| Username |
Post |
| NK |
Posted
on 06-Apr-02 11:15 AM
*****
A wisp of
northern wind
lavender and sweet
a kiss
just missed
Still
in the chilled wind
*******
You: put the bookmark
You: searching for the right page
I: Still waiting
*****
"Who moved my cheese?"
Who stole my golden stole?
Who made my milk curdled?
And, threw away silver chest of drawers?
****
A brisk walk,
-five paces towards you,
my stole still lost,
your arms still hanging loose ,
-fifteen paces away from you!
***************************************
Chased crisp seagulls,
Made pointy sand castles,
and square sand dunes;
Sand in between your miniature
Toes; Blue sea in your eyes.
****
Footsteps around the house,
Trilling laughter from the kitchen,
A small squeak from the,
Vegetable patch in the backyard,
A baby bird and his staring eyes.
|
| SKM |
Posted
on 06-Apr-02 04:20 PM
Cool!
|
| NK |
Posted
on 06-Apr-02 10:46 PM
Hey ! San! what is happenin'? The 'Originator' is going berserk today, it seems.
|
| villageVoice |
Posted
on 07-Apr-02 10:54 AM
cool, blue-see by your side, NK?
|
| Gaine |
Posted
on 07-Apr-02 01:13 PM
Read the poem, couldn't get it!
Recite it again, couldn't make it!
Hey I need the poem which makes sense- which I could decipher!
OR is Poem like Cloud which take shape of object in one's mind?
OR is Poem suppose to be shapeless like water?
what is it? or Poem doesn't suppose to have meaning at all?
Well may be ...why not?
If garbage an art, blank Cavass an avant garde..why not meaningless verbal rumbles an art?
|
| NK |
Posted
on 07-Apr-02 02:02 PM
Gaine,
I have to go running now. But, i am glad you brought up the subject of
|
| sparsha |
Posted
on 07-Apr-02 02:54 PM
NK
kurai nasaki antardhyan!
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
-Shakespeare
***
Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, Lady, were no crime,
We would sit down and think which way
to walk and pass our long love's day.
....
But, at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;A
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
The beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserved virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And ashes all my lust;
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
-Andrew Marvell.
The dew of the morning
Sunk chill on my brow-
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame;
I hear thy name spoken
And share in it's shame.
Lord Byron.
|
| NK |
Posted
on 08-Apr-02 12:50 PM
Village Voice: Like 100 Meters away!
Sparsha: Antardhyannai bha jasto bhayo… : )
Gaine,
As i was saying before, I am glad you brought up the subject of "not getting the poem." I thank you for trying. I also saw your 'muktak' in another thread and allow me to say this much: I do not write muktak, I do not rhyme, and I do not read them except the ones posted in the board. If you are searching for what you find in a muktak ,then my poetry and most of the modern poetry are wrong place to go lookin'. Please do not take this as a diparaging comment towards your sensibility to poetry….
People try to find a "deeper" meaning, to get to the "bottom" of poems whenever they see a poem. They want to find a big answer to some universal question. The Truth, what is Love, what is Beyond, and that would be trying to look for a meaning of a swan gliding in a clear pond under a sparkling blue sky: Missing the beauty of what is infront of you while trying to see beyond. My poem tells you what tells you there, what suggests you what suggests you in those few lines. If I am writing, short ones I am even more confined. Let's take the example of the second poem. All it is saying is "I" am waiting for the moment where we left off. "You" is fumbling. Will "you" have the courage? What will happen next, that is not the concern of that poem. These poems (the ones that I have posted)capture a moment. A fleeting thought. And I dare to say in a special way. That was all. Like the author of 'Sleeping on the Wing" says reading a poem is different that reading a newspaper…. Let's see the first poem: you could say this is about some love, affection that never reached the poet - A lost opportunity. There was intention of the giver but…the poet is not devastated since you see there is no bitterness: "lavender and sweet."
Sadness - yes, but bitterness -no: "still,
In the chilled wind"
People ask me to give them some - any suggestion how to read poems. They always say "I read your poem, I liked it but don't ask me why." [I hope they were not lying]To like a poem, even if you don't fully understand, are the first step and an important one. We hear music and we like it without knowing lyrics and musical instruments played for that particular music. If it catches your attention then you go back and find out the lyrics and so forth. Similarly, one can like the tone of a poem without understanding why. Then one can go back and find out the nitty gritty of that poem.
Let me stop here. I will post some poems later - some modern poem. That is what interest me the most, not where they say, Thee, Yonder and so forth…
|
| Nepe |
Posted
on 08-Apr-02 05:42 PM
NK,
I feel embarrassed to tell you that only after your ‘interpretation’ I could appreciate your poems better.
Let me confess that among all the things that I have read in my life, poetry is the one I have understood least. Therefore I guess there is something wrong with me, or perhaps with the poetry itself, or perhaps between me and poetry.
When I do not understand the poetry I read, I console myself by telling that perhaps poetry does not have meaning to understand. Poetry is not a communique. It is a painting created by the colors of words: you are supposed to ‘see’ it- not to ‘read’ it. It is a cuisine: you are supposed to ‘feel’ its flavor and taste.
Poetry does not look for answers to the questions, it looks for questions to the answer. There can be several types of true questions to a given answer. But there can not be several different true answers to a given question. Poetry grows best in doubts, uncertainty and dilemma. Truth and answers poisons poetry. A true poetry does not give you answers. On the contrary, it gives you questions to an existing or yet to be discovered answer. Sometimes we mistake the question as an answer.
I have a hate and love relationship with poetry. Because I like questions but I want answers.
All right, I was intending to write only the first line, now I got lost.
Nepe
|
| hmmm.... |
Posted
on 08-Apr-02 05:52 PM
I lifted the following poem from http://www.SUSKERA.com, because it used words like bitch, masturbate which are my everyday vocabulary (NOT!), I tried very hard to understand. Alas, it still don't make sense, I don't even have a clue.
Maybe someone can help!!!!!! NK??
Black Shoe
Samrat Upadhyay
Horny is a black shoe inside a dog.
The dog ate the black shoe when it was dumb.
The dog ate the black shoe
as it ran down a flattened street
and the sky opened to something
like a god, masturbating,
hand wrapped around a lumber
so large and dark
birds fell off trees.
The dog wanted to imitate god,
as we all wish we could.
The dog bit a man, ate his shoe.
The dog is a sexy son-of-a-bitch.
|
| NK |
Posted
on 09-Apr-02 01:39 AM
Hmmm, in short to your question?
The poet (the narrator of this poem) is totally, I mean totally sexed out!
That is what this poem communicates. Your instinct was right to pick up the key words of this poem such as mastrubate, bitch, and of course sex(y). And the first word of this poem is - what else but "Horny?" There is a dog, and thre is a black shoe. Not a white shoe. What is the color of a penise? And shoe. When you think of shoe what shape does it have? Round? Probably not. Elongated? Most certainly yes.
If you pick up a book on "how to read poetry," almost always what they say is to know a poem it is helpful to read more from the same author. So far I have read only one book b ySamrat Upadhyaya. And, what is the theme of that book? Sex. I think the author is, maybe not obssessed but preoccupied with sex . Or, at least when he writes. That is all I have to say about this poem for now. He invokes God and a lot of repetition. Repitition has a great use in poetry so it works here. Why "God?" I don't know.
***
A poem by Arthur Rimbaud:
Black A, whit E, red I, green U, blue O - vowels,
I'll tell, some day, your secret origins:
A, black hairy corset of dazzling flies
Who boom around cruel stenches,
Gulf of darkness; E, candor of steam and of tents,
Lances of proud glaciers, white kings, Queen-Anne's
lace shivers;
I, deep reds , spit blood, laughter of beautiful lips
In anger or in drunkenness and penitence;
U, cycles, divine vibrations of dark green oceans,
Peacefulness of pastures dotted with animals, the peace
of wrinkles
Which alchemy prints on studious foreheads;
O, supreme trumpet, full of strange harsh sounds,
Silence which are crossed by Worlds and by Angels -
O, Omega, violet ray of Her Eyes!
[hint: Rimbaund thought that peotry had a power that nothing else had, because poetry could be a way to see beyond reality.]
above hint is not my wordings.
And Nepe, you know how to read a peom but your training (maybe schooling) is in your way.
disclaimer: I am not the Authority on poetry. All these comments are just views of a person who likes to read and write poetry.
|
| Gaine |
Posted
on 09-Apr-02 01:51 PM
NK didi!
Sanchai cha??
What I wrote was a poem itself? Kasto cha? Ramro cha?
|
| NK |
Posted
on 10-Apr-02 02:10 AM
Dear Gaine Bhai (it seems i will run out of jai ko mala for the next tihar at this rate), if you say it was a poem then it must be. but it was a bit verbose for a good poem, or, you could have written some more paragraphs to establish a rhythm. Who cares about the verbosity then, no? And, yes, no matter how much they try to convince me about that blank canvass being an Art I ain't buying it. MOMA has this big blue canvass, or is it black ---hmmm...., anyway, I forgot the name of the artist and it is an Art! All I have figured out so far is to understand these types of art you gotta have some knowledge of art movement. then only you can appreciate it. Furthermore, what do you say about that "conceptual art" piece in the Taet (sp) gallery in London where the "art" is light going on and off in a room. yes, that's it - lights going on and off and won some kind of prestigious award!
|
