Thread: Relapse

There are occasions
to which I won't arise;
vivid scenes that should
belong to a painters eyes,
not inward but preferably outside.

Life by miles; routine travel,
errands on an island. Not for
lack of wanderlust, but error
in staring at Orion.

Constellations of characters
appear on occasion, they breathe
with warm breath and speak
languages with familiar grammar,
sometimes novel rhythms and
of significant matters yet
to reach out and touch them

they might as well be stars.

Possibilities twinkle bright,
dangling carrots at my atrophy;
a worm feels sun without seeing
it's light before the fisher reels his bite.

Every moment seems to be
an invention of imagination,
solid attempts to fill a gap
by pouring sand into the breach.
Creation is a salve but the relief doesn't keep.

Double-edged armor, insults
permeate and fester in itches
until the wearer is inoculated
against caring for laughter,
succumbs to plastic self-
confidence, rubber reactions,
then enlightened-dash (sic)
crooked for delusional humor.

Hi, Edgewise. Your poem is a little abstract for me. My only suggestion would have been is to step back after the writing and be The Strong Objective Observer - Will my audience "get" my stream? I guess I'm saying - pretend you didn't write it and try to see what others might see. I've done this myself with some success cause I can also go a bit abstract. I hope this makes some sense!

Now to my favorite thing. Imagery. You have some very good moments, here.

they might as well be stars.

I like this standing on its own. Good choice.

a worm feels sun without seeing
it's light before the fisher reels his bite

Love the image and the slant rhyme!

succumbs to plastic self-
confidence,

"plastic" being the operative word works so well describing a false self-confidence.

Looking forward to more. Laurie

Hello Edgewise,

Though this abstract as Laurie rightly said, it doesn't remove the fact that there are some splendid imagery here. For the most part, I think the first verse stands out nicely for me. It leads me to think that the speaker is one of the heavenly bodies (just a guess).

Originally Posted by SilverMoon

Hi, Edgewise. Your poem is a little abstract for me. My only suggestion would have been is to step back after the writing and be The Strong Objective Observer - Will my audience "get" my stream? I guess I'm saying - pretend you didn't write it and try to see what others might see. I've done this myself with some success cause I can also go a bit abstract. I hope this makes some sense!

Now to my favorite thing. Imagery. You have some very good moments, here.



I like this standing on its own. Good choice.



Love the image and the slant rhyme!



"plastic" being the operative word works so well describing a false self-confidence.

Looking forward to more. Laurie

Your thoughts as always are appreciated Laurie. I agree that the poem is abstract. What I was trying to do was capture a mood or, more accurately, a feeling, at the expense of narrative coherence. "Error in staring at Orion", for example, is a very personal reference. I didn't expect other readers to totally understand the thought but I felt it warranted inclusion because it has a rightful place in the overall context of the piece. Things like that are problems I usually have when writing poems of this sort. What is your opinion, as a person who writes poetry, about that kind of creative decision? If something feels right but risks being incomprehensible to readers, should it be omitted? Or is it something that is, or should be, entirely left up to the discretion of the author, readers be damned? Or somewhere in between?

Your suggested exercise will come in handy in the future.

Your interpretation is fascinating to me Fox, as it jibs surprisingly well with the first half of the poem. The sentiment I tried to express was one of contrast to heavenly bodies, or more specifically the dramatic separation between one body and the rest. You've given me the idea of dividing the whole poem into two separate poems (one ending after "they might as well be stars); the piece does meander somewhere else after that line, but the following stanzas are more related to each other than they are to the first three.

One of the cool parts about writing these abstract poems is hearing what other people get out of them on an intuitive level. By being vague they are general enough to invite multiple interpretations and that feedback is always distilled through the individual reader. You don't really get that with linear poems, which is not to devalue clarity as an aesthetic virtue because half the time it is.

I think this is a case of "abstract" becoming the canvas on which these words are painted. Like hearing sounds from the room next door, we don't have to make out every word to get what's going on (two people fighting, making love, whatever.) I applaud your willingness to edge (no pun intended) so close to the oblivion of being too vague without blinking. To answer the question you posed to Laurie, I feel that, though every writer wants his work to be read, ultimately we write for ourselves...because we must. It is how we cast out our mental and emotional demons...how we explore the sacred and profane...how we sift through our personal wreckage and find all that's worth salvaging. I think sometimes, even knowing no one will "get it," a poet has to rid himself of such pieces. I also believe that, if a million mull it over and dismiss it, someone out there will connect to it...perhaps in ways you could never have foretold. I love readers, but they don't keep me up at night typing away at poetry and fiction. Passion's the one driving THAT bus.

I dug it, Edge.

Sublime. After reading this numerous times, I'm still impressed. One thing, if you use (sic) , when it's, not it seems confusing. Perhaps it is, and I might not understand the association. Other then that the poem is worth reading over.

Of course, Edge. I remember writing an abstract poem, too. Painflies. Yeah, that's the name. I posted it here. Had a coupla comments with different opinions. For me, going out of the ordinary to write something help to harness ones ability as a writer. The readers are out there like Jpatricklemarr said and truly I second that. Everyone has his or her own genre.

Originally Posted by jpatricklemarr

I think this is a case of "abstract" becoming the canvas on which these words are painted. Like hearing sounds from the room next door, we don't have to make out every word to get what's going on (two people fighting, making love, whatever.) I applaud your willingness to edge (no pun intended) so close to the oblivion of being too vague without blinking. To answer the question you posed to Laurie, I feel that, though every writer wants his work to be read, ultimately we write for ourselves...because we must. It is how we cast out our mental and emotional demons...how we explore the sacred and profane...how we sift through our personal wreckage and find all that's worth salvaging. I think sometimes, even knowing no one will "get it," a poet has to rid himself of such pieces. I also believe that, if a million mull it over and dismiss it, someone out there will connect to it...perhaps in ways you could never have foretold. I love readers, but they don't keep me up at night typing away at poetry and fiction. Passion's the one driving THAT bus.

I dug it, Edge.

Thanks JP.

Originally Posted by jeffrey c mcmahan

Sublime. After reading this numerous times, I'm still impressed. One thing, if you use (sic) , when it's, not it seems confusing. Perhaps it is, and I might not understand the association. Other then that the poem is worth reading over.

I'm not too happy with that line. It had a purpose but it doesn't work too well in this particular poem, so I'm going to fiddle with it. Appreciate the thoughts.

Originally Posted by Foxryder

Of course, Edge. I remember writing an abstract poem, too. Painflies. Yeah, that's the name. I posted it here. Had a coupla comments with different opinions. For me, going out of the ordinary to write something help to harness ones ability as a writer. The readers are out there like Jpatricklemarr said and truly I second that. Everyone has his or her own genre.

True. There is a medium somewhere that doesn't sacrifice accessibility or the idiosyncrasies of the author. Still teetering. Cheers.

ah, again i see the word "abstract", and i'm not sure that term fits. i see real and concrete images posed in surreal shape, and sensations superceeding meanings. i don't see anything vague or general


There are occasions
to which I won't arise;
vivid scenes that should
belong to a painters eyes,
not inward but preferably outside. - yeah, i like that, and i feel conflict coming

Life by miles; routine travel,
errands on an island. Not for
lack of wanderlust, but error
in staring at Orion. - i think you could lose the word "in", not needed and breaks rhythm

Constellations of characters - nice, feels like both stars, and the multitudes of humanity and identity
appear on occasion, they breathe
with warm breath and speak
languages with familiar grammar,
sometimes novel rhythms and
of significant matters yet - maybe a comma after matters
to reach out and touch them

they might as well be stars. - see, this is great, slipping from real (stars), to unreal (people), back to real (stars), and i feel the distance it implies, the loneliness (of couse this is just me "feeling" it)

Possibilities twinkle bright,
dangling carrots at my atrophy;
a worm feels sun without seeing - maybe "... feels the sun without..." would sound better?
it's light before the fisher reels his bite.

Every moment seems to be
an invention of imagination,
solid attempts to fill a gap - i like this line, but it feels like something is missing, something to better quaify "solid"
by pouring sand into the breach.
Creation is a salve but the relief doesn't keep. - this is a great stanza, love it

Double-edged armor, insults
permeate and fester in itches
until the wearer is inoculated
against caring for laughter,
succumbs to plastic self-
confidence, rubber reactions,
then enlightened-dash (sic)
crooked for delusional humor. - this last stanza feels weird, you introduce armor as metaphore, which has a very different feel than the rest of the poem, also, there is a hostility that arises that doesn't really match. a poem can evolve, which may be what is happening here, but i think too many new elememts make it feel alien. you might want to rethink this last stanza.

overall, i loved it, lots of great images and word play, the conflict of inner and outer. nicelt done. hope i was able to help.

wood