just before the blue dressing gown

June 12, 2009 at 7:36 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 26 Comments
Tags: ,

“All theories are just post-facto excuses for past practice.”
La di dada flounces out of the room in a huff of petticoats and perfume.
The plates on which the sandwiches were served are trimmed with spring flowers. Such a boring old fuddy duddy sideways and later smile apologising oh I didn’t know it was Sir T.S. Eliot stirring

Lemon into her tea

…who has never taught Creative Writing,” as a kind of in-joke on his CV
until one had responded quoting himself, “the complete anonymity of the artist, haha,” a quick and gentle teasing over one long afternoon and
outrageously delightful pastries denying the grey flow of rain drops
streaming down the window.

You can tell he is in love because he no longer knows what to say and all the false bluster like the wind outside has fallen away.

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26 Comments »

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  1. Paul,

    You do playful so well. Li di dada flouncing! Made my boring Friday Night 🙂
    Cool, happy to help, Maxine.

  2. This is great. You’ve created such an atmosphere inside and out- characters, dinnerware, rain. I love it. Have a nice day.
    Thankyou. You too, Michelle.

  3. Your writing shimmers and sparkles with the thoughts, feelings and experiences of real life. I love how you indulge so many of the senses with your words by offering up a range of sights, sounds, smells and tastes…just wonderful.

    I love your last sentence most of all, such a beautifully written line and an eloquent exploration of language.
    As is your lovely comment, Tracey. Thankyou.

  4. quite a delight… needed to read something like this today… spirits have indeed been raised in me,

    and i thank you…
    And I thankyou too, Chico.

  5. Beautiful poem
    As well as all explanations of why you choose something are post-facto inference of the decision, so are theories and practices.
    I learned that love repels blusters and attracts the smell of all kind of fruits, flowers and wilderness marvellous smells.
    Thankyou, Mariana. Love can do many miraculous things, I think.

  6. the way u make magic masterfully Paul and fun too! is amazing
    As are you, Tipota!

  7. this poem is delicious … literally.
    Literarily? Haha, thankyou Aletha.

  8. that last sentence just knocked me out, kid.
    Shall I start the ten count now? We’ll put it down as a TKO, I think, Jason.

  9. Though I’m just another of those women who come and go, talking of… oh, goodness, I just SO love visiting here, Paul 😉
    No such thing as ‘just another of those women’, Elizavetta. I’m glad you enjoyed the visit.

  10. Lovely, venture another for “preludes”?
    Yes, preludes are my favourite things.

  11. beautiful! there are days like this, sometimes too many 😦 … very beautiful!
    Thankyou, Ms Mist.

  12. Funny 🙂 La di dada hahaha that’s just great.
    The last line was the best. I’m totally reading the ‘he’ as ‘you’. Go. Love. carpe diem!
    It wasn’t me, Harmonie. “Every writers voice is an artificial construct,” he says blushing and running, hiding.

  13. you are really rather delightful
    Why thankyou, Samantha, so are you.

  14. No-one does so much in such a little space quite like you do.
    Is it a rude joke? Haha, no it’s not, thankyou Simonne. Poetry is about compression. Energy is compressed in the language and then released into the mind when read.

  15. surreal poets dream. very interesting 🙂
    -and the women come and go-
    Interesting is good. Thankyou Jessie.

  16. I’ve always liked the word flounce, it can indicated haughtiness or femininity. The words you choose are what fascinate me, because you can interpret them on a few levels. It doesn’t hurt to bring your sleuthing skills when reading your blog. Pastries and rain, an interesting contrast. Precision, you write with the knife edge of precision. That’s what I think anyway.
    I do try for precision, Val. Thankyou.

  17. *shivers* — I love it all, the contrasts on multiple levels: the flounces and the fuddy duddy, the pastries and the raindrops, falling in love dispersing false bluster.
    Cool, Thanks, Thomma Lyn.

  18. i like that your poems laugh.
    They do laugh, sometimes heartily and sometimes at the cosmic joke.

  19. of course he is in love–how could he not? what a wonderful conclusion and brilliant title takes us around and around around like the petticoats of huff and puff
    Indeed, he has no choice, AP. Thankyou.

  20. I have had one of those afternoons with outrageously delightful pastries. Nothing like it. You got it in one, Paul!
    Cool. I’m glad you day improved. Outrageous pastries are a soruce of great comfort, indeed.

  21. “You can tell he is in love because he no longer knows what to say and all the false bluster like the wind outside has fallen away.”- it is exactly how it does usually happen. I wish him the best of luck 🙂
    Thanks, Annamari. I will pass on your best wishes.

  22. This brightened my afternoon… then led me to imagine Eliot taking a creative writing class. Then made me think, “yes, my CV needs more jokes”.
    Cool. My whole CV is a joke, Stu. Congratulations again.

  23. This is a common thank you comment
    From a common reader and writer
    He could be something else
    If he really tried
    But he wasn’t going to be
    He’d settled for what he turned out to be
    Nothing special, nothing extra-special
    Quite common, extra-ordinarily common
    Nobody could be more common
    He was unique.

  24. And just when he thought
    He was gong to oblivion
    Along with all the other commoners
    He stopped.

  25. He decided right there and right then
    To declare who he was
    Without jest or a lovely string vest
    Or a disguise or a pink elephant surprise
    To poke his features right at you
    To wave around like a lonely cloud
    Wandering into jungles of mistletoe
    And kisses that reached the lips of womankind
    Into the minds of agitated minds
    And …

  26. […] a hard life being famous and poor, I tell ya. You don’t want that, son. Anonymous is of course a prerequisite for the artist since only the most vain would assume that you know me […]


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