The Stairs Of Caprice -REVISED

Away in the woods, a winding path.
A staircase ascending somewhere.
These flights of steps, these flighty stairs,
I wandered.

Cross the Threshold of Yesteryears,
to the Grand Porticoes of Tomorrow.
Braced by Pillars of Virtue’s Tears,
and heartstrings of sorrow.

Behold!
Its golden welcome stands sublime,
The Temple of Anamnesis.
Afterthoughts, suspended in time.

Neath its cornice Cove of Wonder,
bares the winged Sphere of Athor.
The crest of the primordial mother,
whose legends, myths and lore, suckled upon her shore.

Cloaked in the shadows of lost and found,
Lures the Labyrinth of Jareth.
Where endless tunnels of roundabouts,
and pitfall drops, abound.

Lose yourself in the Chamber of Hushed,
the Archives of Anonymity.
Here, ancient stories in unspoken secrecy, are whispered.

Roam the Rooms of Riddles, with bolted doors, unsolved.
Pirouette down the Spinning Ballrooms,
and dance, dance, dance, on the polka-dotted floors.

Wait up by the Room of Impatience,
behind the “rooms to grow”.
Listen in the Room of Silence, echoing “I don’t know..”.

Stray along the Corridor of Sacred Passage,
Pass the roaring Halls of Fame,
then down the Avenue of Bane Knowledge, walled, in whimpering shame.

Ingress pride and honor, climbs up the Turrets of Conceit.
Spiraling down vainglorious, stumbled potholes of deceit.
Where out onto the garden, strewn wild, with reckless dreams,
Misled tall and overgrow, are the weeds of illusive schemes.

Beware! Beware! Up and down the stair!

Enter the Galleries of Phantom Faces,
meet faes in petticoat silks and laces.
Statuette Busts of Prophetic Sages,
of heroes and villains, down the ages.
Caricatures of man, creatures from Pan.

Homes of strangers feigned familiar, mystic dens quite peculiar!
Covens of Aragon, Crystal Realms of Paragon,
Phoenix nests and dragon lairs, even sanctuaries,
to abandoned teddy bears.

Away in the woods, a winding path.
A staircase ascending, "Ive been there!"
These flights of steps, these stairs of promise,
Leads, I know now where.

It beckons a choice -
Crossroads of childhood or a jaded voice.
And I know in my heart, as sure as Pied Piper,
piped the portals apart, I'm up its flighty steps.

I possess the key, always had it within me,
to unbar the Gates of Fancy.

Patience is a virtue,
I found my voice and answered a many "i dont' knows"
and have pieced the clues to the riddles,
gathered along the way.

I'm late! I'm late! Not a moment's tarry,
to my rendezvous with fate.
To venture with ease, with a hop, skip and jump,
I am up the Stairs of Caprice!


============================================

The Stairs of Caprice -
Away in the woods, a winding path stood.
A staircase, ascending to somewhere.
These flights of steps, these flighty stairs,
I wandered, leads me where?

Cross the Threshold of Yesteryears,
to the Grand Porticoes of Tomorrow.
Braced by Pillars of Virtue’s Tears,
and the heartstrings of sorrow.

Behold!
Its golden welcome stands sublime,
The Temple of Anamnesis.
Afterthoughts, suspended in time.

Neath its cornice Cove of Wonder,
bares the winged Sphere of Athor.
The crest of the primordial mother,
whose legends, myths and lore,
suckled upon her shore.

Cloaked in the shadows of lost and found,
Lures the Labyrinth of Jareth.
Where endless tunnels of roundabouts,
and pitfall drops, abound.

Lose yourself in the Chamber of Hushed,
the Archives of Anonymity.
Here ancient stories are whispered,
in unspoken secrecy.

Roam the Rooms of Riddles, with bolted doors, unsolved.
Pirouette down the Spinning Ballrooms,
and dance, dance, dance, on the polka-dotted floors.

Wait up by the Room of Impatience,
or behind the “rooms to grow”.
Listen in the Room of Silence,
that echoes “I don’t know..”

Stray up, along the Corridor of Sacred Passage,
Pass the roaring Halls of Fame.
Or Down the Avenue of Bane Knowledge,
Walled, in whimpering shame.

Ingress pride and honor, climbs up the Turrets of Conceit.
Spiraling down vainglorious, stumbled potholes of deceit.

Out onto the garden, strewn wild, with reckless dreams,
Misled tall and overgrow, are the weeds of illusive schemes.

Beware! Beware! Up and down the stairs!

Enter the Galleries of Phantom Faces,
meet faes in petticoat silks and laces.
Statuette Busts of Prophetic Sages,
of heroes and villains, down the ages.
Caricatures of man, creatures from Pan.

Homes of strangers feigned familiar, mystic dens quite peculiar!
Covens of Aragon, Crystal Realms of Paragon,
Phoenix nests and dragon lairs, even sanctuaries,
to abandoned teddy bears.

Away in the woods, a winding path stood.
A staircase, ascending to nowhere.
These flights of steps, these flighty stairs of promise-
I now know, leads somewhere.

It beckons a choice -
Crossroads of childhood or a jaded voice.

I know who I am and I know my heart,
As sure as Pied Piper, piped the portals apart.

I’m holding the key,
Unbarring the gate,
Up the flighty steps of fancy.

I’m late! I’m late! Not a moment’s tarry,
to my rendezvous with fate.
Up the steps, I shall venture with ease,
with a hop skip and jump,
up the stairs of caprice.

Hi Wordweaver... jumping right into the thick of it, I see . Welcome to the forums!

I really like the whimsy that threads through the piece, and the eclectic use of concepts and imagery. More than just childhood, it gave the impression of rifling through the human subconscious. What I think this could benefit from is just a tad more focus. As I said, I enjoyed how you threw in eclectic images, archetypes, and pantheons; but at some points there is an overload, where I failed grasp the significance of a certain concept's inclusion and it struck me as just a placeholder or even padding. It makes the reader's head spin, and is an interesting bauble in and of itself, but doesn't really build up or contribute to the narrative. It's good to make the reader immersed and distracted, but as the writer you can't be as clouded as us. You must be our guide.

Another thing you could improve on is the meter... the rhyming and meter seem to be inconsistent throughout, but there's just enough proper structure here that a good edit can fix that up. Otherwise, just make it a freeverse and don't bother forcing the rhymes (i really think this looks better with structure though)

That said, I enjoyed the overall reading of the piece, and the inclusion of Jareth tickled me to no end

(08-24-2012, 06:22 AM)Word Weaver Wrote:  Away in the woods, a winding path stood.
A staircase, ascending to somewhere.
These flights of steps, these flighty stairs,
I wandered, leads me where? For me the rhyme of "somewhere" and "where" is quite forced, and by extension the stanza reads as unnecessarily coy

Cross the Threshold of Yesteryears,
to the Grand Porticoes of Tomorrow.
Braced by Pillars of Virtue’s Tears,
and the heartstrings of sorrow. "Sorrow' is the only one that isn't architectural... significance?

Behold!
Its golden welcome stands sublime,
The Temple of Anamnesis.
Afterthoughts, suspended in time.

Neath its cornice Cove of Wonder,
bares the winged Sphere of Athor.
The crest of the primordial mother,
whose legends, myths and lore,
suckled upon her shore. I like the buildup, and I like this line

Cloaked in the shadows of lost and found,
Lures the Labyrinth of Jareth.
Where endless tunnels of roundabouts,
and pitfall drops, abound.

Lose yourself in the Chamber of Hushed,
the Archives of Anonymity.
Here ancient stories are whispered,
in unspoken secrecy. they are whispered, not unspoken

Roam the Rooms of Riddles, with bolted doors, unsolved.
Pirouette down the Spinning Ballrooms,
and dance, dance, dance, on the polka-dotted floors. Not sure why you chose the polkadots as an image here... does it denote confusion? Or is it meant to look like an optical illusion.

Wait up by the Room of Impatience,
or behind the “rooms to grow”.
Listen in the Room of Silence,
that echoes “I don’t know..” Again, this part seems so different. The vibe now reminds me of a claustrophobic school (the type where students are seen and not heard)

Stray up, along the Corridor of Sacred Passage,
Pass the roaring Halls of Fame.
Or Down the Avenue of Bane Knowledge,
Walled, in whimpering shame.

Ingress pride and honor, climbs up the Turrets of Conceit.
Spiraling down vainglorious, stumbled potholes of deceit.

Out onto the garden, strewn wild, with reckless dreams,
Misled tall and overgrow, are the weeds of illusive schemes.

Beware! Beware! Up and down the stairs!

Enter the Galleries of Phantom Faces,
meet faes in petticoat silks and laces.
Statuette Busts of Prophetic Sages,
of heroes and villains, down the ages.
Caricatures of man, creatures from Pan. Quite like this stanza

Homes of strangers feigned familiar, mystic dens quite peculiar!
Covens of Aragon, Crystal Realms of Paragon,
Phoenix nests and dragon lairs, even sanctuaries,
to abandoned teddy bears. Teddy bears seems out of place? But perhaps that's just me

Away in the woods, a winding path stood.
A staircase, ascending to nowhere.
These flights of steps, these flighty stairs of promise-
I now know, leads somewhere.

It beckons a choice -
Crossroads of childhood or a jaded voice.

I know who I am and I know my heart,
As sure as Pied Piper, piped the portals apart.

I’m holding the key,
Unbarring the gate,
Up the flighty steps of fancy. This is a small nit, but you already entered the sanctuary (as you established in the beginning of the poem) and there wasn't a locked gate before? Granted this is all metaphorical, so it's just a minor distraction

I’m late! I’m late! Not a moment’s tarry,
to my rendezvous with fate.
Up the steps, I shall venture with ease, The first three lines of these stanza aren't strictly necessary... the end of the previous stanza flows well to the next line
with a hop skip and jump,
up the stairs of caprice.

(08-24-2012, 06:22 AM)Word Weaver Wrote:  Away in the woods, a winding path stood.
A staircase, ascending to somewhere.
These flights of steps, these flighty stairs,
I wandered, leads me where?
the stanza feels a little forced the two flights and the end rhyme

Cross the Threshold of Yesteryears,
to the Grand Porticoes of Tomorrow.
Braced by Pillars of Virtue’s Tears,
and the heartstrings of sorrow.
mostly the things mentioned are intangibles,
some solid images would be better used.

Behold!
Its golden welcome stands sublime,
The Temple of Anamnesis.
Afterthoughts, suspended in time.
at present questions are being posed but

Neath its cornice Cove of Wonder,
bares the winged Sphere of Athor.
The crest of the primordial mother,
whose legends, myths and lore,
suckled upon her shore.
at present we have christian and egyption concepts but no substance.

Cloaked in the shadows of lost and found,
Lures the Labyrinth of Jareth.
Where endless tunnels of roundabouts,
and pitfall drops, abound.
it's a struggle to connect the religions with the goblin king

Lose yourself in the Chamber of Hushed,
the Archives of Anonymity.
Here ancient stories are whispered,
in unspoken secrecy.

Roam the Rooms of Riddles, with bolted doors, unsolved. i like this line
Pirouette down the Spinning Ballrooms, and this one, a strong image we can get our teeth into
and dance, dance, dance, on the polka-dotted floors.
the rhyme has gone? but this so far is my favourite verse.

Wait up by the Room of Impatience,
or behind the “rooms to grow”.
Listen in the Room of Silence,
that echoes “I don’t know..” lewis carrollish

Stray up, along the Corridor of Sacred Passage,
Pass the roaring Halls of Fame.
Or Down the Avenue of Bane Knowledge,
Walled, in whimpering shame.

Ingress pride and honor, climbs up the Turrets of Conceit.
Spiraling down vainglorious, stumbled potholes of deceit.

Out onto the garden, strewn wild, with reckless dreams,
Misled tall and overgrow, are the weeds of illusive schemes.

Beware! Beware! Up and down the stairs!

Enter the Galleries of Phantom Faces,
meet faes in petticoat silks and laces.
Statuette Busts of Prophetic Sages,
of heroes and villains, down the ages.
Caricatures of man, creatures from Pan.

Homes of strangers feigned familiar, mystic dens quite peculiar!
Covens of Aragon, Crystal Realms of Paragon,
Phoenix nests and dragon lairs, even sanctuaries,
to abandoned teddy bears.

Away in the woods, a winding path stood.
A staircase, ascending to nowhere.
These flights of steps, these flighty stairs of promise-
I now know, leads somewhere.

It beckons a choice -
Crossroads of childhood or a jaded voice.

I know who I am and I know my heart,
As sure as Pied Piper, piped the portals apart.

I’m holding the key,
Unbarring the gate,
Up the flighty steps of fancy.

I’m late! I’m late! Not a moment’s tarry,
to my rendezvous with fate.
Up the steps, I shall venture with ease,
with a hop skip and jump,
up the stairs of caprice.

i think there's too much going on and would like to see two, perhaps three poems being created from this one. it has a feel of Labyrinth about it, (the bowie version) but it's too heavy to represent that. it does fit the title, in that it's unpredictable. meter would also improve the flow but first, i think you should find the heart of the poem and get it beating.

thanks for the read,

I think the poem is an introduction, a capricious one as it says. Where one hops skips and jumps through other people's stuff on the way to her own.The first two stanzas are leading us somewhere, and building from those intangibles and those flighty flights and words that rhyme on themselves.
At "behold!", there is a living, concrete symbol. And the characters, places and things continue merging, as they certainly do when this realm is experienced from increasing dimensions. They all exist on the plane of shared experience, anyway. The entire journey takes place on the stairs, after all, "the Chamber of Hushed" and "the garden, strewn wild" are "flights of steps" that are "flighty stairs".
She's making her personal journey, through these more impersonal, or rather collective sights and experiences, with her own key, to unlock her own poetic workshop where she weaves new fabrics of reality on a new higher level.
This is a challenge to herself, a changing of the guards---so I don't see the meter and so on to be of high priority. This is a promise of hopeful things to come, with a polite nod to her stepping stones.

(08-24-2012, 06:22 AM)Word Weaver Wrote:  Away in the woods, a winding path stood.
A staircase, ascending to somewhere.
These flights of steps, these flighty stairs,I think you are taking an easy way out of this stanza. It just doesn't go far enough to need a map to get back. You could easily omit this whole stanza and not worry about flighty flight stairs and wandering wondering on paths stood in woods. This is just to simplistic and more nursery rhyme than you intended.
I wandered, leads me where?

Cross the Threshold of Yesteryears,You have now realised that the first stanza didn't do it for you and have swung the other way. This stanza is overblown and wordy to the extent of being hyper-hyperbole. Calm down the rhetoric and avoid the repetition of resoundingly banal metaphors of the "of" type.
to the Grand Porticoes of Tomorrow.
Braced by Pillars of Virtue’s Tears,
and the heartstrings of sorrow.

Behold!
Its golden welcome stands sublime,
The Temple of Anamnesis.Unless you are an unusually perceptive philosopher you would do well to avoid bandying Plato's words. It is not easy to convince a reader that you are anything other than a dilettante on this showing; it is never easy at the best of times, but the attempt to grandify a portico, essentially a porch, by giving it the title of Porch of Tomorrow sounds more like Double Glazing than philosophical rendition
Afterthoughts, suspended in time.Cliche, but there will be more, I suspect.

Neath its cornice Cove of Wonder,OF and OF and OF just does not work. You are trying to impress too much and sound as though you have googled it all. I will not and so may never know of Athor or his winged sphere.....and I do not care.
bares the winged Sphere of Athor.
The crest of the primordial mother,
whose legends, myths and lore,
suckled upon her shore.

Cloaked in the shadows of lost and found,OF and OF and OF. It really is too much.
Lures the Labyrinth of Jareth.
Where endless tunnels of roundabouts,
and pitfall drops, abound.My knowledge of Jareth takes me to Bowie's role in Labyrinth though how I got here without taking drugs is beyond my ken.

Lose yourself in the Chamber of Hushed,the rest? Well, it is just more OF the same. I find lists hard going. See end.
the Archives of Anonymity.
Here ancient stories are whispered,
in unspoken secrecy.

Roam the Rooms of Riddles, with bolted doors, unsolved.
Pirouette down the Spinning Ballrooms,
and dance, dance, dance, on the polka-dotted floors.

Wait up by the Room of Impatience,
or behind the “rooms to grow”.
Listen in the Room of Silence,
that echoes “I don’t know..”

Stray up, along the Corridor of Sacred Passage,
Pass the roaring Halls of Fame.
Or Down the Avenue of Bane Knowledge,
Walled, in whimpering shame.

Ingress pride and honor, climbs up the Turrets of Conceit.
Spiraling down vainglorious, stumbled potholes of deceit.

Out onto the garden, strewn wild, with reckless dreams,
Misled tall and overgrow, are the weeds of illusive schemes.

Beware! Beware! Up and down the stairs!

Enter the Galleries of Phantom Faces,
meet faes in petticoat silks and laces.
Statuette Busts of Prophetic Sages,
of heroes and villains, down the ages.
Caricatures of man, creatures from Pan.

Homes of strangers feigned familiar, mystic dens quite peculiar!
Covens of Aragon, Crystal Realms of Paragon,
Phoenix nests and dragon lairs, even sanctuaries,
to abandoned teddy bears.

Away in the woods, a winding path stood.
A staircase, ascending to nowhere.
These flights of steps, these flighty stairs of promise-
I now know, leads somewhere.

It beckons a choice -
Crossroads of childhood or a jaded voice.

I know who I am and I know my heart,
As sure as Pied Piper, piped the portals apart.

I’m holding the key,
Unbarring the gate,
Up the flighty steps of fancy.

I’m late! I’m late! Not a moment’s tarry,
to my rendezvous with fate.
Up the steps, I shall venture with ease,
with a hop skip and jump,
up the stairs of caprice.

Hello,
I am competely with Addy on this one. All bases covered.

(08-24-2012, 05:48 PM)addy Wrote:  Hi Wordweaver... jumping right into the thick of it, I see . Welcome to the forums! -Thank you, Addy!

I really like the whimsy that threads through the piece, and the eclectic use of concepts and imagery. More than just childhood, it gave the impression of rifling through the human subconscious. What I think this could benefit from is just a tad more focus. As I said, I enjoyed how you threw in eclectic images, archetypes, and pantheons; but at some points there is an overload, where I failed grasp the significance of a certain concept's inclusion and it struck me as just a placeholder or even padding. It makes the reader's head spin, and is an interesting bauble in and of itself, but doesn't really build up or contribute to the narrative. It's good to make the reader immersed and distracted, but as the writer you can't be as clouded as us. You must be our guide.

Another thing you could improve on is the meter... the rhyming and meter seem to be inconsistent throughout, but there's just enough proper structure here that a good edit can fix that up. Otherwise, just make it a freeverse and don't bother forcing the rhymes (i really think this looks better with structure though)

That said, I enjoyed the overall reading of the piece, and the inclusion of Jareth tickled me to no end

(08-24-2012, 06:22 AM)Word Weaver Wrote:  Away in the woods, a winding path stood.
A staircase, ascending to somewhere.
These flights of steps, these flighty stairs,
I wandered, leads me where? For me the rhyme of "somewhere" and "where" is quite forced, and by extension the stanza reads as unnecessarily coy - The inspiration came from a photo of a high winding staircase in the middle woods. Seeming endless, I felt one starts to speculate that it must lead us somewhere but where? I felt it necessary, no?

Cross the Threshold of Yesteryears,
to the Grand Porticoes of Tomorrow.
Braced by Pillars of Virtue’s Tears,
and the heartstrings of sorrow. "Sorrow' is the only one that isn't architectural... significance?- I felt one usually looks on to the future as grand and to the past and its sad memories and sorrows as glimpses,- heartstrings, connecting the afterthoughts of the present.

Behold!
Its golden welcome stands sublime,
The Temple of Anamnesis.
Afterthoughts, suspended in time.

Neath its cornice Cove of Wonder,
bares the winged Sphere of Athor.
The crest of the primordial mother,
whose legends, myths and lore,
suckled upon her shore. I like the buildup, and I like this line

Cloaked in the shadows of lost and found,
Lures the Labyrinth of Jareth.
Where endless tunnels of roundabouts,
and pitfall drops, abound.

Lose yourself in the Chamber of Hushed,
the Archives of Anonymity.
Here ancient stories are whispered,
in unspoken secrecy. they are whispered, not unspoken
- I meant it as the irony of truth- that no secret ever remains a secret, even if its a whispered rumor

Roam the Rooms of Riddles, with bolted doors, unsolved.
Pirouette down the Spinning Ballrooms,
and dance, dance, dance, on the polka-dotted floors. Not sure why you chose the polkadots as an image here... does it denote confusion? Or is it meant to look like an optical illusion. my first choice was checkered board floors, too cliche, the pitfalls of teenage years- begins the journey of query , thus riddles, not old enough or have the wisdom to solve them, the disco days and the polkadots is very 60's!

Wait up by the Room of Impatience,
or behind the “rooms to grow”.
Listen in the Room of Silence,
that echoes “I don’t know..” Again, this part seems so different. The vibe now reminds me of a claustrophobic school (the type where students are seen and not heard) - the learning process and insecurities we encounter as we growup, experiences we look back on and learning from our mistakes..

Stray up, along the Corridor of Sacred Passage,
Pass the roaring Halls of Fame.
Or Down the Avenue of Bane Knowledge,
Walled, in whimpering shame.

Ingress pride and honor, climbs up the Turrets of Conceit.
Spiraling down vainglorious, stumbled potholes of deceit.

Out onto the garden, strewn wild, with reckless dreams,
Misled tall and overgrow, are the weeds of illusive schemes.

Beware! Beware! Up and down the stairs!

Enter the Galleries of Phantom Faces,
meet faes in petticoat silks and laces.
Statuette Busts of Prophetic Sages,
of heroes and villains, down the ages.
Caricatures of man, creatures from Pan. Quite like this stanza

Homes of strangers feigned familiar, mystic dens quite peculiar!
Covens of Aragon, Crystal Realms of Paragon,
Phoenix nests and dragon lairs, even sanctuaries,
to abandoned teddy bears. Teddy bears seems out of place? But perhaps that's just me the magic of life, the enchantment, mysteries, travels and even about mundane stuffs like teddy bears in the attic!

Away in the woods, a winding path stood.
A staircase, ascending to nowhere.
These flights of steps, these flighty stairs of promise-
I now know, leads somewhere.

It beckons a choice -
Crossroads of childhood or a jaded voice.

I know who I am and I know my heart,
As sure as Pied Piper, piped the portals apart.

I’m holding the key,
Unbarring the gate,
Up the flighty steps of fancy. This is a small nit, but you already entered the sanctuary (as you established in the beginning of the poem) and there wasn't a locked gate before? Granted this is all metaphorical, so it's just a minor distraction The sanctuary is the up and down stairs of going through life, the key to imagination and the choices and the decisions we make or made. Mine, I've decided to take on the option to delve up the stairs of caprice...

I’m late! I’m late! Not a moment’s tarry,
to my rendezvous with fate.
Up the steps, I shall venture with ease, The first three lines of these stanza aren't strictly necessary... the end of the previous stanza flows well to the next line
with a hop skip and jump,
up the stairs of caprice.

I treasure you critique and truly find it most insightful to better my writing/ up the capricious flights of poetry! Best regeards, Kate

---

(08-27-2012, 02:35 AM)rowens Wrote:  I think the poem is an introduction, a capricious one as it says. Where one hops skips and jumps through other people's stuff on the way to her own.The first two stanzas are leading us somewhere, and building from those intangibles and those flighty flights and words that rhyme on themselves.
At "behold!", there is a living, concrete symbol. And the characters, places and things continue merging, as they certainly do when this realm is experienced from increasing dimensions. They all exist on the plane of shared experience, anyway. The entire journey takes place on the stairs, after all, "the Chamber of Hushed" and "the garden, strewn wild" are "flights of steps" that are "flighty stairs".
She's making her personal journey, through these more impersonal, or rather collective sights and experiences, with her own key, to unlock her own poetic workshop where she weaves new fabrics of reality on a new higher level.
This is a challenge to herself, a changing of the guards---so I don't see the meter and so on to be of high priority. This is a promise of hopeful things to come, with a polite nod to her stepping stones.

Hi Rowens,
A young girl who read it told me that its about a person who finds himself, after a journey through a tupsy turvy world. ahh, The comfort of being understood. You saw through my mirror and I feel gratified. Much obliged. Kate

---

Hi Billy,
Admittedly I am very much influenced by Lewis Carrolls and the
edward lears..the nonsical and the silly, the make-believe and childishness of it all but with a grown-up perspective behind it... and yes, i have much to learn about meter and rhythm and the flow of the poem...I am confused, the heart of the poem I thought was me! lol "If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there." -Lewis Caroll
I knew it ! I shouldn't have added Jareth , I was hesitant, fearing it would give the reader the mind set of goblins and wonderland however it was inevitably an honest expression of my influences.
Thank you for the insight. Sincerely appreciated. kate

of and of and off of it all
tis often most officious!
Guilty as charged. Kindly consider this my grandiose delusion of glamorizing a silly poem, tis another perspective of nonsense.. injected with a few sense not worthwhile? Nonetheless, I shall bear it in mind. Thanks Tectak, I highly regard your critique, Kate

(09-04-2012, 05:31 AM)Word Weaver Wrote:  of and of and off of it all
tis often most officious!
Guilty as charged. Kindly consider this my grandiose delusion of glamorizing a silly poem, tis another perspective of nonsense.. injected with a few sense not worthwhile? Nonetheless, I shall bear it in mind. Thanks Tectak, I highly regard your critique, Kate

Then I look forward to seeing what next emerges from the portico of the future with genuine anticipation
Best,
tectak

(09-04-2012, 03:19 AM)Word Weaver Wrote:  I am confused, the heart of the poem I thought was me! lol "If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there." -Lewis Caroll

Thank you for the insight. Sincerely appreciated. kate

you'd know that because you were the poet who wrote.

and caroll is right, but he doesn't say; and once you're there you'll know where you are. and he doesn't say; and everyone will get there with you.

his jabberwok i felt though nonsense, conveyed some of what was him, he was the centre of the poem. he was at odds with everything and yet he overcame, he was the core of a silly little poem that many at first didn't see as anything more than bird shit on a page. but when you read, i mean really read it, he's in there. the core is obvious. he was the heart but more than that, he showed us the heart with his funny words he embellished his heart and allowed us to unwrap it.

i like to think a lot of me is at the core of my poetry but i'm sure no one see that. but it's sometimes what i aim for, for them to see a piece of me in there.

i don't mean any disrespect, but i never you in the poem, or what i perceived you to be in there. i saw something poetic and possibly something higher than we can dream to be, but i never saw word weaver, i never saw kate.

Behold!
Its golden welcome stands sublime,
The Temple of Anamnesis.

even metaphorically speaking, is that where you stand or sit. and if so, isn't too ambiguous to be A thing A core of you. i know of at least two meanings for Anamnesis which can be connected to a temple.

i see the heart of ideals maybe, of religion or philosophy but i don't see the heart of a person. it doesn't make me laugh or cry or want or need or sweat as seeing someone's heart does (to me at least)

of course what i want doesn't really matter, what matters is what is the poet prepared to give?

i do so hope i get to see more of your poetry and heart kate