assumption that you know best, making a nonsense of the meaning)
Then from your hands the animals run loose
At contours(What is this, it doesn't even make sense?). In whatever wood you choose -
Lilac, birch, chestnut, oak, - alive, complete,
Each creature recovers its true heartbeat.
If, as they say, the world was warmer then,
What is it now, but warmer yet again
For your generous wisdom. We, your friends,
Know you as the true treasure unending. (To presume you should change the closing quartet in meaning and intent is supremely arrogant and your last line is weak in the extreme)
You have written,in your notes:
"You tweak it in small steps,
adding and subtracting the same number of syllables
on each step, until you have the line you want ."
This is mathematics, devoid of any acknowledgement of feeling or meaning but, given what you've done, I'm hardly surprised.
I am truly flabbergasted that you have had the audacity to believe metric scanning is more important than the meaning of what I wrote or that you should dictate how and what a piece should say.
What you have done is arrogant in the extreme.
If I were not so angered I should be hurt.
I am removing the original piece, lest you take it upon yourself to do further damage.
William
what you have done in your post leaves me breathless at the extent of your presumption.
To take the metric range of someone's work as a yardstick by which you believe you can then rewrite something that misses the heart of what and why I wrote the piece astonishes me.
You are free to make metric suggestions but to take it upon yourself to reshape the meaning and, more importantly, the feeling in a piece of writing is to make enormous assumptions about your own ability. To take upon yourself the right to tell someone what they should be writing, in terms of the content and intent is nothing short of staggering.
You have assumed you should tell me, not alone HOW but WHAT I should be writing, an important and extraordinary difference.
Your rewriting of my work reads, with my comments:
If, as they say, the world was different then,
What is it now, but different yet again,
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)
Is returned in the way you make an art
of everything. When the hedges are made,(You have used the verb made twice in succession which is lazy)
And the crops tended, logs stacked, drills mislaid,(How could the drills be mislaid? Again you undo the meaning in your assumption that you know best, making a nonsense of the meaning)
Then from your hands the animals run loose
At contours(What is this, it doesn't even make sense?). In whatever wood you choose -
Lilac, birch, chestnut, oak, - alive, complete,
Each creature recovers its true heartbeat.
If, as they say, the world was warmer then,
What is it now, but warmer yet again
For your generous wisdom. We, your friends,
Know you as the true treasure unending. (To presume you should change the closing quartet in meaning and intent is supremely arrogant and your last line is weak in the extreme)
You have written,in your notes:
"You tweak it in small steps,
adding and subtracting the same number of syllables
on each step, until you have the line you want ."
This is mathematics, devoid of any acknowledgement of feeling or meaning but, given what you've done, I'm hardly surprised.
I am truly flabbergasted that you have had the audacity to believe metric scanning is more important than the meaning of what I wrote or that you should dictate how and what a piece should say.
What you have done is arrogant in the extreme.
If I were not so angered I should be hurt.
I am removing the original piece, lest you take it upon yourself to do further damage.
William
Last edited by William on Sat Oct 20, 2007 2:22 am, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Sonnet
what can i say
well
its a free world
let us all connecct
and feed the rest....................................
well
its a free world
let us all connecct
and feed the rest....................................
love is not forgotten......
Re: Sonnet
Dear jimbo,
Does that freedom extend to taking someone's work and rewriting it without any consideration of the intent, content or feeling of the piece, much less the right of the author to the control of his or her writing?
I think not.
Willliam
Does that freedom extend to taking someone's work and rewriting it without any consideration of the intent, content or feeling of the piece, much less the right of the author to the control of his or her writing?
I think not.
Willliam
Re: Sonnet
William I liked your piece,as it was,but im much not of a poet ........................
love is not forgotten......
Re: Sonnet
I really feel we oughta have a Poetry Workshop and a Poetry Sharing section [separate from one another ~ Poetry Workshop Corner for Members... Poetry Sharing Corner for Members... both seem to have a civil feel]. What's periodically happened in the past and seems to be happening, again, recently reminds me of people sitting 'round a campfire or in someone's living room... hanging out and singing songs together. A classically-trained person comes along and starts breaking down the chord progressions and how something should have been played... correct finger and body positions, proper strumming technique. Everyone falls silent as the lecture begins and continues. An hour later, people start drifting off, asleep or going home... and the singing for that night has ended. That's to an extreme, of course; but I feel it's not just okay, it's perfectly fine... it's wonderful, in fact... if people just want to share what they've written. If someone connects, great... if not, well, they hoped someone would, but it's not always that way.
I also imagine Leonard on Hydra with his old men, Greek buddies... one learning English gets inspired by Leonard's work to try his own hand. One day, they're sitting in the hot Greek sun and he pulls out a piece of paper with a poem he's written on it and shows it to Leonard. How do you think Leonard would respond? What aspects do you think he might focus on? How long before he begins to address the mechanics of it? Would he ask any questions at all? If so, what might they be?
There are many who come here and who have contributed to this section in the past, whose native language isn't English. I've spoken and written English all my life and still don't get the grammar correct [I'm a pretty-good-naturally speller ~ won my spelling bees and all that ~ but there, too, sometimes, I have to look up words ~ grammar can become an entire project, knowing under what to look for what, cross-referencing to be sure you've found the exact case you need in the example]. For someone from one of these other countries, though, trying their hand at poetry, in a language that can be shared with the majority of us, can require going WAY outside of their comfort zone, abilities, expertise, or even familiarity. Still... WoW... the charming, touching, moving, sharings I've seen here.
For others, poetry itself is the foreign language. Not really time to learn it and get it all right [in whichever form, of which there are many... evolved throughout history] before getting those words onto paper and sharing them... and the feeling behind them. But, then, I'm more interested in the feeling of what's written than in the expertise, I guess. I would love to see a Poetry Workshop section here one day. Then, it seems, the interests of those writing and commenting will make the appropriate turn into one or the other door... or both. That's still fine.
Who knows... perhaps, Jarkko will be generous enough to do that for us one day
.
By the way, William, I'm sorry to see your poem removed. Even though it can be pretty much pieced back together through my own posting, it's so much more appealing and relevant to have it as you originally presented it.
~ Lizzy
I also imagine Leonard on Hydra with his old men, Greek buddies... one learning English gets inspired by Leonard's work to try his own hand. One day, they're sitting in the hot Greek sun and he pulls out a piece of paper with a poem he's written on it and shows it to Leonard. How do you think Leonard would respond? What aspects do you think he might focus on? How long before he begins to address the mechanics of it? Would he ask any questions at all? If so, what might they be?
There are many who come here and who have contributed to this section in the past, whose native language isn't English. I've spoken and written English all my life and still don't get the grammar correct [I'm a pretty-good-naturally speller ~ won my spelling bees and all that ~ but there, too, sometimes, I have to look up words ~ grammar can become an entire project, knowing under what to look for what, cross-referencing to be sure you've found the exact case you need in the example]. For someone from one of these other countries, though, trying their hand at poetry, in a language that can be shared with the majority of us, can require going WAY outside of their comfort zone, abilities, expertise, or even familiarity. Still... WoW... the charming, touching, moving, sharings I've seen here.
For others, poetry itself is the foreign language. Not really time to learn it and get it all right [in whichever form, of which there are many... evolved throughout history] before getting those words onto paper and sharing them... and the feeling behind them. But, then, I'm more interested in the feeling of what's written than in the expertise, I guess. I would love to see a Poetry Workshop section here one day. Then, it seems, the interests of those writing and commenting will make the appropriate turn into one or the other door... or both. That's still fine.
Who knows... perhaps, Jarkko will be generous enough to do that for us one day
.By the way, William, I'm sorry to see your poem removed. Even though it can be pretty much pieced back together through my own posting, it's so much more appealing and relevant to have it as you originally presented it.
~ Lizzy
"Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken."
~ Oscar Wilde
~ Oscar Wilde
Re: Sonnet
I am sorry about all this. I just can't understand myself
anymore. I can't seem to do anything right anymore.
I lost my shoe again this morning. This evening I found it
in the refrigerator under the romaine. I am no good
without my shoes. With my shoes on, I am the god-
-head. My wrist is the fasces of global warming.
My hand is the wand of smiles past. I need no remote
to see what's going on. There are too many of you
crying, brother. There are far too many of you dying,
sister. Right on. Right on. I think I know how William
must feel. And I am sorry it has had to come to this.
anymore. I can't seem to do anything right anymore.
I lost my shoe again this morning. This evening I found it
in the refrigerator under the romaine. I am no good
without my shoes. With my shoes on, I am the god-
-head. My wrist is the fasces of global warming.
My hand is the wand of smiles past. I need no remote
to see what's going on. There are too many of you
crying, brother. There are far too many of you dying,
sister. Right on. Right on. I think I know how William
must feel. And I am sorry it has had to come to this.
Re: Sonnet
Hi Greg ~
I hope you know that my posting was not a "This is for Greg" one because it's not. What happened here happens to include you, of course... but that's not my point. Right or wrong, my point is that, the same as in my campfire analogy, people here are at varying levels of experience, expertise, and motivation. Some who came willing to share a tune and a song that they know can become unwilling to have the guitar passed on to them, after they see what happened to the last one who did.
Poetry workshops are places where time is well spent for those who want to focus on the improvement of poetry [in the case of the Forum] written in English... even though some feel that everyone who writes something in poetic form ought to want to improve their skills and their form and, de facto, willing to hear other's suggestions on how that can be done, including sample rewrites, in pursuit of that goal. With a poetry workshop space here, people who contribute would no longer be at cross purposes.
I hope you don't keep losing your shoe beneath the romaine. A little too much punch in your salad
.
~ Lizzy
I hope you know that my posting was not a "This is for Greg" one because it's not. What happened here happens to include you, of course... but that's not my point. Right or wrong, my point is that, the same as in my campfire analogy, people here are at varying levels of experience, expertise, and motivation. Some who came willing to share a tune and a song that they know can become unwilling to have the guitar passed on to them, after they see what happened to the last one who did.
Poetry workshops are places where time is well spent for those who want to focus on the improvement of poetry [in the case of the Forum] written in English... even though some feel that everyone who writes something in poetic form ought to want to improve their skills and their form and, de facto, willing to hear other's suggestions on how that can be done, including sample rewrites, in pursuit of that goal. With a poetry workshop space here, people who contribute would no longer be at cross purposes.
I hope you don't keep losing your shoe beneath the romaine. A little too much punch in your salad
.~ Lizzy
"Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken."
~ Oscar Wilde
~ Oscar Wilde
-
mickey_one
- Posts: 1533
- Joined: Sun Feb 15, 2004 3:11 pm
- Location: Hello Lovely Flowers, Hello Lovely Trees
Re: Sonnet
William, I am sad that you are so sensitive. You offer a piece of writing and people respond in different ways. Greg chooses to rap on your original and play with it. Your poem is not so precious that it can't be touched and you shouldn't be so precious even if you are not touched by Greg's efforts.William wrote:Dear Greg,
what you have done in your post leaves me breathless at the extent of your presumption.
To take the metric range of someone's work as a yardstick by which you believe you can then rewrite something that misses the heart of what and why I wrote the piece astonishes me.
You are free to make metric suggestions but to take it upon yourself to reshape the meaning and, more importantly, the feeling in a piece of writing is to make enormous assumptions about your own ability. To take upon yourself the right to tell someone what they should be writing, in terms of the content and intent is nothing short of staggering.
You have assumed you should tell me, not alone HOW but WHAT I should be writing, an important and extraordinary difference.
Your rewriting of my work reads, with my comments:
If, as they say, the world was different then,
What is it now, but different yet again,
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)
Is returned in the way you make an art
of everything. When the hedges are made,(You have used the verb made twice in succession which is lazy)
And the crops tended, logs stacked, drills mislaid,(How could the drills be mislaid? Again you undo the meaning in your assumption that you know best, making a nonsense of the meaning)
Then from your hands the animals run loose
At contours(What is this, it doesn't even make sense?). In whatever wood you choose -
Lilac, birch, chestnut, oak, - alive, complete,
Each creature recovers its true heartbeat.
If, as they say, the world was warmer then,
What is it now, but warmer yet again
For your generous wisdom. We, your friends,
Know you as the true treasure unending. (To presume you should change the closing quartet in meaning and intent is supremely arrogant and your last line is weak in the extreme)
You have written,in your notes:
"You tweak it in small steps,
adding and subtracting the same number of syllables
on each step, until you have the line you want ."
This is mathematics, devoid of any acknowledgement of feeling or meaning but, given what you've done, I'm hardly surprised.
I am truly flabbergasted that you have had the audacity to believe metric scanning is more important than the meaning of what I wrote or that you should dictate how and what a piece should say.
What you have done is arrogant in the extreme.
If I were not so angered I should be hurt.
I am removing the original piece, lest you take it upon yourself to do further damage.
William
That you are "breathless" and "flabbergasted" at Greg's "audacity" demonstrates a self-regard that fits poorly with the modesty and calm of the artist to whom this forum is connected. How do you think Leonard Cohen would react to a parody of his work?
You graciously allow that Greg is "free to make metric suggestions". William, he is free to comment on and change your work as he pleases. Was it copyrighted? Are we allowed to play with even copyrighted work?
I see some merit in Lizzy's suggestion of dividing our poetry into the open and the closed categories but the idea that there is a protected species who post only for flowers and chocolates but cry when they are not unanimously embraced strikes me as pretty embarrassing.
-
mickey_one
- Posts: 1533
- Joined: Sun Feb 15, 2004 3:11 pm
- Location: Hello Lovely Flowers, Hello Lovely Trees
Re: Sonnet
yes, that freedom extends way beyond that ego.William wrote:Dear jimbo,
Does that freedom extend to taking someone's work and rewriting it without any consideration of the intent, content or feeling of the piece, much less the right of the author to the control of his or her writing?
I think not.
Willliam