| Dawn
Posted: 2/11/2008 1:44:34 PM | Reading between the lines...
<div class="quote">It’s a masterpiece
Heightened awareness comes in with the dawn
Painted across the morning sky
Clouds sculpt colours iridescent
In living fantasy
A palette to paint by numbers
This gift of a new day. | |
|
| Dawn
Posted: 2/11/2008 1:52:59 PM | | awww. Ain't you sweet. | |
|
| Thank you Drea and Breathing
Posted: 2/11/2008 2:39:19 PM | hoarse with eloquence, mad
with truth--words that beseech
or beckon or command,
can equal the touch,
in passing, of a friendly hand.
Priceless!...Tom | |
|
| Thank you Drea and Breathing
Posted: 2/12/2008 4:48:10 AM | | Many thanks, Tom. I write a lot of poems - too many, I've begun to think & intend to concentrate more on quality than quantity, but that poem is one of the ones I'm proud of. | |
|
| Thank you Drea and Breathing
Posted: 2/12/2008 6:38:49 AM | Lol Jer...wanders in and leaves the door open....yep...bloomin aussie born in a tent...
"Pass the salt" asks my grandma..
down the table it travels, from generation
to generation, to season her potatoes...
a pause before she asks for the pepper...
It follows the journey of the salt, a fine Sunday roast!
gathered round the table, a family enjoys...
the food, the company, the white linen tablecloth,
bleached in the Australian sun.
Four generations, laughing, talking...
conversation flows like the gravy across the meat
that Grandad carved not five minutes ago at the head of the table.
My Grandma winks at me as she pours extra mint sauce on my meat.... | |
|
| Thank you Drea and Breathing
Posted: 2/12/2008 1:01:20 PM | Splitscreen: how I love the flow of your poetry, and in similar spirit:
Friday evenings, the onset of the Sabbath,
my mother would lay a white tablecloth
on the dining-room table,
set out our best dinnerware,
the Sabbath candle-holder with tall
white candle, place a doily on her head and,
her hands covering her eyes, would recite
Barukh atah Adonai E1oheinu,
melekh ha'olam,
asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav
v'tzivanu l'hadlik ner shel Shabbat"
(Blessed are Thou, Lord our God,
King of the universe,
Who sanctified us by His commandments
and commanded us to kindle the Sabbath light).
“We need to have something to celebrate,”
she told me once, “otherwise
every day would be the same....” | |
|
| Thank you Drea and Breathing
Posted: 2/16/2008 8:13:36 AM | What a beautiful saying Jer....
Some days I wish with all my heart that I could return to those warm, safe memories of my childhood...
Lol - one of my father's sayings...."you'll have your eye out with that"...
I grew up a bush kid, outback, on the land,
milking and herding cattle, the scent of horses
making me feel healthy and safe, sweet sweat
as we moved the cows to the top paddock.
Rising before dawn to milk, then breakfast
warm, fresh cows milk on my weet bix
driving to reedy lake for a swim,
burning the leeches off when we got out.
Breaking horses, my pop's words remain
His pride in me, his love of me, the company...
Then the afternoon milking to be done,
back to the house after dark..the moon lighting the way... | |
|
| I grew up a bush kid
Posted: 2/23/2008 12:21:22 PM |
I grew up a bush kid, outback, on the land,
milking and herding cattle, the scent of horses
making me feel healthy and safe, sweet sweat
as we moved the cows to the top paddock.
Rising before dawn to milk, then breakfast
warm, fresh cows milk on my weet bix
driving to reedy lake for a swim,
burning the leeches off when we got out.
Breaking horses, my pop's words remain
His pride in me, his love of me, the company...
Then the afternoon milking to be done,
back to the house after dark..the moon lighting the way...
How lovely! How filled with wonderful, visceral detail, as if this had been eritten not by your mind alone but with every inch of you! | |
|
| I grew up a bush kid
Posted: 2/25/2008 4:15:34 AM | Aww shucks Jer... thank-you for seeing it...
Last week I bought a new keyboard,
some of the letters had disappeared from mine..
but I couldn't bring myself to plug
the bright, shiny, new one into my computer?
Then today, as I put my old one away
I realised why I kept it there...
It was my friend...letters worn,
tobacco and ash filled, wine inside.
I remembered the nights I had sat with it...
crying as if my heart was broken,
tears of pain in those keys...
as it typed my words onto the page.
Words of verse, chats with friends...
ones I met over that keyboard...
laughing with their posts on the pages...
(hence the wine and ash!)
I remembered all the wonderful people
all over the world, that keyboard reached them...
cared for them, laughed and cried with them...
made them into pieces of my soul.
So, I have kept that keyboard to remind me...
to never forget how something so simple
can reach out to similar souls, the ones...
who really...know...my heart.... | |
|
| I grew up a bush kid
Posted: 2/25/2008 8:19:39 AM | I sensed the letters that were missing!
ast w k I b ught a n w k yb ard,
s m f th tt rs had disapp ar d fr m min ..
but I c u dn't bring mys f t p ug
th bright, shiny, n w n int my c mput r?
Th n t day, as I put my d n away
I r a is d why I k pt it th r ...
It was my fri nd... tt rs w rn,
t bacc and ash fi d, win insid .
I r m mb r d th nights I had sat with it...
crying as if my h art was br k n,
t ars f pain in th s k ys...
as it typ d my w rds nt th pag .
W rds f rs , chats with fri nds...
n s I m t r that k yb ard...
aughing with th ir p sts n th pag s...
(h nc th win and ash!)
I r m mb r d a th w nd rfu p p
a r th w r d, that k yb ard r ach d th m...
car d f r th m, augh d and cri d with th m...
mad th m int pi c s f my s u .
S , I ha k pt that k yb ard t r mind m ...
t n r f rg t h w s m thing s simp
can r ach ut t simi ar s u s, th n s...
wh r a y...kn w...my h art....
Only put them back and you'd have what you need! | |
|
| I'd really like some feedback
Posted: 3/2/2008 5:13:49 AM | on the following, especially whether the final two lines make any sense whatsoever:
Dialogue
Says Moses to Jesus:
“In the future it will seem
as if we were practically
contemporaries...” Says Jesus,
“And yet we lived
in such different times,
which made us who we were.”
“But we were always,” Moses answers,
“what we were meant to be:
saviours, brothers.”
“No,” Jesus says, “you saved
one people from another. I was intended
to save all of them
from themselves.”
“He who saves one man,”
quotes Moses from a later text,
“It is as if he has saved the entire world.”
How many Saviours does it take
to change a light-bulb?
| |
|
| Snapshots: IV
Posted: 3/12/2008 7:39:05 AM | A woman stops by my table to greet me,
to offer me the chance to invite her
to join me. It would take me
the better part of the day
to decode the expression on her face.
There is a note of Save me from my loneliness
and an undernote of Of course you won't.
Like all the other men you look for younger women
with bigger breasts and lax morals
and there's a side note of Figure me out if you can!
No one ever has, or will. | |
|
| Snapshots: IV
Posted: 3/12/2008 10:30:41 AM | Sorry, pasted the rough copy,my sincere appologies.
I have been summoned by the queen
an Easter appearance has been requested
and I submit.
I will have peas put beneath my mattress I suppose,
and must be careful in discussions about,
well, me...
There will be no acknowledging departed friends,
and I must try to stay within the boundaries of proper decorum
and discussions about the weather
and the fine points of Montreal...
but may I slip out for a fresh cappuccino
and observations of character?
May I break out and dance delightedly over a warm croissant? | |
|
| Snapshots: IV
Posted: 3/12/2008 2:38:56 PM | | The royal visit won't be that bad Ravin and Alyosha is there to save you if you need a break from being too proper. | |
|
| Snapshots: IV
Posted: 3/12/2008 3:18:26 PM | A man sits proud at his table
I chance to stop and say hello
he smiles, yet doesn't invite me
to take a closer look
I stand there feeling foolish
have I made a dreadful ere?
will he know how desperate I feel for this
my pathetic attempt at a flirt?
I should have had a better plan
my conversation mapped out
Now I stand here with nothing more to say
I wonder if I can conceal
the turmoil brewing within
or should I? | |
|
| Snapshots: IV
Posted: 3/12/2008 4:01:57 PM | If I were the guy at that table,
Chatty Miss, I would surely invite you to join me
and after being reminded that you have
a boy-friend, I'd conceal my disappointment
and offer to talk with you about
Hillary vs Barack... | |
|
| Snapshots: V
Posted: 3/13/2008 2:33:30 PM | Entering the café I catch sight of a guy I know from another café. I catch sight of him just in time to pretend that I haven’t seen him. As inconspicuously as I can, I slither my way to my usual spot at the counter and seat myself, my back to his profile.
Someone foisted him on me once on the grounds that he was Jewish and a writer and ever since then, whenever I was there and he arrived, he would seat himself at my table without asking if he could. But I found conversation with him so painful that eventually I stopped going there. He was on side or the other of forty but as far as I could tell, he had no job. As far as I could tell because, about his private life it was if he were the last, loyal member of a long disbanded Maoist party.
He did refer once to the fact that he had done his MA in literature at McGill University. “What was your thesis topic?” I asked.
“Do you know anything about Henry Roth?”
Yes, I said and recited the main things I knew about him.
“It wasn’t about him,” he answered. “How about Daniel Fuchs?”
I’d heard the name but confessed that I knew nothing beyond that.
“Oh,” he said, with a pleased smile.
I’m uncomfortable sitting there, ignoring him, wondering if he’s caught sight of me after all. Eventually I become aware that he’s getting ready to leave and I watch to see in which direction he will go. He looks east, takes a step west, then alters direction and heads north. I feel as if, poor orphan of fate, he’s at the whim of the faintest of intentions. | |
|
| Snapshots: V
Posted: 3/14/2008 7:09:14 PM | I go over the scenario
each time my role changes
blurs into nothingness...
how do I conduct myself????
keep my gaze averted and turn my back?
will that show a lack of moral fibre
or be construed
as simply rude.
should I feign joy
and employ the "jolly good to see you" tactic
all the while wishing a dose of Beri Beri
or terminal obesity...wait
she has that anyway...oh joy
I will employ the services of Estee Lauder and Lancome
with lovely smells from Chanel
casual Haut Couture in a size small(well almost)
and kill her with class!
 | |
|
| Snapshots: V
Posted: 3/20/2008 4:08:30 AM | | Many thanks, pickles, always happy to see more of your mordant wit! | |
|
| What do they do with those extra 4 ½ years?
Posted: 3/24/2008 2:39:34 PM | The latest statistics show
that the richest folk in the USA
live 4 ½ years longer
than the most poor.
But what do they do with those
extra 4 ½ years?
Do they dance on the graves of the poor? | |
|
| What do they do with those extra 4 ½ years?
Posted: 3/24/2008 3:09:04 PM | some classes don't have teachers
we sort ourselves
into groups
how we live
what we do
saving or spending
time
some drink more than water
others can't wait to swallow
go right for the veins
right past the thought
that maybe that isnt wise
so if we group everyone
in piles and mounds
sort by what makes us happy
to be right about being superior
then we sing another ode to Mr Twain
he of "Lies,damn lies and statistics"
Mr twain it seems your letters from heaven
are still arriving | |
|
| What do they do with those extra 4 ½ years?
Posted: 3/25/2008 7:24:33 AM | | Ah, Transcend, you've risen above mere statistics. Perhaps, in fact, you don't believe in the "poor," that's just a fiction. And if there are any of those it's perhaps because they're too lazy or have chosen to live that way? | |
|
| What do they do with those extra 4 ½ years?
Posted: 3/25/2008 2:24:13 PM | believe in the poor? i grew up in a family of 7 and we had weeks where meat was a rumor.. I was 16 years old before i had a meal in a restaurant.. poor isnt a fantasy or an imaginary place to visit.. not knowing your circumstances perhaps you have knowledge of poor that isnt second hand , if so you certainly write about it like you have forgotten the air of constant desperation that turns life into a struggle just to make it til tomorrow. i don't blame people for being poor but i don't think its a destination to be sought or enobled by being treated like circumstance can't be turned around.. out of the 7, 5 are still alive and we are all far from poor.
Thats the US where those stories are common, you know the US , the place you sometimes seem to be overwrought about?
No place is perfect, man isnt a perfect social being.. but poverty should be temporary and those that work to make it so are to be honored , those who want to make it grist for their own grinding, need to find another subject , perhaps one they really understand... firsthand. | |
|
| What do they do with those extra 4 ½ years?
Posted: 3/26/2008 7:10:06 PM | | Transcend, I don't get what your beef is with me? This started out with you doubting the veracity of the facts mentioned in my poem. And I took that to mean you objected to the thrust of the poem which is that the poor in the US are robbed of 4 1/2 years of life. | |
|
| What do they do with those extra 4 ½ years?
Posted: 3/27/2008 1:13:22 AM | No beef .. it isnt about doubting veracity, its about understanding that statistics without context are worse than useless..they lie in ways that damage ,distort in ways that lead to fallacious conclusions.. wait, let me give you an example
Until a couple of years ago , hormone replacement therapy for women generated the largest single reimbursement expense for insurance companies in the US. An Insurance sponsored grant (bought and paid for is probably the term a realist would use)funded a statistical analysis of thousands of women comparing those post menopausal women that used the therapy vs those that didnt. In the first paragraph of the final report it was mentioned that there was no statistically significant difference in the data reported yet.. there was numerically a few more cases of cancer among those women who had been on HRT. These numbers were leaked to the media and driven by a group of hungry lawyers ( is there any other kind?) suddenly we have a panic of idiocy, lawsuits filed and thousands of women fleeing to their doc's for an alternative.
The result? in one year billions in profit for the insurance companies as the reimbursement fell to half the level of the year before. Meanwhile the women helped greatly by the therapy either suffered without or else used the therapy and worried.
There has still not been a statistically significant analysis that concludes HRT increases the risk of cancer. The media participates in this type of manipulation
Do we have to dance to every tune? Do you?
As far as the difference in living and dying between income levels..lets look at whatever study generated that data..did it mention that the rate of smoking varies or alcoholism or drug abuse? what factors were factored out? have you seen the study itself? The internet does make most things available
My concern with anyone that quotes data to prove a point is always going to be
"Are you allowing your desire to make "your"point overwhelm a reasonable test of evidence?" remember that no one does research unless they are paid.. who funded the study and who benefits from the conclusions and what conclusions did they make?
without understanding we can end up trying to compare an apple and an avalanche
thats poetry ..not a nugget of truth to treasure | |
|
Home
login 
