Among my peers
October 12, 2009 at 7:01 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 9 CommentsTags: etymology, Exu, insult, poetry, writing
Before you insult me yet again with red hot prods, please allow myself to explain.
Take one moment to see my work he said breathing dirt
and holding out an open hand tis true one develops
a heart of stone when one sleeps rarely
and only in certain uncouth company, yesterday
a gilded cage
then under bridges
fallen
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The Puzzle Box
gingatao, the podcast- Soraya December 6, 2011
- Teethmarks November 25, 2011
- the gentle art of soft landings June 29, 2010
- The Australian Poet Laureate
- another quote from Robert Adamson January 31, 2010
- Three Quotes from Robert Adamson October 22, 2009
- The copyright question (2) October 7, 2009
legal formalities
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'And you have to deal with the terrible karma too.' Paul Squires.
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Let it be known that I see your work and thrive upon it.
and vice versa, Brad,
Comment by Brad— October 12, 2009 #
I like how this flows… the last few lines… that trickle effect, if you will. And I like how your adventures in the blogosphere / the ‘online poetry community’ feed back into your work (not necessarily in this one, but generally).
This is one of those poems, Stu, where I would turn every word into a link and it can act as a kind of nexus or source for a much larger work. I might do that over the next few days, or not bother.
Comment by Stu— October 12, 2009 #
This beautifully expresses how the feedback about one’s art goes, great one day, terrible the next and having to keep a steady course through it all.
Ms Squirrel! Your “Letter From A Fan” is making me smile still. I learned something from my own comment. You are fabulous.
Comment by The Querulous Squirrel— October 13, 2009 #
it just started to play out of a pocket platinum voice recorder the most forward model set to rewind and play again
the volume containd, detail sound of dust collecting (from breathing dirt), a glide of time and place, a pyramid jewelstone w/perfect cut and depths
thanks
Fallen angel, devil poem, dead man rising poem, Tipota. Gaze thee upon my ‘work’ and weep.
Comment by tipota— October 13, 2009 #
No need for explanations but yours is beautiful – you are a truly original poet that’s for sure (the process and outcome). We miss your tweets – not just me, but other twits as well – but you must do what you must do. A gilded cage – I live in one of those!
I don’t have much to say at the moment, Gabrielle and what I do have to say is probably best kept to myself.
Comment by Gabrielle Bryden— October 13, 2009 #
Paul,
Nice to pop in. What a bright website, what sparkling poetry. I’ll come again.
BTW Paul I’d like to invite you to join in with a joint blogging venture. All you have to do is send me your email and I’ll grant you blog posting rights. It could be quite exciting.
You have my email,
Comment by ISA - Philip Hall— October 13, 2009 #
imo the ‘work’ is not work in the traditional sense but a necessity like water. anyway i dont understand whatever it is that wants to make things harder. the ‘work’ is hard enough and any question of its value is proven beyond a doubt – precious metals and gemstones, carbon compressed to diamond and dont forget there r times it is a pure joy
i wouldnt want to weep, oops sorry mightve weeped a little
Comment by tipota— October 14, 2009 #
the heart of stone polished glistens and reflects all kinds of light then it would be beautiful stone, and one admits that light is light
so if emotion fails, light is still light
and still gives warmth
Comment by Aletha— October 14, 2009 #
Yes, hearts of stone are less easily moved, and how beautifully expressed: “yesterday a gilded cage then under bridges fallen.” A life of artistic endeavor can be quite a ride, many changes of scenery. It’s been known to make me motion sick.
Comment by Thomma Lyn— October 15, 2009 #