The Turtle

[Erthona]

Owned

I knew him. I knew him well
enough to know that he liked
walking the line of ambiguity
between what was too real,
and hyperbole,
on the sacred ground of sarcasm.
He liked pretending he was mercurial,
or dumb as dirt.
He liked almost revealing his true self,
which was neither mercurial nor dumb.
He would bask like a turtle on a rock
in the light of false modesty,
but quickly dive into the deep water
of obfuscation if someone came too close
to his protective shell.
On occasion he would drop pearls,
as if by accident,
and turds as if on purpose.
Living on the edge
of this fantasy was his life,
as he lay in a hammock,
unmoving,
on a beach somewhere
that Hemingway had never gone,
and little brown women would bring him
sticky rice and coconut drinks,
until the sun would fade
and he would bask in the light
of tiki torches painted by Gauguin.


–Erthona


©2014

[billy]

it reminds me of Lewiss Carroll's (sp) stuff mainly 'The Walrus And The Carpenter' not a lot to say about the poem dale, i like it for the same reasons i liked the walrus. i get it has a nonsense about it that the reader can see through in order to create their own story. (i'm sure it'll be a different one for every reader) it works for me which and so i only see the one nit. two actually, it Hemingway :J:

Owned

I knew him. I knew him well
enough to know that he liked
walking the line of ambiguity a suggestion would be to walk instead of walking
between what was too real, i like the use of too real as it connects to the hyperbole of the next line in a farcical yet subtle way.
and hyperbole,
on the sacred ground of sarcasm.
He liked pretending he was mercurial,
or dumb as dirt.
He liked almost reveling his true self,
which was neither mercurial nor dumb.
He would bask like a turtle on a rock
in the light of false modesty,
but quickly dive into the deep water
of obfuscation if someone came too close
to his protective shell.
On occasion he would drop pearls,
as if by accident,
and turds as if on purpose.
Living on the edge
of this fantasy was his life,
as he lay in a hammock,
unmoving,
on a beach somewhere
that Hemmingway had never gone,
and little brown women would bring him is and needed?
sticky rice and coconut drinks,
until the sun would fade
and he would bask in the light
of tiki torches painted by Gauguin.


–Erthona


©2014

[Tiger the Lion]

Owned

I knew him. I knew him well
enough to know that he liked
walking the line of ambiguity
between what was too real,
and hyperbole,
on the sacred ground of sarcasm.
He liked pretending he was mercurial,
or dumb as dirt.
He liked almost reveling his true self,
which was neither mercurial nor dumb.
He would bask like a turtle on a rock
in the light of false modesty,
but quickly dive into the deep water
of obfuscation if someone came too close
to his protective shell.
On occasion he would drop pearls,
as if by accident,
and turds as if on purpose.
Living on the edge
of this fantasy was his life,
as he lay in a hammock,
unmoving,
on a beach somewhere
that Hemmingway had never gone,
and little brown women would bring him
sticky rice and coconut drinks,
until the sun would fade
and he would bask in the light
of tiki torches painted by Gauguin.


–Erthona


©2014

Hello Dale. Thank you for posting this. I can't leave an objective crit on this as I am having a hard time standing back from it to observe objectively. For now I'm just going to print it and staple it to the wall over my desk. Nice job, Yorick

-- I understand this is the workshopping forum and won't make a habit of this type of post.

[Erthona]

Billy, I was going to name it William, but thought that might be too obvious, and of course it works on more than one level. "a suggestion would be to walk instead of walking" Yes, that is stronger. I'm sure about this comment?

"'him' is and needed?" If you mean is "him" needed, I suppose not. I put it there to avoid confusion with the character and "Hemingway" Yes, I see I misspelled "Hemingway",l thanks for the catch. Not sure about the "it". Could you be more specific, I realize that is a bit of hubris considering the nature of the poem, but...

Thanks,

Dale

[poe]

Is he a turtle or an oyster? I'm inclined to soup but I like my oysters raw!

[Erthona]

Thanks for giving it a read Poe.
__________________________________________________________
Paul,

Hey, you do what you can, for we are all honorable men, for tomorrow we die...at least a little.

Any comments are appreciated, senseless or knot!

Dale
__________________________________________________________
Billy,

Yes I agree with all your comments, except for the "it", which I have no idea what you mean. Considering the nature of the poem it would be hubris to ask for explication. I will correct the Hemingway spelling error. Thanks for the catch.

"Sadly there are no birds to fly."

Ugly American

"Hey you Scottish birds up for a little flight?"

"It's Wales you idiot, Wales"

"Oh sorry, are you Scottish whales up for a little flight?!?"

Dale

[just mercedes]

Owned

Hi - your poem paints great pictures! My main problem with it is the switch in past tense, and as always I want to chop away at the words I don't think are necessary to the reader's enjoyment and understanding.

I knew him. I knew him well
enough to know that he liked
walking the line of ambiguity
(between what was too real,
and hyperbole,) too telling, I felt -not needed
on the sacred ground of sarcasm.
He liked pretending he was mercurial,
or dumb as dirt.
He liked almost reveling his true self,
which was neither mercurial nor dumb.
He would bask like a turtle on a rock Why 'would bask' now, after 'he liked ...' - suddenly conditional after past imperfect
in the light of false modesty,
but quickly dive into the deep water do you need 'the deep water of' - image given by the rock basking i think
of obfuscation if someone came too close
to his protective shell. I don't think this line is needed
On occasion he would drop pearls,
as if by accident,
and turds as if on purpose.
Living on the edge
of this fantasy was his life, which fantasy? You were talking about 'his true self'
as he lay in a hammock,
unmoving,
on a beach somewhere
that Hemingway had never gone, clunky - where H had never been?
and little brown women would bring him sexist pig
sticky rice and coconut drinks, love the sounds and imagery here
until the sun would fade
and he would bask in the light
of tiki torches painted by Gauguin. strong finish!


–Erthona


©2014

---

Missed a typo - reveling' which I think should be 'revealing'. (line 9)

[Erthona]

Thanks mercedes,

I thought at the time the line "to his protective shell." was too much, but left it for some reason. And yes he is a sexist pig, I however am not...unfortunately

Anyway, all good suggestions, I shall take them under advisement for the edit.

Thanks again,

Dale

[ellajam]

Hi, Dale, well done and repeatedly enjoyable. A few notes.

Owned

I knew him. I knew him well
enough to know that he liked
walking the line of ambiguity I enjoyed thinking about this "line", exactly where it lies.
between what was too real,
and hyperbole,
on the sacred ground of sarcasm.
He liked pretending he was mercurial, Hey, I know this guy, well said.
or dumb as dirt.
He liked almost reveling his true self, I read this typo as "reveling in" then saw JM's revealing, more likely but I prefer mine.
which was neither mercurial nor dumb.
He would bask like a turtle on a rock
in the light of false modesty,
but quickly dive into the deep water
of obfuscation if someone came too close
to his protective shell.
On occasion he would drop pearls, Love these three lines.
as if by accident,
and turds as if on purpose.
Living on the edge
of this fantasy was his life,
as he lay in a hammock,
unmoving,
on a beach somewhere
that Hemingway had never gone, I know where instead of that would double where, but that sounds off.
and little brown women would bring him
sticky rice and coconut drinks,
until the sun would fade
and he would bask in the light
of tiki torches painted by Gauguin. Sweet ending.

xxoo
–Erthona


©2014

[tectak]

Owned

I knew him. I knew him well
enough to know that he liked
walking the line of ambiguity
between what was too real, Hard to quantify "real" as it is an absolute. You could leave out the "too" altogether and just have the one line..."between the real and hyperbole."
and hyperbole,
on the sacred ground of sarcasm. Nice thought and it works...but would it work better if it was "...sacred ground of sanctimony." I only ask this because a sanctimonious stance here could almost be sarcastic"
He liked pretending he was mercurial,
or dumb as dirt.
He liked almost reveling his true self, Typo
which was neither mercurial nor dumb. This is probably a duplication of "pretending" and as such is not really worth the words. Only you know
He would bask like a turtle on a rock
in the light of false modesty,
but quickly dive into the deep water
of obfuscation if someone came too close
to his protective shell. Yes to this in its entirety. No nits.Good stuff
On occasion he would drop pearls,
as if by accident,
and turds as if on purpose.
Living on the edge
of this fantasy was his life, period
as he lay in a hammock, Tense shift but subtle....not subtle enough.
"He lay in a hammock unmoving,
on a beach, somewhere
that Hemingway had never gone.
Little brown women brought him sticky rice
and coconut drinks, until the sun faded;
and he basked in the light
of ticki torches, painted by Gaugin." Your poem and it is beautiful anyway.
unmoving,
on a beach somewhere
that Hemingway had never gone,
and little brown women would bring him
sticky rice and coconut drinks,
until the sun would fade
and he would bask in the light
of tiki torches painted by Gauguin. ...and the rest, as they say, is history .


–Erthona


©2014

[Erthona]

Tom,

"too real" = surreal, as when one ingests certain types of mushrooms, I'm sure you know what I mean. Black is also an absolute, but one can say "too black" and it is different from simply "black". When one says "too much", they are saying more than much. In the same way "too real" can mean more than real.

"on the sacred ground of sarcasm" I think will stay, and not "...sacred ground of sanctimony." I think you can have a sacred ground of sarcasm, when it is used to fight despots, or as any resistance towards a power that can harm you. Sanctimony can have no truth in it's purpose by definition. So to me it reads as a contradiction and would only work in a farce, which this is not, although there is much that is facetious.

The rest of your suggestions I think I will appropriate. Thanks for all, Dale.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
ellamycello,

Sorry, it is a typo and was meant to read "revealing". Although yours does have an interesting twist for that one line. I don't think it fits the idea behind the poem. So, I don't think I can change it to that, even for you. However, you certainly have my permission to copy the poem and change it so it reads that way.

xoxoxoxo

Dale

[ellajam]

If I can let go of my own words I guess I can let go of the ones I've imagined to be yours.

[tectak]

Tom,

"too real" = surreal, as when one ingests certain types of mushrooms, I'm sure you know what I mean. Black is also an absolute, but one can say "too black" and it is different from simply "black". When one says "too much", they are saying more than much. In the same way "too real" can mean more than real.

"on the sacred ground of sarcasm" I think will stay, and not "...sacred ground of sanctimony." I think you can have a sacred ground of sarcasm, when it is used to fight despots, or as any resistance towards a power that can harm you. Sanctimony can have no truth in it's purpose by definition. So to me it reads as a contradiction and would only work in a farce, which this is not, although there is much that is facetious.

The rest of your suggestions I think I will appropriate. Thanks for all, Dale.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
ellamycello,

Sorry, it is a typo and was meant to read "revealing". Although yours does have an interesting twist for that one line. I don't think it fits the idea behind the poem. So, I don't think I can change it to that, even for you. However, you certainly have my permission to copy the poem and change it so it reads that way.

xoxoxoxo

Dale

Sorry Dale, but surreal does NOT mean "too real"...in fact, and I may feel a hoist from my petard here, it means by every account quite unreal and dreamlike. So endeth the first lesson. Black, per se, is also an absolute in that by definition it lacks ALL colour, note, ALL COLOUR. It is NOT a gradation of brightness.That is dark, not black. Who says I'm slightly pedantic?
As to the "sanctimony" versus "sarcasm" point, it is your choice and I do not seek to change your perspective...I only suggested it because it linked "sacred" and "sanctimony" in a way which I could see; but still cannot, with "sacred" and "sarcasm"....even after your erudite explanation. So help.
Best as always,
tectak

[Erthona]

Tom,

Tom wrote: "surreal does NOT mean "too real"...in fact, and I may feel a hoist from my petard here, it means by every account quite unreal and dreamlike."

Exactly! Beyond consensus reality. As "too real" does not have a definition, I have given it one by juxtaposing it to hyperbole, and the both being connected by a middle ground that is ambiguous.

Tom wrote: "Black, per se, is also an absolute in that by definition it lacks ALL colour, note, ALL COLOUR. It is NOT a gradation of brightness.That is dark, not black. Who says I'm slightly pedantic?"

That may be the academic line, but people neither talk or think in that way. It also depends on if one is thinking of additive, or subtractive color. Tell an interior designer there is no such thing as "too black". Slightly?!?

Dale

[tectak]

Tom,

Tom wrote: "surreal does NOT mean "too real"...in fact, and I may feel a hoist from my petard here, it means by every account quite unreal and dreamlike."

Exactly! Beyond consensus reality. As "too real" does not have a definition, I have given it one by juxtaposing it to hyperbole, and the both being connected by a middle ground that is ambiguous.

Tom wrote: "Black, per se, is also an absolute in that by definition it lacks ALL colour, note, ALL COLOUR. It is NOT a gradation of brightness.That is dark, not black. Who says I'm slightly pedantic?"

That may be the academic line, but people neither talk or think in that way. It also depends on if one is thinking of additive, or subtractive color. Tell an interior designer there is no such thing as "too black". Slightly?!?

Dale

Hi dale,
yes, I oftimes endanger validity with pedantry but only by examination of meanings does understanding emerge. I enjoy your thought train because though you may not have bought a ticket you have the means to pay and like any seasoned fare dodger you get away with it if you can...if you get caught, you pay up.
Very best,
tectak

[Erthona]

Tom,

Well you know I only argue the points because it is fun and meaningless, but I always value your commentary whether or not I agree with it.

dale the dodger