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Kaishaku said:Tristesse for mentioning "kaishaku-nin" in your reviews. I wasn't sure how seppuku would play as a poem.
k.
(I'll reply here and then I'll move these non-review posts to the other thread.)midwicket said:probably not the best place to post this,
I make sure I check the necessary box for "public comments" when I submit my work, and my view submissions page says that comments are switched on.
I am getting votes, so that appears to be working OK,
however there are no public comment boxes displayed beneath any of my
poems ?
any one got any ideas what's going wrong ?
Sabina_Tolchovsky said:<clip> Tristesse
you had some wonderful sexy poems this morning...
Wet dream
these lines got me in particular:
"a guide to the map of your body
with short-cuts to pleasure."
also, don't miss out on Jungle Lovers </clip>
Tristesse said:I think we need to know more about this seppuku of which you speak.
Tristesse said:
Kaishaku said:and I was working on a grand explantion of the ritual... oh well, I guess google got me.
k.
Maybe you will answer a question that has plagued me for a long time...
Are Viola and Violetta cats or African Violets?
darkmaas said:I've been away. The wallpaper has been changed but the place still seems the same. I see the aged trout is back. (Send a pitcher of beer with olives over to that table in the corner). Miss Hynde seems to have acquired furnishings for her AV. Where's the Fool? It must be his turn to buy.
Hi Ange.
*What you hope to get out of your time at lit (please include level of critique you are looking for)
On a good day the poetry corner of Lit. is like a comfortable oasis in a bad part of town. You go to meet old friends, share gossip and read a bit of poetry. Every now and then someone staggers in from another forum and throws up on your table but it only adds to the "charm".
On some days this forum is a bit like the stuff growing on the leftovers in my fridge. You watch with fascination in the hope that before everything goes brown and mushy, there might erupt a flash of blue or red mould.
*What do you hope to contribute to the poetry community at literotica? What role do you see yourself playing here?
I used to do reviews on Mondays. It was hard work. (Hats off to the present crop of reviewers.) I had a pair of assistants but Viola died over the winter and Violetta only did it because she knew it annoyed Viola so ... I guess I'll settle for contributing the odd bit of conversation (prurient or otherwise).
*How would you describe your writing?
Variegated
*URL to your work at lit, personal website etc.
darkmaas writes
eagleyez said:Nice to see you back.!
And a fond hello to Darkmaas!
His Twelve Bar thread was the first to induce a contribution from me here on this Board, although, I enjoyed and had read and admired so much of the material and commentary as a lurker for quite some time. I agree with his analogy re: the "good neighborhood."
I like to joke around and comment on politics and history and music on the General Board, but find the tone and nastiness a bit much there. That said, I know there are some very nice and sincere and witty, funny people there. As for all the rest of the Boards at Lit, well, I dont know anything about them, cause I havent even opened them.
I started writing and absorbing poetry at a young age, probably around 13 or so. As a San Fransisco kid, I was accidently exposed to the Beat tradition because living there, I saw City Lights bookstore and wondered about it's history, and also was aware of the famous gig's of Lenny Bruce at the Purple Onion night club and Ginsberg's initial readings of "Howl," both of which fascinated me because of the legal entganglement's they created re: Obscenity and First Amendment challenges they precipitated. I dont know why this all fascinated me so much, it just did.
My style? Hell, I dont know. One of my lifelong dreams has been to publish fiction, and I am much more particular about those projects than I am about my poems.
I shoot from the hip, rarely, if ever, edit. I am very influenced by Eastern poetic traditions, studied and became inspired by Ancient and Medieval European sources such as Chaucer, Boethius, the Pearl Poet, Dante, Virgil, just to name a few. Skip ahead and you will find me tickled by the 20th century, post industrial figures such as Joyce, Bellow, Faulkner, Alice Walker, Toni Morrison, Celine, Snyder,
Bukowski, Kerouac, and particularly, Gary Snyder, whose blending of east/west has always touched me deeply.
I consider it a stroke of luck and a priveledge to read and absorb much of the work found here on the Poetry Forum.
In this digital age, with all its speed and technology, I know of many who feel it is the fool's errand to write Poems. Malarky, they say.
Well, Im one fool who will happily disagree. I try to maintain a balance betwixt my writing endeavors and a busy life as a parent and workaday survivor. I value the whole of that spectrum, and, in the end, writing is FUN and dont cost me a dime yet enriches my life for sure.
What is a URL anyway? I guess Ange can fill me in on that Jazz.
As always, my best to all you kids out there.
(edited for some piss poor spelling)
Wow! That awot of awwiteration!Tristesse said:....water's weight
weeping-willow-wannabes
....
ishtat said:I have just read all of Marie's 11 and I'm glad I started at the bottom and worked up as some of the stronger poems were towards the basement. I liked the fruity ones "Pick Raspberries " and "Who gets the Golden Apple" and "Yes I'll Spank you"
Tristesse said:Glass beads of rain on burgundy
leaves of some exotic plant
and silvered sheen on petals
heavy with last night's tears
the air is thick with humid regrets
for boughs that droop with water's weight
weeping-willow-wannabes
somewhere
a bird calls in sympathy
and the freshly-laundered sun
making a million
rainbows in each droplet.
Tathagata said:hell lingers in innocuous places
lying in wait
a beggar with death touch
the scorpion in bed covers
it lounges over ice
cocktail
and each lift of the glass
fills your mouth with smooth demon incantations
of lies and pettiness
it smiles from
between her legs
garbed in slick pleasure raiments
that bitter like wormwood
once exposed to light
and your mouth tastes only
jealousy and want
a thousand places, a thousand
pinpricks of warning
we all dance with the fever
raging
all fall down