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Under the Weather


dr_con
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Under the Weather

 

"A little water never hurt anybody"- All Fathers

 

Wisdom has fled

I skulk between

familiar cracks

 

shortcuts and alleys

of relations, friends

and loved ones, sigh

admiring the edifices

of memories, past

and intuited future

moments, and I

 

dodge: Past the dustbin

of unconscious cruelty

the brick wall of denial

looking askew at limits

imposed by denied ir-

responsibility--

 

Who would have guessed

that these betweens

would or could be so crowded

before it rains

thieves and scavengers,

idol snatchers, grave diggers

and the other natural

instinctual talents we did not

need schooling for, unlike

 

ownership, and the infamous, "owning up"

that presupposes and assumes fantasies

of importance are real, that one can avoid

getting wet, we certainly are

the elliptical referential

or center of this gravity well

but without study

we can't change the weather

or dis-identify from the companies

and their buildings around us

 

A sudden change in the pressure

and we crowd beneath a fire-escape

relieved by our shared humanity

and for a moment alone together

happy to be united by the implacable

unreasoning indifference of it all.

thegateless.org Come on over and check out my poetry substack y'all;-) Or if your bored, head to the Zazzle store: https://www.zazzle.com/store/gateless. If you buy anything I lose a bet, so consider that before you violate the digital rules.

 

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Larsen M. Callirhoe

excellent poem DC. i love the word play and imagery. it works well in this poem. i have to admit i read all your poems but don't comment on most of them because one most are over my head meaning im not the smartest person in the world and you write very well. i get the gist of this one but the last two before this one you posted here i don't understand and i have read them several times and the comments and remarks about them but still i don't understand them. this is meant as a compliment even though the poet tries to make his writings understandable. i understood the words in them after looking up a few words in each one and i just don't see the connection of what it is about. i thought they were excellent poems. hope i am not being rude just honest. i know the poet tries to make a connection with the readers (his/her audience.). i even tried changing the sentence structures of the last two poems before this one you posted here and the comments still didn't make sense to me. but as i said im not the smartest person or the greatest poet in the world *sighs*. i did understand where the titles connected to the poem but that was it.

 

peace

larsen aka vic

Larsen M. Callirhoe

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with a similar sense as vic, a few of the meanings of dr con's works have not caught onto my brain... that leaves most of the word-relationships and tongue play to appeal in what Im reading- and the works do that, very definitely... but still, this brain here can get tripped up with wanting some of the meanings to come forth- the works carry a mysteriousness with them then, which does add to it- we are peering into dr con's world, and wondering a bit more about what ticks there- and that too, is a worthwhile venture... but again/still- to have a bit more for the connection come forth- these works draw the brain into them, and demand from this brain- and as I was posting a few days ago, I can find my brain in a mode where it simply will not follow

 

you can lead a brain to poetry, but you cannot make it _ _ _ _ _ ...

 

I leave dr cons works each time, with a smile and a promise to return to them, when the brain is feeling more "ready"... and like vic is relaying, that leaves with a bit of something .... missing? unsatisfied? ... not sure...

 

but there's a little kid here who wants to see it... like being at a parade, and not having anyone to set you on their shoulders... I can hear the music, and I see the tops of tubas and batons at the tops of their toss, but still, missing the parade...

 

thats been my sense for the last three (this and two before)...

 

others comments have been very helpful to piece together a few possibilities of meaning... "oh, thats the _____ he must be talking about here"... but the works are leaving me with a wish for a bit more connective tissue... a bit more ligament... not too much! but a bit more...

 

again, this is just my brain... and you dont write for one person... well, you do! you write poems for your self! to reveal oneself, TO oneself -and thats exactly how it should be!!!

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Larsen,

 

No you are not being rude, just honest, and it may be my biggest strength and my biggest weakness. Sometimes my poems are too dense, too annoying. Funny, because 20 years ago, I felt the exact same way about a lot of poets- too dense, hard to decipher- But I did learn through reading Finnegans Wake, to let go and appreciate the music, let it wash over me, and sometimes understanding would drop into my lap, unexpected and all the more precious for that- Depending on my mood, I sometimes try and communicate that way- with varying degrees of success...

 

You are a smart person. The tenacity involved in re-reading other peoples work, is the hallmark of high intelligence- and brutal honesty, another sign.

 

Glad you enjoyed! I go through phases and am due for some plain speaking poems soon;-)

 

Much Grace and Many thanks for putting up with me! ;-)

 

DC

thegateless.org Come on over and check out my poetry substack y'all;-) Or if your bored, head to the Zazzle store: https://www.zazzle.com/store/gateless. If you buy anything I lose a bet, so consider that before you violate the digital rules.

 

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I'm putting together a new book- with luck it will be out in a month;-) I just wanted to add the first poem in the collection for larsen and Rumi, so that they and myself can catch a break icon_lol.gif Meaning that I really, really appreciate your persistence in reading my work and hope that occasionally it is rewarding to you all, and not just a challenge icon_eek.gif , which is entirely my fault:

 

Hello

 

Waiting so long

airport timelines

crossroad lives

blinded guards

forget their purpose

 

recycled air

and me by the arrival gate

watching beyond the hustle

and bustle that got me here

leaning against this wall

observing disembarking

roles changing

 

passengers become part of San Francisco's

cog: Family, Friends, Business Lunches

new starts, sudden sad ends---

 

behind a group of children

escalating down, your chorus

temporarily playing your retinue

or so I think, seeing you look up

spotting my hat you hesitate:

 

Almost Seven now

a year, exactly since I have last seen you

first time back in your Birth City

since moving to Maine

when you were One

 

You jump and shuffle behind the simple holiday crowd

I will not smoke around you the next four days

I don't drink beer on the nights you spend

with me, organic immunity to ennui

I hear you yell: "Daddy!"

 

and the intervening yards become microseconds

No real joy or sadness or bliss or expected emotions

as we hug, finally lifting you up

rather a rightness

a certainty

 

this is what I am and should be

as we laugh and say hello.

 

 

 

 

 

Hope that appeals, and proves that I can write in a straight line icon_surprised.gif

 

 

Many, Many Thanks!

 

DC

thegateless.org Come on over and check out my poetry substack y'all;-) Or if your bored, head to the Zazzle store: https://www.zazzle.com/store/gateless. If you buy anything I lose a bet, so consider that before you violate the digital rules.

 

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dr_con wrote:

 

Hope that appeals, and proves that I can write in a straight line
icon_surprised.gif

 

It does, it does!

 

very nice... big smiles here-

 

and I the reader, put my trust in you, the poet, to not listen to anything that I, the reader, have to say about your work... it is YOU that you deliver to us the reader... and it must never be any other way... we, the readers, have to trust you on that...

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Aleksandra

Thank you Dr.Con, Victor and Rumi for this nice conversation what provoked this lovely poem. Now is too hard for me to comment here :), because I don't want to sound as most competent to speak :D. But is much to learn from your words my friends. It's not without reason when it is said that the poetry is easier to write than to read and understand. When I see some poem not so clear, makes me to think more and that I accept as a challenge for me.

 

In this poem the first three lines are giving the face of the poem, but as rumisong said I hear the music etc, but can't see the parade.

 

I agree with you Dr.Con, that, that can be your strength, I don't think so that it's possible to be your biggest weakness, because when the poem comes, your brain already have a picture and sense for the poem. That I call a style. This is your style, or one of your styles. I enjoy your poetry.

 

I especially love how this part is expressed:

 

Who would have guessed

that these betweens

would or could be so crowded

before it rains

thieves and scavengers,

idol snatchers, grave diggers

and the other natural

instinctual talents we did not

need schooling for,

 

...and also the ending part what gives to me one paradoxical feeling

 

A sudden change in the pressure

and we crowd beneath a fire-escape

relieved by our shared humanity

and for a moment alone together

happy to be
united by the implacable

unreasoning indifference of it all.

 

Thank you for posting and sharing Dr.Con.

 

Aleksandra

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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Larsen M. Callirhoe

thanks dr con for being candid with me. actually aleks picked out my two favorite stanzas in the poem. what are the odds of that happening lol. i think aleks is correct the last stanza she picked out is paradoxial. thanks for the stimuli DC, rumi, and aleks. i feel much better now.

 

DC "hello" is a very beautiful poem. a child would appreciate this when they get older. very telling and poetic line with blunt honesty. "I hear you yell: "Daddy!"" thanks for the read.

 

larsen aka vic

Larsen M. Callirhoe

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Aleksandra wrote:

 

I don't think so that it's possible to be your biggest weakness, because when the poem comes, your brain already have a picture and sense for the poem.
That I call a style. This is your style, or one of your styles. I enjoy your poetry
.

(bolding mine)

 

Yes!

yes yes... this is well said

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I like the second stanza break, and the following line break is quite effective:

imposed by denied ir-

responsibility--

Irresponsibility and denial of responsibility seem to converge.

 

I also like the reference to the other natural/instinctual talents we did not/need schooling for, and how

we can't change the weather

or dis-identify from the companies

and their buildings around us.

There's a present day, urban feel.

 

The entire poem appeals to my own sense of humanity, especially this part:

A sudden change in the pressure

and we crowd beneath a fire-escape

relieved by our shared humanity.

I enjoyed it along with the unexpected multiple associations evoked by the title.

 

Tony

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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I usually make my replies before reading the other comments so as to not be unduly influenced by the comments. I did that this time and I didn't see the fine discussion that took place in the thread. I wanted to add some more to my own reply.

 

I very much like this part:

dr_con wrote:

 

But I did learn ... to let go and appreciate the music, let it wash over me, and sometimes understanding would drop into my lap, unexpected and all the more precious for that ...

Yes, poetry is communication and, like music, it also communicates through sound and sonority. Just like some music has words and some does not, some poems are glaringly obvious, while others are built around more profound associations. Either way, the "music" matters and, all by itself, can provide enjoyment and evoke complex emotions within the listener-reader.

 

As for this:

Aleksandra wrote:

 

It's not without reason when it is said that the poetry is easier to write than to read and understand,

I can't say that it's the same in my experience, but I guess that's why I'm still waiting on Alek's comment on my most recent poem. But okay ... she's waiting for my help with that. icon_razz.gif

 

Btw, Hello is delightful.

 

Tony

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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Aleksandra

tonyv wrote:

 

As for this:
Aleksandra wrote:

 

It's not without reason when it is said that the poetry is easier to write than to read and understand,

I can't say that it's the same in my experience, but I guess that's why I'm still waiting on Alek's comment on my most recent poem. But okay ... she's waiting for my help with that.
icon_razz.gif

 

Tony

 

he he... very funny icon_rolleyes.gif

 

So yes I still think that it's easier to write, thats why you still wait my comment because for me is hard to understand yours :D.

 

And yes would you be kind to answer on my questions for your poem?! icon_biggrin.png

 

Dr.Con sorry that we are making this war on your thread :).

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau

History of Macedonia

 

 

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tonyv wrote:

 

As for this:
Aleksandra wrote:

 

It's not without reason when it is said that the poetry is easier to write than to read and understand,

I can't say that it's the same in my experience, but I guess that's why I'm still waiting on Alek's comment on my most recent poem. But okay ... she's waiting for my help with that.
icon_razz.gif

 

Tony

 

he he... very funny icon_rolleyes.gif

 

So yes I still think that it's easier to write, thats why you still wait my comment because for me is hard to understand yours :D .

 

And yes would you be kind to answer on my questions for your poem?! icon_biggrin.png

 

Dr.Con sorry that we are making this war on your thread :) .

 

Just saw this quote today- was going to make a new thread of it, and pour some philosophy on it, but this bit of your conversation is too perfect not to interject it here:

 

A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.
--Thomas Mann

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