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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 9 of 9. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Atticus on December 10, 2004, at 22:04:37
Pristine Mates of Sistine Paints
Old skool punk fool hates rules sees jewels
Falling like angel’s tears straight from the sky’s pool,
Rippling trippy water-lily clouds floating, so cool,
Takes a seat along the street on the nearest toadstool.Wistful crystals, polar sobs, shiver-scented scarf’s wool
Catches cosmic prismatic stars, using sheep’s bleats to pull
Magic from the tragic, draw it to be viewed in full,
Pristine mates of Sistine paints clinging to a chapel’s skull.Goth girl, skin like pearl, black tresses in a black hat,
Watching me watching them, I say I’m the Cheshire Cat,
Studded-metal tattooed petal laughs, says, “Imagine that,”
Divine weeping turns to sleeting, she asks, “Want green tea at my flat?”
-- Atticus
Posted by Toph on December 10, 2004, at 22:31:54
In reply to poem ... Pristine Mates of Sistine Paints, posted by Atticus on December 10, 2004, at 22:04:37
Interesting. I'm not sure who's the voyeur in this, you or me. One small grammatical correction:
> ... Wistful crystals, polar sobs, shiver-scented scarf’s wool
Catches...
You have subject/verb disagreement here (I think). LOL.
-Toph
Posted by Atticus on December 11, 2004, at 0:01:34
In reply to Re: poem ... Pristine Mates of Sistine Paints, posted by Toph on December 10, 2004, at 22:31:54
Ahh, not so fast, boyo. It's the woolen "scarf" that "catches" the snowflakes (singular subject + singular verb form = agreement). The "wistful crytals" and "polar sobs" are piled-up descriptions of the snowflakes themselves, and the sentence with scarf begins halfway through the line and then bends around to the next one. On the other hand, I do deliberately bend and break grammatical rules all the time for effect in poems. Goes with the territory. It's one of the reasons why I like it. Atticus the Unruly
Posted by Toph on December 11, 2004, at 11:17:09
In reply to Re: poem ... Pristine Mates of Sistine Paints » Toph, posted by Atticus on December 11, 2004, at 0:01:34
What about the layers of voyeurism here. Is it me watching you watching you watching her? Or am not getting the picture?
-Toph
Posted by Jai Narayan on December 11, 2004, at 16:34:43
In reply to poem ... Pristine Mates of Sistine Paints, posted by Atticus on December 10, 2004, at 22:04:37
so you wonderful woolly bear...
did you go?
You know for tea?
do you like green tea?
And what happened if you did?
I loved the poem, so sharp and all the words were of the same intensity...how do you do it?
If I could visit your brain for 24 hours what would the livingroom look like?
Ta, and cheers Jai, the other unruly Irish person
Posted by Atticus on December 11, 2004, at 18:36:17
In reply to Re: poem ... Pristine Mates of Sistine Paints, posted by Toph on December 11, 2004, at 11:17:09
It's her watching me watching the snow come down. Its purity always strikes me as something doomed once it wafts down into the city, like bits of the divine and ethereal landing on dirty asphalt. In "Alice in Wonderland," the Cheshire Cat is the perpetual snarky observer. Essentially, this piece is about temporarily shelving cynicism and becoming transfixed by something like a flower's beauty as it wilts, viewing it as emblematic of the sheer transience of innocence. She recognizes me recognizing this, so we try to rekindle a bit of the magic to the extent that human beings can in such an environment. It's about a moment of connection in the metropolis. Atticus
Posted by Atticus on December 11, 2004, at 18:54:41
In reply to Re:Pristine Mates of Sistine Paints..I gotta know, posted by Jai Narayan on December 11, 2004, at 16:34:43
Hullo luv,
Yes, we did go back to her flat for the tea, and I do like green tea. She actually knew I liked tea because she's a friend of a friend, and I'd just met her the previous weekend. I'd mentioned how my Irish grandmother, Na, had lived with my immediate family until I was about 10, when she died of cancer. Na had me supping tea like a proper little Irishman by the age of three, and one of my fondest childhood memories is of me, her, and my mother sitting around the kitchen table (me in a booster chair) all sipping tea (mine was mostly cream and sugar, lots and lots of sugar) as a hard winter's rain pounded down outside the windows. I felt so cozy and safe as I sat there with the steam from the tea and the indecipherable but oddly comforting grown-up talk washing over me like a warm bath. Guess the girl in the poem remembered the story and knew exactly what button to push when the sleet started to pelt down. Ta. ;) Atticus
Posted by Jai Narayan on December 11, 2004, at 20:25:44
In reply to Re:Pristine Mates of Sistine Paints..I gotta know » Jai Narayan, posted by Atticus on December 11, 2004, at 18:54:41
and then.....
love your story. wish I where there.
hey, I made up a story about Dr. Bob and I'm getting into the hot of it. What gives??
I thought it was a cool little story of silly imaginingings...(Is that a word?)
I just saw Vera Drake....oh my god. She was busy putting on the tea....
Powerful movie.
I love having you on babble.
I really don't understand why that is so powerful but it is.
these months you were gone have depressed me....
you have boosted my mood.
Jai
Posted by Atticus on December 11, 2004, at 20:50:20
In reply to Re:Pristine Mates of Sistine Paints..I gotta know, posted by Jai Narayan on December 11, 2004, at 20:25:44
Nice to be chatting with you again, too. I'd say you have more supporters than detractors regarding the admin piece. I just left a comment myself. Ta. Atticus
This is the end of the thread.
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