Susan, insent.
Book ,'Serenity'
The Great Write Way
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
DOUBLING OVER
for R.
Unrequited-- let's begin it with a promise. This is a poem
Not worth chaining: we are strewn with purpose, arm across my face, your lips are
Clean and metered. Second measures. Jester of some
Other kingdom; sunshine gin and to die trying. Jester of what is
Under that rock. Make yourself a sum of pieces:
Placed and nettled; drawn-out lying. Let me borrow. Let me
Loosen. Grant hope, dock cloven. We are stretched and unbecoming,
In double time; due wishes. Tap the glass for slowness. Nape of
Neck or knife bent; gun cocked; roses rising. Conversation. (Some other
Grinning, ugly dreamer.) Some rare pleasures.
... nnh.
t shaking my fist
Damn you, wee Lizard! I'm finding it very challenging to write an acrostic! I have to un-think the way I normally think poetry, and think in a whole new way.
(That's pro forma grumbling; I really am enjoying the challenge -- but make no mistake -- it IS a challenge!)
Good poem, Lizard. I haven't written poems in ages, but I doubt I ever had the gift like you do.
Wow, I can't believe I've been missing the acrostic fun?! Can we have a haiku challenge? Can we, can we?
Sorry. I'm a little wonky, recovering from having my writing compared to "a movie you see and forget about the next day." Oh, that and "leftovers". But I'm not bitter and seeking attention. really.
Brynn, sounds like a lot of sour grapes.
driveby. Waving.
Plei and Fay, messages for you both, re Roz, coming up in Bitchy.
Jesus. A mailing-list acquaintance of mine went to a writing seminar. Here's what happened:
The poet, name omitted, was very intimidating. She went to the Iowa Workshop for grad school, has won national poetry awards, and told me point blank that 40 is too late to begin writing -- the synapses aren't there.
I just want to emphasize. Anybody, no matter how distinguished, who tells you "If you don't X, you can't write" is wrong. Unless "X" is "write".
And no one slugged the egotistical ignoramus?
She went to the Iowa Workshop for grad school, has won national poetry awards, and told me point blank that 40 is too late to begin writing -- the synapses aren't there.
What a bitch. And not in the good way.
There are reams of examples to the contrary, of course. But my 32-year-old synapses are too tired to think of them.
Oh, god. Reminds me of a reading by Bernard Malamud I went to lo these many years ago. Someone asked him something along the lines of "when did you know you wanted to be a writer?", and Malamud looked at the guy and said, "If you don't know by this time, you should just give it up." The questioner was maybe 17 years old....