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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 19 of 19. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by zenhussy on December 11, 2003, at 21:14:27
Thoughts? Feelings? Comments?
Go away now? ok --zh
Posted by octopusprime on December 11, 2003, at 22:11:43
In reply to Is poetry dead? Or is it alive?, posted by zenhussy on December 11, 2003, at 21:14:27
i think it's alive
i see it on the bus
on a placard
next to the offers to consolidate my debt, pardon my criminal record, complete my high school degree, counsel my pregnancy, and clothe my pedestrian butt in reflective clothingmaybe the ad collections are poetry too
but that's not what i mean
i mean published poems from a book
are on the bus on a placard
where everybody can see themi'll go away now - zzzz
Posted by Psychopoppy on December 12, 2003, at 3:14:51
In reply to Is poetry dead? Or is it alive?, posted by zenhussy on December 11, 2003, at 21:14:27
Well, here's one that's eternally alive for me and one of my favorites :I know what the caged bird feels.
Ah me, when the sun is bright on the upland slopes,
when the wind blows soft through the springing grass
and the river floats like a sheet of glass,
when the first bird sings and the first bud ops,
and the faint perfume from its chalice steals.
I know what the caged bird feels.I know why the caged bird beats his wing
till its blood is red on the cruel bars,
for he must fly back to his perch and cling
when he fain would be on the bow aswing.
And the blood still throbs in the old, old scars
and they pulse again with a keener sting.
I know why he beats his wing.I know why the caged bird sings.
Ah, me, when its wings are bruised and its bosom sore.
It beats its bars and would be free.
It's not a carol of joy or glee,
but a prayer that it sends from its heart's deep core,
a plea that upward to heaven it flings.
I know why the caged bird sings.
Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906)
Posted by cubic_me on December 12, 2003, at 7:29:23
In reply to Re: Is poetry dead? Or is it alive?, posted by Psychopoppy on December 12, 2003, at 3:14:51
Poetry can die and come alive again..........
Posted by zenhussy on December 12, 2003, at 10:17:46
In reply to Re: Is poetry dead? Or is it alive?, posted by octopusprime on December 11, 2003, at 22:11:43
> i think it's alive
> i see it on the bus
> on a placard
> next to the offers to consolidate my debt, pardon my criminal record, complete my high school degree, counsel my pregnancy, and clothe my pedestrian butt in reflective clothing
> maybe the ad collections are poetry too
> but that's not what i mean
> i mean published poems from a book
> are on the bus on a placard
> where everybody can see them
> i'll go away now - zzzzoctopusprime,
Thank you!! I had forgotten about poetry on buses. My city is too small for that program but when I'm in Baghdad by the Bay riding Muni I see those placards as well. Funny how we forget things like that.
Your post is poetic. Please come back after going away. Hope you had some good sleep.
zh (who is grateful for the reminders of poetry aside from the written form in a book)
Posted by zenhussy on December 12, 2003, at 10:22:07
In reply to Re: Is poetry dead? Or is it alive?, posted by Psychopoppy on December 12, 2003, at 3:14:51
> Well, here's one that's eternally alive for me and one of my favorites :
> I know what the caged bird feels.
> Ah me, when the sun is bright on the upland slopes,
> when the wind blows soft through the springing grass
> and the river floats like a sheet of glass,
> when the first bird sings and the first bud ops,
> and the faint perfume from its chalice steals.
> I know what the caged bird feels.
> I know why the caged bird beats his wing
> till its blood is red on the cruel bars,
> for he must fly back to his perch and cling
> when he fain would be on the bow aswing.
> And the blood still throbs in the old, old scars
> and they pulse again with a keener sting.
> I know why he beats his wing.
> I know why the caged bird sings.
> Ah, me, when its wings are bruised and its bosom sore.
> It beats its bars and would be free.
> It's not a carol of joy or glee,
> but a prayer that it sends from its heart's deep core,
> a plea that upward to heaven it flings.
> I know why the caged bird sings.
> Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906)Psychopoppy,
Thank you for sharing Dunbar with the board. Indeed each post is a screaming reminder to me that poetry is not dead. What a lovely poem to keep in one's collection of favourties.
zh
Posted by zenhussy on December 12, 2003, at 10:24:41
In reply to Re: Is poetry dead? Or is it alive?, posted by cubic_me on December 12, 2003, at 7:29:23
> Poetry can die and come alive again..........
cubic_me,
With a name like zenhussy you'd think I'd see the cyclic nature of life and death in poetry, no? It took your words to point that out to me.
Thank you for succinctly capturing poetry's essence.
zh
Posted by KK Knull on December 12, 2003, at 10:25:07
In reply to Is poetry dead? Or is it alive?, posted by zenhussy on December 11, 2003, at 21:14:27
night falls fast
today is in the past
three flakes than four
blown hither to my door
then, many more.
-Kurdt Cobain
Posted by zenhussy on December 12, 2003, at 10:31:37
In reply to isn't poetry considered thought crime!??, posted by KK Knull on December 12, 2003, at 10:25:07
> night falls fast
> today is in the past
> three flakes than four
> blown hither to my door
> then, many more.
> -Kurdt CobainKK Knull,
In many places in this world poets are persecuted just for the words they write or recite. Now that is thought crime!
Mr. Cobain spoke FOR a generation or TO a generation Which do you think? Was he of it or above it?
Interesting choice to contribute. I do hope you come back for more conversation.
zh
Posted by shar on December 12, 2003, at 11:00:48
In reply to Is poetry dead? Or is it alive?, posted by zenhussy on December 11, 2003, at 21:14:27
I, too, think poetry can be dead and alive. To wit, one of my favorite poems, updated (tho' not all that recently), and just about guaranteed to bring on a smile. Shar
"Nothing more"Once upon a midnight dreary, fingers cramped and vision bleary,
System manuals piled high and wasted paper on the floor,
Longing for the warmth of bedsheets,
Still I sat there, doing spreadsheets:
Having reached the bottom line,
I took a floppy from the drawer.
Typing with a steady hand, I then invoked the SAVE command
and waited for the disk to store,
Only this and nothing more.Deep into the monitor peering, long I sat there wond'ring, fearing,
Doubting, while the disk kept churning, turning yet to churn some more.
"Save!" I said, "You cursed mother! Save my data from before!"
One thing did the phosphors answer, only this and nothing more, Just,
"Abort, Retry, Ignore?"Was this some occult illusion? Some maniacal intrusion?
These were choices undesired, ones I'd never faced before.
Carefully, I weighed the choices as the disk made impish noises.
The cursor flashed, insistent, waiting, baiting me to type some more.
Clearly I must press a key, choosing one and nothing more,
From Choose "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"With my fingers pale and trembling
Slowly toward the keyboard bending,
Longing for a happy ending, hoping all would be restored,
Praying for some guarantee
Timidly I pressed a key.
But on the screen there still persisted words appearing as before.
Ghastly grim they blinked and taunted, haunted, as my patience wore,
Saying "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"I tried to catch the chips off-guard --
I pressed again, but twice as hard.
I pleaded with the cursed machine: I begged and cried and then I swore.
Now in desperation, trying random combinations,
Still there came the incantation, just as senseless as before.
Cursor blinking, angrily winking, blinking nonsense as before.
Reading, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"There I sat, distraught, exhausted by my own machine, accosted
Getting up I turned away and paced across the office floor.
And then I saw dreadful sight: a lightning bolt cut through the night.
A gasp of horror overtook me, shook me to my core.
The lightning zapped my previous data, lost and gone forevermore.
Not even, "Abort, Retry, Ignore?"To this day I do not know
The place to which lost data goes.
What demonic nether world is wrought where data will be stored,
Beyond the reach of mortal souls, beyond the ether, into black holes?
But sure as there's C, Pascal, Lotus, Ashton-Tate and more,
You will one day be left to wander, lost on some Plutonian shore, Pleading,
"Abort, Retry, Ignore?"~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I downloaded this from annoyances.com which is a site about Windows annoyances (if they still exist, I haven't been in a while). They offer tips and explanations about the strange behavior one can encounter from their computers. They have a humor page that has some fun, creative stuff! Shar
Posted by zenhussy on December 12, 2003, at 11:15:52
In reply to Re: Is poetry dead? Or is it alive? » zenhussy, posted by shar on December 12, 2003, at 11:00:48
Shar,
Grooooooooan!
>which is a site about Windows annoyances (if they still exist....
Windows annoyances exists always! Oh, the site? Dunno. Ha ha.
You're correct about that almost guaranteed smile. I certainly broke out in a grin reading this. Groaned at the punnyness of it. ; )
Thank you for contributing to the Dead and Alive poetry thread.
zh
I'm going to be watching out for your punny style. That type of humour is downright dangerous when you aren't expecting a zinger with such silliness. Clever you are Ms. Shar.
Posted by octopusprime on December 12, 2003, at 20:34:12
In reply to Re: poetry is on the bus! » octopusprime, posted by zenhussy on December 12, 2003, at 10:17:46
ok just for you zh i'll be back
see being on the bus is proof of aliveness
because the dead don't ride the busif you're damned, you ride the tram
http://www.hellsgateairtram.com/
if you're undamned, you're an angel
and you can flytherefore the dead aren't on the bus
therefore poetry isn't deadQED
how's that for a proof?
Posted by zenhussy on December 15, 2003, at 15:46:12
In reply to Re: poetry is on the bus!, posted by octopusprime on December 12, 2003, at 20:34:12
> ok just for you zh i'll be back
Cool, thanks!
> see being on the bus is proof of aliveness
> because the dead don't ride the busHmmm, here in my town some of the riders of public transportation are maybe a breath or two away from death. Or maybe they just seem that way when they take up two seats, nevermind that *you're* sitting in one of them!
> if you're damned, you ride the tram
> http://www.hellsgateairtram.com/
> if you're undamned, you're an angel
> and you can flyWell there ya go. Can't argue with that.
> therefore the dead aren't on the bus
> therefore poetry isn't dead
> QED
> how's that for a proof?Octopusprime,
You make a strong case. This isn't poetry but it is a fascinating site that can lure you in and get you caught up in the words/people. Geoff Ryman is the author. http://www.ryman-novel.com/
Is it a series of short stories? A novella? A true novel? Poetic moments linked together?
Do tell if you're interested.
zh
Posted by Racer on December 16, 2003, at 19:53:17
In reply to Is poetry dead? Or is it alive?, posted by zenhussy on December 11, 2003, at 21:14:27
lol
Yes, Yeats probably was the last Great Poet to write in English. Just onaccounta that, though, t'ain't mean poetry is dead, too, though.
"Never shall a young man, thrown into despair,
by those great honey colored ramparts at your ear
love you for yourself alone,
and not your yellow hair..."Advice, girlfriend: poetry is alive as long as there's them as reads it. Each poem can be a monument to immortality, or just another bunch of words that rhyme. The Reader has to help make the latter into the former, so as long as we read them, they's amongst the living.
(And why does anything about Yeats always drive me to read Auden???)
Posted by Racer on December 16, 2003, at 20:56:21
In reply to Re: Is poetry dead? Or is it alive? » zenhussy, posted by shar on December 12, 2003, at 11:00:48
Come-By-Chance
As I pondered very weary o'er a volume long and dreary --
For the plot was void of interest -- 'twas the Postal Guide, in fact,
There I learnt the true location, distance, size, and population
Of each township, town, and village in the radius of the Act.
And I learnt that Puckawidgee stands beside the Murrumbidgee,
And that Booleroi and Bumble get their letters twice a year,
Also that the post inspector, when he visited Collector,
Closed the office up instanter, and re-opened Dungalear.
But my languid mood forsook me, when I found a name that took me,
Quite by chance I came across it -- `Come-by-Chance' was what I read;
No location was assigned it, not a thing to help one find it,
Just an N which stood for northward, and the rest was all unsaid.
I shall leave my home, and forthward wander stoutly to the northward
Till I come by chance across it, and I'll straightway settle down,
For there can't be any hurry, nor the slightest cause for worry
Where the telegraph don't reach you nor the railways run to town.
And one's letters and exchanges come by chance across the ranges,
Where a wiry young Australian leads a pack-horse once a week,
And the good news grows by keeping, and you're spared the pain of weeping
Over bad news when the mailman drops the letters in the creek.
But I fear, and more's the pity, that there's really no such city,
For there's not a man can find it of the shrewdest folk I know,
`Come-by-chance', be sure it never means a land of fierce endeavour,
It is just the careless country where the dreamers only go.
Though we work and toil and hustle in our life of haste and bustle,
All that makes our life worth living comes unstriven for and free;
Man may weary and importune, but the fickle goddess Fortune
Deals him out his pain or pleasure, careless what his worth may be.
All the happy times entrancing, days of sport and nights of dancing,
Moonlit rides and stolen kisses, pouting lips and loving glance:
When you think of these be certain you have looked behind the curtain,
You have had the luck to linger just a while in `Come-by-chance'.
by AB 'Banjo' Paterson
Posted by zenhussy on December 16, 2003, at 23:32:07
In reply to You read the MN review of the Yeats bio, right? » zenhussy, posted by Racer on December 16, 2003, at 19:53:17
Will give real response tomorrow when I'm not in foul mood but for now----
Sheeeeeeet grrrrl! I woulda posted a poetry thread AGES ago if I've known it would drawn you back to PSB!
Damn. Post poetry and she reappears! Woo hoo.
Nice to see you dear.
zenhussy
Posted by shar on December 16, 2003, at 23:40:10
In reply to Another silly poem, by Banjo Patterson for you » shar, posted by Racer on December 16, 2003, at 20:56:21
Posted by Jai Narayan on December 17, 2003, at 20:38:17
In reply to Is poetry dead? Or is it alive?, posted by zenhussy on December 11, 2003, at 21:14:27
> Thoughts? Feelings? Comments?
> Go away now? ok --zh
I have enjoyed poetry and written some but I never felt on fire by poetry before this summer. In our town a group of writers and poets decended upon us. I went to every reading I possibly could and LOVED it. I am on fire for poetry now. There is no greater treat than to hear a poet read their own work....so splendid. so it's not dead for me. It has sprung to life for me.
Posted by zenhussy on December 18, 2003, at 21:34:20
In reply to Re: Is poetry dead? Or is it alive?, posted by Jai Narayan on December 17, 2003, at 20:38:17
This is the end of the thread.
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