Post by ImmortallyYours on Jan 28, 2005 2:10:57 GMT -5
Thanks for the comments gang.
Dayna: The caps are their to distinguish those things, or actors, in this little play.
As far as lines 7, 8, and 10 my intentions there were:
7: Vanilla Orchid Thief inhales moonlight
8: Snowing above the city
The moonlight, shinning - is transformed to coming down as snow...and these two lines complement the first two lines. Different characters, one inhaling the opposite of Sun (moon), another exhaling the opposite of moon (Sun);
Line 10: Laughing at poets and artists
It is the Haunted seasons that become human - or personified, following more than just their own dreams, i.e. - they're laughing at poets and artists:
Haunted Seasons follow more than dreams
Laughing at poets and artists
While this is not to say that everything is A OK - what my intention altogether was to create characters as if in a play - and give them action, those actions...become extinguished by...
"...poets and artists..." as poets and artists...
"Silently writ[e] enchanted deadly truths
Delicious secrets which tell of angelic desires"
As those artists and poets...
Dance between hot ashes and white lines
Dance would be write or paint, white lines could
be drugs used to embark on creative inspirations,
low lows, or hi highs. Or, the white space inbetween
their drawings, paintings, or writings.
"Consuming ..." those damned characters...
"Dead Ghosts and Orchid Thieves"
"Melting..." those damned eyes that made hollow art...
and peole who abuse - making scars that later become soft, and show on skins' surface.
Artists and Poets...
GROW quietly, usually dividing time between eating
and drinking...as most do...
And they embrace the haunted seasons, and the fact that whether it be haunted seasons or not - or just other folk - who laugh at their endeavors...it is the greatest humility that the artist or writer endures - to accept criticisms, and laughter, and still trudge on their path...thus overcoming any of the criticism...or negativity. In the end - it is others that "Will to think" but can't, or don't ...or don't have a creative bone in their body to conjure up something new or something different.
Here's where I step in and say, oh, ok, I explained the poem...and here's where a question arises...Did the poem communicate what it was supposed to without the explaination? Answer: Guess not, unfortunetly.
...but, echoes, echoes stir.
Stellar - I enjoy those lines too.
This "Drops of Poetry" was certainly hard.
Gave me some good ideas. Was a good exercise.
I spent way too much time on it though! So much time.
oh well.
~J
Dayna: The caps are their to distinguish those things, or actors, in this little play.
As far as lines 7, 8, and 10 my intentions there were:
7: Vanilla Orchid Thief inhales moonlight
8: Snowing above the city
The moonlight, shinning - is transformed to coming down as snow...and these two lines complement the first two lines. Different characters, one inhaling the opposite of Sun (moon), another exhaling the opposite of moon (Sun);
Line 10: Laughing at poets and artists
It is the Haunted seasons that become human - or personified, following more than just their own dreams, i.e. - they're laughing at poets and artists:
Haunted Seasons follow more than dreams
Laughing at poets and artists
While this is not to say that everything is A OK - what my intention altogether was to create characters as if in a play - and give them action, those actions...become extinguished by...
"...poets and artists..." as poets and artists...
"Silently writ[e] enchanted deadly truths
Delicious secrets which tell of angelic desires"
As those artists and poets...
Dance between hot ashes and white lines
Dance would be write or paint, white lines could
be drugs used to embark on creative inspirations,
low lows, or hi highs. Or, the white space inbetween
their drawings, paintings, or writings.
"Consuming ..." those damned characters...
"Dead Ghosts and Orchid Thieves"
"Melting..." those damned eyes that made hollow art...
and peole who abuse - making scars that later become soft, and show on skins' surface.
Artists and Poets...
GROW quietly, usually dividing time between eating
and drinking...as most do...
And they embrace the haunted seasons, and the fact that whether it be haunted seasons or not - or just other folk - who laugh at their endeavors...it is the greatest humility that the artist or writer endures - to accept criticisms, and laughter, and still trudge on their path...thus overcoming any of the criticism...or negativity. In the end - it is others that "Will to think" but can't, or don't ...or don't have a creative bone in their body to conjure up something new or something different.
Here's where I step in and say, oh, ok, I explained the poem...and here's where a question arises...Did the poem communicate what it was supposed to without the explaination? Answer: Guess not, unfortunetly.
...but, echoes, echoes stir.
Stellar - I enjoy those lines too.
This "Drops of Poetry" was certainly hard.
Gave me some good ideas. Was a good exercise.
I spent way too much time on it though! So much time.
oh well.
~J