The meaning of Poetry (or any good story)

[Frank]

THE MEANING OF POETRY

Step one - read this poem by former poet laureate of the USA Billy Collins
Introduction to Poetry by Billy Collins

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to water-ski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.

Step two - Read my take on this poem

I think that too many people read a poem and right away want to know what it means.
A poem is an experience, a thrill ride at an amusement park, a sensual pleasure like a good cigar or a fine wine. Sip it, taste the flavor and if you don’t like it spit it out. End of story - no need to know “what it means”- FRANK
Now having said that I will present my poem but I will not tell you what it means.

Step three - read my poem and tell me what you think

2 Living breathing Poems by Frank

I have to say I was not thinking
of poetry, but there she was
in the grocery store, discussing produce
prices with her son who was hoping
to survive the ordeal. We passed
each other, she was going one way and I the other
the way was narrow,
so I let her go first,
I extended my arms out
as if holding a door open for her and
strangely enough, she noticed and rewarded me
with a ‘thank you young man’. I especially liked
the way she said young, reminding me
of days long past when I did hold open doors
for older ladies. Some time later, same store, same day,
same two people pass again. We do the same dance,
even though we are now going back the other way,
each of us having reversed our direction,
this time there is only ‘thank you again.’ but I am happy
with that. Her son comes rushing up her, hands in air,
there you are, he tells her (as if she did not know).
He tells her they are done, she says good, can we go get our
food now. He says, yes I think it is ready now.
Now I am in the parking lot, loading my car, I see her again
she is standing in front of the Chinese take-out joint,
looking like she has lost something but I know it is not her sense
she may be silver in hair and slight, but there is still sparklers
lit in those eyes. No, she has lost her son, who stands four car
spaces away loading his or is it hers ? groceries in their car.
Neither can see the other, but I, the poet can see them both.
As the poet, I wonder how this will end, should I interfere,
or leave it to the imagination of the reader ? No, I think the
reader deserves closure and while I am thinking that she discovers
where he is and waves and then goes into the Chinese joint.
I don’t know what happened next as I drove away but you
the reader deserve some sort of an ending so, as I am walking back
from the car to my house, a very young lady rides her training wheel
equipped bike up to me and says “hello.” and I say hello back
and then she says “goodbye.” and rides away.

[Frank]

This is another poem I wrote while listening to Billy Collins.
What do you think ?
Pretty bad, Huh ?

The Measure of Love by Frank 2009

I love you for what that is worth
at least as much if not more than
I loved Hostess Twinkies when I was
a kid but I do not love them now,
at all. You however are my love, a love
as true as a politician’s promise by which
I mean to say: I believe in you, our love looks
bright with promise (for now). You are my star
in the heavens, and as such you shine brightest
in the constellation of my former loves. Sadly,
the brightest stars in the heavens are the
super-novas, the celestial equivalents of burnout.
Yet, our love has endured much like the Roman Empire did
through the good times of domination and the bad times
of stagnation and corruption. We go together like
salt and pepper (low sodium salt though, I have to be careful
with my heart) or mustard and catsup (neither of which I truly like).
Perhaps, what I mean to say is akin to what the used car salesman says:
You are the best bang for the buck and I have yet to find a better deal.

[Ang Monsoon]

i love this Frank, as much as i loved bananas when i was a kid, and i still love them now. It's brilliant!! My fave bits: "but i do not love them now". The clever bit about the constellations & super-novas. And the bit about the Roman Empire. And the little aside about low sodium salt "neither of which I truly like". Yes, the little asides really bring it alive for me. I'm not going to drool too much, it would be undignified!! 10/10 - EXTREMELY HUM!!

i want to write a "reverse lurve poem", can i, can i?

A couple of poems came to mind: one by W.H Auden about a stale relationship (sorry can't find/think of the title) - but remember it being quite surreal, about deserts & clocks i think, & one called Celia by Alexander Pope - which i recall from my college years. Hope I've got the right poets here, spelling not to rebellious...i could get reputation for inaccuracy!!!

[Frank]

Thank you Angie.

Yes, you have my permission to write a lurvely poem. You can even post here if you want.
I looked up Pope's poem about Celia and it was very long and well written, with lots of tongue in cheek references to women. (If I have the right poem.)

I have read your verses on Fast Art. They are very good. I am jealous.
How fast did it take you to write them?

[Ang Monsoon]

yep, I'll take that as a "challenge", i don't think i've written a HUM poem before. At work they do "skit" poems on people, when it's their birthday, etc, & they always say i'm rubbish at them, so it will be a challenge. Glad you had a look at that poem, it's a long time ago, but it sound like you found the right one.

Don't be jealous of me. I tried to stick to 1/2/3 minute: keeping an eye on the clock. The whole point is that I pull out of the bag what I can, and then leave them & not over-cut them. Actually, tho' with the time being so limited there's not much to cut anyhow, and strangely, I haven't felt the urge anyhow....people change I guess. There a few cliches there, etc, but I just left them. However, once you've done a few I guess the 1/2/3 minute thing is "academic" 'cos I think the subconscious is working on the whole list by then anyway. The red dress one I slept on the 3 minute one so I guess you could say I had 24 hrs. subconscious thinking time.......

[Frank]

Angie:
I am jealous because you seem to do it so easily and you seem to be having fun !!

Do you just write all you can in a minute ?

[Ang Monsoon]

Er, generally the first words that come for the 1 minute seem to taper off, rather than come as an avalanche. In fact, it's probably true to say that of 1, 2, 3 mins: in neither case have I felt the need to write on....Possibly with the exception of the last one, as it captured my imagination, but I just left it there....To be honest I think it's a lot easier than looking at a blank sheet with unlimited time!!

[Anne Westlund]

Great poem, Frank! I know I'm supposed to point out what I like. The last 2 lines! :)

Anne (who hasn't the faintest idea what her poetry is about, but people take the time to tell her, which is very nice of them, but completely unnecessary)

[Frank]

Dear Anne (of a thousand words):

Thank you.

For some reason I am now thinking of my father using his outdoor voice:
What is the meaning of this ? he asks.
We, the children of the house, know he is not talking about our poetry. That is why we are no where in sight. His sight at least.
What is the meaning of that story ? I do not know.
Why did I write it here ? I do not know.
What is the point ? I do knot no.

Just having fun.

[Frank]

I have decided to take the 'Angie challenge' as I like to call it.
fast poetry in minute intervals - I willl edit typing mistakes afterward (is that cheating?)

the theme will be Yesterday

Yesterday (min 1)
yesterday I was standing, so I sat down
it was hot so I decided to drink
but an idea came to me, so I thought about it
it was not a very deep idea but it lead to another one that was
and that made me happy

Yesterday (min 2)
Yesterday, I went to the store
the clerks were not happy to see me
as it was 20 minutes before closing
I bought a loaf of bread, on sale
but it was not and so I was overcharged
or so I thought

Yesterday (min 3)
Yesterday, I took a walk on the sidewalk
which is supposed to be a safe place
and it was which was unexciting
no car chases, no drive-by shootings,
not even a dog doing a walk-by dumping

My impression: I had fun doing this and that seems to be the great thing
I come away from this exercise - a sense of writing poetry can be fun

I also come away with a renewed sense of typing frustration as it took my as long
to edit this as it took me too (mis)-type it in the first place.

Which poem swhould <-----(note unedited misspelling)
I make longer ?

[Maureen]

These are fun! I am going to do this too, just not sure where. I have done a few on my own. I did a bit of editing on the 3-minute ones.

Which poem to make longer? All three! My favorite, though, is the first one.

[Frank]

Mo - you can do them here if you want.
It only takes 3 minutes (which is at least five in real time counting set up and editing)
but even 5 minutes is not very long.
I liked the first one too but it is too much deep Frank and not enough happy Frank
HUM

[Ang Monsoon]

why make them longer? I love these little power packed HUMs of Frank. All franked right through with Frank. Frank HUMs "tickle" me. Remember that little poem about plums in an icebox? Well, to me these compact little HUMs are little treasures, just like that one. Dry n witty, that'll do me...