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StayingPower
Joined: 18 Aug 2006 Posts: 252
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Posted: Fri Aug 17, 2007 7:58 pm Post subject: Being Young |
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When I was young, I knew the way, like a shameful child, knowing his way to bed. Now, I feel in between, like there was something I'd missed, perhaps a smiling picture, babyhood, beliefs.
Like my father dive-bombing us to bed, an ex-Marine, making it seem for us all so unreal, or real enough to believe.
The ghosts clinging, like Autumn leaves to trees, around me, a grip of childhood fear, falsehood, shooting rubberbands at a wooden fort my brother held with his plastic army.
Now remembering, the cooler sun camping outside in adjacent property, the smell of something like fresh dug Earth, I'd been told to dig deeper to China.
Still thinking, it's not that deep, now that I see the surface of things, like bright light amidst a Hurricane, helpless.
Forgot those memories, fatherhood's fate, fetlock's of leaves stained in winter's crusts of stone paths, dead leaves marking my way home.
Last edited by StayingPower on Sat Aug 18, 2007 5:55 pm; edited 2 times in total |
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markholmes

Joined: 21 Jun 2004 Posts: 661 Location: Wengehua
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Posted: Fri Aug 17, 2007 8:45 pm Post subject: |
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Why don't you try posting this on Forumosa. There are a lot more long termers over there. Most people round here only stay a year or two and then move on, which is hardly ideal for the dog.
Just a thought. |
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Miyazaki
Joined: 12 Jul 2005 Posts: 635 Location: My Father's Yacht
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Posted: Sat Aug 18, 2007 3:04 am Post subject: Re: Being Young |
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StayingPower wrote: |
When I was young, I knew the way, like a shameful child, knowing his way to bed. Now, I feel in between, like there was something I'd missed, perhaps a smiling picture, babyhood, beliefs.
Like my father dive-bombing us to bed, an ex-Marine, making it seem for us all so unreal, or real enough to believe.
The ghosts clinging, like Autumn leaves to trees, around me. a grip of chldhood fear, falsehood, shooting rubberbands at a wooden fort my brother held with his plastic army.
Now remembering, the cooler sun camping outside in adjacent property, the smell of something like fresh dug Earth, I'd been told to dig deeper to China.
Still thinking, it's not that deep, now that I see the surface of things, like bright light amidst a Hurricane, helpless.
Forgot those memories, fatherhood's fate, fetlock's of leaves stained in winter crust's of stone paths, dead leaves marking my way home. |
SP,
On the bottle again, eh! |
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just4u
Joined: 27 May 2007 Posts: 20
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Posted: Sat Aug 18, 2007 3:41 pm Post subject: |
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It's a good poem, I like it.  |
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StayingPower
Joined: 18 Aug 2006 Posts: 252
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Posted: Sat Aug 18, 2007 5:50 pm Post subject: |
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Thanks, 'preciate it.
I believe in 'free-association' sometimes, just to fiddle around. Not a serious poet, as I hate the particulars, can't get inside that mindset.
This is prose, for the most part. My thoughts are that words are quite powerful. And letting yourself go can unleash memories you never knew existed.
For example, I'd forgotten that memory about my father flying us around the room like airplanes before bedtime, then gently dive-bombing us to bed.
It's a wonder how much fatherhood is taken for granted. I should know, I have three dogs. I wonder, do my dogs reciprocate because I feed them or is there some sense of love?
Man's not an animal. But as a kid, you're just as innocent and culpable, which is why I like animals/dogs.
They don't know. They don't know 'evil' either, which is what this poem hints at, ie., physical abuse. Throwing a dog across the room and having its head slam against the wall would be abusive, wouldn't it?
So what about that, memories are sweet. For some reason, storms make me think, reflect on life. If anything, I hope HESS realizes I'm a fighter against any kind of injustice/abuse, and will remain so against all odds. |
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jotham
Joined: 05 Jul 2007 Posts: 77
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Posted: Sun Aug 19, 2007 5:16 am Post subject: |
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Thanks for sharing that. I think prose is a great way to say "hey, we're just human" without having to be loutish about it.
Funny you mention about storms. I find that rain provides the perfect backdrop for eloquent reflection. I sometimes find myself getting lost in thought for over forty minutes and � after snapping out of it � needing to remind myself where I am, what I'm doing, and what day it is.
It's good to find release for our thoughts. Sometimes mine get locked up...
Anyways, it might be a funny, little experiment to post this on the Japan board, sit back, and chuckle at some of the no doubt sarcastic wisecracks. I'm kidding.  |
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Miyazaki
Joined: 12 Jul 2005 Posts: 635 Location: My Father's Yacht
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Posted: Sun Aug 19, 2007 8:36 pm Post subject: |
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So, you really wrote that as prose?
I think a lot of people enjoy a rainy day now and then.
Except for all the squashed frogs I see on the road.... |
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StayingPower
Joined: 18 Aug 2006 Posts: 252
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Posted: Mon Sep 10, 2007 10:09 am Post subject: |
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I cannot say it's a poem, Miya, since to do so would make it critiqued for its limitations, meter, metric balance, meaning; whereas prose is just homespun, which is why I love the poets of simplicity, and one of whom I cannot now well remember. But he'd said this.
"To some love is given. To others, only heaven." |
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jotham
Joined: 05 Jul 2007 Posts: 77
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Posted: Wed Sep 19, 2007 12:38 am Post subject: |
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Bryan Garner's quote of the day today is really germane to this thread:
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Quotation of the Day: "Prose wears a more sober livery than poetry, and the audacities that may be carried off in verse are only tolerable in prose as a quaint and humorous affectation, with much the same effect as vivid slang." Henry Bett, Some Secrets of Style 101-02 (1932). |
You can subscribe to his grammar tip and quote of the day at the lower right hand corner:
http://www.lawprose.org/subscribe_tips.php |
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