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“The Wall” we thought of self-
absorbed victim-hood the top,
as Waters mutilated his mug
using self pity as a drug:
bemoaning the fact that his father
was not there having died
so that his son might live, to sit
knee deep in fame and money
while crying about social isolation,
depression and despair;
but that narcissistic apex would
have to wait for the coming of
Frida Kahlo's patron saint,
the Madonna of moral taint.
Unfortunately for poor Frida,
a pole rammed through the pelvis
gave validity to her complaint.
Hardly the same as the legions
that adore her (suffering), in effigy
as if a kindred spirit,
though there is not the
slightest hint of any similarity.
Their moaning has more
to do with not getting what they
want, rather than any missing need.
They say their wound’s internal.
I say, let it bleed!"


© –Erthona

“The Wall” we thought of self-
absorbed victim-hood the top,
as Waters mutilated his mug
using self pity as a drug:
bemoaning the fact that his father
was not there having died
so that his son might live, to sit
knee deep in fame and money
while crying about social isolation,
depression and despair;
but that narcissistic apex would
have to wait for the coming of
Frida Kahlo's patron saint,
the Madonna of moral taint.
Unfortunately for poor Frida,
a pole rammed through the pelvis
gave validity to her complaint.
Hardly the same as the legions
that adore her (suffering), in effigy
as if a kindred spirit,
though there is not the
slightest hint of any similarity.
Their moaning has more
to do with not getting what they
want, rather than any missing need.
They say their wound’s internal.
I say, let it bleed!"
***********
I know-- a shame upon us.

Poetry has become prose in lines that do not go
all the way across the page. From now on my defi-
nition of poetry is-- 'If it feels like poetry,
it is.'

Your poem feels like poetry. Not finger feeling
that's for lovers in seedy hotel rooms-- crusted
and wet, smelly rooms that feel like seedy hotel
rooms. Dismissing what I considered to be poetry,
I now place my $100 black casino chip on 'feeling.'

It's a feeling. It's a propositional verb-- 'I have
a feel what I just read is poetry." I can't take
it back. I can take back cognitive verbs-- "I heard
the noon whistle." No, it was a firetruck.

"OK, then I take it back."

Can't take back propositionals-- 'feeling' is one.

I just 'thought' of Annabel Leigh dying of Typhus.
No you didn't.
Yes, I did and I wish I could say I ony thought I
thought, but I can't. I can't reverse time and say
I didn't think of her.

So, I can't take back that I 'feel' the poem above
is a genuine poem. How does one 'feel' a poem is a
poem-- in the limbics?--reptilian and mammalian?

Perhaps as epiphany or William James' 'vastation."
or does the feeling come in moments of 'all's
right with the world, Maslow's higher reach?

Don't ask me.

All I know and need to know is that feeling.
It's a poem all right, but nothing of Wordsworth's
simplicity nor Tennyson's sweetness, more the manli-
ness of the Elizabethan poets.

rh
.
'If it feels like poetry, it is.'

Hopefully not extended to: "If it feels like the gun's loaded, it is."
(Though this actually works for the 'plastic' ones.)

But on the poem thing, I decided a long time ago to go with the
author's opinion (unless it was unobtainable). Since I'm making up
the rest of it as I read it, I think it's only proper to allow the writer
some sort of determination.

[quote='rayheinrich' pid='93177' dateline='1332952950']
.
'If it feels like poetry, it is.'
[font=Courier New][size=1]
Hopefully not extended to: "If it feels like the gun's loaded, it is."
(Though this actually works for the 'plastic' ones.)

But on the poem thing, I decided a long time ago to go with the
author's opinion (unless it was unobtainable). Since I'm making up
the rest of it as I read it, I think it's only proper to allow the writer
some sort of determination.
***
Extended to, "If it feels like Charles Lamb wrote it,
he did. If it looks like a lime Slurpee, it is. If it
feels soft and fussy, it's something soft and fuzzy.

If Hester screwed Dimmesdale, she did
(even if just once or twice).
If Ahab stomped about on a peg, Cetology.

If Jason grew up a miser hating women,
and Benjy grew up an idiot, and Caddy
turned to promiscuity, it sounds furious.

I am curious, tho, why did Henry Sutpen
shoot Charles Bon? when they were close
as brothers and thick as thieves.

Whitman wrote about grass. Who wrote
about leaves? Joyce Kilmer, in a poem
good for sospranos and not much else.

Enough extension...
rh

.
"I am curious, tho, why did Henry Sutpen shoot Charles Bon?"

Googled it: It was not so much about repressed desire as it was about the abysmally
low amount he'd gotten for the film rights for "The Sound and the Fury". He was
determined not to let that happen again.


Whitman wrote about grass. Who wrote about leaves?

Wallace Shawn, of course: "Grasses of a Thousand Colors”
http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/th...ntPage=all

An anthropologist can take a small piece of bone, if it is the right piece, and tell you all manner of things about the entity who was original attached to that piece of bone. One way is to look at how the muscles attached to the bone. If one is skilled in doing so, he can tell you much just from that. Most things are not so difficult to identify, and as a result people make the assumption that all things are as easy to distinguish as what they encounter in their daily life. and if someone tries to make a distinction of which they are unaware, then they accuse that person of simply making a mountain out of a molehill.
One of the things about poetry, such as the example above,"Let It Bleed", is that the lines are truncated as a way to convey a certain rhythm throughout the reading, and this rhythm is used to communicate something unspoken in much the same way as a raised eyebrow conveys something when speaking face to face (the short lines are not done in an ad hoc sort of way for there is a reason behind their use, and they are not just being used as an affectation so that the piece will "appear" to look like poetry). Conversely, prose "tells", it does not convey by subtle means. Poetry is said to be language dense, conveying more in a few words, than what prose conveys in half a page. Should one wish to waste ones time learning these little mannerism of poetry, one will be able to distinguish between the two forms as easily as he can discriminate between more common things such as the difference that exists between a river and a pond.
The problem of course is the same as that of the anthropologist, no one believes you can actually do what it is you say you can do, because they lack the necessary acumen and grasps of the nomenclature in order to make sense out of the explanation; for are not both a river and a pond bodies of water, and are you not just making pointless distinctions to say there is any kind of significant difference between the two? They of course accuse you of pretending to knowledge or discernment that does not and cannot exists. They know it does not—and here is the beauty of their logic—for it does not to them. Case closed.

Dale

Anthropologists? Not dealing with bones here so much as entrails, relics,
the positions of planets...

Oracles and prophets and astrologers have definitely convinced themselves
and/or definitely try to convince us that they know things most mortals don't.

Intelligent literary design.


Like I said!

Yes, you've fulfilled your prophesy quite nicely.


One of the things about poetry, such as the example above,"Let It Bleed", is that the lines are truncated as a way to convey a certain rhythm throughout the reading, and this rhythm is used to communicate something unspoken in much the same way as a raised eyebrow conveys something when speaking face to face (the short lines are not done in an ad hoc sort of way for there is a reason behind their use, and they are not just being used as an affectation so that the piece will "appear" to look like poetry). Conversely, prose "tells", it does not convey by subtle means. Poetry is said to be language dense, conveying more in a few words, than what prose conveys in half a page. Should one wish to waste ones time learning these little mannerism of poetry, one will be able to distinguish between the two forms as easily as he can discriminate between more common things such as the difference that exists between a river and a pond.
The problem of course is the same as that of the anthropologist, no one believes you can actually do what it is you say you can do, because they lack the necessary acumen and grasps of the nomenclature in order to make sense out of the explanation; for are not both a river and a pond bodies of water, and are you not just making pointless distinctions to say there is any kind of significant difference between the two? They of course accuse you of pretending to knowledge or discernment that does not and cannot exists. They know it does not—and here is the beauty of their logic—for it does not to them. Case closed.
**
When one says case clolsed they assume by the performative that
the case is closed. Well, the case is not closed. In fact, the
case is open, as are all the cases that were, before, closed.

Closing cases in favor of poetry 'magic' over prose 'magic,'
is noting a raised eyebrow when a student fails to admit the
difference between a pond and a washtub-- one can turn a wash-
tub over and beat it with a stick thereby making music.

I do not hold with those who believe a line of poetry says
more than a half page of prose. There's nothing in poetry.
the best of it, that makes me swoon at the techical craftiness,
the worship of 'the way' poetry edges in and gives the slip.

Prose can do the same, even prose that looks like poetry. A
person can drown in a washtub full of water, same as if thrown
into a pond with flatirons tied around their waist.

Bah!
Humbug!

It's a poem, nothing special.
Nothing to see here folks.
Clear the streets.
Go home.

Sorry, I just don't have reverence for it, as some do.
besides I'm only 16, a sophomore in high school.
V
I will admit, tho-- in flying school back in Bainbridge
Georgia, 1957, I took my T-28 to 11,000 feet, slid
back the roof, and threw out into the air over Auburn/
Opalika-- a poem by Auden written on heavy paper and fold-
ed into an airplace shape. I flew around a little and
when calling in, "Eh Tobbagon Tower, this is Air Force
313 preparing to pitch," I noted that paper plane fly-
ing right along outside on my right.

Maybe poetry is more than I think it is.

Maybe poetry is special, and if not, would have spun
out when trying to recover from vertical flight.

V
(unedited)


[quote='Erthona' pid='93248' dateline='1333081710']
An anthropologist can take a small piece of bone, if it is the right piece, and tell you all manner of things about the entity who was original attached to that piece of bone. One way is to look at how the muscles attached to the bone. If one is skilled in doing so, he can tell you much just from that. Most things are not so difficult to identify, and as a result people make the assumption that all things are as easy to distinguish as what they encounter in their daily life. and if someone tries to make a distinction of which they are unaware, then they accuse that person of simply making a mountain out of a molehill.
One of the things about poetry, such as the example above,"Let It Bleed", is that the lines are truncated as a way to convey a certain rhythm throughout the reading, and this rhythm is used to communicate something unspoken in much the same way as a raised eyebrow conveys something when speaking face to face (the short lines are not done in an ad hoc sort of way for there is a reason behind their use, and they are not just being used as an affectation so that the piece will "appear" to look like poetry). Conversely, prose "tells", it does not convey by subtle means. Poetry is said to be language dense, conveying more in a few words, than what prose conveys in half a page. Should one wish to waste ones time learning these little mannerism of poetry, one will be able to distinguish between the two forms as easily as he can discriminate between more common things such as the difference that exists between a river and a pond.
The problem of course is the same as that of the anthropologist, no one believes you can actually do what it is you say you can do, because they lack the necessary acumen and grasps of the nomenclature in order to make sense out of the explanation; for are not both a river and a pond bodies of water, and are you not just making pointless distinctions to say there is any kind of significant difference between the two? They of course accuse you of pretending to knowledge or discernment that does not and cannot exists. They know it does not—and here is the beauty of their logic—for it does not to them. Case closed.

Dale

As for me, I would rather a reader 'feels' what he
reads is a poem, than know it was. Cognitive Domain
verses the Affective Domain.

Saying I felt it was a poem is my way of saying
something honorific... sorry if you took it another
way. I'm too old to be combative.

V

" In fact, the
case is open, as are all the cases that were, before, closed."

For the people who can't see beyond their noses the "case is closed" for them, I was not saying this in regards to poetry.I was saying it about closed minded people. As with any other art form, their are subtleties that generally take talent, study and time to comprehend. These subtleties tend to be below the level of consciousness of most people, but they are in most regards what separates the great from the good. Humans, by their nature tend to disbelieve that which they can't readily apprehend, the most belligerent posit that because they cannot apprehend it, it in fact does not exists. For them that ends the discussion, i.e. "case closed".

"I do not hold with those who believe a line of poetry says
more than a half page of prose."

Then I would assume you also hold with those who see no difference between a play and a painting. Some would suggest that if the painting were of sufficient quality one could study it for the duration of a play and come away more enlightened than the playgoers, despite the fact the painting takes up far less "space" than does the manuscript of the play, not to mention the overall production. But of course this must be wrong, as space has to be the determining judge of quality, and a half a page is a half a page regardless if it is Coleridge or the readers digest, they must surely be more or less equivalent.

That all art can achieve the same end is not up for debate here. I was not claiming one form as being superior over another. A well written novel can more gently move a person along so that it is not until the end the person realizes he understands something that he had not even previously considered.

There are also those who purposefully misconstrue what is written simply so they may take exception to it; thus allowing them a forum in which to pontificate, which is of course just another form of belligerent closed-mindedness, giving ample illustration of the difference between argument and simple contradiction.

Dale
(04-04-2012, 01:18 PM)Erthona Wrote: [ -> ]" In fact, the
case is open, as are all the cases that were, before, closed."

For the people who can't see beyond their noses the "case is closed" for them, I was not saying this in regards to poetry.I was saying it about closed minded people. As with any other art form, their are subtleties that generally take talent, study and time to comprehend. These subtleties tend to be below the level of consciousness of most people, but they are in most regards what separates the great from the good. Humans, by their nature tend to disbelieve that which they can't readily apprehend, the most belligerent posit that because they cannot apprehend it, it in fact does not exists. For them that ends the discussion, i.e. "case closed".

"I do not hold with those who believe a line
of poetry says more than a half page of prose."

Then I would assume you also hold with those who see no difference between a play and a painting. Some would suggest that if the painting were of sufficient quality one could study it for the duration of a play and come away more enlightened than the playgoers, despite the fact the painting takes up far less "space" than does the manuscript of the play, not to mention the overall production. But of course this must be wrong, as space has to be the determining judge of quality, and a half a page is a half a page regardless if it is Coleridge or the readers digest, they must surely be more or less equivalent.

That all art can achieve the same end is not up for debate here. I was not claiming one form as being superior over another. A well written novel can more gently move a person along so that it is not until the end the person realizes he understands something that he had not even previously considered.

There are also those who purposefully misconstrue what is written simply so they may take exception to it; thus allowing them a forum in which to pontificate, which is of course just another form of belligerent closed-mindedness, giving ample illustration of the difference between argument and simple contradiction.

Dale

Hi Dale,

I attended in 1958 the Air War College at Montomery.
There we were given the Miller's Analogy test. I'm
sure you have taken it.

What can we make of your comment

"Then I would assume you also hold with those who
see no difference between a play and a painting."

Ok, is this how it would go?

A line of poetry is to a half page of poetry
as a play is to a -----------------.

If an officer replied .."a painting," he probably
would be sent off to Greenland for the rest of his
enlistment.

Maybe this illustration misses the mark. I miss
a lot of marks.

My 'feel' comment avoided what I ought to have said.

I remember some cognitive poetics research that
suggested the brain processes nouns in one location
and verbs in another. In poetry verbs often become
nouns and nouns verbs--anthimeria. (Shakerseare
practised it in every play) The brain, in that micro-
second, 'confuses' and the owner of the brain 'feels'
something going on.

Poetry does other stuff too-- lots of stuff prose
doesn't do. One might suggest the brain is more
active when its owner is reading poetry. This cog-
nition alert, also for that micro-second, leads
to a 'feeling.'

... that what is read is poetry and not prose.

The 'better' poetry.

Of course writers of prose also employ anthimeria,
but I agree with you that poetry 'does' more than
prose --- but it may not 'say.' more.

The definition of a prose essay is a piece of
writing that talks about what the reader already
knows-- poetry too ('but not so well expressed')

We are not far apart.

I appreciate the 'feeling;' you. the understand-
ing. I feel it's a poem in the whole; you in the
hierarchy of parts intentionaly written.

I think cognitive poetics is misnamed. Of course,
I understand only a fraction of the idea. I have
a 'feeling' what is called cognitive poetics is
more Sanskrit poetics-- both, though, deal in sym-
pathic reader reactions, to the tropes, to the
schemes, to the assembly.

I honor your allegiance to this thing called poetry.

V
(unedited)

Of course he would, and rightly so. The military is not run by analogy.

The rest of what you say I generally agree with. I think the goal of any art form is to create an epiphanous response within the person interacting with the art. It is obvious that this happens, and that certain individuals have the ability to create such art to a greater or lessor extent. As far as my reading of current research in the field of human cognition, it appears that science is very far away from explaining the mechanism, let alone the why of such responses. I think W. J. Bryant sheds as much insight into that area, if not more than anything that science and fMRI has been able to ascertain, but does not the explanation generally follow the application?

I would talk more on this, but I am pressed for mind...time Smile

So I'll leave you with this
------------------------------------------
I had an epiphany

I had an epiphany—just the regular kind.
Hurriedly, I took pen in hand and wrote it down.
I gave it to everyone and they agreed,
it was…“really quite profound!”
I guess… I must agree with them.
Profound: so it now seems;
for time has passed and I can’t recall
—what any of it means!

©2011 ~Erthona