The apple

   This is an assignment for The Poetry Dance Hall.



                        it
                         is
                  always     the same
                 blaming me blaming you
                for something that never
                 really happened at all
                 see, here's the thing
                  snakes  do not talk
                   and fruit doesn't
                    impart anything
                       magical  or
                         tragic


tags:Poetry, Poetry Dance

No net

   The latest poetry dance© is a 'nonet.' According to ShadowPoetry.com, "...a nonet has nine lines. The first line has nine syllables, the second line eight syllables, the third line seven syllables, etc... until line nine that finishes with one syllable. It can be on any subject and rhyming is optional." Here are my nonets.

A Walk In The Woods

Early November trees are barren.
It has not yet begun to snow.
The leaf covered forest path
Leads hither and thither
Among silent trunks.
On occasion,
A late leaf
Flutters
Down.


For Pamela - Just one girl's head noise

How do relationships form across
These vast gulfs of empty ether?
We know each other by words;
A page full, flickering
Across my glasses
After midnight.
There's something
In my
Eye.

One word poem

   Remember that one word meme that ran through J-land a few months ago? you know the one, where everybody was invited to leave a one word comment describing the journal owner? I have taken the one word comments from my journal, and put them here in the form of a poem. Other than spacing out the nouns to end each stanza, I have left the the adjectives in the order I received the comments. So, it was pretty much you guys who wrote this one.


One Word

Brilliant
Pedantic
Cryptic
Interesting
Mandarin

Honest
Urbane
Perspicacious
Unpredictable
Canadian

Cute
Handsome
Charming
Fair-minded
Enigma

Humble
Witty
Sarcastic
Knowledgeable
A pain

Judicious
Studley
Deep
Ornery
Paradox

Lucky
Interesting
Laidback
Nice
Paul

grey day

white straws of sunlight

thrust down through grey clouds

can they sweep away the rain?

Acrostickiness

A poetry dance© assignment

Even when our eyes meet and
Violence is unspoken
Ever in the darkest night
Ruins of civility litter the room

Twelve times twelve denials
Heaven so far away
Ether just an open frequency on the car radio

Save me from myself
Angel mine, almost divine
Mother never told me all the things
Evil holds close to her breast

I 'ku about you

   Here's me playing along again. This week at poetry dance©, the challenge is haiku. Dawn writes:

Now ... for the clincher...I'd like you to find another journal or blog and write a Haiku about it.

So I did. Twice.

sun burns bright above
the shadow of the iris
quivers in the grass


five bags hang in turn
for the preservation of
just one girl's head noise

It's called a bio poem

Paul
reticent and consise, cautious yet cool
son of an in betweener living in a new world
who is outspoken, opinionated, and coldly rational
lover of music, fellowship, and warmth
who fears loneliness, love, and the unknown
who needs encouragement, love, and support
who gives validation, love, and huge hugs
who would like an end to war, poverty, and bad soap operas
resident of the real world
Paul

It's called a bio poem, according to the folks over at poetry dance©. I played along. You can too. Just go visit.

Haiku

A sand so white

Another poem created using the online fridge magnet poetry generator. A fun challenge.

I am cordially invited...

   I was doing a crossword puzzle today, and the answer to one of the clues was Beleaguered, and I remembered that I had something new to post here. No, it's not a poem. It is, however, another letter from those silver-tongued devils at Poetry.com. Here is how this one starts out:

A hush suddenly falls over the audience...imagine yourself at an international gathering of over a thousand poets...publishers...editors...your friends and family...all waiting expectantly for the announcement. Finally it comes...

"Ladies and gentlemen and fellow poets...the winner of the largest cash prize ever awarded to an amateur poet...our Poet of the Year for 2005...and Grand Prize winner of $20,000.00 is...

Paul Little!"

You make your way to the stage amidst the sound of thunderous applause and a standing ovation from your new friends.

We're familiar with your work, Paul, and you know...
it could happen just that way!

   Wow! Are you excited? I'm excited. The letter goes on:

Dear Paul

I would like to inform you of your nomination as Poet of the year for 2005 and to personally invite you to read your poetry at the single largest gathering of poets in history, where you will be formally inducted as an International Poet of Merit and Honored member of our Society for 2005-2006.

Your induction will take place Friday, August 19th, in the United States capital, Washington, D.C., during the 2005 International Society of Poets Summer Convention and Symposium.

You will also be honored with two separate and very special awards for your poetic acheivement.

First, to honor and commemorate your poetic accomplishments, after you present your poetry in front of fellow poets from around the world, you will be presented with your "Outstanding Acheivement in Poetry" Silver Award Bowl. The award is a magnificent work of art in itself (a $200.00 value), uniquely engraved and mounted on a beautiful cherry-wood base. This impressive Silver Award Bowl is so large and heavy, you may need an extra suitcase just to carry it home!

And Paul, there's much more...

In recognition of your poetry, we will also create and present to you a beautiful and colorful Commemorative Award Medallion to honor your poetic dedication and achievements.

   Wait a minute. Didn't I already win both a Silver Award Bowl, and a Commemorative Award Medallion? I thought so. I guess, since I didn't buy-I mean claim-my award last time, that they thought they'd give me another chance.
   The rest of the package is pretty standard: an order form explaining just how much it is going to cost me to accept these wondrous honors. It seems that I can attend the Convention in D.C. for a measly $595.00. That's, uh, not including accomodation, or any meals. Hmm, a little math here...they said thousands of poets would be attending, didn't they? At $595 each? That's a pretty big haul.
  Wait a minute again. I didn't get to the last page yet. Listen to this: entertaining at the Convention all weekend long will be... Tony Orlando. Well, that makes it all worth it.

edit: June 30. Since I received this via snail mail, I have received the identical missive three times via e-mail. They're nothing if not persistant.

edit: Five minutes later. Oh my God! While I was writing the previous edit, my inbox chimed, and it was another one of those letters. What does that mean?

I'm so excited!

   Look what I got today in my e-mail. According to Mr Howard Ely, managing editor of poetry.com, I am a who.

 

Dear Paul,

Over the past several months, we have been reviewing the thousands of poems submitted to us, as well as examining the poetic accomplishments of people whose poetry has appeared on the Internet and in various editions released by other poetry publishers in America and Europe. After an exhaustive examination of this poetic artistry, The International Library of Poetry is pleased to inform you that you have been nominated for inclusion in ...

The International Who's Who in Poetry

Congratulations on your accomplishment, Paul. We look forward to publishing your biographical information on a page dedicated entirely to you. Along with your biographical information, we plan to also include in depth information about your poetry, including your motivations, the meaning poetry has in your life, and your personal philosophical point of view. In addition to dedicating a page entirely to you and your personal background, we have also reserved a second complete page that will be used to showcase a new, unpublished poem that you will provide. This means that ...

The International Who's Who in Poetry will feature two full pages dedicated exclusively to Paul Little!

And that's not all. To honor the accomplishments of the talented individuals who will be participating in this historic project, we will be awarding $4,175.00 in prizes for the best new poems we receive for publication. You are automatically eligible to win, but you must submit your biographical information and a new unpublished poem on the enclosed entry form. Prizes will be announced August 1st, with an anticipated publication date of October 2005.

The International Who's Who in Poetry will be among the finest quality and most interesting books we have ever produced. Poets from several nations around the world will be featured. Every aspect of publication and design will display an uncompromising level of craftsmanship and attention to detail. This four hundred page coffee-table quality book will be printed in two colors on fine milled paper and will feature a highly detailed, ornate cover, and quality typography throughout. It will make a handsome addition to any library, a treasured family keepsake, or a highly valued personal gift.

NO OBLIGATION WHATSOEVER

Before going any further, Paul, let me make one thing clear ... you were selected for inclusion in this project based on your unique talent and previous poetic accomplishments. We believe you to be one of the most interesting poets we have encountered, so we have set aside two entire pages that will be devoted exclusively to you and your poetry in this special edition. In this regard you are under no obligation whatsoever to submit any entry fee, any subsidy payment, or to make any purchase of any kind.

Of course, many people do wish to acquire the books that have pages dedicated to themselves and their poetic artistry. If this is the case, we welcome your order--and guarantee your satisfaction. Please see the enclosed material for special discount information if you would like to order a copy of The International Who's Who in Poetry. Also, for an additional discount, you may wish to order supplementary copies for gift-giving to your friends and family, to display, or for merchandising (see enclosed for case pack discounts).

So What Happens Now?

As soon as you submit your biographical information and new, unpublished poem, we will typeset everything for publication and your poem will be eligible to win over $4,175.00 in prizes that will be awarded to the poets who are participating in this historic project. You will receive by mail a typeset "Artist's Proof" of both your biographical information and poem for your review and approval prior to publication. And let me assure you, your poem remains your property -- The International Who's Who in Poetry is copyrighted as a compilation. This means you retain all rights to your own work of art.

Paul, please send us your biographical information and new poem right away!

In order to make our scheduled publication date, you must submit your biographical information and your new poem as soon as possible. Please feel free to include whatever personal information about yourself and your poetry that you feel would be of most interest to the reader. The new poem you submit must be original and written by you. Your poem may be 24 lines or less, on any subject, and in any style. And if you wish to order a copy of The International Who's Who in Poetry at a special pre-publication discount, please complete the Pre-publication Discount Reservation.

Again, congratulations, Paul. We enjoy your poetic artistry and look forward to dedicating two entire pages to you and your poetry in The International Who's Who in Poetry.

Sincerely,

Howard Ely
Managing Editor

P.S. Paul, you should be genuinely proud of your accomplishment. You have been nominated to participate in The International Who's Who in Poetry because of your poetic accomplishments. We are pleased that two entire pages of this historic edition will be dedicated exclusively to you and your poetry. And, if you decide to order The International Who's Who In Poetry (including supplementary discounted copies for gift-giving to friends and family, to display, or for merchandising), we are so confident that you will love the quality of the edition and the way your biographical information and poetry is presented, we can proudly offer an unconditional iron-clad guarantee. If for any reason you are not completely thrilled, your money will be promptly refunded.

Submit your biographical information and your new poem now or go to
https://www.poetry.com/poetrybuy/WhosWhoSubmitPoem.asp?VIP=P6736865&SC=D115

Click here to learn more about participating in this historic project.

Please do not reply to this message. If you no longer wish us to notify you of poetic opportunities that we believe may be of interest to you, please click here, or go to http://www.poetry.com/nl/stopemail.asp.

poetry.com * One Poetry Plaza * Owings Mills, MD 21117

 

   I'll tell you what I am. I'm speechless. People actually fall for this crap. Don't you be one of them.

How much is this costing them in postage?

   Once again I find a missive from Poetry.com in my mailbox. Not my inbox, my actual, physical mailbox. I'm starting a pool to guess how long it will take them to figure out that they are never going to get a dime from me, and give up. The twelfth of never is already taken.
   This one says:

Dear Paul

I am delighted to inform you that your poem "Beleaguered" (you remember Beleaguered, don't you?) has been awarded our prestigious Editor's Choice Award because it displays a unique perspective and original creativity -- judged to be the qualities most found in exceptional poetry. Congratulations on your achievement.

   The certificate pictured is not actually a certificate at all. It is just printed on the bottom half of the letter.
   They go on:

Your poem is also featured in a Deluxe Hardbound edition, which, as expected, will soon be sold out. (could that be because they only ever print the number they take orders for?) We have, however, reserved a limited number of copies that are now available only to poets included in this distictive volume. Because you are one of these poets, and if you haven't already ordered a copy, or wish to obtain additional copies, this is your last opportunity to do so.

Oh, and one final note. Many people have asked if we can make available a commemorative plaque to present their poetry in formal fashion. we are glad to be able to do this. Your poem can be beautifully typeset on archival quality vellum with your choice of borders, then mounted on a walnut-finish plaque under lucite. The 10 1/2 by 13 inch plaques are truly impressive ways to exhibit your work. They also make wonderful gifts. Please see the enclosed material for further information. Again, congratulations on your achievement.

   The "enclosed material" they mention is, of course, an order form. As has been mentioned in earlier journal entries, I can be the proud owner of a "Deluxe Hardbound Edition" containing hundreds of poems as bad as mine, or worse, for only $49.95 US plus $11.00 shipping and handling. My poem mounted on a walnut-finish plaque can be mine for the low, low price of $38.00 US. Plus, of course, the $11.00 shipping and handling. No wonder they are "glad to be able to do this." They're making a killing on it.
   As on their previous letter to me, they have included a little note on the top of the letter that is supposed to look like someone's handwriting. You'll recall that on my first snail mail receipt from them, they would have had me believe that someone had hand written the words "Excellent Poem" on the proof sheet. This one says, "Howard, Paul's verse is wonderfully expressive -- I suggest you also select it for the 'Sounds of Poetry' - C.S." Very clever, trying to make me think I'm privy to an internal communique.
   Sure enough, there is another letter included in this package. It bears the bold heading: NOTE FROM HOWARD ELY (check out the signature on the 'certificate')

Dear Paul,

     Every so often, as our Editors review the poems that have been presented our Editor's Choice Award, they personally select a few poems that they believe would have a wonderfully expressive (oddly familiar phrase, that) quality if read by a professional reader. Your Editor has suggested that you become one of 33 poets whose artistry will be recorded professionally as a special part of a new CD poetry collection - The Sound of Poetry.

     I'm writing to get your permission to include your poem "Beleaguered" is this highly acclaimed and internationally distributed three-album collection, scheduled to be released four weeks after we receive all permissions (read paid orders).

     The Sound of Poetry, released as a 33-track, three album Cd set...features an insiring introduction as a prelude to the selected artistry... yada yada yada... get to the point... oh, here it is...

     And Paul, if you wish to obtain a copy of this 3 CD set (the entire 3 album collection costs just $49.00 plus {$11.00} shipping and handling)...please remember to to enclose payment, or specify your credit card number and expiration.

   I like to make fun, but it is important to remember that these clowns have been in business for years. They are exceptionally good at what they do. And just in case you haven't been paying attention, what it is they are good at is not publishing poetry, it is separating uninformed, idealistic people from their money.

"Find out what others say about your poetry"

   Oh, look! More correspondence from Poetry.com. Actually, this one claims to be from "The Poetry Workshop," which, coincidentally, has the exact same address as Poetry.com. This one sounds much more benign than previous missives. Do not be deceived, they are merely maintaining contact; keeping all avenues of potential revenue open. Make no mistake, Poetry.com exists for the sole purpose of taking your money. For more information, click on the poetry.com link over in the side bar. There's some eye opening information available.

Dear Paul,

Ever wonder what other people think about your poetry?

Do you have the artistic ability to emotionally affect others with your words?

Would you like to get highly personal and honest feedback that will help you improve your craft?

Would you like to make lots of friends with whom you can share stimulating discussions about your poetry?

Would you like to win actual physical awards with real monetary value for your poetic efforts?

Start getting highly detailed and personal reviews of your poetry within minutes!

Now your poetry can be published on The Poets' Workshop--where, within minutes, you can receive feedback from other poets and writers on the quality and character of your work. Honest, forthright and helpful reviews that will help you hone your craft, and will quickly move you into the ranks of world class emerging poets with solid critiques behind their works.

Get started for FREE! (it takes about 10 seconds--just three questions).

Please do not reply to this message. If you no longer wish us to notify you of poetic events that we believe may be of interest to you, please click here, or go to http://www.poetry.com/nl/stopemail.asp.

The Poets' Workshop * One Poetry Plaza * Owings Mills, MD 21117

Weekend assignment #51

Just four days from spring!
Now is a good time for this
Weekend Assignment:

Weekend Assignment #51: Write a haiku about spring!

Haiku is three lines:
Five syllables, then seven
And then five again.

Haiku from Japan
Often concern the seasons.
Why shouldn't ours, too?

The Extra Credit:
A drawing or a picture
Showing spring in bloom!

   Here in Canada, spring comes a little later than most of you are accustomed to. We have several heavy snowfalls yet to come, and the snow will probably not be gone for good until mid April where I am. Still, nature knows it's coming. The birds are singing, and there's a certain freshness in the air. The extra credit picture is the first tulip pushing up through the snow, one of my personal first signs of spring. Should be any day now.

thermometer speaks
same temp as it was last month
but it feels warmer

tulip pokes its nose
out through a blanket of snow
jump up, spring is here

   There is one more spring haiku over here.

Mendel quoth

  Some time ago I stumbled across the Internet Rhyme Generator. You give it a first line, and it generates a four line poem for you. Most of the stuff it spews out is plain silly, but occasionally a diamond in the rough pops up. Here are some examples:

Smell my feet tomorrow
Go Speed Racer, go go GO!
And they took me away as I screeamed "no! no!"
The stench of death TAINTS EVERYTHING WE SAY OR DO

Western philosophy smiles on me
Evenings of peculiarity
And maybe then become how you must be (the gods hath chosen, and they hath chosen me)
Then again, what is time when you're in infinity?

Mendel quoth
We must root out the bastard commie finks
Reality is a staircase leading nowhere.
Just a shame he's firing blanks.

  I suspect that most of the lines are taken from what other people have input over time, but it's fun to see how a computer program puts them together in sometimes surprising ways.

The other other shoe drops

  Another day, another piece of mail from Poetry.com. Pardon me, this envelope says it is from The International Society of Poets. Coincidentally, they have the same address as Poetry.com. As you can see, this one is urgent! The enclosed letter reads, in part:

Dear Paul,

     I'm sorry you will be unable to join us at the upcoming International Society of Poets' (they placed the apostrophe correctly this time) Annual Spring Convention and Symposium...

  Odd that. I don't remember turning down an invitation to that event. I don't remember even receiving an invitation, although their previous letter said one was forthcoming. Perhaps 'I'm sorry you will be unable to attend' is simply their polite way of saying, "we decided not to invite you." They go on to say:

As you know, you were selected to be honored at this event, and we were looking forward to your presenting your poetic artistry in front of more than 1800 poets from over 50 countries who will be attending.

  I have a question. If more than 1800 poets will be attending this 'Symposium,' how many turned them down? How many couldn't free up the time, or couldn't afford the admission fee (which this letter doesn't mention; I can only assume I've missed one), or the travelling costs? Just how many of these 'I'm sorry' letters do they send out annually?

     However, because we don't want you to miss out on this unique opportunity altogether, we have arranged a way for you and your poetic accomplishments to be a part of this event in a major way, without you actually being present. Although you will be unable to participate in the convention contest..., you can receive all of the awards we have scheduled for you--including your custom-engraved Outstanding Achievement in Poetry Silver Award Bowl, your bronze Commemorative Award Medallion, and your Full One Year Membership into the International Society of Poets for 2005--if you allow us to present one of your poems at the convention in your place.

  Incroyable! They are going to send me some fancy awards. Lucky me!

     We have arranged  for professional poetry readers to read your poem at this largest gathering of poets in history. Our readers will present your poem with imaginative style, so that your artistry receives the worldwide exposure and recognition that it deserves. Your poem will also be featured in printed form, proudly displayed in a special room at the convention that will be accessible to over 1800 attending poets and guests.

   Professional poetry readers? Imaginative style? Worldwide exposure and recognition? This is where I think the letter goes a bit over the top. I would hope that most people's baloney detectors are starting to flash when they get to this part. Later on they say:

     Paul, all that's required for us to immediately send you all of these Awards is for you to send us a poem to be formally presented at the convention.

  Wait. Didn't I send you a poem already? That's how this whole thing started.

     Additionally, because you will not be present, we must also ask you for the necessary funds ($169.00 plus p+h) to cover the costs of the time and effort required to present your poem before the convention attendees both aloud and in writing, and the costs incurred in insuring and shipping these extremely bulky and heavy Awards to you.

  Ah. Finally we get to the part where they want me to part with some cold hard cash.  A hundred and sixty-nine bucks, huh? I realise professional poetry readers don't come cheap, but how long can it take to read a 16 line poem?  I know, imaginative style and all that, but still...? Once more, they save the best for last...

P.S. Your Outstanding Achievement in Poetry Silver Award Bowl, bronze Commemorative Award Medallion, decal, and patch will be shipped to you by Federal Express and will be accompanied by a 100%money back guarantee of your complete satisfaction. If for any reason you're not 100% delighted with your Awards, simply return them any time within 60 days of receipt for a full refund, no questions asked.

  Waaaiiiit. You said the hundred and sixty-nine bucks was the "costs of the time and effort required to present my poem before the convention attendees." Now you're making it sound like I'm buying these Awards. Which is it?
 
  Which do you think it is?

Poetry.com lives!

  On the way in from Matthew's swimming lessons this afternoon, I checked the mail box and found this:



Click here for a larger view.

  So check it out, it's got my brilliant poem peeking through a plastic window at me, with that little copyright symbol setting my heart all aflutter. And, inside...



Again, click here for a larger image.

  As you can see, this is an "artist's proof" of how my poem will appear in their latest anthology: Eternal Portraits. I love the "Excellent poem" note, printed in blue with a font that resembles hand writing. I think they stole that trick from Publishers Clearinghouse. The attached letter reads, in part:

Dear Paul,

     After carfully reading and discussing your poem, our Selection Committee has certified your poem as a semi-finalist in our International Open Poetry Contest. Your poem will automatically be entered into the final competition held in February 2005. As a semi-finalist, you now have an excellent chance of winning one of 104 cash or gift prizes--including the $1,000.00 Grand Prize. You may even win the $10,000.00 Annual Grand Prize! We wish you the best of luck as you compete for these prizes in the coming weeks.

     And that's not all...

                                 Paul...Imagine Your Poem Featured
              on a Page by Itself in a Beautiful Coffee-table Edition!

     In celebration of the unique talent that you have displayed, we also wish to publish your poem on its own page in what promises to be one of the most highly regarded collections of poetry we have ever published...

                                                  Eternal Portraits

     Eternal Portraits, scheduled for publication in Spring 2005, will be a classic, coffee-table quality hardbound volume--printed in two colors on fine-milled paper specifically selected to last for generations. It will make a handsome addition to any library, a treasured family keepsake, or a highly valued personal gift.

                               NO OBLIGATION WHATSOEVER

     Before going any further, Paul, let me make one thing clear...your poem was selected for publication, and as a contest semi-finalist, on the basis of your unique talent and artistic vision. In this regard, you are under no obligation whatsoever to submit any entry fee, any subsidy payment, or to make any purchase of any kind. Of course, many people do wish to acquire a book that features their poetic artistry. If this is the case, we welcome your order--and guarantee your satisfaction. Please see the enclosed material for special discount information if you would like to order or reserve a copy of Eternal Portraits, with a small deposit.

...yada yada yada.
  I love this letter. Every paragraph offers up a new delight. First, they say, "after carefully reading and discussing your poem..." Come on! You've read my poem (if you haven't, here it is). Do you really think any live human being at The International Library of Poetry really has, other than in passing as they stuffed the computer generated "artist's proof" page into an envelope? And, I'm sure there is some discussion involved: mainly in the lunch room as the envelope stuffers laugh it up with the stamp lickers over the most recent poetic drivel they've seen go by.
  "And that's not all..." If you act now, we'll throw in this fabulous combination slicer/dicer/peeler/corer/masher/paint brush cleaner. "NO OBLIGATION WHATSOEVER." And then the other shoe drops. They're sure I'll want to own one of these delicious books, for only $49.95 American dollars, they reveal on the conveniently enclosed order form. They claim that my poem will be published in the anthology regardless, but if I don't order a copy, how will I know if that's true? Don't be fooled...no payee, no printee. Later in the letter, they offer the "opportunity" to have an artist's bio published on the page facing the poem. Of course, there is a nominal "typesetting fee" for that. Big surprise! The letter ends with this juicy tidbit:

P.P.S.   As a poet chosen for publication, you will also be eligible to attend The International Society of Poet's(sic) Spring Convention and Symposium, to be held in Orlando, Florida, February 25-27, 2005. Keep the date, a formal invitaion will be sent to you soon.

  They conveniently forget to make any mention of costs involved with attending said Convention and Symposium. For more information on these jokers, click on the Poetry.com link in the sidebar to see a google search results page for "poetry.com +scam." Interesting reading.

  Oh yeah, the best part of the whole thing? The enclosed return envelope, in which they hope you send a cheque for potentially a case of 12 books for $369.00, is not postage paid. Nice.

Travelling the night sea journey.

Based on, and including excerpts from a poem of the same title by Hans V. VonMaltzahn III.

A man walks along
a winding path.
Reaching the summit
of a wind swept plateau,
he pauses,
sets down his pack,
and gazes at the sunset.

Deep red to orange to blue,
then the cool black of night.
And the weak light of stars
and moon shine through,

and he is afraid.

He thinks.
  He had thought.
  The doctor was right. He should get away; from his job, from the city, the people, the stress of life.
  He got away.
  Standing alone on the side of a mountain, his father's voice comes to him across the spaceless gulf of time: "you cannot run from your problems, son."
  "I know, Dad."
  He could not escape the dreams that had grown real over the last months. The dreams that had increased in persistence until he had but to close his eyes to see the dismal twilight world before him, with its shadows flitting back and forth at the edge of his perception. To see the cloaked figure standing in front of the hard, black gates, and hear the rasping voice wafting toward him words he could never quite remember on waking.
  Night after night of jerking suddenly awake, sweat stinging his eyes, bed clothes crumpled in his fists, unknown supplications on his lips, have taken their toll on him. He is thin, sickly, less than he had been.
  Waking visions stream past his eyes in the deepening night: his boss, frowning, unknowing; his wife, smiling, unsure; his children, playing, oblivious. He wonders if all these things will await him when he returns.
  He wonders if he should return at all.

The creatures of the night
for company,
the wind his music maker,
he settles down
to rest.

Sleep comes quickly
quietly subduing
all in her midst.
And he
is lost
in Time.

  He is there,
in his dark underworld of flighty spirits and mournful beasts. Cringing before his shadowy apparition, he awaits the onslaught.
  It speaks:

             Come fly with me
             Through this gate of Time
             To a land of
             Shadows
             Where pictures fly
             Like insects,
             Annoying, unsullied truths.
             A land quite different
             From your life's
             Gross Irrelevance.

  He feels his body writhing on the cold ground, and somewhere closer, his soul mirrors it.

             Through this, Hades' portal,
             Fly brittle
             Weightless souls-
             Lost sheep
             Who through foul and
             Vengeful deeds
             Took life from others
             And themselves.
             These spirits
             Died many deaths before
             This final one.
             Now shattered and starved
             Of life
             They pass into this kingdom
             Of oblivion.

  He closes his eyes, and the vision persists, and he realises his eyes are already closed. Shaking his head, he mouths the words: "no, no, no...," and, as if from elsewhere, he hears his whisper: "no, no, no..."

             But alas, don't despair,
             Come!
             See some more.
             Perhaps you yet shall see
             That I
             Am not your enemy
             See, over there,
             Art by both brush
             And pen, and
             Music made to calm the
             Wildest heart.
             The beauty of all creation,
             My gift to mankind,
             Or those
             That make a deal with me.

  Whisper becomes a shouted NO! and he is awake and trembling. Staring up at the stars, somehow solid and reassuring, he thinks, not for the first time, "I'll sleep no more this night."
  Resort town spreads beneath him, dark and silent. A patrol car swims sleepily through pools of yellow light. Sleep allows the still, green valley peaceful dreams.
  Autumn comes earlier to the mountain, and dreams turn, like the dry leaves fluttering downslope on the breeze.
  "And what of my own anxious spirits?" he thinks. Do they sleep? Do they dream, perhaps of stillness on a hillside? Does sleep bring them whispering nightwinds and muttering forests?
  Mistral washes over a silver moon, and murmurs through thinning branches, denying his dark dreamworld, but eventually betrays him to its keeper. Once more he is accosted by his fears, and faces their cold litany.

             Do you not see these
             Bright Entities?
             Can you not hear
             Their voices-
             A siren's song
             Compelling you poor
             Earthbound beings
             To cut your bonds
             With Life
             And be free?

  Fetuslike, lying in a hollow of cool earth, he stands over himself uncertainly. Multitudinous beckoning voices combine to form a sweet, sensuous music that speaks to his soul.

It is enough to know
something is out there-
living
and breathing
instead of just
the cold
blackness of space.

He moves one foot forward.
                           The other.
                                      Stops.
                                            Listens.

             Take the steps you must
             Down through the mist laden centuries,
             Over the ice covered sea
             Under whose surface surges
             The hot, putrid blood of
             The Infinity... life force.

  Another step. He looks back at himself, at his body, his shell.

To be free
to wander
among the atoms
and molecules
of Eternity.

  He turns, decided. Releases, floats through the gate. He flies among the chattering, gleeful phantoms; soars upward into the tunnel. The bright, white light awaits. It engulfs him, he engulfs it, they are one.

I, id, ego
the freedom to recombine
to be torn apart-
and formed anew.
As the old self is spent,
a fresh self peers through
the shadows, the
Life after Time.

  He hears, from far behind, the clang of iron on iron, and emerges from light

into void.
 
O, what a terrible mistake,
he thinks,

for the last time.

 

This one also comes from my university days. Hans was the friend I collaborated with on the life as a river delta poem I posted a couple of weeks ago. He originally wrote this poem and showed it to me. It spoke to something in me. I took it, and put my own words into and around it. My take on it changed the whole sense and feel, as well as the message of the piece. I don't think Hans liked it at all, but it's something I've always been pretty satisfied with. And we can now add Hans Victor VonMaltzahn III to my Internet invocation experiment. Are you out there buddy?

Final jeopardy

  The answer is: the length of time it took Poetry.com to send me an e-mail offering me a publish-you-for-a-fee agreement.

  Ding! What is fourteen days, Alec?

See the text of the e-mail reproduced here:

Dear Paul,

Are you interested in publishing your own book of poetry?

As the largest publisher of poetry in the world, we have developed an exclusive technology that enables you to quickly and affordably publish as few as fifteen (or as many as thousands of) copies of your own collection of poetry--perfectbound books of 60, 80, or 100 typeset pages. Your book will feature a full color cover (you may choose from dozens of cover designs--or design your own color cover) and will be equal in quality to the finest softcover perfectbound books sold in bookstores every day. And best of all, your satisfaction is guaranteed!

Free information, pricing, and detailed submission instructions will be immediately sent to you by mail. Simply click here or go to
http://www.poetry.com/getpublished/Request.asp?VIP=P6736xxx&SC=MB02

Please note that I have disabled all of the links in this e-mail in order to protect the curious and weak willed from themselves.

please ignore what comes below

poetry.com scam poetry.com scam poetry.com scam poetry.com scam poetry.com scam poetry.com scam poetry.com scam poetry.com scam poetry.com scam poetry.com scam poetry.com scam poetry.com scam poetry.com scam poetry.com scam poetry.com scam

Cowboy poetry

  Also, cowboy poetry. Who knew I'd actually be enjoying that so much?

Fridge magnet poetry

  I originally posted this stuff in my main journal, but I thought I'd put it up here now, too. Kinda where it belongs, right? This poem was created using the online fridge magnet poetry generator. Here is another one.

  Kinda neat, eh?
  It is certainly challenging creating something that makes sense using the limited selection of words they give you. An exercise in creativity worth trying out, I think. You should give it a shot.

More about poetry.com

  I have discovered that I passed along some mis-information in that last entry. It seems that poetry.com, AKA The National Library of Poetry, The International Library of Poetry, Noble House Publishers, American Literary Press, Watermark Press, Pegasus Press, Birthwrites, etc, etc, ad infinitum, does not publish cheap little pamphlets. They publish large, nicely bound anthologies. Really large. Like three hundred pages large. With somewhere between six and twenty poems per page large. Click here for an example of an anthology page (you may have to scroll down a bit to see it.) How much money are they raking in? Here is a rough estimate. I have no idea if the assumptions this person makes are realistic or not. But even if they are only making half of that...
  Poetry.com sucks, pass it on.

Poetry dot com exposed

  I saw a link to a website called poetry.com in another journal, so I thought I would check it out. The site claims to be an online resource for amateur poets. What it is really, is a vanity publishing scam. They get site visitors to take their "poetry knowledge" test, and "poetry creativity" test in order to gauge their likelihood to be "talented enough" to be included in "anthologies" they "publish." Wow, that's a lot of quotation marks. If it helps you understand what I am trying to say, you can visualise Dr. Evil saying "laser" and motioning with his fingers every time you come across a word, or words, in quotaion marks.
  The nature of the scam is, of course, that every single person who submits a poem, no matter how bad it might be, is told that their poem has been "selected" to appear in one of their "anthologies." They then have the opportunity to purchase copies of the "anthology" in which their poem appears. These "anthologies," of course, are cheaply printed little booklets that include the poems of a group of people that have agreed to purchase copies. No more copies than those that have been sold to the poets themselves will ever be printed. The scam is, they are selling really cheap books of really bad poetry at a huge profit by appealing to the poets' own vanity. It is successful because absolutely everybody in the world wants to be told that they are talented. I decided to take the "test" and submit a poem, just for a lark. The test is easy enough, even for someone who is only marginally literate. The poem I submitted is below. Sixteen lines of absolute gibberish that I dashed off in about a minute and a half. I wonder how long it will take them to send me an e-mail offering to "publish" my poem in one of their "anthologies?"

Beleaguered

In wholesome indifference
To vileness ideally
I wilt under 'spection
Of heavenly orbs

In yellow prevention
The skies open wide
To youthful pretension
And white flowers' end

With cool apprehension
The shivers advance
Till morning descends
Under frigid auspice

My world doth revolve
Within crystal portents
Of mercy and justice
And cruel magistrate

Pay noattention to anything below this point.

Poetry.com Poetry.com Poetry.com Poetry.com Poetry.com Poetry.com Poetry.com
Poetry.com
Poetry.com
Poetry.com Poetry.com Poetry.com Poetry.com Poetry.com Poetry.com Poetry.com

The Rede Of The Horsemen explained

I mentioned that there was a little bit of explanation that goes with my poem The Rede Of The Horsemen. It has always been met with a certain amount of confusion by readers. I was once involved in a poetry criticism group. One of the criticisms I received about this poem amused me. I reproduce it here:

Comments: I am afraid I have no access to the meaning of this poem.

Strong Points: It is hard to say when I do not understand the poem.

Weak Points: Not being clear

Suggestions: Work on this quality.

Thank you, M. McDonald.

  Back when I was in university studying creative writing, our teacher at the time (Susan Swan) was not all that much into poetry. She arranged for York University's unofficial Poet Laureate, bpNichol, to take several classes with us. bp was a big, friendly guy with an offbeat sense of wordplay. I quite liked him right from the start. He had a new book of poetry coming out, and he invited us all to the book release party that weekend. My wife (then girlfriend) and I attended.
  bp had, for many years, been a member of a sound poetry group called The Four Horsemen. I see your eyebrows raise in partial understanding. The four members of The Four Horsemen all happened to be in attendance that evening ( a rare occurence by the late eighties I was led to understand) and somehow they were cajoled into giving a performance. For an example of their work, click here. I don't think that is the exact piece they performed that evening, but it is indicative of what I heard. Suffice it to say I was nonplussed. That experience became the poem The Rede Of The Horsemen.
  Upon short reflection maybe M. McDonald's reaction was exactly what it should have been.

whatever the dream of numbers means
whatever the slumber that is never broken
the spoken word & the written
together end the spell
-bpNichol

Thank you, bp.

Habiter

I always wondered
Why the forum
Has a  in its middle.

My Dad said it stands
For center hice,
But now I think
It must mean
Habitants Canadien.

That's me.
In Canada, I reside,
And bide my time,
Until I can live elsewhere
In Canada
Hopefully
Still.

The graphic is difficult to see at that size. It's this: A Montreal Canadiens logo. I originally wrote it with just a 'CH' in there, but it's fun to put the logo in. Oh yeah, notice this one has a title?

Yet another untitled poem.

I don't know if I actually have any poems with titles. A quick jot, this one.

pen poised
i sit
  think
    search
i know not for what
        or perhaps
for what i know not

I had a little black book with my poems in...

  I did. Back in high school I had a notebook, which I had labelled: I've got a little black book with my poems in. At some point, and I am not entirely sure when, it went missing. 'S a shame. Most of it was silly drivel, but there were a few things in there I would have liked to have preserved. I keep hoping it'll turn up.
  On the topic of poetry that is still extant and I can actually reproduce for you, this one wasn't intended to be a poem at all. Its genesis was a creative writing exercise. I think it was from The Art Of Fiction by John Gardner. What was supposed to be a descriptive paragraph turned into this:

evening

shadow trees sway on dead wood

sunlight pools on the roof

silver roof
red light
it
bleeds from the rivets
gathers at the edge and
splashes on the windows below

someone left the loft doors open
like a mouth
exhaling sparrows and bats

above the mouth a white lettered brow
bennett and sons
bennett and

be ee double en ee double cross

light fades
as life
into night

it will be back again
in the morning

i pray for rain

 

labyrinths

This was one of the first poems I wrote with a specific subject in mind. It was composed to complement a short story I had written for one of my courses. It is untitled.

In the morning
Brushing my teeth
I see a shadow
Hunched, grotesque
Threatening
In the mirror
In front of me
Behind me

Turning around, there is nothing
In my mind
I know it is still there
In the mirror
It faces me
Behind me

In the evening it chases me
And I stalk it
Through dim twisting streets
It appears behind me
Overtakes me
Taunting
"Here I am
Catch me
Know me"

Fading
Just before I can recognise it
It reappears behind me
Always hunting
Hunted
In the Mirror
In my mind

untitled collaboration

  This was a bit of a collaborative stream of consciousness exercise between myself and a friend during an uneventfull midnight shift at our part-time security guard gig during university.

i follow the flood of life
swept along
by the inescapable current of time

like the young boy
travelling the great river
i cannot remember its beginning
cannot conceive of its end

this waterway is delta
from alpha to omega
every instant
a fork is encountered
decision made   new course taken
this raft cannot move upstream

each turn
once taken
leads to endless new horizons

leaves infinite others
unexplored

there are regrets

so many sights unseen
unseeable

i cry at night
in my isand
as it carries me along tangled paths
to the sea

but at the dawn
i look ahead
dry eyed

for every wonder missed
there lies in wait another
for my eyes only

though i search for my future
the banks conceal
what lies beyond each turn

only occasionally dipping my paddle
i let the water pull me
through its twisted lanes

this labyrinth is cruel
but it is my own

inexplicable

On a more serious note, this is one of my favourites. I've had a lot of feedback on it over the years, but I'm willing to listen to more, if you're willing to think about it that hard.

The Rede Of The Horsemen

four men
four mouths
from each a different noise
voice
sound

one wails
another laughs
a third wipes paper across his mouth
the fourth mutters

in a language i do not understand
they collaborate

There is a bit of explanation that usually needs to go along with this one, but I don't like to go into it until after I've heard people's first impressions, so I'll talk about that in a later entry

Really early work

Ok, this one is from high school. It's a silly bit of whimsy I jotted down while bored in class one day. Which class? How the hell should I remember?

Ode To The Garbage Can

You're round, and grey, and sometimes green,
And when I pass, you smell real mean.
What's left of lunch is what you hold,
And last night's dinner, now gone cold.
If we don't close the garage door,
The dog will knock you to the floor,
To get what's left of last week's food,
Except on Tuesday, when we empty you.

Is it wrong that I remembered the words to that without having to look it up?

Introduction

I thought I'd like to put up some of my older poetry. Stuff I wrote when I was in high school and university. Mostly university. I didn't want to clutter up Aurora Walking Vacation with it, so here is a brand new journal. As you can see by the URL, it is my fourth. I'm getting as bad as all those journal junkies I flirt with on the message boards.