--Elite Writer Alias: saartha Name: K R ASL: 27/F/US Bio: [ Quick Bio ] Website:[ Website ] Days Away: 101 Life Story: Liminal [ Ignore User ]
Favorites: 5 Forum Posts: 3 Shoutbox Posts: 0 RP Posts: 0 Signup Date: 4425 D 12.12 Years 1.21 Decades 147.5 Months 632.14 Weeks 4.425000e+8 Heart Beats -There you go eggman Quote: Oh, ragged things be still.
You still have msgs on your page from 2016 which I find rather astonishing, then again you have pretty much always kept the one journal. I like that you work here, and the opportunity to read your work.
Hamfisted is a great word. A seldom used expression. I looked it up just to be sure, and after thinking about it overnight, I just want to express to you that while I understand your thoughts about your poetry, I have to respectfully disagree. At least from my perspective.
Here's the thing. You are a surrealist, there is no escaping it. There is also no escaping the fact that the person who is sure of his place in the world does not a poet make. You have the exact combination of inquisitiveness and uncertainty that enables you to paint with words, to make seemingly incongruous imagery come together and make sense. Your poetry is interpretive, so yes, it is soft, in a way, but concise. Poignant for me.
Years ago I was on here with another alias, and I read some of your poems over and over, they really made an impression on me.
On the other hand, I feel the same way about my work, and am also much more of a dreamer than a doer. Publishing is going to be a lot of typing. and editing. and running over the same material again and again; editing some more. Terrifying to someone with no self discipline and no attention span.
But hey, you need to go at your own speed, create for love. I hope you always will.
Thanks for the comments. You're absolutely right. I'm not even sure Great Auk can be in iambic pentameter... I want to stress both of them naturally. And woe, I am bad at counting. I must have counted everything except "he says" on accident.
I'll be sure to stop by later and read some of yours.
That's a hella depressing poem you got there in your journal. But it can't be depressing without having some truth to it. The wells around here are running dry.