Poetics and Poetry Discussion


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  • Max Reif (9/28/2005 1:02:00 AM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    Now, this is after part 2 of the Scorcese documentary. What struck me the most is what a-for lack of a better word, crucifixion such a world-significant artist suffers at the hands of those he (or in some cases, she) serves-the public, particularly as represented by the Press. I felt Bob was actually amazingly respectful, considering the barrage of questions he was subjected to and their quality. If anyone 'lusts' after fame, well, it's sure no picnic.

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    • Rev. Dr. A. Jacob Hassler (9/28/2005 6:48:00 AM) Post reply

      you're right, Max. fame is no picnic. why, just recently celebrated comedian Dave Chapelle folded under the pressures of fame, smack in the middle of a wildly successful comedy series. Dylan's ... more

    • Michael Shepherd (9/28/2005 4:48:00 AM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

      As one who really missed out on the whole Dylan scene, what struck me particularly were two related situations - the being 'in an arena where I was alone ' (maybe not quite true?) where the genuinely ... more

  • Max Reif (9/27/2005 9:55:00 PM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    'Poet-killer faces delayed justice' is one of the PH news headlines today. Does that mean someone who killed a poet, or a poet who is a murderer? Anybody know? It's one of those subscription pages I can't get into.

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    • David Nelson Bradsher (9/28/2005 3:04:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

      Max, if I remember correctly, it's a poet who murdered somebody, and I'm thinking that he may have even been a serial killer...allegedly, of course. ;)

    • Michael Shepherd (9/28/2005 5:07:00 AM) Post reply

      I' ve made an official complaint to Poemhunter about those 'news headlines' which fail to deliver the news item referred to, but only a sign-up. Why should an Eskimo sign up for the Kerala News? Same ... more

  • Max Reif (9/27/2005 9:00:00 PM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    A little more on Bob Dylan:
    I never saw him live until about 6 years ago. He was in a sense a 'pale shadow' of himself, I mean the aura of universality that had made him a voice of millions upon millions of people had faded years before and he was 'just' (?) a relentlessly touring musician/songwriter. The night I saw him in St. Louis, he had no special rapport with the audience. He was very impersonal. I'm not blown away by his recent stuff. The old songs were good, but I felt I got 'him' more on the records I'd listened to than 'live'.
    Sometimes I wonder what it's like, going on for decades after that world-significant aura has faded. Could be a very lonely life.
    Dylan said in an interview once, 'At this age, every day above the ground's a good day.' Anyway, talk amongst yourselves if you like:

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    • Richard George (9/28/2005 5:15:00 AM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

      Going on for decades after... when I was a student I saw David Gascoyne read his poems. He was a major player (surrealist) in the 30s but wrote no significant poetry after his 30s... and he was in hi ... more

    • Poetry Hound (9/27/2005 10:19:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

      I've seen him live a number of times since 1974. Like Miles Davis, he is infamous for not caring about having rapport with the audience, and also like Miles Davis, you never know what you're going to ... more

  • Linda Jenkinson (9/27/2005 8:25:00 PM) Post reply

    hi people...im just the usual...please let me know what you think...i am so happy to have found this place!

  • Linda Jenkinson (9/27/2005 8:14:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    are we supposed to write to autumn?

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    • Poetry Hound (9/27/2005 10:29:00 PM) Post reply

      Yes, you figured it out. That's exactly what you're supposed to do. We've all done it already. Why haven't you?

  • Linda Jenkinson (9/27/2005 6:50:00 PM) Post reply

    hi...not sure how this all works...dropped some stuff under my name, , , read some styuff also so i know i belong, , , cant wait to hear, , ,

  • Jerry Hughes (9/27/2005 6:03:00 PM) Post reply | Read 1 reply

    Greetings, Movers and Shakers, t'would seem the preoccupation with death poems has subsided, however, in it's dying moments (scuse the pun) , I'd like to leave you all with this beautiful poem by Bruce Dawe, truly one of our greats.


    soliloquy for one dead

    Ah, no, Joe, you never knew
    the whole of it, the whistling
    which is only the wind in the chimney's
    smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy
    path that are always somebody else's.
    I think of your limbs down there, softly
    becoming mineral, the life of grasses,
    and the old love of you thrusts the tears
    up into my eyes, with the family aware
    and looking somewhere else.
    Sometimes when summer is over the land,
    when the heat quickens the deaf timbers,
    and birds are thick in the plums again,
    my heart sickens, Joe, calling
    for the water of your voice and the gone
    agony of your nearness. I try hard
    to forget, saying: If God wills,
    it must be so, because of
    His goodness, because-
    but the grasshopper memory leaps
    in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe,
    you never knew the whole of it...

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    • Herbert Nehrlich1 (9/27/2005 9:03:00 PM) Post reply

      Thanks Jerry, but I am keeping the spirit of death alive with my latest called The Devil's Cousin. Read it and reap. Best wishes H

  • Michael Shepherd (9/27/2005 5:40:00 PM) Post reply

    I found this one which tells you a lot about Huff and his succession of fast-food jobs: 'One Life'

    One life I’ve lived this time
    is in the back booth of a diner
    or cafe, out of the way, drinking
    coffee, smoking, watching the
    people, writing things down.
    In this life, I could be mute,
    I don’t talk to anyone, I
    just watch and listen and write.
    That’s it. This is one person
    that I’ve been this life, across
    the country, Canada, parts of
    Mexico, observing, recording.
    It’s a life. It’s a way of
    life. It’s a place where I
    feel comfortable: nothing I
    have to say, no one I have to
    relate to. I have had other
    lives this time but none more
    basic. It’s lonely sometimes
    but even the loneliness isn’t
    really uncomfortable: it fits.
    I could wish that some of my
    other lives fitted as well
    but that’s carping. We play
    the hand that’s dealt us and
    hope we leave behind something
    of worth but we don’t know.
    Somewhere in all those lines
    written in all those places
    there may be a line that lasts.
    If not, there was still the
    doing of it, the peace of a
    room where people come to eat
    or drink coffee or talk and
    also, though they’re not aware
    of it, to be watched and
    written down.
    from 'Simple Vows'

  • Linda Jenkinson (9/27/2005 5:17:00 PM) Post reply | Read 2 replies

    hi...i think this a wonderful site, , , please look at my work...im looking too...input is a wonderful thing

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    • Herbert Nehrlich1 (9/27/2005 9:50:00 PM) Post reply

      Slow down, we're looking, we're looking. It takes time with so many poems on the site. Read one of yours, you don't have to worry about people not looking. So stop fretting: -)) And welcome to the s ... more


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  • Richard George (9/27/2005 2:59:00 PM) Post reply | Read 4 replies

    Michael, David, so glad you liked the poem by Albert Huffstickler - here's another one.

    To My Twin Born Dead

    It was like being stuck in a door,
    both of us fighting to get out,
    the pressure building
    like there was a crowd behind us
    pushing, pushing.
    And then a sudden surge
    and I burst through,
    hearing your voice trail away behind me
    as I floundered out there in the light,
    thinking 'The door was too small'.
    And later then they brought you out,
    a battered lifeless thing,
    and I was alone for the first time ever.

    Sometimes I wonder
    if all my poems are to you,
    keeping a record you'll never read
    of my sojourn in that place
    you never reached.
    Sometimes I think
    they need to invent
    a new word for loneliness -
    a sound that reaches
    into the marrow of the bone
    then passes on
    into infinity.

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    • Michael Shepherd (9/27/2005 4:49:00 PM) Post reply

      My feeling is, he could have taken this further with a bit more thought. But a fine idea nevertheless and yes, a strong ending that the rest of the poem doesn't deserve.

    • Rev. Dr. A. Jacob Hassler (9/27/2005 3:48:00 PM) Post reply

      wow. sad poem. i hope it never happens to me.

    • Poetry Hound (9/27/2005 3:38:00 PM) Post reply

      I'm not sure if I like this poem or not. It's kind of wierd. But I just love the final 'Sometimes...' sentence.

    • Mary Nagy (9/27/2005 3:32:00 PM) Post reply

      If I may say, I think this is one of the ... more

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