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Welcome to photoreal poetry
Perfect reproduction of meaning
One single image
Hold still
Smile

Pop

Cultural deficits
Campbell’s soup and cream of
Consciousness
This is where you stay
Do not think
Outside

The box

Does not exist
Except as another
Extracted and impacted
Cliché

And so beautifully laid out this poem is. Not like those ones
whose only intent seems to be even lines. Talk about boxes!
(Please note: I made no mention of Greek gods.)

The idea of "reproduction of meaning" bent my brain cells when
I tried to wrap my brain. This is definitely Dr. Who territory.

"photoreal poetry"
"One single image/Hold still/Smile/Pop"
What excellent descriptions of haiku!

You can extract the box from the Cliché, but you can't extract
the Cliché from the box. Terribly impactful, and toothy!






Greek gods spent a lot of time seeking boxes.

I hope you didn't wrap your brain too tight, and used cheesecloth. Cling film makes them sweat and the taste is ruined.

I was hit by a cliche once. The bloke who through it said it would make an impact, but I hardly felt a thing -- it left a stain though, I had to wash immediately.

Who was it that said: "Ah, Cliché: the cling film of the soul."
Was it me? Not sure, this cheesecloth migraine... now where's
my Greeeeeeek box? Please notice that I made no mention of
Pandora's jar. There's hope for me yet.



i can't compete with what you both do but i do
enjoy reading the tooing and froing between those who can
thanks.
We enjoy your enjoyment, billy Big Grin

Ray, I had considered Pandora but I think the myth twisted things a little too far -- the reality is, she was a very old woman and one day, curious, she opened her legs and all sorts of foul things escaped, chased by one pretty white moth.

Nobody had a camera phone handy, which was just as well because it's not the sort of thing you want to see on youtube while you're eating your cornflakes.

billy: Your enjoyment is the one of the few things that
lends comfort to our pathetic little lives, so please,
for all our sakes, keep reading. I fear our very existence
hinges on your attention (or at least our egos, which,
depending on your view of same is same).

Leanne: Referencing Pandora would add a hint of the dark
ataxia necessary for creativity. As trite as Faustian knowledge?
Probably.

Opening legs, boxes and all reminded me of this poem:


< sleeping with the moon >

i'm in my ninth month
and my belly
is doing a good imitation of a melon
(though it's really not green enough)

i've known since the sonogram
that i was pregnant with the moon
and now
i turn out the lights at night
and watch it's glow
and imagine the delivery
spreading my legs
the beam of soft light
shining from me

it happened last summer
all those nights on the roof
sleeping under the stars
and yes
it's true
sleeping with the moon

- - -



One of the great perks of pregnancy is having somewhere to rest your dinner plate when you're sitting on the couch watching telly -- with the moon you could rest the whole table and enjoy a proper feast fit for the expectant parent of a goddess. Not to mention, not just the wine glass but the whole damn cask!

I heard Dr Faustus went to Gloucestus in a shower of fire, stepped in a puddle right up to his middle and set alight his spare tyre.
(02-16-2012, 04:19 AM)Leanne Wrote: [ -> ]Welcome to photoreal poetry
Perfect reproduction of meaning
One single image
Hold still
Smile

Pop

Cultural deficits
Campbell’s soup and cream of
Consciousness
This is where you stay
Do not think
Outside

The box

Does not exist
Except as another
Extracted and impacted
Cliché
Clean and clipped
Commitment verse..point made and no mistake......This is not really a crit as this is not really poetry....but it is good. You want bovver? Wait till erthona sees those capitals!
Best,
Tectak
Stay fresh.