October Poetry Winners (Nominees)

[WickedEve]

I miss ya WE, the garden isnt as bright with out your bloom!

_N

Thank you, Land. I'll try to bloom around here more often.

 

[_Land]

Re: Ted!!!!!!

We thought that rowdy ted had gone to bed
that this awfull eulogy was finally dead
No more dildos abused, stolen away
We thought that rowdy ted had gone to bed
but alas my poor angeline Ted is here to stay

I thought we agreed (gritting teeth) never to mention him again!

 

[Lauren Hynde]

Wick', I don't know if anyone told you this today, but that's a very impressive pair of legs you have there. Beautiful.

 

[WickedEve]

Wick', I don't know if anyone told you this today, but that's a very impressive pair of legs you have there. Beautiful.

Thank you, Lauren. But the girls are gone for now. It was a temporary showing. lol

 

[Senna Jawa]

The following poems were selected as "nominees" for the month of October:

Erotic Poetry - Bröckengespenst / Lauren.Hynde
Illustrated Poetry - A Cat's Game / Chicklet
Non-Erotic Poetry - Painter of the Desert / Xtaabay
Poetry With Audio - My Soulmate / Simply Me9

Congrats to you all! Check these out folks: they're all terrific.

"My Soulmate" poem is awful.

"A Cat's Game" reminds me of my own poem
(from around 1996-7, yes Angeline ).
Let me translate it into English:


    cat


        friends' cat a beauty
        siamese-syberian
        as the end of winter was coming
        as the Sun waiting around the corner

        long hair azure eyes
        lost on the chessboard
        among the white and black figurines


                        Senna Jawa

Regards,

 

[Angeline]

"A Cat's Game" reminds me of my own poem
(from around 1996-7, yes Angeline ).
Let me translate it into English:


cat


friends' cat a beauty
siamese-syberian
as the end of winter was coming
as the Sun waiting around the corner

long hair azure eyes
lost on the chessboard
among the white and black figurines

Senna, you know I have an interest (for some esoterica lover's desire to know details, I guess) in when your poems are written, so thank you.

Everyone has cat poems. I think this is because cats do clever, interesting thngs like lay in the middle of a chessboard. I, alas, have a dog--Obi--and a rather neurotic one at that. Obi has been with me for seven years now because I, much as I dislike little yappy dogs, took her in (soft-hearted dope that I am) when no one else would.

Obi

Little black fur cushion
your brown eyes ask
endless nervous questions:

Do I want to go out?
Is that cheese for me?
I want something

something

something

Tell me what it is?

 

[Senna Jawa]

"A Cat's Game" reminds me of my own poem
(from around 1996-7, yes Angeline ).
Let me translate it into English:


    cat


        friends' cat a beauty
        siamese-syberian
        as the end of winter was coming
        as the Sun waiting around the corner

        long hair azure eyes
        lost on the chessboard
        among the white and black figurines

                                                                        Senna Jawa

Senna, you know I have an interest (for some esoterica lover's desire to know details, I guess) in when your poems are written, so thank you.

Exactly on 1997-02-20

Everyone has cat poems. I think this is because cats do clever, interesting thngs like lay in the middle of a chessboard.

But a cat and a chessboard is a less common combination. Let me add a translation by my friend, who is a pro:


    cat


        friends' cat a beauty
        siberian-siamese
        like the winter's very end
        like the sun itself waiting round a corner

        blond-blue-eyed longhaired
        haunts the chesssboard
        amidst the black and white figures



Senna Jawa, 1997-02-20
trans. from Polish by Marek Lugowski


Guess, everybody, whose translation is more literal?

I, alas, have a dog--Obi--and a rather neurotic one at that. Obi has been with me for seven years now because I, much as I dislike little yappy dogs, took her in (soft-hearted dope that I am) when no one else would.


Obi

Little black fur cushion
your brown eyes ask
endless nervous questions:

Do I want to go out?
Is that cheese for me?
I want something

something

something

Tell me what it is?


                                   Angeline

It's a good poem, not like a number of your recent and not so recent poems which are "decorated" with "two hearts" & "sorrow" kind of cliches. And still, you can do way better, especially about lines 2 and 3. Hm, possibly the whole poem should be seriously reworked. The present one is good but treat it as a sketch, as an outline, as an idea. Now get going, write it for real. Actually, with your permission, let others write their variations of your poem. Naeh, it's not a good idea.

Best regards,

 

[Angeline]

It's a good poem, not like a number of your recent and not so recent poems which are "decorated" with "two hearts" & "sorrow" kind of cliches. And still, you can do way better, especially about lines 2 and 3.

Actually (don't faint with shock), I agree with you (!)--I have been too much under the sway of sentiment lately, and it results in me overdoing it in poems. I need to go back and dress down some of them, I think. And someone else whom I find astute in critiquing my poetry told me I was drifting too often into cliche recently and he is right.

Of course we disagree on some poems: I still think my poem Lilac Time is one of my best, but I bet you would say there's far too much there. I think the best poem I've written recently is A Brief History of Poetry and I really like Night Tripper and Chichen Itza, too. If you have any more specific comments (and time and inclination), I'd appreciate hearing your opinions. I learn alot from you, even when you say you hate something I've written.

Do you think it would help if I practiced simpler forms?

Thanks Senna!

Angeline

 

[Senna Jawa]

Actually (don't faint with shock), I agree with you (!)--I have been too much under the sway of sentiment lately, and it results in me overdoing it in poems. I need to go back and dress down some of them, I think. And someone else whom I find astute in critiquing my poetry told me I was drifting too often into cliche recently and he is right.

Angeline, you are way too easy on yourself for being, poetically, such an idiot for several weeks or perhaps it's already months. The litterneurotica chat is not helping anybody. As in sports, if you make nonstylish moves, then your muscles learn them, they develop in a wrong way, and it is worse than a simple waste of time. It is hard to undo the harm. The same with brain. Like muscles, it is a creature of habits. You like what you are used to, and you find excuses for all kind of junk, as you did above: too much under the sway, etc. You should feel disgusted, nauseated, revolted, repeled, repulsed by junk and its falsity. You should feel, literally (not literotically), that any nonsense in your poem hurts you physically so much that you cannot stand it. Only then you will not allow for any garbage in your poems in the future.

Of course we disagree on some poems: I still think my poem Lilac Time is one of my best, but I bet you would say there's far too much there. I think the best poem I've written recently is A Brief History of Poetry and I really like Night Tripper and Chichen Itza, too. If you have any more specific comments (and time and inclination), I'd appreciate hearing your opinions.

I'll try to have a look and comment on some of them. The issue is not a disagreement about single poems. It is not about your temporary or permanent mood. It is about the very meaning of poetry. I don't feel that you have any at this time. You have but a bunch of isolated notions. That's not good enough. You have exceptional talent but you are going aimlessly in circles. I am in the process of writing an essay about poetry. I've written three short installments by now (in Polish, with a hope of writing a new version in English). Let me at least state the three principles. Most everything harmoniously follows from them.

• Principle -- Man is a particle of Nature;
• The goal -- evoke transcendental emotions/reflections;
• Ethics -- every element in a poem has to serve nothing but poetry.

That's all but it takes additional kilobytes to explain it (hopefully about fifty kilobytes should suffice , plus examples of poems). In particular, evoking will never happen when you write "sorrow" etc. It is like with the soap bubbles. You can only show them. You cannot deliver them by hand, you cannot write on them with a marker:

        Gentle Soap Bubble

That would be gross, worse than shit. They have to remain unnamed, free of any label or else they are... gone.

I learn alot from you, even when you say you hate something I've written.

I never said anything like this; you are putting words in my mouth, Angeline. On the contrary, some of your poems are wonderful, and I said so.

Do you think it would help if I practiced simpler forms?

It looks like the free form is natural to you. You didn't practise the strict form much. This means that when a scene is with you ten years, or perhaps it has happened a few minutes ago, then you may write a free form poem about it within one to ten minutes, and it can be excellent. But if you decide on a strict form then it should take you at least ten days of hard work. Even when you get practised it will still take you about an hour or more. ou need to work that hard because a strict form means, well, restrictions. It also means that when you cannot fulfill your standards, the same as when you write free form, than you should give up on that poem. The point is: no compromises! No idiotic "silky thighs" and such garbage. Strict form does not give you a dispensation to committ gross poetic crimes like those "silky thighs", "searching souls" etc. On the contrary, it should force you into ingenuity.

This means that unless strict form comes to you very naturally you can use it successfully only occasionally.

Keep trying the strict forms but keep your standards with an iron discipline. It will round your experience. Temporarily it may get in the way of writing free form but it should not be too bad. Just keep the standards high and you can do anything.

Best regards,

                Senna Jawa

PS. I will follow Marek's advice and will post both translations of my "cat".

PPS. Above, the third principle (Ethics) is a positive formulation. It's equivalent but negative formulation is: placebo kills poetry.

 

[Senna Jawa]

[...]Of course we disagree on some poems: I still think my poem Lilac Time is one of my best, but I bet you would say there's far too much there.[...]
Angeline

Angeline, it is a beautiful poem, spoiled by glaring weaknesses. All those easy, propaganda (opinion providing) adjectives: lovingly, little, small smooth, always sure, unselfconscious x 2, lost, gently, delicate perfume--how dare you to offend lilacs! ; and finally that shouting ending in bad taste.

Poetry is tough. To write better you have to be in the right set of mind, you have to have the standards installed in you. To correct what you have amounts to rewriting your poem.

You are using shortcuts. You let the reader hear the author, and that's a crime against poetry.

There are also a few more subtle drawbacks. But for now I have commented more than enough.

Best regards,

 

[Rybka]

Dang you Two!

I love the work of both of you! I don't take S.J.'s words as gospel, but I consider them very seriously. He obviously has far more experience than I. His concept of poetry is slightly different from mine, but I read his comments intently and try to absorb the essence of what he is saying. I also realize that English is not his innate language, which makes his poetic insight all the more valuable.
Never mind words! Consider trying to justify artistic meaning across cultures and languages.

All that being said, Senna Jawa's comments ring true for a lot of us, including him as well.

Angeline, you are way too easy on yourself for being, poetically, such an idiot for several weeks or perhaps it's already months. The litterneurotica chat is not helping anybody. As in sports, if you make nonstylish moves, then your muscles learn them, they develop in a wrong way, and it is worse than a simple waste of time. It is hard to undo the harm. The same with brain. Like muscles, it is a creature of habits. You like what you are used to, and you find excuses for all kind of junk, as you did above: too much under the sway, etc. You should feel disgusted, nauseated, revolted, repeled, repulsed by junk and its falsity. You should feel, literally (not literotically), that any nonsense in your poem hurts you physically so much that you cannot stand it. Only then you will not allow for any garbage in your poems in the future.I'll try to have a look and comment on some of them. The issue is not a disagreement about single poems. It is not about your temporary or permanent mood. It is about the very meaning of poetry. I don't feel that you have any at this time. You have but a bunch of isolated notions. That's not good enough. You have exceptional talent but you are going aimlessly in circles. I am in the process of writing an essay about poetry. I've written three short installments by now (in Polish, with a hope of writing a new version in English). Let me at least state the three principles. Most everything harmoniously follows from them.

• Principle -- Man is a particle of Nature;
• The goal -- evoke transcendental emotions/reflections;
• Ethics -- every element in a poem has to serve nothing but poetry.

That's all but it takes additional kilobytes to explain it (hopefully about fifty kilobytes should suffice , plus examples of poems). In particular, evoking will never happen when you write "sorrow" etc. It is like with the soap bubbles. You can only show them. You cannot deliver them by hand, you cannot write on them with a marker:
[color= brown]
        Gentle Soap Bubble
[/color]
That would be gross, worse than shit. They have to remain unnamed, free of any label or else they are... gone. I never said anything like this; you are putting words in my mouth, Angeline. On the contrary, some of your poems are wonderful, and I said so.

Do you think it would help if I practiced simpler forms?[\quote]It looks like the free form is natural to you. You didn't practice the strict form much. This means that when a scene is with you ten years, or perhaps it has happened a few minutes ago, then you may write a free form poem about it within one to ten minutes, and it can be excellent. But if you decide on a strict form then it should take you at least ten days of hard work. Even when you get practiced it will still take you about an hour or more. ou need to work that hard because a strict form means, well, restrictions. It also means that when you cannot fulfill your standards, the same as when you write free form, than you should give up on that poem. The point is: no compromises! No idiotic "silky thighs" and such garbage. Strict form does not give you a dispensation to commit gross poetic crimes like those "silky thighs", "searching souls" etc. On the contrary, it should force you into ingenuity.

This means that unless strict form comes to you very naturally you can use it successfully only occasionally.

Keep trying the strict forms but keep your standards with an iron discipline. It will round your experience. Temporarily it may get in the way of writing free form but it should not be too bad. Just keep the standards high and you can do anything. [/QUOTE]


Regards,                       Rybka

 

[Angeline]

Surviving Senna

Rybka, I think Senna is insightful and I appreciate his comments and hold much what of he writes in very high regard. (As I do your poetry; the more I read it, the more I appreciate it--you write about the natural world so effortessly; so artlessly elegant.) When I first came here, not having shared my poems before, I was very thin-skinned and hurt by criticism. Now though I understand that to get something so specific about my writing is a gift, even if I get a few paper cuts opening it!

Senna, you are right (I don't agree with everything you've said, but in general I have felt less able lately--and try not to jump all over that statement, lol: I agreed dammit and you're hard enough on me for both of us ) and I am trying. I get so much praise for my writing, but then I go and read Robert Pinsky or Billy Collins or someone really wonderful and I see how very very much I have to learn. This is not false humility or putting myself down; it's self assessment and it's essential to growth. The only defense is to keep writing; I know you agree with that--and to keep oneself immersed in poetry. I would love to see your essay when it is ready and thank you for your comments thus far. I need time to digest them.

I am not sure about your muscle analogy Senna. Yes, I come here and act silly, but I also read Rilke (for one example) and think and try to keep my intellect alive. So I don't know if it's atrophy or more waxing and waning.

Oh and here is another point that you may have addressed in your essay Senna, or if not I am interested in your opinion. To what extent do you think it is legitimate--in the sense of creating good poems--to have your poetry influenced by your state of mind? Can being hurt or in love or whatever only hinder poetry or can it enhance? Is there, in your opinion, a standard from which one cannot deviate, from which there can be no distance created by hearts or sorrows or whatever? And if your answer is that one cannot help but bring this to one's work, then how does one go about reaping the benefit of it without becoming personally sloppy about it in a poem?

 

[Senna Jawa]

Originally posted by Angeline: I think the best poem I've written recently is A Brief History of Poetry[/B]

Let's have a look at the first three stanzas (9=1+5+3 lines):


    A Brief History of Poetry

                        by Angeline ©


        First come letters.

        Those silly squiggles
        elude the grasp of understanding
        until they stop wiggling
        and learn to behave themselves
        as grownup letters should

        Becoming civilized,
        meeting others of their ilk,
        marrying form to meaning

Nine lines but only two poetically fully meaningful words (hey, guys, can you find'em )?

Now comes something real, something nice:

        Then when it rains
        I know that r-a-i-n
        is the same as the drops of furious water
        that lash the glass of my bedroom window

But look at all those words:


        Then when it [...]
        I know that [...]
        is the same as the [...]
        that [...]


Is this poetry??? Also, you may leave antropomorphism "furious water" to promising high school students, who never fulfill their promise.

The poem is verbose and no wonder that it feels longish, too long.

Next you do some real work. Somehow you let in a "wisdom phrase" with which a kindegarten instructor might impress his/her pupils: Books are zoos. The obvious symptom and culprit at the same time, is that small nothing verb "are".

Once again you felt obliged to finish "strong", with apoetic lines:

        [...]
        ringing songs of poetry

        Springing from waves of imagination
        painting pages with life

This is almost as awful and more boring than the ending of your other poem, dead boring indeed. You need to decide for yourself what poetry is, and what poetry is NOT.

(Otherwise even the best material for poems, the best ideas, will end up sounding false, even if they are true in the ordinary sense).

Best regards,

    Senna Jawa

PS. Since single "r-a-i-n" doesn't give justice to your idea, you may consider

        ... r-a-i-n-r-a-i-n

 

[Angeline]

You need to decide for yourself what poetry is, and what poetry is NOT.

I agree, but I am still interested in considering your--and others'--ideas to held me refine my definition, so thank you for the comments. I will--as Rybka suggested--think them through carefully and try to absorb what helps me. I really do appreciate the time you've put into this.

Is this poetry??? Also, you may leave antropomorphism "furious water" to promising high school students, who never fulfill their promise.

Maybe it's a bad metaphor, but why is it bad to be anthropomorphic? Or are you just saying it is in this instance?

Once again you felt obliged to finish "strong", with apoetic lines:

[...]
ringing songs of poetry

Springing from waves of imagination
painting pages with life

This is almost as awful and more boring than the ending of your other poem, dead boring indeed.

You are correct here. I do always feel obliged to do that and it bothers me that I do--I was just thinking about this last night. What would you do differently? Please don't tell me to decide for myself; I want to hear what you think if you don't mind.

 

[Senna Jawa]

Re: Surviving Senna

Surviving Senna? I am surviving just barely.

[...]Yes, I come here and act silly, but I also read Rilke (for one example) and think and try to keep my intellect alive. So I don't know if it's atrophy or more waxing and waning.

It's not a question of atrophy but of developing wrong muscles, in wrong proportion, wrong habits, wrong posture... Even when acting silly, just joking, be artsy, keep your artistic standards always intact.

Rilke is like a brokem leg which healed poorly, the bone is not straight. The leg is strong and functional, it is too late and impossible to rebreak it, so it stays somewhat ugly and it works not quite that good. In Rilke's poetry there is that annoying noise of his brain engine, which doesn't allow to enjoy poetry. He, and some other poets like him, knows about methods of poetry, about its tools, but he is subjugating poetry to his "intellectual" ideas. That alone puts his intellect at a not too high value. I care very little for his art for this reason. He violates the premises of poetry and he pays for that, his poetry suffers, the quality of his poetry is lower.

Oh and here is another point that you may have addressed in your essay Senna, or if not I am interested in your opinion.

The one you mention (see below) is beyond the scope of what I plan. I address the poems without being concerned with the question how to get into a right mood or shape to write poems. Thus I will not include advices like: be outdoors a lot, listen to music, always have a small, pocket notebook and a pen/pencil with you and next to your pillow, travel, find people around you (or on Internet ) interested in poetry...

To what extent do you think it is legitimate--in the sense of creating good poems--to have your poetry influenced by your state of mind? Can being hurt or in love or whatever only hinder poetry or can it enhance? Is there, in your opinion, a standard from which one cannot deviate, from which there can be no distance created by hearts or sorrows or whatever? And if your answer is that one cannot help but bring this to one's work, then how does one go about reaping the benefit of it without becoming personally sloppy about it in a poem? [/B]

You create a non-existing contradiction. You have to be influenced by your experiences, moods, ... They are artistically always to your advantage (except when something hits you extremely hard, like a huge hammer. Then you need time).

Think about driving where there are no other cars, no police... You may drive differently on different occasions, depending on your mood. Sometimes in a bit risky way perhaps. But you should never run into a tree or pole (no pun intended), you should not fall off a cliff.

The artistic constrains are not really any constrains. They don't constrain an artist at all. There is truly a thing like art domain. As an artist you want to be within the art domain. It is not a constrain. When you are out of the domain, you are not an artist.

Even when you write politically or philosophically, you should be guided by poetry only. That's a part of the poet's ethical commandment (the principle number three--see this thread).

Conclusion: be it politics, philosophy, personal experiences and events, sentiment for your family member or pet--there is no excuse for any BS in the poems

Best regards,

 

[Zhuk]

Guru Senna Jawa

Senna Jawa,

Namaste. Today after having read your 3 or 4 posts, you have earned my respect. Henceforth I will address you as Guru ji.

Don't disappoint or fail me.

 

[Senna Jawa]

[...] leave antropomorphism "furious water" to promising high school students, who never fulfill their promise. Maybe it's a bad metaphor, but why is it bad to be anthropomorphic? Or are you just saying it is in this instance?

Be wary of antropomorphisms, they work only under special circimstances. Use them only then. Otherwise avoid them by default. Almost always.

Antropomorphisms are usually poor because they deviate from objective reportage. This means that the author is imposing her/his view instead of showing things. That what should be an impression induced in the reader by an image is force-fed to the reader.

In the given case, did you truly feel that water was furious? Because if it was written just to make the text "poetic" then sensible readers will feel that it was written not for real. And they should dislike such a text. If it is for real, then show it, don't state it. Describe briefly the splash against the road, or describe the branches bending, giving in, or describe the bang aginst the window, possibly how you cringe... "Furious water" is sugary, paperish.

Once again you felt obliged to finish "strong", with apoetic lines:

        [...]
        ringing songs of poetry

        Springing from waves of imagination
        painting pages with life

This is almost as awful and more boring than the ending of your other poem, dead boring indeed.

You are correct here. I do always feel obliged to do that and it bothers me that I do--I was just thinking about this last night.

They instruct you from the early school days to end with a conclusion. They do it in poetry courses and manuals. But they seem to be unaware of the pitfalls. Worse than that, they condone and praise poor endings.

Look at the poem ending lines above. Would you, Angeline, care to have such abstract, pushy, void of any true imagery statement somewhere inside your poem? Of course not. Then don't have it at the end either.

Angeline, you are an unassumig, modestly behaving, kind person. And suddenly, at the end of some of your poems you are arrogant. Don't do it. Be yourself. The poem's strength doesn't come from shouting, from any superficial self-assurance. Humility is vital for Art (as opposed to "Public Relations" ).

I've seen it in your other poems that you are thoughtful about your endings. For instance in Seaside at Summer's End you finished with words "...at summer’s end", which was a nice touch.

Just apply to endings the same standards as to the rest of the poem. And if at the same time you can make an extra point, get an extra stress, accent--so much better. It doesn't have to be overwhelming, encompassing everything. Aim rather at something critical, something characteristic, vital.

What would you do differently? Please don't tell me to decide for myself; I want to hear what you think if you don't mind.

Having my views certainly helps but it doesn't make me a strong poet. How specific should I be? I already gave some general ideas above. And I rather follow them myself. I didn't think about it but because of this discussion I have checked my three poems which are somewhat related to your poem about poetry. poe tr y ends on one more statement about poetry but it is a special statement, which stands alone, separate from others in the poem. my strict stepmother has no presence of any human being until suddenly in the last line it ends with a very personal statement. monk can be viewed as a dialog-polemics between two life situations, life styles. It ends in stressing the difference to the point of absurd--well, with a metaphor.

I don't know what to say Perhaps I could provide more clear cut examples of endings in my poems if I went beyond the given topic.

Conclusion (with an impersonal usage of "you"): try to get out of the endings what is commonly expected from them, more or less, but apply to them the same stringent rules as to the rest of the poem. In particular, use concrete, modest language of poetry, not any propaganda statements.

Best regards,

 

[Senna Jawa]

Re: Guru Senna Jawa

Senna Jawa,

Namaste. Today after having read your 3 or 4 posts, you have earned my respect. Henceforth I will address you as Guru ji.

Don't disappoint or fail me.

Hey, I have missed the moment when I became a "Literotica guru". That's a harmless title, while the one which you are honoring me with seems a more involved affair. Will I survive it? Angeline called me "Surviving Senna" (I guess, after a mid size gang of Literoticians tried to annihilate me ) Ok, ok, Angeline had meant something else, never mind.

Thank you, Zhuk,

        Senna Jawa

PS. I have hard time to participate in haiku discussions. I was dragged into them on Internet for twelve years already. Occasionally I jump in and get into a trouble. I should leave those haiku threads and comments to others. BTW, there is a haiku Internet magazine, which has attracted quite a bit of talent. I can post its link later.

 

[Zhuk]

Re: Re: Guru Senna Jawa

Guru ji,

Any new information is helpful, even a link to the magazine. I look forward to it. I do not think you are one of those who stays away from something just because of some occasional trouble. Trouble is challenge, trouble is fun.

Regarding your survival, you will survive as long as you are meant to be, no more no less.

Regards,

Hey, I have missed the moment when I became a "Literotica guru". That's a harmless title, while the one which you are honoring me with seems a more involved affair. Will I survive it? Angeline called me "Surviving Senna" (I guess, after a mid size gang of Literoticians tried to annihilate me ) Ok, ok, Angeline had meant something else, never mind.

Thank you, Zhuk,

        Senna Jawa

PS. I have hard time to participate in haiku discussions. I was dragged into them on Internet for twelve years already. Occasionally I jump in and get into a trouble. I should leave those haiku threads and comments to others. BTW, there is a haiku Internet magazine, which has attracted quite a bit of talent. I can post its link later.

 

[Angeline]

Senna Guru

But you should never run into a tree or pole (no pun intended), you should not fall off a cliff.

Actually, it was more like being run over by one.


Hey, I have missed the moment when I became a "Literotica guru". That's a harmless title, while the one which you are honoring me with seems a more involved affair. Will I survive it? Angeline called me "Surviving Senna" (I guess, after a mid size gang of Literoticians tried to annihilate me ) Ok, ok, Angeline had meant something else, never mind.

Congratulations on becoming a guru. I've been one for some weeks now and I can tell you that the title is overrated.

And let's just say we all survived each other; that's the fairest way to put it.