Output list
dylan's (dylan on UKA) UKArchive
172 Archived submissions found.
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Last Known Address (posted on: 11-07-16) A sort of homecoming... So it comes again, the cruellest month, announced in untidy spring. With apple blossom promises scattering to memory. And the blackbird who still knows your name, sings arias of love and death down a half forgotten long ago. Through lace trimmed windows the room gathers whispers. Our Lady of Sorrows waits alone by the door. By fireplace tiles, eternally the colour of rain clouds. There are fragments of memory in last autumns` leaves. And the silence of the years and what was never said becomes an epitaph. Earth, hold her gentle, hold her dear. Archived comments for Last Known Address Kipper on 11-07-2016 Last Known Address This poem is very intriguing if it means what I think it means. It voice is soft or loud according to the age of the reader for it speaks of the great inevitability that awaits us all, and of that it speaks well. However, could it be that I've got it all wrong? Michael Author's Reply: Hi Michael. Thanks for the comment. As you say, the meaning is in the eye of the reader. D. cooky on 12-07-2016 Last Known Address I like this. The second verse is wonderful. Author's Reply: Thank you, my friend. Glad you liked it. d. Mikeverdi on 13-07-2016 Last Known Address So you John, the beautifully linked phrases a delight to read. "Through lace trimmed windows, the room gatherers whispers". So pleased to read your words again. Mike Author's Reply: Mike, I have so much to thank you for-not least for keeping me writing. Hopefully, we will meet up in Embra and will sort the world out! Orrabest, D. stormwolf on 13-07-2016 Last Known Address Made me cry. You take the everyday, the humdrum and embue it with the power of personal emotions. I saw it all. The last lines two lines broke the dam I can so relate . Into favs and one to recite in Edinburgh. 👍 Alison x Author's Reply: Hi Alison, Thank you so much. I really appreciate your comments. Look forward to Embra. XXX. D. sweetwater on 14-07-2016 Last Known Address So beautifully written, like Alison I too fell apart at the last two lines. It will be going into favs. Sue. Author's Reply: Thank you for the very kind comments-much appreciated. D. Pronto on 15-07-2016 Last Known Address A sad sweet poem which I like so much. Author's Reply: Glad you liked it. With a personal poem, the narrator opens up and it`s encouraging that others can relate to it. Thanks again. D. |
St Ives, ten years after (posted on: 11-04-16)  For a friend. The Chinese print stirs blue against blue, in a slow breath of morning. As new light is broken on the thin shutter bones, the air is laced with last nights` perfume the taste of salt and rain and the sweeping gulls forage and criticize. I have seen your photograph on the dusty shelves of friends cold and serene. And perfect as this sun. Now the dappled sand gives up fragments of a broken grail, and some tenuous silk threads, improbably intact. And I watch morning fill the white sailed yachts, as the sea showers absolution on all the selves I have ever been. Archived comments for St Ives, ten years after Mikeverdi on 11-04-2016 St Ives, ten years after Just beautiful writing as always young sir 😊 Thanks for posting. Mike Author's Reply: Gothicman on 12-04-2016 St Ives, ten years after Yes, I second that, very spiritual and atmospheric, which in an everyday setting makes it even more poignant and powerful. Trevor Author's Reply: sweetwater on 13-04-2016 St Ives, ten years after I have read this several times and it just keeps getting ever more beautiful, and conveys such a lovely image and atmosphere. Sue. Author's Reply: |
| Almost (posted on: 25-03-16) An oldie revisited. In a red sandstone maze, strewn with litter and half-remembered vows, a sliver of jazz drifts on the edge of midnight. Across a band of smoke-filled light, tiny moths weave their intricacies into early autumn air. And, as I walk past a sadness of empty tables scattered on the walkway, I look for ghosts among the newly-dead conversations which echo down the yellowing darkness. Somewhere a cock crows and every movement, every person, is almost you until they become strangers. Archived comments for Almost franciman on 25-03-2016 Almost Pure dead brilliant, John. cheers, Jim Author's Reply: Supratik on 25-03-2016 Almost Well deserved nib. Ah the last four lines! Supratik Author's Reply: Mikeverdi on 25-03-2016 Almost You know how I feel about this one, some of the best modern poetry I have ever read. Thank you for returning. You write in a style many,including myself, would try to emulate...but fail to get close.This is the bench mark for me. Mike Author's Reply: Gothicman on 25-03-2016 Almost Yes, anyone who loves good poetry would eventually have returned repeatedly to read all your subbed work and enjoy the fine nuances written with such diligence and care! This one a revived favourite of mine, and therefore now, becoming such! Trevor Author's Reply: stormwolf on 25-03-2016 Almost OMG!!! Exquisitely beautiful. Melancholic, atmospheric and very skillfully written. You raise the bar for us. I love it. Into favs for me. I can also really relate to this, maybe why it moves me so much. Alison x Author's Reply: pdemitchell on 25-03-2016 Almost I dug this, daddio, not just for the atmospheric free-form but for the use of 'sadness' as a collective noun! Excellent. Paul Author's Reply: sweetwater on 26-03-2016 Almost As there is nothing more I can possibly say that hasn't been said in the above comments, I shall just say " Wonderful " Sue. Author's Reply: |
| Passengers (posted on: 07-03-16) Wee edit. Please humour an old guy- if linking elsewhere cd u let me know? Thx. The bus ran the length of another Tuesday morning. Wisps of early mist shrouded faded plastic Santas. And cold yellow headlights glimmered in suburbia`s immaculate wasteland. So she entered, swaying gently, breathing stale alcohol. And sat alone, unbroken, but fragile as winter sun. Then read the day`s desires in passing clouds and traffic, while I searched among the ghosts of many mornings after. Both finding poor conclusions in what we had become. I thought of days spent beneath a snow filled sky, listening to her heartbeat, watching cloud haunted ships sailing in shared sunsets. Then she rose among downcast eyes to leave that rattling carcass. As the doors sighed goodbye in 9am`s indifference, a small wreath glinted below her leaden coat. And she remained a memory, a still life in the distance and Christmas is so far away again. Archived comments for Passengers franciman on 07-03-2016 Passengers Hi John, This piece left me in a quandary. I enjoyed the piece, why wouldn't I? It is really good. Do you need to know, though, that I found it less good than your undoubtedly great work. Lot's of poetic gems, but strangely juxtaposed and maybe edging toward being contrived. Sorry if this sounds critical, it's not meant to be. The trouble is I've read your great stuff! I know! I do go on at times... cheers, Jim Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comments, Jim. (And apologies for delay in replying) This one kind of split opinions-it was POTW on one site, but failed dismally elsewhere. To be honest, I haven`t been writing much and felt I had to get back to it-maybe rushed things. Anyway, thanks again. Orrabest, D. Savvi on 07-03-2016 Passengers Deliciously descriptive but painfully sad you certainly paint in colour even with this darker palette Dylan I read this as an early morning (still dark) bus ride, seeing fragility in another passenger that reminds the N of a time spent spent watching a young one pass away. I think understand Jims comment regarding juxt since you put snow filled sky with sunset and even though I read the sunset as a metaphor it still reads juxt.This also occurs with morning and headlights but not as much since it can be dark and cold in the early hours of morning. That all said this is still a great poem and I don't use that word lightly. I think I need to read more of your previous poems and this one again. Best Keith Author's Reply: Hi Keith-haven`tspoken previously, but thanks for your kind comments. I think there is about 10 years worth of material on UKA-hope you like it. Orrabest, D. e-griff on 07-03-2016 Passengers It may be not 'great' (you know how critical I can be) but it is effective, and good. The blank recital of an event has no magic in the words, but in the feeling and interpretation, it tells a story, which works. It is what it is,and well worth reading. Author's Reply: Thanks for the comment. Orrabest, D. pdemitchell on 08-03-2016 Passengers For me it was the bleary bus ride home at sunrise after an unholy night on the razz, the sound of someone retching in the seat behind you and the ominous tug on the hood of your duffle coat... Author's Reply: Sound familiar, mon ami! I commute to work and the journey described occured recently. (Well, most of it!) Thanks for your kind comment. Orrabest, D. Mikeverdi on 08-03-2016 Passengers Like Jim, I'm a big fan (as you know) I also enjoyed it. I've read the piece several times. Yes there are words I would leave out, and I get where Jim is coming from. It may not be your best, but it's light years better than most. Mike Author's Reply: Thanks again, Mike. I really appreciate your encouragement-look forward to meeting you in Embra in September. (Come to think of it that nearly rhymes. I feel inspiration coming on. Or is it the drink?) Anyhoo, all the best. D. sweetwater on 10-03-2016 Passengers I loved how discriptive this is, so many cleverly written lines immersing me in another world. Sue. Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind comment, Sue. Apologies for delay in replying-internet connection was down. Orrabest, D. |
| Angelus (posted on: 27-07-15) Guilt and regret. A crucifix accuses me, as light grows old in the corners of the room. Through a drizzled window, new roses shiver in a raw-boned wind. By your bed, the Fatima Children kneel to the Virgin, still rapt in their devotion down all these years. The room slowly considers me, non-commital in it`s silence. Till small pockets of tv applause seep from next door. Here, where yellow newspapers lurk in ancient drawers, there is a pension book, a bus pass, monochromed photographs of strangers, all wrapped with a hint of lavender. I think of empty days filled with afternoon soaps, Mrs McBride`s daily visits and endless tea and coffee. In your last, lingering spring were you able to forgive the absences, the unanswered phone calls, the "see you soon" birthdays cards? The room keeps it`s counsel. There is only my heartbeat and the wind sighing through a high Angelus of trees. Archived comments for Angelus Nomenklatura on 27-07-2015 Angelus Lovely, moving poetry. You have a typo "it's" is "it is" or "it has". You need "its", possessive adjective of "it" regards Ewan Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comments, Ewan. I typed this in a hurry (at place of employment-social parasite that I am!)-hence typos. Orrabest. D. gwirionedd on 27-07-2015 Angelus Yes, well-written and evocative as usual. Who was Mrs McBride? Someone involved in the church, maybe? Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind comments. Mrs McBride was a neighbour who went round every day. And made me ashamed. Orrabest, D. Mikeverdi on 28-07-2015 Angelus Thanks for returning and posting, always great to read your work. I think I would have guessed it was you. You pulled me in me with the first verse "as light grows cold in the corners of the room" just love it. Mike Author's Reply: Hi again, Mike. Thanks again for your kind comments. Hope to see you in September-have a couple of family commitments that may get in the way. But if poss, I will be there. Orrabest, D. deadpoet on 28-07-2015 Angelus I have thought about this poem- I can't relate to the guilt and regret but I know some people do. If it is about a parent- well there are all sorts of parents and not all of them deserve the guilt trip. But I do think you put this very well into words. There are several good metaphors- IMO you are a true poet. Pia Author's Reply: Very grateful thanks, Pia. Much appreciated. D. sweetwater on 29-07-2015 Angelus So many older folk are left forgotten or just plain ignored. Why on earth do we keep having children, going through all the pain to give them life, then giving up our lives our wishes and dreams for them, basically for the rest of our lives ceaselessly loving and protecting them despite all they do, only to be left forgotten and forsaken at a time when one hopes they will be there for us and give some of that love and care back. Your poem is very effective in conveying this and I could feel the emptiness and sadness of a very lonely life. Sue. Author's Reply: ValDohren on 29-07-2015 Angelus Beautiful and very poignant, and in our society, far too common a situation. Val Author's Reply: Thanks Val. Yes, it seems to happen more and more often. The guilt is awful. Thanks again. D. Weefatfella on 01-08-2015 Angelus We all feel guilt at the passing of a loved one. It's as you say;the absences, (the unanswered phone calls, the "see you soon" birthdays cards?) It's all that. I believe though, The helplessness and the hopelessness is the cause. Acceptance of having to live our own lives is the cure. Your poem took me into that room. The living room we ran about in as children. The same room we introduced our girlfriend and subsequent wife in. All our lives we were in that room. Now as you so eloquently said; (Here, where yellow newspapers lurk in ancient drawers, there is a pension book, a bus pass, monochromed photographs of strangers, all wrapped with a hint of lavender.) We just passed through that room. Our parents were the ones who lived there. Really enjoyed your Pome D. Weefatfella. Author's Reply: |
| Elsewhere (posted on: 11-05-15) Love, regret, etc. There is always the night, with its sly, flickering shadows and the faint nightjar`s scolding. Here, somewhere between the room`s dark statues and these ravenous memories, somewhere down all the days, I wait in that draughty flat while drizzle silvers passing cars. And the famous setee scowls in all its shabby glory. Your chipped vase holds whatever it is offered, as the boiler grumbles darkly in a corner I half painted. Then you enter in a sudden flurry of Marigolds and dusters, full of cleaning fervour. Spilling water, spraying polish, singing ''It ain`t what you do''. And warm laughter echoes across threadbare lino. Then a grey expanse of 7 AM, with misty windows weeping . The hallowed flat long gone, the boiler rusting somewhere. And I hold you close and dying in the here and now again. Ashen morning mocks the night, but nothing has changed. You are still far away and love is only for dreamers. Archived comments for Elsewhere Mikeverdi on 11-05-2015 Elsewhere Simply stunning, please accept my thanks, and a nomination. So pleased to see you on here again. Mike Author's Reply: Very grateful thanks as ever, Mike. You kind words and nom are much appreciated. Am off to the wilds of Ayrshire today, so may not be able to get internet connection. But will be back soon. Orrabest, D. sweetwater on 11-05-2015 Elsewhere Very powerful poem, stirringly sad images at the end. Sue. Author's Reply: Gothicman on 11-05-2015 Elsewhere Yes, stunning, very poignant and nostalgic, a real pleasure and privilege to read. Trevor Author's Reply: deadpoet on 11-05-2015 Elsewhere The build up was very subtle the climax adorable and the finale heartbreaking Yet beautiful. Cracker of a poem.. Author's Reply: stormwolf on 12-05-2015 Elsewhere Up to your usual standard! Very moving and very tenderly written Alison x Author's Reply: Andrea on 12-05-2015 Elsewhere Whoah, Dyl, you've excelled yourself here. Even I, who knows zilch about pomes, can see that 🙂 Author's Reply: Supratik on 13-05-2015 Elsewhere Just brilliant! Author's Reply: gwirionedd on 09-06-2015 Elsewhere This reminds me of the other poem of yours that I've just read. Are marigolds and moody verbs a theme of yours? Here we have scolds, scowls, grumbles... It makes for a strong juxtaposition with the marigolds and the singing, laughing woman. Good work, sir. Author's Reply: |
| You are here (posted on: 26-01-15) A meeting... The morning keeps its counsel. Only the ghost of night flutters promises over river silence. And a handful of starlings scatter like dust across a purple sky. In the distance, metal cranes watch day unfold impassively I sip from a hip flask, turn my collar to the dawn. There is redemption here. New grace from the rising sun on broken glass and debris offers hope. Nearby, a straggle of grey gathers round a tiny fire. I walk over, offer a drink. Now, the flask pauses. "You coming or going?" He is someone I must not become. But may already be. "I`m going.Going home". He nods, takes a cigarette in shaking, bonecut hands. And whatever God had whispered, he had not heard or noticed. And I know that he`ll be here while night sings her sad songs across the glistening city again. Walking over the homebound bridge, thoughts lap like my river. When sorrow reigns and life becomes a sworn enemy, there is always reluctance to accept who you are. Until your options close one by one, each day. Like these swaying cranes crouching above empty shipyards, and you are here. Archived comments for You are here Mikeverdi on 26-01-2015 You are here Thanks for posting this, it lets me know how far I have yet to travel in my writing. You write so effortlessly, and sadly so infrequently on these pages. I guess I will just have to place this in my favourites for latter...when I need to see how its done 🙂 Author's Reply: Hi again, Mike. Thanks so much for the very kind comment-it really is appreciated. Orrabest, D. Nemo on 26-01-2015 You are here Poems about what it's like to be alive always get my vote. These are incredibly poignant depth-probing lines against a bleak post-industrial days backdrop. It's got to be a favourite, and I haven't favourited anything on this site before. Thanks for sharing, Gerald Author's Reply: Hi Gerald. Thanks for the kind words and favourite nom. The incident actually happened a few years ago, but has stayed with me. Orrabest, D. sweetwater on 26-01-2015 You are here Gosh such a powerful piece, could not fault anything. I was so impressed I looked through some of your other work across the years and was not disappointed, you are a wonderful poetic observer of all things. Wish I had even a tiny amount of your ability. Sue. Author's Reply: Thanks for your very kind comment, Sue. Very much appreciated. D. Nomenklatura on 26-01-2015 You are here Splendid, splendid writing. I can't say you have surprised me in producing it. If it hadn't been nominated already, I would have done so. It will set a very high benchmark for the next anthology. Very well done. Ewan Author's Reply: Hi Ewan. Thanks for your kind comments-as you are a fine writer yourself, it is appreciated all the more. Orrabest, D. pommer on 26-01-2015 You are here Wonderful, thank you for sharing. Peter. Author's Reply: Hi Peter. Thank you for taking the time to comment-I really appreciate it. Orrabest, D. e-griff on 28-01-2015 You are here Nice to read a 'quality' poem. Perhaps I have a hang up about them, but I don't like 'addendums' (impassively, offers hope, again) even though they are a recognised poetic device. I don't think they add here, and to me at least superficially this type of thing seems to be striving to impress, and they therefore appear less sophisticated than the general level (which is high). Hope you understand what I mean, even though you may not agree of course. G Author's Reply: Lol-yes I understand what you mean and yes I disagree. Thanks anyway. D. |
| Equinox (posted on: 06-10-14) Autumn, etc. Cold rain on a Monday A.M. was inevitable as the flutter of starlings across wet rooftops which announced your arrival. In a welter of baggage, rain coated and breathless you emerged, as Paddy barked his usual hello. Over coffee we talked in familiar ambiguities, considering maybes, and what-ifs, leaving everything unsaid. Under rain streaked windows, I saw your bruising ran raw and purple. So you stayed, while autumn swirled mist and persimmon air among red gold leaves. And life gathered in your presence. In the clarity of near love everything became itself. When you left, wrapped in October, still defiantly cheerful, I watched as your cab was gathered by morning haze. And all our dead words faced me in the room`s accusing silence. Archived comments for Equinox Mikeverdi on 06-10-2014 Equinox Thank you so much for bringing your style back to UKA, as always I love your work; this is no exception....except one word, dare I critique? 'which' could this not be replaced with announcing? Its only my opinion...I hate that word 🙂 Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind comments and suggestion, Mike. Much appreciated, as ever. Orrabest, D. stormwolf on 06-10-2014 Equinox Hi John Wonderfully atmospheric. Between you and Woodbine you are raising the bar for many of us. The ending was perfect and left a lasting impression as good poetry tends to do. Alison x Oi'l gie it ten Author's Reply: Thanks for the comment, Alison. Much appreciated-glad you liked it. Orrabest, D. |
| Summer, Strathyre Park (posted on: 04-07-14) Memories... And so, the rain. As June fades to a pale imitation of remembered days, still the thrushes sing, still Ben Shian glowers. Here, two lovers sit side by side, slightly apart on a bench. He is sulking so well, steadily ignoring her sighs. In his petulant tyranny, a terrible beauty that may be love will be born. Nearby, stray marigolds bow indignantly in the cool grey veil of drizzle. A heron stands on his river reflection. As the clouds part, the sun ponders the moment. Wood smoke fills the pine air. Old gods gather close. Do you remember days like this? Do you? Archived comments for Summer, Strathyre Park gwirionedd on 09-06-2015 Summer, Strathyre Park Excellent imagery, very evocative. I like the movement from "glowers" to "sulking" to "indignant". One huge moody scene, from mountain to man to flowers. All of nature moody. Author's Reply: |
| Good Friday (posted on: 09-05-14) Looking for redemption... Night deepens a black and neon sketch of a city grown empty as a poor man`s hands. Under the City and Union bridge the Clyde murmurs discontent and he watches clouds tangle round blackhearted chimneys, blue tv light flicker in tower blocks. While the wine burns through his thin coat of rain and the night wind dances litter across his conscience. Words spoken long ago echo down the hours and days as if the past judges and condemns, places these thorns on his head. But let the dead bury their dead. Nothing has changed, he tells the silence. Except maybe me which is perhaps everything. And there is no solace in wine`s Judas kiss, nor gentle rain, nor city lights. Sunday will bring no resurrection. Even though angels sing over the Clyde, he only hears his heartbeat and her voice whispering. Archived comments for Good Friday Mikeverdi on 09-05-2014 Good Friday Beautiful, thanks for posting again; your writing is missed. Mike Author's Reply: Thank you for the kind words and encouragement, Mike. I haven`t been writing much poetry recently-still grappling with song writing. (And failing miserably!) Thanks again. D. Nomenklatura on 09-05-2014 Good Friday Another slice of Clydeside, lyrical and evocative. You have two typos: both apostrophes line 3 should read "a poor man's hands" line 23 should read 'in wine's judas kiss" - unless of course wines is indeed plural. Great poem. Author's Reply: Thanks Ewan-duly amended. Orrabest, D. stormwolf on 09-05-2014 Good Friday Lovely to read you again John. You paint a very vivid picture in my mind here. The feeling of desolation and frank misery. The inference that things will not change with the new day. last two lines (and title) just brilliant. Leave the mark on the reader as all good poetry should do (imho);-) Pure dead brilliant once more as they say in Glesga. Alison x Author's Reply: I`ve only just realised I didn`t reply to your very kind comment, Alison. Thank you -very much appreciated. Orrbest, D. Zoya on 09-05-2014 Good Friday It is always a pleasure to read you John, Leaves me with a feeling of sadness, elation, warmth, as the situation tin the poem demands... Zoya Author's Reply: Thanks, Zoya. Your kind words are very much appreciated. Orrabest, D. Ionicus on 10-05-2014 Good Friday Up to your usual high standard, Jon. A great read. Author's Reply: Thanks, Luigi-apologies for delay in replying. Orrabest, D. |
| Night Psalm (posted on: 10-02-14) Love, hate, regret, inevitability etc. Time and the night change who we are, your eyes almost say. As you contemplate the bar on a half full Friday, looking like your mother. And we sip amnesiac, wait for the phone to tell your future. High on a barstool, every inch the Madonna of back alley lovers. Cold as a still life, heartless as sin. Thankfully, regrettably, I was never your lover. Just someone who loved you for a brief forever. So you examine thin rain drifting through streetlights, remember old reasons, the hows and the whys which always defeat us. In the bar, with it`s cloak of sad twilight, we eventually find our own way to hell. Archived comments for Night Psalm Mikeverdi on 10-02-2014 Night Psalm And here you are again, back to show us all how it's done. I was beginning to think I would have to travel back in time again to get my fix. I'm afraid I will have to nominate this before someone else does 🙂 Mike Author's Reply: Thanks again for the kind comments, the nom and most of all, your encouragement, Mike. Much appreciated. D. pdemitchell on 10-02-2014 Night Psalm I love this kind of acerbic observation and the delightful triple-alliteration of the 'half full Friday' followd by the sharp-nibbed 'looking liek your moher' and noun-twist of 'we sip amnesiac'. A cracking ode indeedy. Author's Reply: Thanks for the comment-glad you liked this one. D. jdm4454 on 10-02-2014 Night Psalm gfp.........jim Author's Reply: tyvm-D. Seriously-thanks for the kind comment and encouragement. D. stormwolf on 10-02-2014 Night Psalm Hi John Your work is always right up my street. I loved it from day one. I was told many years ago now when starting out writing poetry, to never try to emulate others, for in doing so we can lose our own individuality. I never forgot that and so I am able to enjoy those who have honed their skill as you have and appreciate the individual voice of the poet. So, without trying to copy someone, we can see by example how a poem has so much power in the choice of words and also in many cases, the brevity of expression. I have really enjoyed your book too Alison x 👍 😃 Ps I have given ratings the bum's rush for a while but I think you can guess my invisible rating of this. 💜 Author's Reply: Hi Alison. Glad you like this one. I haven`t been writing much over the past few months-still trying to be a half decent guitar player. (And failing miserably!) Thanks for your feedback-I really appreciate it. XXX, D. Ionicus on 11-02-2014 Night Psalm Jon, try as I may, I cannot find anything to fault your artistry except - dare I say it? - a wee typo on the fourth line from the end: it's instead of its. But that is just nit-picking, the poem is sublime. Cheers, Luigi Author's Reply: Hi, Luigi. Have amended-I should spend more time re-reading, once I`ve finished writing. Anyhoo, glad you like this one-thanks for your v. kind comment. Orrabest, D. |
| In the days of the Ark (posted on: 29-11-13) Rain, Tuesdays, Glesca, Love, Regret, The Price of Beer. (Ok, I lied about the last one). It rained that Tuesday. a light grey drizzle which clung to a white disc of sun. Your umbrella turned on itself while pigeons, sleek with rain, clucked their disapproval. We passed an ice cream van which gurgled ''Popeye the Sailor Man'' and two seagulls stalked us over the squinty bridge. An unruliness of schoolboys jogged by, jackets over heads, showering their anarchy with laughter. In the long cold of that moment, an overweight car passed staring like a blowfish. While you sang into the rain ''When the sun shines, we`ll shine together..'' and the wind scattered your words over the Clyde. Accepting traffic chaos and the north wind`s razor edge, we reached the city centre. A siren went off in the distance like someone crying. As twilight grew and grew the deserted streets became full of windows so dim there was only ourselves reflected. Archived comments for In the days of the Ark Nomenklatura on 29-11-2013 In the days of the Ark 'An unruliness of schoolboys' Image of the day, for me. Really good poem. Ewan Author's Reply: Thanks, Ewan. Spent ages trying to come up with a collective term for schoolboys-"Unruliness" seemed to fit! D. Ionicus on 29-11-2013 In the days of the Ark This is poetry Jon. Orrabest, Luigi Author's Reply: Thanks, Luigi. Much appreciated. D. Bozzz on 29-11-2013 In the days of the Ark Schoolboys and unruliness - great match. But clucking pigeons, no sir, cooing and gurgling, yes. An experienced pigeon hunter speaks. Last line - for me. 'was' a hiccup. Right, but I'd have omitted the first two words to avoid risk. Good onyer mate .....David Author's Reply: Thanks for the comments and suggestions, David. Much appreciated, as always. D. deadpoet on 30-11-2013 In the days of the Ark A wonderful picture. I got soaked in your images. Yes a real poem. Author's Reply: When it rains in Glesca, it bliddy rains! Thanks for your kind comment. D. Mikeverdi on 30-11-2013 In the days of the Ark Yes it's real poetry alright, but I would expect nothing less from you; another brilliant picture drawn with words. I have to agree about 'clucking pigeons' though 🙂 Mike Author's Reply: To be honest, the city pigeons don`t really make any bird like noises-they growl, snarl and shout abuse at passersby. (And that`s when they are happy!) Thanks for your kind comment, mon ami. Orrabest, D. bo_duke99 on 01-12-2013 In the days of the Ark class poem, images could sometime just be things rather than be like them (a staring blowfish), but really a class poem in so many ways Author's Reply: Thank you for the kind comment. Orrabest, D. |
| Becoming Prufrock (posted on: 07-10-13) Middle age, regrets, etc (Thanks to Luigi for introduction. Am sure poem doesn`t deserve it.) "Se io fossi un critico che eccelle vorrei dire che le Stanze son belle e i nomi, gli aggettivi e i verbi sono semplicemente superbi. Credimi che ti dico il vero, io non mento ma sono sincero." The night raises the dead as next door voices insist "You still never listen". My chair wears a spent magazine while a spiteful phone crouches darkly through its silence. At the door`s gentle knocking there is only a mocking wind and a wandering red cloud. As a train passes there is a life story, a legacy. It`s Friday and somewhere you are discussing art or wine, flicking your hair behind your ears (Though I always asked you not to). In the lamplight`s halo you will begin on love and death without knowing either. And your smile becomes a razor when I am the awkward silence between each glass of rose. A slight sour embarrassment soon forgotten with a shrug. And will you look back one day? Maybe one morning when rainclouds have gathered and the wind moans its pain? And will you say the eternal catchphrase It Was Not Meant To Be? But how should I presume ? And should I try even now to understand? Young illusions and sleight of hand are all I have. I could be a pair of ragged claws scuttling across silent seas. So, as the night begins its` ceremonies I watch the moon rise on copper coloured streets, wonder where you are, doubt all that I have known, till next door voices wake me and I drown. Archived comments for Becoming Prufrock deadpoet on 07-10-2013 Becoming Prufrock its without the apostrophe and door's. A cracker of a poem-I understand the nib- wonderful structure and beautiful wording-much enjoyed- Pia 🙂 Author's Reply: Thanks for the very kind comment. Glad you enjoyed it. D. cooky on 07-10-2013 Becoming Prufrock A very touching write. I like this a lot. Author's Reply: Glad you liked it ,mon ami. Orrabest, D. barenib on 07-10-2013 Becoming Prufrock I am as always a fan of your way of expressing a mixture of rain, wind, steam and poetic speed (and a bit of Tom Waits!). Cheers, John. Author's Reply: Thanks, John. Hope things are ok with you. Orrabest, D. Ionicus on 07-10-2013 Becoming Prufrock No work that mentions Prufrock is complete without an Italian introduction. This is for your poem: "Se io fossi un critico che eccelle vorrei dire che le Stanze son belle e i nomi, gli aggettivi e i verbi sono semplicemente superbi. Credimi che ti dico il vero, io non mento ma sono sincero." I don't think there is anything more to say, do you? All the best, Luigi. Author's Reply: Thanks, Luigi-I have no idea what it means, but it sounds great! Wasn`t the original Prufrock quotation from Dante`s Inferno? Will have to ask you to translate sometime! Thanks again, mon ami. Orrabest, D. Mikeverdi on 07-10-2013 Becoming Prufrock For me this poem says it all, I bow to a master of the craft. The last verse is sublime. Thanks for posting, it's one I will keep. Mike Author's Reply: Thanks you so much for your support and encouragement, Mike. It`s much appreciated-(your own work is excellent, btw). D. ChairmanWow on 08-10-2013 Becoming Prufrock A great character study. Even the wind here is a character. Like Elliot it evokes, loss, regret, defeat, but what else? Maybe an emotion that is unnamed? Maybe that feeling of wanting re-live some pivotal moment. Ralph Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comment, Ralph. "Prufrock" has been analysed to death, but it always seemed to me to contain both regret and frustration at what he (the narrator) has become. It maybe acceptance of middle class, middle aged standards, along with regret at loss of youth etc-I dunno. But as Bob Dylan said "He not busy being born is busy dying". Orrabest, D. Pelequin23 on 08-10-2013 Becoming Prufrock beautiful work excellently written and feels "alive" Author's Reply: Thanks for the very kind comment-it`s much appreciated. D. Ionicus on 09-10-2013 Becoming Prufrock You are right, Jon, the original quotation is from Dante's Inferno. My version is a similar-sounding parody and it is a comment on your poem. The translation doesn't of course rhyme but it reads thus: "If I were a critic who excels I'd like to say that the Stanzas are beautiful and the names, adjectives and verbs are simply superb. Believe me I tell you the truth, I do not lie but I am sincere." PS. If you try to translate it via Google, instead of 'Stanzas' you would get 'rooms' which tells you that you shouldn't believe all you read. I am being facetious. Stanza in Italian can mean either. Orrabest. Author's Reply: Thanks again, Luigi-you are too kind. Have added the quotation to the poem-it makes it seem more "Eliot-esque". Grazie tante, buona serata! (scusi, dov'è il bagno?) Orrabest, D. |
| At the House of Tea (posted on: 02-08-13) Sunday morning.... Here, deep in idylls of an eternal Sunday, a vague sense of absence reigns as church bells demand what is theirs and sunlight flickers in your eyes. Among a collection of precarious chairs, the fog of small talk settles over scented Darjeeling. Tiny wind chimes dance endlessly through slightly chipped china while we smile at the waitress` bandana, her eyebrow piercing without knowing why. She`s not Chinese, you say. She`s from Govan. Nearby, three women discuss their private myths in modest boasts. Drawn to the moment, you take my hand. Somewhere there is still a solitary figure, lost in a homeless flat. Watching feral streets on the cusp of night. The clouds pass. We smile again at nothing and each other. Summer lingers in a corner of Glasgow, as the wind chimes scatter silver across a jasmine tinged morning. Archived comments for At the House of Tea Nomenklatura on 02-08-2013 At the House of Tea Lyrical, atmospheric. my uncle was the Parky in Govan a long time ago... I expect neither he nor I would recognise it now. Another splendid write. Author's Reply: Thanks Ewan. Used to work there (in Govan, not the park) quite recently. Like most of the city, it`s changed a lot over the years. The house of tea described (T`chai Ovna to give it`s full name) is in the west end. Anyhoo, glad you liked the poem. Orrabest, D. deadpoet on 02-08-2013 At the House of Tea Lovely- beautiful writing. Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comment-glad you liked it. Orrabest, D. Bozzz on 02-08-2013 At the House of Tea The pictures sit well in an ambience of tea in church where all should be, but an air of guilt pervades too. I can only agree - good write. Author's Reply: Thank`ee kindly-glad you liked it. Orrabest, D. Mikeverdi on 02-08-2013 At the House of Tea Loved it! 'Watching feral streets on the cusp of night'. You always paint a picture with your poetry; simply beautiful. Mike Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind comment and encouragement, Mike. Orrabest, D. stormwolf on 03-08-2013 At the House of Tea There is a very lovely undercurrent of intimacy running through here. The last 3 lines speak of a surprising image of Glasgow that is almost juxtaposed on the usual inner imagery for me. Summer lingers in a corner of Glasgow, as the wind chimes scatter silver across a jasmine tinged morning. Alison x Author's Reply: Thanks, Alison. The house of tea is in a small lane in the west end of the city. It`s very atmospheric and relaxing (on Sundays anyway). I`m ashamed to say I had a hangover at the conception of the poem-(bliddy wind chimes!) Orrabest, D. anth2014ed on 04-09-2013 At the House of Tea sorry this is not a comment, John, but could you provide permission for work to go in the Anth (see forums and FP) Author's Reply: Eek, can`t believe I forgot! Details winging their way to you now-apologies for delay. Orrabest, D. |
| Song (posted on: 14-06-13) Anyway... On the edge of the city and consciousness, a street of sullen shops have their mouths turned down. In frail summer light a Post Office van prowls the kaleidoscope of shadows. An old man shuffles down the hours, lost in his coat and the elusive years. While a woman smokes at a roadside café. Her hair is yellow, the roots bright black. Her forearm reads You are your own grave. From a subway comes the blue notes of a harmonica. This is the sound you drink not to hear. This is the sound of the dispossessed, the underdog, the past. This is the last sound you will hear on this earth when that day comes. Remember? Yes, still you remember, as you walk away with uncertain steps, watching your selves recede and time plays it`s minuet of silence. Archived comments for Song Mikeverdi on 14-06-2013 Song It's a while since I have read your work, thanks for posting this. So much to enjoy, so many great lines 'an old man shuffles down the hours, lost in his coat' just brilliant Dylan. Author's Reply: Thanks for the very kind comment, Mike. Much appreciated. D. deadpoet on 14-06-2013 Song liked this a lot- very urban which is good-nice and gritty- a bit of a desolate picture- well portrayed. Thanks for an enjoyable read. lots of great lines- This is the sound of the dispossessed, the underdog, the past. favourite lines.. Author's Reply: Thanks for commenting-glad you liked it. D. Andrea on 14-06-2013 Song Fucking brilliant. On my list for next years Anth. Author's Reply: Thank`ee kindly, young missy. You`ve made a happy man feel very old. Or rather the other way about and there you have it in a nutshell. Glad you liked it, HR. Orrabest, D. XXX. Mikeverdi on 08-10-2013 Song Just reading this again, there's so much in here. I pressed the Nom button, I hope it works. Mike Author's Reply: Seems to have worked and thank you for the kind comment also. D. |
| So I decided to drive there... (posted on: 06-05-13) Not moving on... Here, warm cars sleep still in the tall heat of mid-morning. Tepid coffee tastes of oil, while the grill drifts bacon incense towards the M8 rolling thunder. In the newly dead rainbows of spilled petrol and disillusion, all body language murmurs that the holiday is over. So you wait among the truckers, the just-back-from-Blackpool-families and wonder if she`ll be there, if she still passes through. Then a car blasts hip hop in a five minute party. A couple wave thin ice-creams in knowing salutation. My radio only chatters into static and to no-one. As the morning meanders into almost buried clichés of guilt and old regret, the past grows and grows. Until a slender woman who could be Ilsa Laszlo, laughs behind her shades. Her voice is dark brown as she asks how I am. Words rise and fall and fail, break on pleasant half truths, till she walks away again, gathering twin boys with gentle remonstrations. Still holding hands with someone who is not me anymore. The motorway rages on. Light rain starts to fall. Archived comments for So I decided to drive there... ruadh on 06-05-2013 So I decided to drive there... Enjoyed this Dylan. Melancholy always gets me. Author's Reply: Thanks for the comment, m`dear. I am a miserable sod by nature! Orrabest, D. stormwolf on 06-05-2013 So I decided to drive there... Ah yes...I think many of us can relate...another nice one Alison x Author's Reply: Thanks, Alison. Glad you liked it. Orrabest, D. Weefatfella on 06-05-2013 So I decided to drive there... 
Aye, So sad when the love moves on but not from you. reflected in>>The motorway rages on. { The torment continues. Light rain starts to fall.{The tears also. Really enjoyed this dylan. A very good piece. Thank You for sharing. Weefatfella. Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comment, Paul. Orrabest, D. freya on 07-05-2013 So I decided to drive there... What to say, dylan! I am such an admirer of how you have grown as a poet, how you have honed and fine-tuned your art, using only the minimal to paint your scenes. You have a keen instinct for picking the right details and using slightly different shades of color/of expression to make the impressions you leave fresh, and unique to you. Maybe I just love poems of regret and longing; for work that skilfully reflects on human vulnerability; our miss-steps and weaknesses. And this poem does all of that, wonderfully well. Now that I've set you up, here come the sucker punches! all body language murmurs that their holiday is over. To this point you have not mentioned particular people, your reference is general. Think it should be 'the'. I'm wondering if you need the third stanza. While it's very well written and adds interesting detail, to me, it's distracting, almost an aside that leads away from, not adds to, your conceit. Who is Elsa Lazlo? Do you mean Ilsa Laszlo of Casablanca? If so, inclusion of her name certainly quickens the pulse on an already luscious description of this past love. Dark brown voice. Wow! Considering, too, if where you break some of your stanzas is effective. For instance, I wouldn't separate this Still holding hands with someone who is not me anymore. from what is above it. Last two lines perfect, perfect. The sense of loneliness and 'left behind' is palpable. Respect, Shelagh xx Author's Reply: dylan on 07-05-2013 So I decided to drive there... Hi, Shelagh. Thanks for the kind and very helpful crit. I think you`re right about "the" holiday-will ponder deeply. The third stanza was the last to be written-I felt more detail was required and wanted to perhaps stress the alienation of the narrator. It maybe could be tighter or possibly deleted as you say. I couldn`t remember the bloody spelling of Ilsa Laszlo`s name- I`ve amended accordingly. Anyway, thanks again and glad you liked it. Orrabest, D. Author's Reply: Nomenklatura on 08-05-2013 So I decided to drive there... Ah, Bergman in Casablanca. Luminous. You've been quiet for a while, welcome back. I enjoyed this. Author's Reply: Thanks mon ami. I`m getting more and more involved with music-find myself writing atrocious song lyrics and not (semi atrocious) poetics. These things come with middle age. Really enjoyed your latest, BTW. Orrabest, D. orangedream on 08-05-2013 So I decided to drive there... Enjoyed this. Melancholy's me, too;-) Nicely penned, as ever. Tina Author's Reply: Thanks, Tina. Much appreciated. Orrabest, D. Ionicus on 09-05-2013 So I decided to drive there... A classy write, Jon, as is your wont, though I felt that at times to create a strong effect you came close to overdoing the imagery, but overall you seemed to have struck the right balance. Another good poem to add to your collection. Best, Luigi. Author's Reply: Thanks, Luigi. I wrestled with this one-usually not a good sign and as you say, maybe overdone. BTW-I really admire your work-you have an almost effortless, whimsical humour which I love. And I know I don`t comment as much as I should, but am gonna do me best in future. Thanks again and orrabest. D. Mikeverdi on 08-10-2013 So I decided to drive there... Must have missed this one, pleased I caught up. Few writers can evoke so much 'wish I'd said that' as you and your poetry. I'm not one for blowing smoke; I just love your work. Mike Author's Reply: Thanks again, Mike-I really appreciate it. D. |
| After the illness (posted on: 18-03-13) As it was... The house breathes into the silence. A boiler says it`s 8am. As rain mists the window, blurred shapes appear then disappear. An ink blot of a cat, a mosaic of our neighbour as she grapples with more shopping. But Shamus is content. He curls into his circle, twitching as he dreams of long walks and chasing cars. I pour tea, switch on the TV, turn pages which make no sense, listen for a footfall, as you sleep through your darkness. Outside, the sun appears, the swallows swoop and dive looking for a springtime, another new beginning, edging through the rain. __________________ Archived comments for After the illness ChairmanWow on 18-03-2013 After the illness Evocative imagery; I think the title nicely puts meaning into the rest. Ralph Author's Reply: Thanks, Ralph. Much appreciated. D. Mikeverdi on 18-03-2013 After the illness Highly evocative writing, the chairman is right the title speaks volumes Author's Reply: Thank you, Mike. The poem is exactly how it happened. But all ok now. Thanks again. D. Savvi on 18-03-2013 After the illness Heavy images, neither the boiler in the first or the sun in the last can't warm up the feeling you deliver. Great write. S Author's Reply: Thank you, mon ami. D. japanesewind on 19-03-2013 After the illness Dylan, I am struggling to wring the importance from the first verse, it seems quite absract to the rest of your poem which delivers on clarity. The "boiler reference" is throwing me. The next verse starts the poem for me, and starts perfectly to give the reader a sense of calm and silence in the house that is carried well throughout. the way you tell me of your state of mind through "the pages making no sense" really worked well and your metaphor last verse came through with good imagery....thanks for a good read...David Author's Reply: Hi David. The first two lines are just really setting the scene for what follows-I always think houses have a variety of noises which suggest a living mechanism-(hows that for an oxymoron?) The boiler is set to a timer-when it splutters into life, I know it`s 8 am. It was a worrying time, but all ok now. Thanks for the kind comments. D. Griffonner on 19-03-2013 After the illness Bless you! Obviously from the heart, I think? I love the boiler clock, and the descriptions of events through the misted glass, especially. Author's Reply: Hi, mon ami. Yep, straight from the heart. Had a harrowing start to the year, with Jan`s illness and the house being flooded. But onwards and upwards. Thanks fo the kind comment. D. orangedream on 19-03-2013 After the illness Good 'pome', John. As ever;-) Tina Author's Reply: Glad you liked it, Tina. Thanks for the comment. D. stormwolf on 19-03-2013 After the illness It's no secret to you that I love your work. this stanza said it all for me I pour tea, switch on the TV, turn pages which make no sense, listen for a footfall, as you sleep through your darkness. the normality in competition with the helplessness... The last stanza seals it....left a mark as you always do. Alison x Author's Reply: Thanks, Alison. The experience brought home how much my life revolves around Jan. But all ok now, thankfully. And thanks for the kind comment. D. Andrea on 20-03-2013 After the illness I felt like...not an intruder, exactly, but as if I was there 🙂 Good stuff, Dyl. Author's Reply: Will have to check the spare room to make sure you ain`t there! Thanks for your very kind comment. XXX. D. Romany on 23-03-2013 After the illness Highly evocative and skillfully written. Romany. Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comments and apologies for the delay in replying. Orrabest, D. Buschell on 09-10-2013 After the illness A super massive haiku of a thing that wrings light from darkness and the cold fusion of our pain. Liked alot. Buschell. Author's Reply: Thanks for the very kind comment. D. |
| JT L JM (posted on: 25-02-13) From a window? Sunday night dies slowly among the tumbleweed of morning. Office blocks are white sepulchres and the traffic light sentinels stand fast in the brittle frost. Each Monday at 6am, he meets her by the station. They kiss on the corner of High St and Duke St, then he holds her to his innocence, breathes her name in supplication. Their laughter fills the moment, a black cab sounds a warning. As the city resuscitates, they are wrapped in protective love. Invulnerable to the everyday, the postman and the Tesco van, the future and the cursed past. As they pass into yesterday, I watch them from my window and remember long dead mornings, while you smile like a stranger among the gathered shadows still to come. Archived comments for JT L JM Nomenklatura on 25-02-2013 JT L JM Evocative and sadly compelling. Author's Reply: Thank you, mon ami. D. Mikeverdi on 25-02-2013 JT L JM Thank you for posting again, I love reading your poetry. Mike Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comment, Mike. D. deadpoet on 25-02-2013 JT L JM A beautiful read- especially last stanza Author's Reply: Glad you liked it. Orrabest, D. ValDohren on 25-02-2013 JT L JM Monday at 6:00am, it must be love !! Seriously, enchanting poem Dylan, very romantic. Val 🙂 Author's Reply: Yup, I was on nightshift! Thanks for the kind comment. D. cooky on 25-02-2013 JT L JM A lovely read. I particularly loved the 4th verse. Author's Reply: Glad you liked it-thanks for the kind comment. D. Weefatfella on 25-02-2013 JT L JM 
Really enjoyed this expressive and moving piece. Thank you for sharing. Weefatfella. Author's Reply: I really appreciate your comments. Thank you. D. freya on 25-02-2013 JT L JM So many awesome lines here, not to mention images that pull the reader right through the words of the poem itself and into the streets of the scene described. Absolutely love the way you move so flawlessly from a movie screen-like present to past, and then to future: As they pass into yesterday.... while you smile like a stranger among the gathered shadows still to come. Masterful. Entirely. One niggle, for me. The following they are wrapped in protective love. Invulnerable to the everyday, the postman and the Tesco van, the future and the cursed past. is all one thought and I was brought up short by the separation caused by the period (full-stop). Personally think a comma would work much better. I sense a nib is on its way, my friend. Shelagh xx Author's Reply: Thanks for the comment, Shelagh. I wanted to emphasize the "protective love" line, but I think you may be right. I work nightshift now and do quite a lot of writing when things are quiet. Thing is, when you`re gazing out onto an empty Glasgow street, guess what you write about? Anyway, thanks again-I hope to read some of your superb work soon. Orrabest, D. Ionicus on 26-02-2013 JT L JM Jon, as stylish as ever. Just one typo; line 3 should be sepulchres or sepulchers (for our friends across the pond). Best, Luigi Author's Reply: Yup-have amended it, Luigi. It`s one of those words that are very seldom used-I should have checked me thesaurus! Cheers, D. Texasgreg on 28-02-2013 JT L JM Aye! Super testament to the observation of love... Greg 🙂 Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comment, Greg. Orrabest, D. |
| Choices (posted on: 11-02-13) Written on a nightshift, feeling down. There is nothing I can say that will change a minute of history, or justify your sadness. ''Not meaning to'' is just a cliché which happens to be meaningless. And also ''We were young''. As if that is an excuse. Maybe some are just born younger than others or generally obtuse. I saw Irene yesterday. She`s fine, she was speaking about you.Again. And yes, I remember the sunrise at Loch Awe. Our breath hanging in a January morning while starlings serenaded that thin, grey Wednesday dawn. So much driftwood, so much adrift. I wish I could have saved you from the rest of your life. But I didn`t mean to hurt you, I was young. And sitting here, holding that photograph while regrets hover like vultures awakening, I think of love and death and the choices I don`t remember making. Archived comments for Choices amman on 11-02-2013 Choices A really sad but insightful reminiscence of regret. We all have sad memories and 'what if' and 'if only' feelings and sometimes history seems so burdensome. Really like the 4th stanza; finely crafted. Regards. Author's Reply: Thank you for the very kind comment. D. ValDohren on 11-02-2013 Choices A very poignant expression of regret. Very well penned, point made. Val Author's Reply: Glad you liked it. Orrabest, D. Mikeverdi on 11-02-2013 Choices You write of things we all have had, you just do it better than most. Brilliant. Mike Author's Reply: Thank you Mike-much appreciated. D. stormwolf on 12-02-2013 Choices Beautiful. The all pervading sadness is tangeable. Alison x Author's Reply: I grow more miserable daily! Thanks, Alison. XXX, D. |
| Poetry as it should be (posted on: 04-02-13) Review of "Stan`s Highway" by John Webber. This latest collection of poetry by John Webber has the life and death of his father as its central theme. These are dangerous waters for any writer; All too often, personal grief will overpower the work, resulting in regret laden confessions. Thanks to the poets` delicacy of touch and fine eye for detail, this is never allowed to happen. The poems follow the tragically familiar pattern of loss, from the deep poignancy of realisation (The nights are drawing in) through reluctant acceptance of the inevitable, (Old Blue Eyes, This Old House) until the final assimilation of sorrow and the ability to celebrate a life lived well. The central piece-Stan`s Highway-is a microcosm of the work itself. By turns poignant , witty, humorous and insightful, it is a genuinely touching elegy and fittingly, one of Webber`s finest poems. But there is no maudlin sentimentality here-the poems are sparse and clear. They cut to the heart of a universal human emotion. If a poet's main objective is the capture of a moment, an incident or indeed a lifetime, then John Webber has succeeded brilliantly. His father would be a proud man. Buy this book-this is poetry as it should be. Archived comments for Poetry as it should be stormwolf on 04-02-2013 Poetry as it should be A very fine review Dylan. John's work is top notch. Alison x Author's Reply: Yep.He`s an old mate and to be honest, I`d forgotten just how good a poet he is. D. Andrea on 06-02-2013 Poetry as it should be A lovely review, Dyl. And for interested parties, 'Stan's Highway' can be bought in the UK here : STAN'S HIGHWAY It's also on Amazon.com and Barnes and Noble 🙂 Author's Reply: It`s one of the best collections I`ve read in ages. Hope he has much success with it. Ionicus on 06-02-2013 Poetry as it should be A good appreciation of John's fine poetry, Dylan. Author's Reply: Yep, it`s well deserved, Luigi. D. |
| The Mercury Hours (posted on: 11-01-13) Through the past, darkly... So here I am again. Watching thin sleet on cobbles, while the night wind streams promises and flutters worn shop signs down rat haunted alleys. As the street bares old wounds, a dog howls its soul hellwards and you smile in the doorway. The hall creaks a warning but I only touch gossamer as you lead me to Canaan. And I hold your forgiveness, cradle repentance down the mercury hours till dawn chases phantoms. While the past suffers fools, I keep this epiphany of who you once were. And waking to the sound of rain, I am alone with your memory again. Archived comments for The Mercury Hours Kat on 11-01-2013 The Mercury Hours Oh wow... dear Dylan, I see you are still going very strong indeed. How beautiful and yes, certainly musical, redolent (for me) of The Blue Nile, one of my favourite Scottish bands. I think Paul Buchanan would be jealous! Best wishes Kat Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comments, Kat-I actually put it in the song lyrics category by mistake! And I love The Blue Nile. Cheers. D. franciman on 11-01-2013 The Mercury Hours Hi Dylan, As an avid reader or your work, I have to say this one disappoints. Don't get me wrong, I love the structure and it places me in the scene. I think maybe it's overworked, i.e. So, thin, night, worn in V1 seem unnecessary. In V3, but and and. Again - the last word, seems mundane especially when you are simply repeating from the opening line. I think these words allow the ordinary world to appear and imho, the poetry is too good not to take a second look. I did enjoy it though! What's not to enjoy? cheers, Jim Author's Reply: Hi Jim, Thanks for the constructive crit-I can be guilty of overdoing it. Will give your suggestions some thought- (probably come up with something even worse!) Cheers, D. Miel on 11-01-2013 The Mercury Hours A well written poem with a strong thread of sadness running right through... Author's Reply: Glad you liked this one. Thanks for your kind comments. D. Bozzz on 11-01-2013 The Mercury Hours This is a fine poem."The hall creaks a warning", ouch !- says it all....Bozzz Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comment-much appreciated. Orrabest, D. Savvi on 11-01-2013 The Mercury Hours Some great lines, and I was straight in the thick of it, last stanza feels like you wrote it quickly when compared to the others. Loved it though S Author's Reply: Thanks for the positive feedback-much appreciated. D. Texasgreg on 12-01-2013 The Mercury Hours The loneliness etched with a touch of hope and finally acceptance of reality is evident in this wonderful piece. Greg 🙂 Author's Reply: Cheers, Greg. I really appreciate your kind comments. Orrabest, D. stormwolf on 12-01-2013 The Mercury Hours The hall creaks a warning but I only touch gossamer as you lead me to Canaan. And I hold your forgiveness, cradle repentance down the mercury hours till dawn chases phantoms. Pure poetry. Fab! It is loaded atmospherically but leaves SO much to the reader to fill in as some wonderful poetry does. I also feel the last line is good but slightly weak....could be more powerful in line with the stanza highlighted. Alison x Author's Reply: Thanks Alison-glad you liked it. I pondered long over the last line-am still undecided. ThanKs again. D. deed on 12-01-2013 The Mercury Hours Lovely contrasts in this poem and conjures up strong images. Very well written. Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comment-very much appreciated. e-griff on 14-01-2013 The Mercury Hours nice to see your signature street theme style still as effective as ever. A poem which appears simpler than it really is, with the skill hidden under the surface, Appreciated. Author's Reply: Glad you liked it-thanks for the comment. D. Mikeverdi on 16-01-2013 The Mercury Hours I have read this now at least six times, I think its beautiful. It caused me to look up some of your past work, you are a poet of great talent. I look forwards to reading more of your work. Mike Author's Reply: Thanks for the very kind comments-I really appreciate it. BTW-Have a small book out just now. Details are on my home page, if you are interested. Thanks again. D. |
| T`was Brillig... (posted on: 12-11-12) Long ago and far away...... Dear you, Do you remember Paris in the autumn? That afternoon`s twice told tales of half snatched conversations, the west wind chasing 3pm along the cafe walkways ? There was patchouli and late roses with desire in the air. When we watched the city still life from our table near the doorway and the garcon hovered darkly as Edith proclaimed Je Ne Regrette above the traffic`s song. You said that you felt like Ilsa Laszlo when she drank pink champagne in La Cafe Americain. I was looking at you, kid when October filled the bar with arrivals and shrill voices, their stories of the work place and what they should have said. And you watched him as he smiled in that labyrinth of shadows. As you raised your glass of rose, I knew my day was over. But I still think of you in a bar somewhere in Paris, when I left you to the mercy of the years and new lovers. By the way, Jan says hello and to tell you you were wrong. But you knew that all along didn`t you? Love, JT. Archived comments for T`was Brillig... roger303 on 12-11-2012 T`was Brillig... Again, there's some good stuff being posted this week. I love this. "The west wind chasing 3pm" "I was looking at you, kid" "that labrynth of shadows" all very good stuff, IMO. Thanks Roger. Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comment. Much appreciated. D. peg on 12-11-2012 T`was Brillig... Dear You...liked this a lot. It placed lovely images of Paris in my mind ! Author's Reply: Glad you liked it, Peg. Thanks for the comment. D. Mikeverdi on 12-11-2012 T`was Brillig... I think this is just brilliant, it paints a picture in my mind as I am reading it, never mind tells a story. I love it!! Mike Author's Reply: I really appreciate your kind comments. Thanks, mon ami. D. franciman on 13-11-2012 T`was Brillig... Hi Dylan, This is a sensual delight. The imagery is absolutely spot on and transports the reader to specific time and place. Masterful in what ik leaves unsaid and giving the reader control over what he believes. Real poetry. cheers, Jim Author's Reply: Very grateful thanks for your comments, Jim. Much appreciated. D. Andrea on 13-11-2012 T`was Brillig... Blimey! Quite blown away - brilliant! Took me back to Paris and patchouli alright. Autobiographical? Hmmmm...maybe 🙂 Author's Reply: Glad you liked this one, HR. It is generally autobiographical-I did go to Paris with this person long ago. We didn`t split up there, but well, poetic licence and all that. Orrabest, D. Ionicus on 13-11-2012 T`was Brillig... What can I say Jon? It is brillig. Very atmospheric. Author's Reply: Hi Luigi-nice to hear from you. Thanks for the kind comment. Orrabest, D. stormwolf on 14-11-2012 T`was Brillig... OMG You never, ever disappoint. The first half of the poem brought back such acute memories for me, I was back there again with someone I truly loved...the ending so sad. Brilliant work! Alison x Author's Reply: Very grateful thanks for your kind comments, Alison. I really appreciate it. XXX. D/ |
| Dreaming Frankenstein (posted on: 03-08-12) Love, hate, etc The creature that you shaped still lives in old memories. Still reads obscure Tolstoy and listens to sad music no-one else can hear . He ponders starry nights names each constellation and contemplates the river, the cold fragmented sunlight in each genesis of morning. Sometimes the Judas past will gather him blindly. And he`ll hear the song you left him twisting like a razor, as the ghost of electricity howls in the bones of his face Whoever you are now you know he will find you. He is the sound of footsteps trickling through midnight. And a stranger at the bar in a thin disguise of shadows may raise a glass and smile God and the devil are raging inside him. And you would tear out his eyes. You would silence his tongue and damn him to hellfire. He is what you made him, in your image and likeness all you have become. Archived comments for Dreaming Frankenstein cooky on 03-08-2012 Dreaming Frankenstein I like this, there is a bit of Frankenstein in all of us Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comment. Much appreciated D Andrea on 04-08-2012 Dreaming Frankenstein Blindingly good. Author's Reply: Thankee kindly. HR. (No doubt you will have noticed the lyric according to His Bobness) Much appreciated. XXX D, sunken on 04-08-2012 Dreaming Frankenstein Have you ever seen Young Frankenstein, Dylan? I recommend it. "Hump? What hump?" That will make no sense at all if you've not seen said film. Neither will this... "Put - the - candle - back!" Ahhh. Class. Ahem. Don't mind me, Dylan. I'm just quoting lines from a film I've not seen in years. I blame your excellent poem for jogging my memory. "It could be worse. It could be raining." *cue heavy shower I'll shut up now. Well done on the nib. s u n k e n threadbare in nottingham Author's Reply: Hi Sunky, how are you? Yep, "Young Frankenstein" was great-love Mel Brooks. (Are you from Nottingham, BTW? I have quite a few relatives there.) Thanks for the kind comment. D. Texasgreg on 05-08-2012 Dreaming Frankenstein Aye! Love the title even more after reading the poem. Excellent, in my mind. Good job! Greg 🙂 Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comment, Greg. Orrabest, D. stormwolf on 05-08-2012 Dreaming Frankenstein I second the Boss. "blindingly good!" fabulous poetry and someone beat me to the nom but let me take it into favs' Alison x Author's Reply: Thank you so much for your very kind comments, fav nom etc. I really appreciate it. XXX D. Weefatfella on 05-08-2012 Dreaming Frankenstein "Oh wad some po'er the giftie gie us, tae see oorselves as ithers see us" ...Aye remarkable. thoroughly enjoyed. love or hate = self or child. Author's Reply: Well, interpretation is in the eye of the reader. (Say no more!) Thank you for the very kind comment-much appreciated. Orrabest, D. barenib on 09-08-2012 Dreaming Frankenstein Sorry I'm a wee bit late to this one, but I'm glad I caught up with it. Your poetry just keeps getting better and better, superb stuff - John. Author's Reply: Coming from such a talented writer as yourself, your comments are very much appreciated, John. Thank you. D. |
| Startagain.com (posted on: 13-04-12) Starting again.Again. The platform tells her no, on a windy Sunday evening as she longs for the 7.30 into the city chaos. And she thinks about a Someone and wonders if he`ll be there by the clock at Glasgow Central. Still she carries the reminders, the scented, silken memories of summer days and nights when she gathered men like flowers and kept them till they faded. She was St Joan of High School, Magdalena of the Prom. Bright as a fallen angel, Cold as a night alone. Now she steps into the womb of the dimly lit express. As it plunges to her future, her hopes lie with a stranger, who waits down the line with promises and smiles and awkward conversations about why and how and when. Will he soothe away old pain, take her walking by the ocean, bring her roses in the morning, and listen for her breathing in the night? The train arrives triumphant, sighs an opening to the city. So she steps out of the past, from all broken promises and another new beginning waits by the ticking clock. Archived comments for Startagain.com Nomenklatura on 13-04-2012 Startagain.com Very moving, very good. There's something about trains, platforms and waiting to start journeys. I liked the last stanza very much indeed, the triumphant train sighing an opening to the city. Splendid! Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comment, mon ami. D. amman on 13-04-2012 Startagain.com Hello Dylan. Greetings from New Zealand. Found this very atmospheric and poignant. Faded dreams to new hope. Great imagery. Regards Author's Reply: Glad you liked-hope NZ is warmer than Glesca! Orrabest, D. Andrea on 13-04-2012 Startagain.com Marvellous! Love lines like: sighs an opening to the city. and Now she steps into the womb of the dimly lit express. Wonderful imagery. Mindjew, in my case it's givenup.com 🙂 Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comment, HR. But don`t give up-if an old git like moi can meet someone, so can a fine looking wummin like you! Orrabest, D. ChairmanWow on 13-04-2012 Startagain.com "Gathered men like flowers," great metaphor. Starting over is never exactly the same, still it's good to be in the race. Ralph Author's Reply: Thanks for the comment, Ralph. Orrabest, D. teifii on 13-04-2012 Startagain.com Very effective. Seems we all liked the dame line --sighing an opening to the city; really brilliant. Author's Reply: Yep, I use the train to commute to work quite often-always thought the door opening on a Monday morning sounded like a sigh of resignation! Thanks for the kine comment. D. cooky on 13-04-2012 Startagain.com A beautiful flowing write. Top class poetry . Author's Reply: Glad you liked it and thank you for the kind comment. D. Bradene on 14-04-2012 Startagain.com Agree with all above some of the lines are really stunning. these in particular took my breath away:- Still she carries the reminders, the scented, silken memories of summer days and nights when she gathered men like flowers and kept them till they faded. Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comment, m`dear. XXX. D. Ionicus on 14-04-2012 Startagain.com I concur with all the above, Jon. Top write. Author's Reply: Cheers, Luigi. Thanks for the kind comment. Orrabest, D. Inchrory on 14-04-2012 Startagain.com Hi Dylan, Well, this certainly is a very vivid exploration of a hopeful expectation, tempered in no small way by past experience. Whereby, one can relate to the lady’s apprehension. For me, the reading was going fine until the fourth stanza, whereby, I had difficulty relating to a couple of word choices. “Now she steps into the womb†did not quite gel with me. I would have preferred “Now, she steps into the voiture†Remember the “Auld Alliance†Likewise, with the subsequent line “As it plunges to her future,†again I thought that either “As it hurtles, to her future,†or “As it glides, to her future,†rather than, the rather aquatic act of plunging to me appeared more realistic... Just as the poem was picking up momentum for the finale, you appear to have gone for the overkill with “The train arrives triumphant,†As the train was relatively unimportant, would it not have been suffice to say The train makes a timely arrival, “ or “ The train makes its juncture†Apart, from what I perceived as two or three minor blemishes, I thoroughly enjoyed reading this. Well done. Inchrory. Author's Reply: Thanks for the comments and suggestions-musch appreciated. D. sunken on 18-04-2012 Startagain.com Always find it odd when people join the site just to comment. Anyway. Top stuff as ever in my book, Dylan. It's all been said above. I am late for the party it would seem. Everyone is plastered and I'm hopelessly sober. I feel out of place and awkward. If you don't mind I'll just go and stand by the kitchen door and observe. Well done on the nib, fella. s u n k e n  Author's Reply: Thanks young Sunky (and Bernard). Always nice to hear from you. BTW, what do you make of Dannii (Sister of The Divine Kylie) consorting with Cowell The Anti Christ? Shocking-should not be allowed! Orrabest. D. Inchrory on 18-04-2012 Startagain.com Comment posted by sunken (18-04-2012 07:24) Send sunken a Private Message Always find it odd when people join the site just to comment. Anyway. Top stuff as ever in my book, Dylan. It's all been said above. I am late for the party it would seem. Everyone is plastered and I'm hopelessly sober. I feel out of place and awkward. If you don't mind I'll just go and stand by the kitchen door and observe. Well done on the nib, fella. Well, on some poetry sites it is considered bad etiquette to make comment on the comment of others. I, having been here for a mere metaphoric five minutes or so, therefore thought, it prudent to post a few comments first before testing, the hot waters of poetry posting. Some people I notice cannot wait to post their poems, which is why they have posting restrictions, which seems to be only loosely observed at best... However, I do find it strange, how someone with over four hundred comments to their credit should chose to complain about someone with a mere half dozen. Obviously, their own contributed poetry needs to be avoided like the plague in order to keep the number of extraneous comments to minimum. As my own poetry is unlikely to incite furor poeticus to cause any great furore in the poetic hen house, I do not see any great need, or rush in getting there. I suppose, I best shut up for a while, and let him suck his thumb. There is plenty of football to watch, at the moment. Inchrory. Author's Reply: I think Sunky was only saying that it`s unusual on UKA for someone to comment without posting any of their own work. But please don`t take offence-I appreciate your comments and no doubt the authors of other work do too. Always good to hear a new point of view. Orrabest, D. teifii on 22-04-2012 Startagain.com In answer to above comment on train : I found “The train arrives triumphant,†one of the best images in the poem. Author's Reply: Inchrory on 23-04-2012 Startagain.com One of the inherent beauties of poetry, as opposed to prose is that it can be interpreted in many ways. However, the use of triumphant with regard to the train’s arrival indicates that trains arriving at Glasgow Central Station are prone to immense difficulties in getting there. Which has never been my experience. It was not exactly the Orient Express! As to the train’s arrival, to me it appeared that timely arrival was significantly more important than being triumphant. At least as far as the lady was concerned, I would imagine that her timely arrival (arrival being the operative word) as being of more significance. I thought the poem was excellent in spite of triumphant. As they say, “Every dog and its master are entitled to an opinion.†Inchrory. Author's Reply: |
| Alpha Omega (posted on: 02-03-12) Beginning and end. On the razor`s edge of morning, the winter haunted city opens like a new flower. As the sky shades to azure, April dresses old beginnings in all her new illusions. Here, the soft clouds of curtain turn your skin to muslin, while a merciless clock chimes to your breathing. The blackbird who lives on the borderline of reason sings his hymns to traffic. And I watch cold sunlight touch you on that pristine white horizon, watch the antiseptic air flutter too-thin roses which moult by the window. All down the morning`s passing, I wait for hope or demons or ghosts I need to find. Years pass in these hours. From all I have known to this day, when memories slowly become legend. All my words have two meanings. They hang like accusations In the tyranny of your eyes. Outside, the light breeze plays its empty shape among the apple trees. In the sunlight, they are pure white angels, heroes. Archived comments for Alpha Omega Bradene on 02-03-2012 Alpha Omega Humbled I have no words to speak. I'll just worship at the masters feet. Fantastic poetry John. A great read, and a thoroughly worthy competition winner. Congratulations indeed. Valx Author's Reply: Glad you liked it, Val. Thanks for the kind comments, (But "the master"? Oh Bejasus, not me!) Thanks again. XXX, D. Andrea on 02-03-2012 Alpha Omega Stunning stuff, Dyl, a worth winner indeed! Author's Reply: Thank `ee kindly, young miss. Was v. chuffed-had a few highly commended, etc, but this was first comp I`ve won. Thanks again. XXX, D. ChairmanWow on 02-03-2012 Alpha Omega John, I've gotten so much pleasure from reading this poem (I've re-read it many times now). Masterfully wrought lyricism i must say. Two images that really connect with me are the blackbird singing to the traffic (reminds me of the catbirds and mockingbirds here that will imitate car engines in their songs) and the memories slowly becoming legend. We do live in our own legends, i think. Congratulations. Ralph Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind words, Ralph. I really enjoy your own work-it`s always worth reading. Orrabest. D. Ionicus on 04-03-2012 Alpha Omega I can only concur with the unanimous praise that this poem has received. A worthy winner of the competition. Well done. Author's Reply: Thank you, Luigi. Again, I always enjoy your work and appreciate your kind comments. D. ruadh on 04-03-2012 Alpha Omega Beautifully done. Love the lines about the blackbird and accusations. Congratulations. Author's Reply: Glad you liked it and thanks for the kind comments, Ailsa. Orrabest, D. sunken on 08-03-2012 Alpha Omega Forgive me Dylan for being so late in congratulating you on your success re. The competition. You've long been a fave Ukaneer of mine. If I were to liken your poem to a curry I think I'd opt for a rogen josh. A widely underrated dish that, if tweaked correctly, can satisfy the most ardent of food critics. I'm talking bollocks again aren't I? I'm just saying I like the poem and that you're a deserving winner. Well done. You are of course getting a Bernard. You need bringing back down to earth and the flea bitten, smelly beagle is just the dog to do it. He's got worms too. I hope this helps. Well done fella. s u n k e n Author's Reply: dylan on 10-03-2012 Alpha Omega Hi, young munky. A Rogan Josh? I would say no less than a Chicken Bhuna with fried rice and a garlic nan. (Think I am gibbering too!) Anyway, thank you and Bernard for the very kind words-it was of course, an honour and the £50 will be spent on alcohol and photos of Kylie .Or I may just squander it. Anyhoo, thanks again. Orrabest, D. Author's Reply: Sorry, I`ve commented on this, rather than replying. Had a few sherberts last night as my burfday this weekend. Andrea on 10-03-2012 Alpha Omega Happy burfday, Dyl! Author's Reply: Thank you HR-am 49 (again!) Here, stick us a nib woncha-seeing it`s my burfday etc. Orrabest, D. Andrea on 11-03-2012 Alpha Omega Good grief! Can't understand how you are still nibless! Author's Reply: Mikeverdi on 31-10-2015 Alpha Omega Just found this on the home page, I guess it's from yesteryear. As usual I love it and have Nominated it. Mike Author's Reply: |
| Precis (posted on: 12-12-11) Well, y`know.... On that snow shrouded Monday the sun wore her ribbons of mist and vapour cloud. And I watched cars wheeze softly through the early docile chaos, as you boiled morning coffee and the flat grew warm and tender. Then you spoke about the future, the past and new regrets. Till your words became a mantra for all the matchstalk figures inching through the wasteland, searching for salvation, far below. Sometimes the self submerges into the role you`re living and you can only be a lover, a mother or a daughter. Until the desperation holds you like your wedding vow and the still night keeps all the newborn secrets you whisper to yourself. Then dawn breaks your heart with promises and sunlight again. But now you dress for work in grey and funeral black, with a hint of Armani the cool severity of business. And I watch your back retreating through the ageing morning, until the city takes you deep into her tapestry and you become a stranger again. Archived comments for Precis ChairmanWow on 12-12-2011 Precis Have to say i like this. It's great the way it starts out with easy going imagery. It builds nicely and while it doesn't end with an explosion ends with something better: awareness. Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comment, mon ami. I enjoy your own work-will comment soon. (Life becomes even more hectic as you get older!) Thanks again. D. Ionicus on 12-12-2011 Precis Nice one, Jon. Should it be 'Armani' on the third line of the final verse? Cheers, Luigi. Author's Reply: Yup-duly changed, Luigi. Thanks for your v. kind comment. D. stormwolf on 13-12-2011 Precis Another deeply meaningful poem from your good self. I loved this especially Sometimes the self submerges into the role you`re living and you can only be a lover, a mother or a daughter. Until the desperation holds you like your wedding vow and the still night keeps all the newborn secrets you whisper to yourself. Then dawn breaks your heart with promises and sunlight again. I found this very moving having been there at one time in my life and being free now to be myself. Alison x Author's Reply: Glad you could relate to this, Alison. And also glad things better for you now. Thanks again. XXX, D. sunken on 15-12-2011 Precis Yes, another slab of class from a classy Ukaneer. You seldom fail and no mistake. You continue to make me sick. I hope this helps. Thank you. s u n k e n Author's Reply: Thankee kindly, my brother in Kylie-(did I tell you I went to an exhibition of Kylie`s stage costumes in Glesca? No really, I did. Saw her gold hotpants..sigh) Anyway, all the best, Sunky-you are a top guy. D. stormwolf on 15-12-2011 Precis He makes me sick an' all Sunks. Maybe we could jump him one dark night in Sachiehall street and smash his pencil. *evil grin* Author's Reply: Eek-will have to watch me back. Some dodgy characters in Sauchiehall St at the best of times. And please don`t break me pencil-am quite attached to it! D. Capricorn on 16-12-2011 Precis Dylan - this is beautiful, full of deep meaning. I love your use of words the sun wore her ribbons of mist and vapour cloud until the city takes you back into her tapestry I've really enjoyed reading this. Eira Author's Reply: Glad you enjoyed it Eira. (Lovely name BTW) Por moi, I try for a capture of a moment. (Pretentious? Moi?) Anyway, thank you so much. Orrabest D. Zoya on 17-12-2011 Precis Then you spoke about the future, the past and new regrets. Till your words became a mantra for all the matchstalk figures inching through the wasteland, searching for salvation, far below. Yeah, I love it Dylon! Love, Zoya Author's Reply: Thank`ee kindly for your comments, m`dear. Glad you liked this one. XXX, D. Mikeverdi on 08-10-2013 Precis Reading the comments on your poetry I realise what makes it work for me; there are mistakes and typos, that simply makes it real, and for me more accessible. This may not make sense to you... But it does to me. Ha Ha! Another Gem of a poem. Mike Author's Reply: Thanks again, Mike. Y`know, this one was written some time ago (was in a very dark place). Looking back, it`s hard to remember my mindset at the time. But anyway, onwards and upwards. Orrabest, D. |
| Continuum (posted on: 14-10-11) The art of self deception.... I saw your face today. In the cloud-strewn dawn, as the skies offered solace and the night became yesterday, you were close to the heart of the sun. As the wind`s breath furrowed the great loch and the herons swirled in that pale genesis, I felt you near. And all down the afternoon`s grey hours, in each syllable of the sudden storm, as rain misted the day into twilight sadness, you stayed with me. Now another night brings savage memory. And as darkness shapes tomorrow, the silence bears witness, unravels a ghost. Erases hope and self deceit and leaves an empty truth. The song of the dead in the closing of a door. Archived comments for Continuum sunken on 16-10-2011 Continuum What the fuck are the nibbers playing at? A strong a piece as you have ever penned, Dylan. Sadly my opinion is currently trading quite low. I blame a dip in OXO cube sales. Deserves more comment. s u n k e n Author's Reply: Hi Sunky, Thanks for your kind comment and Bernard`s Top Bark-these are worth more than nibs. Hope all ok with you. Orrabest, D. Leila on 16-10-2011 Continuum Dylan so much to like about this poem, really enjoyed reading it. I can't help wanting to change it here and there do forgive me but I thought of this...as ever with best intent, Leila I saw your face today in the cloud-strewn dawn as the skies offered solace and the night became yesterday. You were close to the heart of the sun as the wind`s breath furrowed the great loch and the herons swirled in that pale genesis. All down the afternoon`s grey hours, in each syllable of storm, rain misted the day into twilight sadness and you stayed with me. Now another night brings savage memory as darkness shapes tomorrow silence bears witness, unravels a ghost erases hope and self deceit and leaves an empty truth. Author's Reply: Thank you for the kind comments and suggestions, Leila. Much appreciated, as ever. XXX, D. Ionicus on 16-10-2011 Continuum I thoroughly agree with Sunken that this fine poem hasn't received the appreciation that it deserves. Author's Reply: Thanks, Luigi. A few nice comments are more than enough. And thank you for taking the time to comment. Orrabest, D. stormwolf on 20-10-2011 Continuum This deserves a nib. I loved it and furthermore I could totally identify with it. It speaks of a pain and loss so deep as to be beyond words. That is where poetry fills the gap. I loved every bit of it Alison x into favs Author's Reply: Thanks for the v. kind comments,Alison. Much appreciated-nib ain`t gonna come, but hey ho. To be honest, I haven`t had much time for writing recently. Still getting used to my new lifestyle-(All good! But the past is always there). So glad you liked this. Thanks again. xxx D. |
| Hope Street (posted on: 02-09-11) All about a girl It was an untidy day, full of scattered October and Judas memories. As cars snarled the length of Hope St and shopping was dragged across yards of broken city, a Japanese man said ''Photo pelease?'' near Central Station. I snapped his loneliness beside the firefighter`s statue at the entrance and you said ''Photo pelease?'' the rest of the morning. A young corpse was begging under empty handed city trees. You gave him three pounds. ''He`s somebody`s son'' a large woman said, as she hurried past. Then, as the afternoon dimmed, the bar contained you and me and the sound of city rain. We watched grainy figures scurry round newly lit street lights, silvered buses, going home and nowhere fast, to Easterhouse, Castlemilk, Newton Mearns. A small piece of last night`s news was caught by the wind and spiralled towards heaven. And love may be what you make me... Archived comments for Hope Street franciman on 02-09-2011 Hope Street Super Imagery; Glasgow in a teaspoon. I particularly like -" I snapped his loneliness", and " silvered buses, going home and nowhere fast, to Easterhouse," I wish I had written them! Author's Reply: Glad you liked it, mon ami. Thank you for the nom, etc D. jay12 on 02-09-2011 Hope Street I've never been to Glasgow but I feel like I just had a wander around the place. A very descriptive and engaging piece of writing. Jay. Author's Reply: Thank you for the kind comments. Glesca is actually quite a picturesque city-well, parts of it anyway! Orrabest, D. sirat on 04-09-2011 Hope Street Can I just be a grumpy old git and suggest that 'the bar contained you and I' be changed to 'the bar contained you and me'? It jars in an otherwise very smooth read. After all, you wouldn't say 'the bar contained I', would you (except perhaps in a Rasta poem)? Author's Reply: Yup, the bar contained I and I! The mind does boggle slightly at the thought of a Glaswegian Rasta! Have changed accordingly and thanks for your comment, David. Orrabest, D. RachelLW on 05-09-2011 Hope Street Brilliant. Last few lines - just great. Rachel x Author's Reply: I really appreciate your comments as I always enjoy your work, Rachel. Orrabest. D. teifii on 05-09-2011 Hope Street I've never been to Glasgow either and at first thought it was New York. Great images. I agree with David about 'you and me'. But on the whole think it's well worth both nib and nom. Daff Author's Reply: Glad you liked it, Daff. David (as always) is right-have changed line as suggested. Orrabest, D. stormwolf on 05-09-2011 Hope Street I now see you as the 'Glasgow Poet.' A title befitting someone who captures the life of that amazing city down to its idiosyncrasies and yes, its squallor too. Superb writing Dylan Just superb. Alison x Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comments, Alison. The Glasgow Poet Laureate is a very talented lady called Liz Lochead. (You probably know this, but anyway)-she`s a real inspiration for me. Orrabest. D. ThePhoenix on 13-12-2011 Hope Street Read this because I like the Levellers song of the same name. I've only driven through Glasgow at night so dont know how bleak it actually may be, but your poem does not seem too bleak, seems quite full of hope and optimism, despite the muddle of the dreary day, and the lonliness and poverty around you still there is the glimmer of light and love. I like it and will read more of your stuff. D Author's Reply: Thank you for v. kind comment. I`ve never actually heard the Levellers song-the title is from a street in (believe it or not) Glasgow. It`s entirally factually-but please, Glesca is a magical city.Don`t let me put you off it! Orrabest, D. ChairmanWow on 17-12-2011 Hope Street Bleak imagery (young corpse begging) overwhelmed by the presence of a warm-hearted girl. I would bet going just about anywhere with this young lady would make it a warm place. Author's Reply: Mon ami, I love this woman. And you are so right-you are perhaps the first person to recognise this (in the poem, obviously). Thank you once again. D. |
| Bir Yakub (posted on: 29-07-11) Again and again... I watched your face reflected in the nearly closed car window. Your fallen scarf became a newly wounded seagull on the moonlit bedroom floor. The silence dismissed all of my reasons as you left a thousand questions in the muslin grey rain. And the streetlights gathered round the oil streaked rainbows we all clung like mourners as jazz fragments drifted into the night. At 3 o`clock the silence spoke and it was done. And it was done. Into the night, as jazz fragments drifted, we clung like mourners round the oil streaked rainbows and the streetlights gathered in the muslin grey rain. As you left a thousand questions, the silence dismissed all of my reasons . On the moonlit bedroom floor your fallen scarf became a newly wounded seagull In the nearly closed car window, I watched your face reflected again and again. Archived comments for Bir Yakub RachelLW on 29-07-2011 Bir Yakub Wonderful. Jazzy. Loved muslin rain. Will remember this next time it is grey and raining. Rachel x Author's Reply: Thanks for the very kind comment, Rachel. Much appreciated, as always. (Congrats on your success in the ABC comp, BTW.) xxx, D. Hulda on 04-08-2011 Bir Yakub the first 5 lines say so much. I lost my breath, it was breathtaking. You are a genius, it left me with many thoughts, just so beautiful I could just cry and I am..... Author's Reply: Glad you liked this one, Hulda. "Genius?", oh bejasus, not me! But thank you so much. xxx, D. |
| Acquiesce (posted on: 15-07-11) "Well I`ll be damned, here comes your ghost again"-Joan Baez There was an infinity of snow and the Lazarus rattle of the North wind searching among bare-faced trees. Miles of glittering white burned underfoot, as we watched ragged crows forage in the distance. The mulled wine drops on the paperblank earth shone like heart`s blood in that hazy 10am. As our words hung together in warm laughter clouds, it seemed that life could have ended just then. But if for an hour I could go back there, knowing the unknowable, the gradual unfolding of years and the piercing loss to come, I`d offer my life again to that dark-eyed girl who once believed in me. Archived comments for Acquiesce RachelLW on 15-07-2011 Acquiesce Some fantastic lines. I'd like to have something more interesting to say than that, but don't! Really liked the infinity of snow, ragged crows and the idea of words hanging together in laughter clouds. Lovely. Rachel x Author's Reply: Nomenklatura on 15-07-2011 Acquiesce Beautiful, sweet, romantic, sad, regretful. Imagine how bare this comment would be if I paid any attention to CW 'rules' about adjectives. I enjoyed this very much. Author's Reply: Ionicus on 16-07-2011 Acquiesce The hankering for a return to a happier past comes through loud and clear in this romantic and nostalgic poem. Well done. Author's Reply: Beth on 17-07-2011 Acquiesce I liked 'Lazarus rattle' and 'paperblank earth', great adjectives. The last stanza struck a chord in me somewhere - lovely poem. Author's Reply: Mikeverdi on 20-11-2013 Acquiesce Time traveling again... this just stunning, one of those 'wish I'd written that' moments. Mike Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comments, Mike. I`ve just realised that I haven`t replied to any comments posted here.Apologies to all. Thanks again. D. |
| Almost Brando (posted on: 01-07-11) Any comments appreciated. Deep night brings redemption to crack haunted alleys. As urgent conversations fragment through the tower blocks, broken glass, scattered litter catch the street light beacon and hardcore dance dies screaming to almost oblivion. So he waits in twisted shadows, his cigarette a totem. Watching matchstick figures negotiate the distance. ''And how are you, big man''? rings out across the silence. He is love and pain and sorrow. He is the desperate hours between death and resurrection, but he smiles like Pilate`s ghost and tells them both the sad truth. He`s fine. Archived comments for Almost Brando Nomenklatura on 01-07-2011 Almost Brando Atmospheric... urban dirty stuff. I find and hardcore dance dies screaming to almost oblivion. a little contrived though. I'm guessing you wanted to convey some kind of diminuendo, but it doesn't quite work for me. For pure sound's sake I'd prefer 'in near oblivion', but I appreciate that isn't at all what you mean. I enjoyed this one. regards Ewan Author's Reply: Thanks for the comment, Ewan. Much appreciated. D. stormwolf on 01-07-2011 Almost Brando Right.... I will try to say how it comes accross to me. I really got into the feeling of glasgow, though, of course, it could be any inner city suffering deprivation. There is a haunting feeling about the poem and the figure is very mysterious, although obviously known to some. "and how are you big man" Like Ewan, I found that line needs re-assessing... Loved these lines though He is love and pain and sorrow. He is the desperate hours between death and resurrection, deep, profound and very meaningful and mysterious also. I just did not understand the ending, which is probably my fault but seeing as I am 'a reader' then that is what I feel. Alison x Author's Reply: Thanks for the comments, Alison. I thought I had been too obvious with this one (show, don`t tell etc), but I`ve posted it elsewhere and had similar comments-perhaps the opposite is true-too obscure? Anyway, thanks again for your comments. XXX, D. sunken on 03-07-2011 Almost Brando Hello Dylan. I continue to love your work, The 'cigarette a totem' line is class. It's good to see ya back on Uka. Atmospheric and brooding, almost like Brando to be sure. s u n k e n just remember to fall in love - there's nothing else Author's Reply: Hi Sunky-Thanks for the comment. (Did you see Beyonce at Glastonbury, BTW? Very nice er... singer.) Orrabest, D. sirat on 03-07-2011 Almost Brando Dylan has insisted that I comment on this, so here I am, like a rice farmer from a remote Vietnamese village asked for an opinion on quantum thermodybamics. I have no idea about how it all works, but this builds up in my imagination a picture of a wretched decaying housing estate in the wee small hours, where the local dealer waits down some stinking alley for visits from his customers, the only one in the neighbourhood who is perfectly fine with it all, perfectly adapted to this environment, like the rats and maggots that thrived in the trenches of the First World War. The 'big man' is living the best life that he is capable of conceiving, fuelled by the misery of everybody else. That's why the fact that he is 'fine' is sad. He is fine because nobody else is. He is the ultimate human parasite. I suppose the Brando in question is Don Corleone. Am I close? Author's Reply: Got it in one, David. You should have a go at poetry-as one of the best prose writers on the site, I`m sure you could do this equally well. I remember a humourous verse you contributed once which was brilliant. Thanks again and orrabest. D. RachelLW on 03-07-2011 Almost Brando Fantastic. As Ewan said, very atmospheric. I particularly like the first few lines, and "He is love and pain and sorrow. He is the desperate hours between death and resurrection," are brilliant. Well, the whole last stanza really. I found the whole thing bleak and moving at the same time. Rachel Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind comments, Rachel. xxx, D. Romany on 03-07-2011 Almost Brando The cigarette - totem line is great. I had an image of a suited and booted, hat wearing geezer from the 40's languishing in alleyways watching...I don't know really, something? Someone? Far from the mark I realise, having read your other responses, but it's what it conjured up for me. Romany. Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comments. Much appreciated as always. xxx. D. Leila on 03-07-2011 Almost Brando Hi Dylan haven't seen you around for a while been away myself for a bit but just wanted to jump in if I may and say... not sure about the opening two lines think I would start the poem from line 3, which for me gives it more immediacy also I'd give it a little tweak here and there...anyway some rather hastily put together thoughts...good poem...Leila Have got 'as' twice in first verse not sure about that but no more time to think just now... As urgent conversations fragment through tower blocks broken glasss and scattered litter catch the street light beacon as hardcore dance dies screaming to oblivion. He waits in twisted shadows his cigarette a totem watching matchstick figures negotiate the distance. "And how are you, big man?" rings out across the silence. He is love pain sorrow. He is the desperate hours between death and resurrection as deep night brings redemption he smiles like Pilate's ghost tells them both he's fine. Author's Reply: Hi Leila, Thanks for the comments and suggestions. I dunno about this one-feel it may need some tweaking, as you say. Thanks again. D. |
| Ad Infinitum (posted on: 13-06-11) Another new start These Sunday siren songs, an inconsequence of traffic, the sharpness of new footsteps, blow across bleak 6am. Down the worn George St flagstones, as Sir Walter Scott frowns to the middle distance and fearless city pigeons purr their gentle warnings to your name whistling through the restless roadside trees. Ad infinitum. My shadow cowers and crawls past a beggar`s offered cup, in his sightless eyes my words have no faces. And I have no love to spare. The morning is a dancer, pirouetting to a new tune now all I can offer white lies, half truths and madness , substantial as the dawn mist heartless as these tower blocks. As we live this ashen sunrise, last night`s desperate burning and who I was lie dead and bleeding in another new beginning. Ad infinitum. Archived comments for Ad Infinitum stormwolf on 13-06-2011 Ad Infinitum Fabulous! I love your poetry. The bleakness is all encompassing and the imagery profound. Alison x Author's Reply: Thanks so much for the comment, Alison. Glad you liked it. D. RachelLW on 13-06-2011 Ad Infinitum Beautiful. All of it. I suspect it'll do very well in the competition. Rachel Author's Reply: Thanks, Rachel. Dunno about the comp-some very good writers taking part. But hey-ho, I tried! (They`ll put that on my tombstone!) Thanks again. D. sunken on 13-06-2011 Ad Infinitum Hiya Dylan. It's bloody smashing to see you subbing again. Sorry I've not been around to welcome you back. I've been counselling midgets with regards to fashion. Ya know, in the right jeans and jacket you can almost forget that they have height issues. That said, I do suspect my having them don high heel shoes may account for some improvement regarding this matter. Ahem. As you can tell, I'm still completely shit at this commenting palaver. I blame many things for this. I could list them but I fear for the life of my recently abducted tortoise if I do. That's the trouble with tortoises, they're just too easy to abduct. Doesn't happen with Jaguars. Anyway, top stuff as always. I should have maybe just said that in the first place. s u n k e n Author's Reply: Sunky, my brother in Kylie! How the devil are you? Still barking mad? Glad to see you again-(Have you noticed Pippa Middleton`s derriere, btw? Purely in an aesthetic sense of course). Thanks for the comment and for Bernard`s top bark. Orrabest, D. Ionicus on 16-06-2011 Ad Infinitum I thought I had commented on this one on the other side but I must be mistaken as I can't find it. Superb writing, Jon, as per usual. All the best from another deluded competitor. Author's Reply: Thanks, Luigi. If I don`t win (and I bet I won`t!), I hope you do. (Or Alison, Rachel or Iain etc) Orrabest, D. Zoya on 18-06-2011 Ad Infinitum A very complex dark poem Dylan, as usual, the mood is captured to perfection... I love the last stanza! Love, Zoya Author's Reply: Thank you for the very kind comment. Much appreciated. xxx D. Romany on 18-06-2011 Ad Infinitum Desolate, bleak and very enigmatic. Conjurs up an all too easily come by image, sad to say. Good strong writing. Romany. Author's Reply: Thanks for the v. kind comment. Much appreciated. D. |
| Loving Miss Ogyn (posted on: 03-06-11) Entry for ABC "Let`s Start Again" comp. Because of the night, the moon resting on the river and these just gone moments which flowered to perfection, but died in their grandeur, I believe again in miracles. Because I remember how you lay beside me, how we conquered half the world from our duck`s down empire, and you wept your life`s tears to the coffee coloured ceiling, and I believed in angels. Because the sound of rain on down trodden cobbles, and a subtle ache of footsteps haunt the windows of my conscience, unsleeping city lights examine what I am, so I believe in loss. Because you are a need who no longer needs me and love is a compromise of hope and desire, I believe and accept whatever you can give. You bastard. Archived comments for Loving Miss Ogyn ruadh on 03-06-2011 Loving Miss Ogyn Ah, it was going so well... sweet and sentimental, lovely, until the last line and you ruined it for me lol. Well written. ailsa Author's Reply: Sorry m`dear, but as you are no doubt aware, relationships seldom run smooth. (And clue to content is in title, non?) Thanks for your king comment. D. stormwolf on 05-06-2011 Loving Miss Ogyn LOVE your work dylan. This has such a twist in the end that can highlight the love tirned to pain. I recognise the feeling of anguish that we have allowed someone so much of our inner self that when the leave the hurt is so much more acute. I also felt the ending added ooomph to what was a good poem but one on popular lines ie love and sharing. the last line made it multi dimensional. Alison x Author's Reply: Thanks again for taking the time to comment, Alison. I really appreciate the feedback. XXX. D. RachelLW on 05-06-2011 Loving Miss Ogyn I love the 'Because' start to each stanza. Your use of language/imagery is great throughout, I found it very moving. The end jarred a bit with me too as I think I was very drawn into the mood and pace of all that preceded it, but I found that once I'd read it a couple of times that the jolt at the end really worked. Favourite stanzas are the middle two - lovely. Rachel Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comments, Rachel. Your own work is excellent, btw-(As is Alison`s, of course). The feedback is much appreciated. XXX, D. |
| Verbatim (posted on: 27-05-11) Waiting. She moves in silent parables, in finely crafted images of woven gesture and small tokens of dispassion. I watch ash-grey dawn slivers touch her, turn her skin to bone, her eyes to desperate ice. As a new day grows in the corners of this empty sky, small rust coloured roses are slowly dying near the window. Inevitable rain falls and a clock ticks relentlessly. There is almost nothing left to say. Archived comments for Verbatim stormwolf on 28-05-2011 Verbatim Beautifully bleak and full of geat imagery. Everything is dying and losing warmth and the feeling is of all pervading hopelessness and resignation. The last two lines are really great especially. Alison x Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind words, Alison. This one was written some time ago when a much loved relative was near death. At this point she couldn`t speak-it was so sad. Anyway, thanks again. XXX D. Florian on 01-12-2013 Verbatim I found this a very moving poem, and particularly after reading your reply to Alison. Author's Reply: Thanks for your very kind comment-it`s much appreciated. D. |
| The Fire Ritual (posted on: 09-05-11) An oldie In the restaurant`s low murmurs bright as a fallen angel, she smiles in a sunlit halo. Absently brushes the white shell of his hand. He is death suited, a dark Mephistopheles against the startling expanse of table. Slowly he turns, blends into a perfection of shadows. Through the muted jazz a fragment of laughter catches the air disperses among the jasmine. Then another smile. The ubiquitous touching of hands, her smoothing of a rogue wisp of hair, the gradually unfolding desire. As flickering candlelight dapples the room, he raises a glass, drinks in the sight of her. Outside I listen to a straggle of Glasgow rain blowing her name across a glistening wound of street. Through this alcohol invulnerability, I watch the darkness grow and grow. And I burn endlessly. Archived comments for The Fire Ritual stormwolf on 09-05-2011 The Fire Ritual OMG love it! I really enjoy the standard of poetry I read on here. This was skillfully constructed and I saw the scene clearly which always speaks to me of really tuning into a poem. Too many good phrases to pick one. Alison x Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comment, Alison.Glad you liked it. Zoya on 10-05-2011 The Fire Ritual Vow, Dylan, you with your inimitable style have produced another tickling, dark, brooding masterpiece! As usual, I just love it!I read it twice to savour it fully... will do it once more! Love, Zoya Author's Reply: Hi Zoya, thank you for the v. kind comment. barenib on 10-05-2011 The Fire Ritual I'll never see Glasgow in the same way again! Another excellent piece - John. Author's Reply: Cheers, mon ami. D. ruadh on 12-05-2011 The Fire Ritual Great imagery. Loved the second last verse in particular. ailsa Author's Reply: Thanks for the very kind comment, Ailsa. D. |
| The view from heaven (posted on: 25-04-11) Another Glasgow Kiss. Smooth cars flow like water along the Clyde expressway. Past the statue of the martyrs, the innocence of sailboats and the wind chastises strangers, chases last nights promise to the howling wolves of memory again. And morning breaks her heart as she watches a blood sun rise over grey Gorbals tower blocks while the baby`s cry festers all her new beginnings, she so needs the dawn to notice how her hair is touched by ravens but the day is blind and cruel, it snarls through the wine`s kiss again. As the city resurrects life and hope and sorrow, there are flowers in the gutters, diamonds in the precincts, but the window frames tomorrow with all it will contain the courtyard and the sparrows, and the wind`s ragged clouds again. Archived comments for The view from heaven dylan on 13-07-2011 The view from heaven Y`know, I`ve always quite liked this one But aucun intérêt, je ne comprends pas! y`know-ainnt that bad, missus Anyhoo.... Author's Reply: |
| Catharsis (posted on: 11-04-11) As it happened.... Maybe all our stories end in monochrome. But I remember winter stalking a snow blue dawn, when you were late that morning and the gasping train beat it`s wings impatiently as you faltered across a fierce concrete whiteness. The faint blush of your hurry and yesterday`s earrings softly caught the new sun`s half-light. And I knew you were fresh from sleep and your lover. As the journey began, the frost-flecked fields which burned for miles, made small windows in your eyes. And the jasmine scent of you touched what was left of my soul. Archived comments for Catharsis pdemitchell on 11-04-2011 Catharsis Hi Dylan - nice to see you posting again.... this is great but the train beating it's (sic) wings was a little odd... maybe exhales or some strengthening of thebreathing metaphor? I love it and it's well worth the nibble and 10. Mitch 🙂 Author's Reply: Thank you for your kind coment, mon ami. Much appreciated. D. Buschell on 09-10-2013 Catharsis Rich.Tugs away at some longing I once had and long to long like this again...and write about it this well. Busch. Author's Reply: |
| 10.30, recurring (posted on: 28-03-11) A state of mind In the room a sliver of torn wallpaper and the gnawing silence accuse me. As the floorboards groan, an echoing radio, incongrous in the twice told tales of morning, tells me the answer is blowing in the wind. With the absolution of certainty, I turn to the living room`s stillness, where the accumulated total of my existence is contained in a cracked leather case. And in the ache of finality, my epitaph becomes a battered carriage clock which tries and tries and fails to move forward. Archived comments for 10.30, recurring stormwolf on 28-03-2011 10.30, recurring Very atmospheric with almost tangible emotion to it. Well done 😉 Alison x Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comment, Alison. Orrabest, D. Michel on 29-03-2011 10.30, recurring I found this riveting. Every word counts. Vivid and potent. Author's Reply: Hi Michel. Glad you liked it and thanks for the very kind comments. D. barenib on 29-03-2011 10.30, recurring I know those sort of clocks, but fortunately I haven't quite experienced the state of mind you describe so well here. Bleak, excellent lines - John. Author's Reply: Thanks for your comments, John. Much appreciated as always. D. Ionicus on 30-03-2011 10.30, recurring A very stylish and polished composition. I like the message from one Dylan to another. Well done on the 'Great Read' and nomination. Author's Reply: Thanks Luigi. Almost everything I`ve written from the recent past tends to be v. bleak. Hopefully I`ll cheer up soon! Orrabest, D. |
| Ecce Homo (posted on: 04-03-11) Inner demons... There is always this; You will never know of the midnights spent listening to the ravaging wind or the empty myths of rain at dawn. You may suspect the unwoven fantasies, the heartfelt cliches of drinking red wine and smoking Galousies, as cold and vulnerable as James Dean in the broken alleyways of a Glasgow night. And you will never know the stranger who still appears, speaking like a covenant, who wept his desperation to the darkness of your name. This is left to me; you will never forget the ragged flowers, the dead. Archived comments for Ecce Homo Bradene on 04-03-2011 Ecce Homo A very well written piece albeit a bleak one, Written with great feeling. I like it very much. Valx Author's Reply: Thank you so much for the kind comment, Val. Orrabest, D. sybarite on 04-03-2011 Ecce Homo Love 'ragged flowers.' I second the comment above. Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind comment. D. Ionicus on 04-03-2011 Ecce Homo Written with your usual flair, Jon. Have I read this on another site? May I just point out a small misspelling? It should be 'gauloise'. Best, Luigi. Author's Reply: Thanks, Luigi-will amend spelling. Yup, this one was on ABC a wee while ago-not the cheeriest I`ve ever written, it has to be said! Orrabest, D. stormwolf on 08-03-2011 Ecce Homo Suffused with dark feeling all the way though I loved And you will never know the stranger who still appears, speaking like a covenant, who wept his desperation to the darkness of your name. right up my street! Alison x Author's Reply: Thanks for the comment, Alison. My writing seems to become more neuorotic by the day! Cheers, D. |
| Pastiche (posted on: 28-01-11) As Rimbaud said "I is another". Is that laughter on the wind? Are there small hard eyes behind that smile? And it soon grows cold. Am I lonely? Am I old? A car snarls, a pigeon preens all of my life`s shifting scenes merge to shadows on a screen. I know each face in each rain drop which traces your new name, then trickles and dies softly. And the room watches constantly. I know that stare; Night unfolds into morning. Am I old? Am I lonely? Will the new day console me? Morning rain nuzzles windows, softly washes street shadows into the past. The day is mist shrouded, full of whispers. And I, alone and grown old, have watched as you crawled. And I have wished you broken. Now I hear words, unspoken, but cold, bare and pitiless they return to bear witness to my insecurities, regrets, infidelities, all of whom I used to be is undone. I dread to see the new morning`s plots and schemes. All of my life`s shifting scenes Lie in pieces; Silence screams. Archived comments for Pastiche geordietaf on 28-01-2011 Pastiche And as we used to say in my A level French class 'Somewhere over the Rimbaud lies Verlaine' The title sells this piece short - for me a pastiche is a kind of upmarket parody and this is much more profound. There is a deep sense of bleak despair that makes me feel cold just to read it. I've read it several times now and each time a deeper level of meaning appears. Very well done Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comments.The title refers to a person telling me that it read like a pastiche of a major poet.(Will leave it to you to decide who!) It is derivative, but not overtly so, IMO. And as you rightly surmise, it was written at a very bleak period in my life. Thanks again. D. orangedream on 28-01-2011 Pastiche Nice one;-) Tina Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comment, Tina. D. chrissy on 28-01-2011 Pastiche Only French writer I've ever read was Victor Hugo and him only in English, so I can't judge this as a pastiche, only as a stand alone piece. I think it's very atmospheric and extremely well written. I enoyed reading it very much. Well done. chrissy Author's Reply: Thanks for the comments, Chrissy. All the best, D. geordietaf on 29-01-2011 Pastiche Life itself is pretty derivative. In my opinion the best poetry speaks from an inner truth and personal experience. That's what marks this poem out from any other writer's work Author's Reply: barenib on 02-02-2011 Pastiche Hi Dylan - long time no read 🙂 good to do so again. There is always poetry in the bleak and this is a fine example; I hope your friend didn't tell you it was like Plath! Regards, John. Author's Reply: Cheers, John. Nice to speak to you again. Thankfully, it wasn`t Sylvia I was likened to! All the best, D. |
| For you again, this morning (posted on: 17-01-11) Hi chaps, long time no see. Here`s one I prepared earlier.(And yep, it`s Cohenesque!) In the ghosts of Sunday morning, she will meet you at the river and you`ll watch the mists dissolving in honey coloured sunshine and you have so much to tell her, but the silence gathers round you while only seagulls answer the sound of her heartbeat in your mind. Though you know she`ll always be here, St Therese of the dockyards, waiting for your coming among the half truths and the litter, the tug boats and the driftwood, still you never touch her. You just listen with your eyes, till you watch her fade so slowly into another penance of your mind Archived comments for For you again, this morning Andrea on 17-01-2011 For you again, this morning Very Cohenesque - lovely. You should set it to music... Nice to see you back 🙂 Author's Reply: Thank you, H.R. (May I still call you that? Most people won`t remember what it stands for!) I had been strumming the guitar chords to "Suzanne" and singing anything I could think of. (Cause lets face it, nobody knows all the words.Probably not even The Great Leonard) Anyway, it grew out of that. Thanks for your kind words and welcome. D. Ionicus on 17-01-2011 For you again, this morning Hello Jon. Where have you been? Nice to see you back. I notice that you haven't lost your touch. A nice poem which, as Andrea says, lend itself to music. Author's Reply: Hi Luigi, how are you? Thanks for the kind comment-I moved house recently and, as is my wont,seem to have misplaced a lot of older writing stuff.Most of it was on here, so I asked Andrea if ok to reactivate my account. Nice to see a few old friends-(I take it the young Munky is still frequenting the premises?) All the best, D. Jolen on 18-01-2011 For you again, this morning Hi Dylan, Welcome back. I agree with the others, it is very much a piece that would be brilliant with music, but regardless of that, it's lyrical on it's on and soft, yet poignant. I think the third verse is my favorite. blessings, Jolen Author's Reply: Glad you like it and thank you for the kind comment. D. Hulda on 18-01-2011 For you again, this morning hi there Dylan. I thought it was mysterious, romantic and your words selected with a soft, beautiful, sensual tone, it was pleasant to read, thank you, hulda Author's Reply: And thank you for the very kind comment-it`s very much appreciated. D. royrodel on 18-01-2011 For you again, this morning what Cohen? tried walking in memphis and the stranger song they both worked for me brilliant RODEL Author's Reply: Thanks for the v. kind comment. The poem grew from one of The Great Leonard`s songs. I think it`s ok in it`s own right meself, but can`t please everyone. All the best, D. franciman on 19-01-2011 For you again, this morning Hi dylan, I have sent you a private message Author's Reply: Have replied accordingly, mon ami. Hope it`s ok. D. orangedream on 19-01-2011 For you again, this morning A beauty;-) Tina Author's Reply: Thank you, Tina. Much appreciated. All the best, D. |
| a/b (posted on: 06-06-08) Poem Sometimes, unexpectedly, your name is heard in the thunder of a train. Or high clouds drifting in cotton wool innocence will merge to your profile. These enduring clichés of metaphor, still remind and wound. Still conjure images of the people we were, of dawn sunlight woven in your hair. In this photograph`s cryptic surmise, a broken star ghosts across your eyes. As the night traffic`s distant sermon crystallizes to condemnation, I see you as you were. In a brief moment, time closes round you like a thief. Archived comments for a/b Sunken on 07-06-2008 a/b No comments? The world gets sadder. Time does indeed close around us like a thief, Mr. Dylan. Nice one. s u n k e n peas please Author's Reply: Hi Sunk, Apologies for delay in replying-thanks for your kind comments. D. eddiesolo on 07-06-2008 a/b Hi Dylan, Thought this was lovely crafted little write. 'In this photograph`s cryptic surmise, a broken star ghosts across your eyes.' Loved these lines. Enjoyed reading very much. Si:-) Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind comment, Simon. Much appreciated-apologies for delay in replying. D. Munster on 07-06-2008 a/b Hi, I agree with the previous, nice lines enjoyed the read. Tony Author's Reply: Thanks, Tony. Glad you liked it. D. Macjoyce on 08-06-2008 a/b Hello John, I especially liked the first two segments. I wouldn't say they were cliches of metaphor at all. I wouldn't say they were even metaphors. What you're describing there rings entirely true - when you love and miss someone, you do see and hear them everywhere. Maybe presence is the highest form of absence... I stumbled over the second bit and had to reread it, because the comma after 'drifting' makes it a bit awkward. You don't need it. Paul the Mac Author's Reply: Cheers, Paul. You are a highly talented writer and I appreciate your comments. It`s funny-I posted this on a couple of other sites and it died on it`s arse. UKA-ers are more discerning, non? Sorry it has taken me weeks to reply. Cheers, D. e-griff on 08-06-2008 a/b or, (ref Mac's comment) add a comma after innocence to complete the pair. OR move the first comma to after 'clouds' as well. very nice poem. worthy of the nib 😉 G Author's Reply: Thanks. D. margot on 08-06-2008 a/b excellent - you managed to use cliched images without the whole seeming cliched. Some beautiful phrasing. Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind comment, Margot. XXX, D. Griffonner on 08-06-2008 a/b I'm with Margot on this one. Well deserved of the nib, and I adore some of the phrasing too. Beautiful is the word that comes to mind. Author's Reply: Glad you liked it, mon ami. Orrabest, D. AlexClay on 11-06-2008 a/b "As the night traffic`s distant sermon crystallizes to condemnation" Great line, i think i grasped the meaning of this. The world moves at a fast and unforgiving pace, to me, poetry is like slamming the brakes on....this poem is a very good usage of the brake pedal. nice one Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind comment, Alex. Much appreciated. D. |
| Deja Vu (posted on: 19-05-08) Poem In the unwinding twilight of a new December, Glasgow glimmers under a ragged patchwork sky and sandstone gables touch the roots of what could be heaven. Here, a duplication of lives are draped in crimson light and the whisky-flavoured air is full of endings, Her voice flows white-hot across cold mahogany, burning words like still, always and care into all the memories he will ever have. Across the room I cradle a glass like the relics of a saint and watch a candle slowly weep wax tears. Archived comments for Deja Vu barenib on 19-05-2008 Deja Vu The pictures you paint are always in deep and often dark colours but with soft light, which is what typifies your poems for me and what I enjoy about them. A good read as always, John. Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind comments, John and apologies for delay in replying. D. Sunken on 21-05-2008 Deja Vu Whoops. I nearly missed this one, Mr. Dylan. I bet you thought you'd got away with it didn't ya? Well I'm sorry, but I am here with my usual inane twaddle. I shall say nothing constructive and most probably end on an arse reference... Like shapely arses, this is really smashing. Told ya. s u n k s yes sir, I can moonwalk, but I need my special boots Author's Reply: Tanx, young Munky. You always encourage and cheer. Orrabest, D. Emerald on 22-05-2008 Deja Vu I found this very atmospheric Emma x Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind comment, Emma. D. littleditty on 22-05-2008 Deja Vu strong poem oh yes indeedy -the last images especially thought provoking- bravo and agree with Mr Nib's comments, and Emma's too, some of sunkens although...lol good'n dylan, i really enjoyed the story of the poem, cheers l'ditty xx Author's Reply: Cheers,LD. Much appreciated. D. |
| The Gardener (posted on: 09-05-08) Poem This is how the memory works; Gathered fragments of scent and sound touch who we used to be. And immediately the past becomes you crossing a lawn, gathering windfall on the edge of twilight, with close cropped grass and aspen leaves shaping your footprints. Or your tobacco air, almost tangible under sun comprehending glass, among grasping tomato vines and the swing of plastic spitfires. As a mistle thrush recalls sunlight and tadpoles on a green-tinged pond, the drift of dragon shaped clouds across fat yellow roses, these bare trees only frame a disc of winter sun. In November`s endings, I watch you plant and seed and fade, wellington booted, corduroyed, into the shrub and tumbleweed of the years. Archived comments for The Gardener margot on 09-05-2008 The Gardener Beautiful, poignant. Thought I'd commented on this already/before? Was this elsewhere? Margot Author's Reply: Hi, Margot. Thanks for the kind comments. The poem was on ABC not so long ago (maybe Writer`s Dock too?-can`t remember). Glad you liked it. XXX, D. Romany on 09-05-2008 The Gardener Lovely metaphor for time and aging. I wasn't sure about "sun comprehending glass" but it's just my opinion, no solid reasoning! Romany. Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comment, Sue. Re "sun comprehending", I was looking for an original description for a greenhouse-not the easiest object to be poetic about! Thanks again. XXX, D. Munster on 09-05-2008 The Gardener Hi, really enjoyed the read. Author's Reply: Glad you liked it and thanks for taking the time to comment. D. Sunken on 10-05-2008 The Gardener I never fail to enjoy your work, Mr. Dylan. Do you know I keep your book beside my bed? Ahem. I keep others there too, so don't get any funny ideas (-; Shouldn't you be thinking of book number 2 by now? I could have you on the other side of my bed then. Is this all sounding too weird? I'll naff off. Nice one Dylan. s u n k e n Author's Reply: Thanks, Sunky. I really appreciate your comments (And Bernard`s too) Cheers, D. Leila on 10-05-2008 The Gardener Hi Dylan I like your poem very much, quite beautiful and touching particularly the last verse, I'm into strong endings and this delivers. I do think it could be tweaked here and there, I'm not sure the first line is required at all...I'm not keen on the past becomes you/sun comprehending glass and I'm slightly confused when I read verses 5 and 6, I feel there is something missing to link these two verses. As I said a very good poem, your imagery has both a strength and a delicacy that is most appealing...L Author's Reply: BaBy_PoeT on 10-05-2008 The Gardener Really enjoyed this, loved the imagery you used, makes the reader feel as though they are actually there. Well i liked the feeling of being there right now lol, it is well written take care xXx-B-P-xXx Author's Reply: eddiesolo on 12-05-2008 The Gardener Hello sir, Most wonderful blend of words that bring a strong, yet subtle vision to the reader. Enjoyed very much. Si:-) Author's Reply: |
| Pulse (posted on: 31-03-08) Poem This darkness is only an absence of light. It has no identity, no substance; is brittle as an empty heart. With the sanity of daylight, there will be no faces in the soft architecture of billowing curtains, or voices drifting in this river of night wind. Nearby, the city pulses with all the yearning and fragile precision of being young. Next door, a dark brown voice blurs into static. In the genesis of a poem-shaped morning, as greyness slowly takes root, the street gives up the oil-slicked corpse of a rainbow. Small razors of rain slash at the window and a phone crouches coldly. The darkness is only an absence. Archived comments for Pulse Squiddlydee on 31-03-2008 Pulse Hi Dylan - really liked 'oil-slicked corpse of a rainbow' - nicely done. Being a bit of a structure-nik, I cannot understand why you have cut it up as you have. Seems pointless breaking it up as there seems nothing to gain from doing so. It's a consistent argument on this site but does this sort of thing constitute poetry? Author's Reply: My friend, it is up to the reader to decide what poetry is. I have and do use established forms-this time I chose not to. If you prefer structured work, I`m sure there is something else on the site which would be more to your taste. This sound suspiciously like a Griffiths statement, intended to provoke a reaction. But I ain`t biting. e-griff on 31-03-2008 Pulse You're such a silly sod, John. I thought you'd recovered your sanity a bit lately, but no, off you go again ... Your delusions have now led you into being unecessarily rude to poor Squiddly, who was expressing a perfectly valid opinion (this is a writing site, yes? You've exhibited your work publicly and invited comment, yes?). I think you should certainly apologise to him. As it happens, I myself was quite comfortable with the breaks and think they fit the poem well. So there, ma wee man - stick that up yer lum an' smoke it! G Author's Reply: "Does this sort of thing constitute poetry?" sounds exactly like one of your gems of wisdom- IMO, it`s far more offensive than my reply. "This sound suspiciously like a Griffiths statement, intended to provoke a reaction"-what is offensive or rude about that? If offence has been taken, then I apologise. artisus on 01-04-2008 Pulse A marvelous poem Dylan! Author's Reply: Thanks for the comment, nom, etc. Nic. XXX, D. Macjoyce on 01-04-2008 Pulse Come on John, don't be paranoid. We know Griff loves his alter-egos, but Squid isn't one of them. I am certain of it. Squid is just new to the world of commenting, he's only started doing it recently, and he's perhaps not very tactful in this early stage. He's eager to learn about poetry, considers himself a novice (though his work is very good) and wants to understand what constitutes poetry and what doesn't. His words were clumsy but it's just a misunderstanding. Paul. Author's Reply: Hi, Paul. Yeah, the comment wasn`t tactful or constructive. While I don`t feel I have to justify what I write, I`m aware it won`t be to everyone`s taste. Ce la vie. But I honestly don`t think I have said anything particularly rude in my reply, despite Our Hero`s blustering. If Squid is offended, then I genuinely apologise. Orrabest, D. Sunken on 01-04-2008 Pulse Dylan. I am writing this whilst exercising to the kids from fame. That curly haired fucker can't half play that keyboard and no mistake. Hang on a sec, I need to do a triple somersault.... Phew, that was close. Come on, join in. I've never felt so alive! I'm gonna live forever.... la, la, la, la, la, la, laaaaaa. Top as ever. I hope this helps. Thanks. s u n k e n but we could do the show right here! Author's Reply: Hi,Young Munky. I`ve just realised I didn`t reply to your very kind and welcome comment. So who has the superior arse- Agnetha or Kylie? Agnethas` was a touch large-Kylies perhaps slightly more pert? But I did always have a thing for Swedish blondes. (Women, I hasten to add ) Thanks again, D. Squiddlydee on 02-04-2008 Pulse I'm not offended at all - why would I be? I asked a question, you reacted. There's really no more to it. As for being considered an agent provocateur or an e-Griff in disguise, it is perhaps noteworthy that you recognise a theme in the criticism your work attracts. Nuff said. Author's Reply: You haven`t actually criticised the work, apart from asking if "this sort of thing is poetry"-nor has Griffiths. I haven`t recognised a "theme" in any crit I`ve received. If everyone who produces work in free verse is going to be criticised simply for using this form, you have a helluva job on your hands. The vast majority of contemporary work is written in free verse-if it`s not to your taste, there are specialist sites or publications who offer rhymed, metrical poetry I `d suggest you subscribe to a few good quality lit mags.This one was published in "Roundtable Review" not so long ago. Of course that doesn`t quantify the poem-it only illustrates it fits the mag`s requirements. But most editors do look for work of this nature-to be honest, I`ve never actually been criticised for writing free verse poetry before. Squiddlydee on 02-04-2008 Pulse I'm not offended at all - why would I be? I asked a question, you reacted. There's really no more to it. As for being considered an agent provocateur or an e-Griff in disguise, it is perhaps noteworthy that you recognise a theme in the criticism your work attracts. Nuff said. Author's Reply: littleditty on 04-04-2008 Pulse Dylan -this is a beaut of a word painting - feeling this idea at the mo, 'Darkness is only an absence of light' -and the struggling light/communication imagery worked well - dark but hints and glints of possibility positive, that the light will come again, unless this is just me being unbearably optimistic - rainbow as a corpse is a damn strong nasty image, but you are forgiven within the context of what i understood this piece of poetry to mean! Rain rain rain's got to stop sometime..razor rain, ouch - splash splash splash! enjoyed, cheers xxl'ditty x Oh -i thought id prefer the last two lines separate, but you've darn gone thought about that already, aintcha? :o) Author's Reply: Hi, LD. As most of my replies have been in justifying the style I write in, (Sunk and Nic apart) it`s nice to actually discuss the poem. It`s intended to be optimistic in tone-presenting the narrators` internal struggle (and loneliness) as a night/ day metaphor, with (of course) daylight at the end of the stanza. Well, I AM an old hippy type, you know. You`re right about the last two lines-when I posted this on ABC, they were separated from the rest of the poem. It`s a typo, which I have rectified. Thanks again for your kind words. XXX, D. |
| Rubicon (posted on: 17-03-08) Poem. Because it is almost 3am the rain no longer matters. But still it drifts, yellow-tinged, through the street light below. The small, resilient tongues of last night`s fire flicker around the room turning Monets` poppies blood-orange, etching shadows on unfamiliar walls. Then, the late collage of sound; The low burr of a taxi, a sharp loneliness of footsteps. Your breathing's ebb and flow, reminding me you are a stranger and what we have been shapes who we are. The past gapes like a wound, as I watch the sky, the city and all of the night reflected in a single raindrop. Archived comments for Rubicon Sunken on 17-03-2008 Rubicon No Comments!? It's a disgrace. An excellent write, in my munky opinion. Love the last stanza. Nice one and no mistake. s u n k e n  Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comments, Sunky. As I mentioned previously, the lack of comments is very much my own fault-I haven`t been active on UKA for some time.(A Great Man once said I "creep" on and off the site. Comes of having a life, I suppose). Thanks also to Bernard for the top bark. Cheers, D. margot on 18-03-2008 Rubicon some beautiful phrasing which paints the picture so well. thank you Margot Author's Reply: Glad you liked this one-thanks for your kind comment. XXX, D. |
| Observing a Lizard (posted on: 29-02-08) Poem He is only a grey skittering movement on the face of a sunripened stone. Offering his presence in the morning's tall heat, slowly contemplating the sting of red dust from this dirt track, a huge unforgiving sky and the faint scent of gasoline. After small consideration, he turns, in the flicker of an eyelid shutter, into memory. These small instances of loss are measured in acceptance of constant flux or the myth of choice. As violet clouds congregate, only the sudden emptiness of air remembers him Archived comments for Observing a Lizard littleditty on 29-02-2008 Observing a Lizard Gosh! The last verse is a wow, great descriptions throughout -really liked this idea of phot and memory- After small consideration, he turns, in the flicker of an eyelid shutter, into memory. After small consideration, he turns the flicker of an eyelid shutter into memory. (just a thought :o) Super poem Dylan xxldx Author's Reply: Hi LD, Thanks for the kind words and suggestions. From feedback on other sites,the most contentious part seems to be the fifth stanza (These small instances of loss.. etc), which some readers found pretentious. Most advised losing "of constant flux" and keeping "the myth of choice". I dunno, I kinda like both. Anyhoo, (sorry I`m gibbering again), thank you again for your comments. Orrabest, XXX, D. Sooz on 29-02-2008 Observing a Lizard Of course I *had* to read this, any post with a reptile in it (unless it's one of mine) is guaranteed at least one hit. The last line is gorgeous and the rest's good too. Author's Reply: Thanks for the comment, Sooz. Glad you liked this-it actually started out as a poem about Jim Morrison of The Doors (The Lizard King). But real lizards are much more interesting. Thanks again, XXX, D. Sunken on 01-03-2008 Observing a Lizard Blimey. Does that Sooz really have a reptile? I had a chameleon once... You know what's coming don't ya? Yeah, that's right, I lost it when it took on the stripy characteristics of my 1970's retro rug. I blame disco. Another slab of class and no mistake. s u n k e n do ya wanna be in my gang? no i bloody well don't! Author's Reply: Hiya Sunk. Thanks for the comment. Have you studied my Agnetha link yet? She could give La Minogue a run for her money in the bootylicious stakes. I always think lizards look rather haughty-as if they are passing judgement on us. The giant ones will take over. Remember where you heard it first..... Orrabest, D. Sunken on 04-03-2008 Observing a Lizard Dear Mr. Dylan, With regards to your bum query, please see my reply to your comment on my last effort. I must insist that you pay more attention where bottom talk is concerned. Good day! For you Ref: Dear Mr. Dylan, Thank you for your kind words regarding my ickul poem. Please note that said effort is now available in strawberry, vanilla and tuna. I just watched the abba video that you highlighted on the forum. I am, to say the least, flabbergasted. To be quite frank I wasn’t aware that arses existed prior to Ms. Minogue? This is indeed a revelation. Perhaps I should consider delving deeper into the anals of history? I wonder if there are any courses available on the Open University? God bless us all. I hope this yelps. Yelp! Nice one. s u n k e n tomorrow the farmyard Author's Reply: Sorry Sunk, Had not noticed your original post. We "Friends of the Arse" must stick together. Orrabest, D. Romany on 05-03-2008 Observing a Lizard Fabulous! Captures the flashing speed of lizards (smaller ones this put me in mind of) perfectly and with such empathy. Great poem. Romany. Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind comment, Romany. Glad you liked this one. Orrabest, D. |
| Woman in a white coat (posted on: 22-02-08) Poem She is a fugitive from the muted howls of traffic, bloodless as the snow-tinged shards of a Glasgow morning. The military click of stilettos too loud in mocha flavoured air, then red wine flares across a dark expanse of table, as a clock protests noon. A cobra movement checks pearl nails, smooths the black skull cap of hair. What I find, I find because it`s there. The lustre of the self in a perfection of shadows, the logic of this moment. But soon he enters, death-suited, smiling a salesman's smile. And she rises in a swirl of winter, leaving a port-wine stain and the memory of sunlight on cold oak wood. Archived comments for Woman in a white coat red-dragon on 22-02-2008 Woman in a white coat So many images expressed in a wonderful brevity of words. You have chosen and woven them well, though I am not sure about the howl of traffic. A great read! Ann Author's Reply: Thanks for the comment, Ann. Hmm-"howl" is a bit overstated. Would "snarl" work better in the first lines? Will exercise the little grey cells... Thanks again, XXX. D. Bradene on 22-02-2008 Woman in a white coat A lovely and well written little slice of life passing by. One little thing though shouldn't it be smoothes? I'm not too sure myself, both ways could be right thinking about it. Don't mind me.. just wanted you to know I enjoyed the read. Val Author's Reply: Thank you for the kind comments, Val. I thought it was "smooths"-could be wrong though.(usually am!) Thanks again, XXX, D. Sunken on 23-02-2008 Woman in a white coat Definitely nib worthy and no mistake, Mr. Dylan. I like it more than Cheryl Tweedy's pout. Okay, perhaps that's going a bit too far. A damn fine write though. s u n k e n his balls predict the weather Author's Reply: Hiya, Sunk. How the devil are you? Still lusting after Ms Minogue, I hope? (As am I). Cheryl Tweedy, eh? You interest me strangely(off to visit some ahem, artistic sites) Cheers, mate. Orrabest, D. |
| Mourners (posted on: 08-02-08) Poem At the touch of sunlit drizzle the small rhododendron cups catch fire. And solemn herons stand on their river reflections, as a north wind silvers the words God speaks in the wilderness. Here, only gnarled roots of pithead mark where long-dead miners lie. And old conversations, the words and gestures of unrecorded love, the legends of who they were, end here. Among slag heap remains. On the dawn skyline between flickering scrub and gorse four skeletal oak trees sway and gently sigh. Archived comments for Mourners Bowlie on 08-02-2008 Mourners Hi Dyl, How goes it? Hope you're well. I enjoyed this a lot, particularly impressed with the rhododendron cups and unrecorded love. I thought the skeletal oak trees a wee bit obvious, think from the already well established bleak tone that the reader expects them not to be in full bloom as it were, how about something slightly simpler like 'On the dawn skyline between flickering scrub and gorse, four oaks sway and gently sigh. anyway enough fiddling from me, have a good weekend and please post me a bag of chips from the blue lagoon, as all the chippies in Livi suck. bx Author's Reply: Hiya oor Beks, It`s strange- I had just decided to mail you the other day, not having heard from you in a while and suddenly you appear. Have you been polishing your crystal again? Tanx for the comments. I posted this on another site and the most contentious part was the ending-a few readers felt it was abrupt and not fully developed. When writing about loss (of any kind), I always feel it`s best to understate emotion. Dunno if it works here or not. I was in the Lagoon a couple of days ago. It`s not far from where I work in the city centre. The chips (along with the fish, black pud and pizza) are truly scrumptious. (Cue for a song). I feel they are far too good to post to Livi and should be kept in Glesca. Thanks again, D. XXX artisus on 08-02-2008 Mourners great read x Author's Reply: Thanks for the comment and fave nom, Nic. Orrabest, D. XXX teifii on 09-02-2008 Mourners Very good altogether. I especially liked as a north wind silvers the words God speaks in the wilderness. and the end. Nicely understated. Author's Reply: Thanks for the comments, tef. Glad you liked this. Orrabest, D. |
| On the Waterfront (posted on: 14-01-08) Poem An early morning breeze coaxes a bouquet of last night's litter across the empty acres of this car park. Nearby, the snakeskin river coils around the city's heart, bone cold, still starlit, dotted with swans and whispers. These beginnings and almost endings are only small pauses in our lives, where there is only ever now. This moment, these gannets swooping through needle-tipped drizzle, a passing train, weeping the distance away. But I taste your perfume again; It cuts through the morning air, sharp as guilt. And your memory conjured from the shift of light on water, or the smirr of rain, rises like an annunciation Archived comments for On the Waterfront Sunken on 15-01-2008 On the Waterfront What the f'ing hell is going on Mr. Dylan? Tuesday PM and no comments on such a bloomin excellent piece? The world's gone mad. Mad I tell ya, mad! Well done on the nom. Partic liked the 'sharp as guilt' line. s u n k e n Author's Reply: Thanks for your comment and glad you liked this `un, Sunky. Orrabest, D. Ionicus on 15-01-2008 On the Waterfront That's how the cookie crumbles, Jon. Much appreciated and even 'cherried' on ABC and here hardly a comment. At least somebody had the good taste of nominating it. Skilfully written as usual. Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind words, Luigi. I haven`t been that active on the site, so the lack of comments is probably me own fault. I don`t know who nommed the piece, but it is much appreciated. Orrabest, D. barenib on 16-01-2008 On the Waterfront Dylan - As you know, I'm a fan of your work and this piece is no exception. A couple of things to consider perhaps; I'm not sure about the train 'weeping the distance away' - 'weeping' doesn't quite fit for me, though I know what you mean; also 'an annunciation' jars slightly, but I'm not sure how you'd get round this - perhaps you could just leave out 'an'? All said and done though, a very enjoyable piece - John. Author's Reply: Hi John, Thanks for your comments. The line "A train weeps the distance away" was the subject of much debate on another site. About 60% thought it worked and 40% didn`t. I still quite like it, but will give it some thought. Thanks again, mon ami. Orrabest, D. red-dragon on 17-01-2008 On the Waterfront Skillful blending of words builds into a very atmospheric poem. It's helping to inspire me back to writing.... Ann Author's Reply: Hi Anne, thanks for your comments. Glad you liked this and hope to see some of your work soon. Orrabest, D. royrodel on 17-01-2008 On the Waterfront where dog soldiers reflect RODEL Author's Reply: |
| The Bastard (posted on: 03-12-07) Poem There was, I remember a solitary Paisley patterned chair, your yellow eiderdown and a small patch of sky in the corner of the room. And each venom tipped word told me why you cried your vows to the darkness. And the reasons all men were bastards. The herbal tea silvered the afternoon air, and I watched the cold pearls of tears fall as your pain slowly burned. I quoted Buddha- ''Hatred will diminish those who hate'', swirled the bittersweet amber of your perfume and considered the nature of truth and consequence. Archived comments for The Bastard Jack_Cade on 03-12-2007 The Bastard Hi Dylan, I like how the title, lacking the exclamation mark that usually appends the word, sounds like it's going to be a sensitive meditation on a misbegotten! This has your usual careful, measured tone and strong use of linebreaks and space, although I'm not too sure if 'bittersweet' and the final line aren't a bit heavy-handed here. Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comments, Hen. You are still Da Man. Cheers, D. Sunken on 03-12-2007 The Bastard Ahhh the nature of truth and consequence, it's a conundrum and no mistake Mr. Dylan. Let me have a fag and think about it. Top banana and no mistake. Thank you. s u n k e n durex on his collar told a tale on him Author's Reply: Cheers, Sunky. May your banana never wilt! D. e-griff on 04-12-2007 The Bastard liked the Buddha quote! vrai, c'est ca! G Author's Reply: No doubt this is a wind up, but I`m not biting. It`s pointless and I can`t be arsed. |
| Conscious (posted on: 26-11-07) Poem How this window frames 6am with its embryo sun throwing a single shard past skeletal beds and through Sunday silence is a small work of legend. In the first nuance of day, small diamonds of dust spin across the straining flower buds, their crimson petals almost bleeding, and from dark-tinged corners I see chairs rising. The air aches with the stillborn fragments of a last faint brush of lips and cold words wrapped in the muslin of an autumn twilight. Long ago? A crucifix stares like a sword. Unsheathed, I close my eyes. Archived comments for Conscious Jen_Christabel on 26-11-2007 Conscious A piece full of very vivid imagery. Nicely penned :o) Jennifer x Author's Reply: Thanks, Jen. Glad you liked it. XXX, D. littleditty on 26-11-2007 Conscious Hi Dylan - rich with images this one - enjoyed. (i have a personal problem with the word ´shard´!! *shivers* and have struggled before to find another, and dont think there is one! This is no fault of ours then, but what am i to do? do you know of another word you could lend me?lol:o) Will read this again later - it has much beauty to it xxldx Author's Reply: Hi LD, Thanks for the kind comments-I kinda like "shards", but would maybe suggest, "splinters" or even "pieces of broken sunlight". Old romantic? But of course. XXX, D, SugarMama34 on 26-11-2007 Conscious Hi dylan, A creative piece of writing here with some vivid imagery, that I really enjoyed. It pulled me in until the very end. You have a unique style that intrigues me. Lovely poem. Lis'. xx Author's Reply: Thanks for the v. kind comment, Lis. Much appreciated. XXX, D. Bootylicious on 27-11-2007 Conscious A lovely lyrical quality. My favourite lines: small diamonds of dust spin (I just love the way dust motes seem to dance in sunlight and this captures the image beautifully.) in the muslin of an autumn twilight (made me think of the Turin shroud) Booty Author's Reply: Thanks, Booty. Glad you liked it. XXX, D. Sunken on 27-11-2007 Conscious 
A toptastic write Mr. Dylan. You attract far too much female attention for my liking. Hang on a sec whilst I get my testicles out... Someone needs to redress the balance... I hope this has helped? (-; s u n k e n
Author's Reply: dylan on 02-12-2007 Conscious AARRGHH! Not a pretty sight! Despite your unappealing testicles, Ithankyew. D. Author's Reply: |
| La Fey Verte (posted on: 16-11-07) Rejigged and revised. A too-loud clock pecks at the bones of Monday morning. As minute after minute trickles to infinity, the table cracks rearrange themselves into a portrait of The Sacred Heart. And walking on water or raising the dead is easy today. Now, I watch your ghost emerge from this bottle and the middle distance of memory, early footsteps are scattered on wind stripped streets and a passing car ricochets a surprise of sunrise across the room. Always the past deceives, fluid in its` treachery and through the absinthe invulnerability, I watch colour seep into a monochrome dawn as the morning grows into the fragile certainty of who I am in the glare of a new day, your absence. Archived comments for La Fey Verte Sunken on 16-11-2007 La Fey Verte
Hello Mr. Dylan. What can I say? Very little. Makes a nice change don't ya think? I'll hand over to Bernard... Woof, woof, howl, bark, pedigree chum... Thanks Bernard.
Author's Reply: dylan on 16-11-2007 La Fey Verte Paddy, my trumped-up pup, is currently sniffing round the base of the table and refuses to offer a sensible answer. I will only respond with thanks, young Sunky, my brother in Kylie. Orrabest. D. Author's Reply: artisus on 16-11-2007 La Fey Verte An amazing poem, I would like to translate it into Greek, I think it's highly translatable. There is Alchemy in this poem. xx Author's Reply: Thank you for your comments and nom etc, Nic. I would actually be interested to see a translation of this. The only language I have aspirations to (apart from English) is French-hence the title. And God knows, that is pretty rusty these days. Thanks again, XXX, D. Zoya on 18-11-2007 La Fey Verte "early footsteps are scattered on wind stripped streets and a passing car ricochets a surprise of sunrise across the room" I love these lines Dylan! And as the day progresses, the shadows first shrink and then lengthen, The memories fade and then sharpen, The thought of you remains with me in all its hues, in all its shapes... Life goes on, but, seems a waste... Sorry, your poems always inspire me and I get carried away... (((Hugs for that feeling you bring over me with you rare lyricism))) Love, Zoya Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind comments, Zoya. Much appreciated. D. Jolen on 18-11-2007 La Fey Verte hi Dylan: I loved this one the other day and still do. This just has so much going for it and while I will refrain from posting all the things I first started to, I will say a few things. Like there are some great images here and it's so damn evocative. A couple ideas that I had when reading, I will share for your consideration or not, as you will. Here: "the suprise of sunrise" while it's beautiful, for some reason, I felt 'the reprise of sunrise' might appeal to you, in that it suggests movement following that riccochet and also, suggesting that this is a feeling you have lived many times. Also, in your verse: Always the past deceives, fluid in its` treachery and through the absinthe invulnerability, I watch colour seep into a monochrome dawn I liked 'seep' but then I kept seeing a glass that once set down, the color splashed over the sides... something perhaps like Always the past deceives, fluid in its` treachery and through the absinthe invulnerability, I watch colour splash over into a monochrome dawn or splash over the side of a monochrome dawn. or splash across the sides of a monochrome dawn Anyway, just wanted you to know your poem touched me deeply and not to offend, as it's an incredible poem. My thoughts are offered humbly and with respect. A well earned nib. Congrats. Jolen Author's Reply: Thanks for your thoughtful suggestions, Jolen-I really appreciate your feedback. As I mentioned, I withdrew the poem last week as I wasn`t happy with certain sections. The rewrite this time around is slightly better, but (as always) could be improved. Glad you liked this and thanks again for taking the time to offer such detailed crit. XXX, D. Elfstone on 18-11-2007 La Fey Verte An impressive poem dylan. The first verse is quite arresting - I love that image! If I may offer one small suggestion: in the last verse, omit "a new day," ("day" twice in such a short space bumps slightly) so: "as the day grows into the fragile certainty of who I am in the glare of your absence. " For your consideration only of course 🙂 Elfstone. Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind comments, Elf. I have changed "day" to "morning"-you`re quite right, The double "day" does jar. Thanks again, D. |
| Almost (posted on: 05-11-07) Poem In a red sandstone maze, strewn with litter and half-remembered vows, a sliver of jazz drifts on the edge of midnight. Across a band of smoke-filled light, tiny moths weave their intricacies into early autumn air. And, as I walk past a sadness of empty tables scattered on the walkway, I look for ghosts among the newly-dead conversations which echo down the yellowing darkness. Somewhere a cock crows and every movement, every person, is almost you until they become strangers. Archived comments for Almost bluepootle on 05-11-2007 Almost Hi Dylan. I think this is very beautiful throughout, with a great sense of mystery and sadness. I like the title as well, very much, but I wonder if, because it's the title, you could lose the use of the word 'almost' in the final verse so it heightens that moment of imagined recognition? Just a thought, but its a great poem whether you do or you don't! Author's Reply: Hi Ailya, Thanks for the comments. The title was actually the last part of this to be written-I went through about half a dozen before having a "Sod it" moment and going for "Almost". I quite like the line "almost you", but think you may be correct. Thanks again, D. Jen_Christabel on 05-11-2007 Almost Beuatiful piece here Dylan and congrats on the nib. Jennifer x Author's Reply: Thanks, Jen. The nib and your kind comments are mucho appreciated. XXX, D. Macjoyce on 05-11-2007 Almost This is a fave poem for me, Clansman Dylan. I'm not sure about "yellowing darkness" (why yellow?) but overall, fabaroonie, Sir: "strewn with litter and half-remembered vows" and "a sadness of empty tables" and especially "and every movement, every person, is almost you until they become strangers" Yep. I know how that feels, but have never attempted to grasp it in words. You've got hold of a very human piece of humanity. This must be an extremely personal poem, a verbal painting of a moment that happened, aye? So, yes, dead good. One question: "newly-dead conversations"? If a conversation is newly-dead, that implies it only ended a few minutes ago, but I think it's a longer time-span than that, isn't it? Perhaps 'newly' could be something else...? That my sixpenceworth. All the best mate, Mac Author's Reply: Hi Big Mac, Tanx indeed for the nom and v. kind comment. The "yellowing darkness" was intended to infer that there was lighting of sorts available (street lights, late night bar sorta light). "Newly -dead conversations" implies that the conversation has just ended. Without putting too much of a straitjacket on the poem, the narrator is searching for a certain person-looking, listening-he`s alert to any signal. And yep, it is a personal portrait. I was that soldier. Tanx again-I really appreciate it. Orrabest, D. Bradene on 05-11-2007 Almost Beautiful, wistful. perfectly written piece. Val x Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind comments, Val. xxx, D. ruadh on 05-11-2007 Almost Some great expressions in this Dylan, loved it. ailsa Author's Reply: Hi Ailsa, Glad you liked this one. Thanks for the nom and your comments. xxx, D. Bowlie on 05-11-2007 Almost brilliant. bx Author's Reply: Thanks, Oor Beks. Been meaning to e-mail you. Will get round to it sometime this century. Thanks again. (and thanks for the nom also-before you beat me about the head with a kipper) xxx, D. artisus on 05-11-2007 Almost Excellent poem dear Dylan. x Author's Reply: Thanks, artisus. Your positive feedback is v. much appreciated. Thanks also for the nom. xxx, D. barenib on 05-11-2007 Almost Another great example of the Dylan genre. I do agree with Ailsa's comment about the 'almost', but as she says, it's a fine piece either way - John. Author's Reply: Thanks, John. On another site (in a galaxy far away), I was informed that almost every poem I produce is about lost love or tragic endings. I didn`t agree with the comment obviously and it`s made me almost paranoid about writing anything in this vein. But sod it. I`ve gone and done it yet again. Thanks again, mon ami. D. Slovitt on 06-11-2007 Almost Dylan: Very fine ending, and a number of delicate, suggestive lines, and images. The 'red sandstone maze' isn't clear to me, and maybe that doesn't matter. Would your third stanza be cleaner, and clearer, without 'into early autumn air'/?, leaving the moths weaving 'their intricacies', in four imagistic lines. Perhaps, As I walk past, A sadness of empty tables scattered on the walkway, I look for ghosts .... .... .... Finally, perhaps cut 'is' from the third line of your last stanza, and every movement, every person, almost you until they become strangers. Hopefully some of these remarks of use to you. A good piece. Swep Author's Reply: Hi Swep, Thanks for the kind comments and suggestions. Much appreciated. D. teifii on 06-11-2007 Almost Absolutely beautiful. I started picking out bits but realised it was all exceptional lines and images so made it a fav instead. Well deserved nomination. Daff http://www.merilang.co.uk/gallery/books/shop.merilang.htm Author's Reply: Hi, Daff. Glad you liked it and thank you for the nom. Orrabest, D. Sunken on 07-11-2007 Almost
Hello Mr. Dylan. You certainly don't need me to tell you how good this piece is. You wouldn't want me to crit because I'd just end up talking about Kylie and her arse, or something equally as disconnected... What am I doing here? She does still have a might fine arse though doesn't she? Bernard, incidentally, is barking his big daft head off. This can mean only one thing... s u n k e n Author's Reply: Hi, young Munky. Thanks for the kind comments-thoughts of Kylies` arse are always welcome. Saw her a repeat of "The Vicar of Dibley" recent-she (and her arse) were in fine form. Sigh... Thanks again, mon ami. D. discopants on 07-11-2007 Almost It reminded me of the music of 'The Blue Nile' from the 'Hats' era. As fellow Glaswegians, I'm guessing you know of them. It's intended as a compliment lest there be any doubt... Author's Reply: Thank you for the kind comment, disco. Did not realize you were a "Weegie" (as those heathen teuchters from Embra call us). I know The Blue Niles` music very well-it`s an honour to be mentioned in the same breath. Thanks again. Orrabest, D. Griffonner on 08-11-2007 Almost A really beautiful piece. Incredibly evocative and skillfully crafted. Congrats on the nib too. Well deserved. Griffonner Author's Reply: Thank you for your kind comment, Griff(oner. Not to be confused with any other person). Much appreciated. D. Mikeverdi on 27-02-2015 Almost This one just popped up on the front page, just wanted to say I think its the best of you 🙂 I hope you don't mind if I nominate it, and push it along; I love it. Mike Author's Reply: |
| On All Hallows (posted on: 29-10-07) Villanelle. Sometimes, quite early on All Hallows I watch a blood orange sun rise over the Clyde, as a bitter wind blows. As a resurrected city grows into life, gulls swoop and dive sometimes, quite early on All Hallows. Soon the Kingston bridge rumbles and flows under a pouting, blueblack sky over the Clyde, as a bitter wind blows. The faint ghosts of double rainbows are painted across my eyes sometimes, quite early on All Hallows. Two figures, dark and thin as crows watch this same solemn sunrise over the Clyde, as a bitter wind blows. Just visible by a cigarette glow. And so they live and so survive, sometimes. Quite early on All Hallows, over the Clyde as a bitter wind blows. Archived comments for On All Hallows Bradene on 29-10-2007 On All Hallows A nicely flowing villanelle, with some vivd imagery. Nice, I liked it. Val Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comment. Val. Glad you liked it. D. eddiesolo on 29-10-2007 On All Hallows Good one, enjoyed this and the imagery is striking. Si:-) Author's Reply: Thanks, Simon. Glad you enjoyed it. D. Jolen on 29-10-2007 On All Hallows I admire anyone who can do forms such as the villanelle and do them well. A fitting piece for the occasion. As always, I enjoyed your crafting. blessings, Jolen Author's Reply: Thank you for your kind comments, Jolen. Much appreciated. D. teifii on 30-10-2007 On All Hallows Brrrrr, made me feel frozen in my warm study with the sun out. Very effective. Daff Author's Reply: Always seems to be windy down at the Clyde. And the gulls are ferocious gits. Thanks for the comment, Daff. D. Jen_Christabel on 30-10-2007 On All Hallows I liked the reptition of 'ows' throughout, that worked well. You always paint such vivid pictures of Scotland with your poetry. Nicely done. Jennifer x Author's Reply: Thanks, Jen. The villanelle is restrictive by its nature, but I like to try one now and again. Orrabest, D. |
| Neighbours (posted on: 22-10-07) Poem. Two sounds, the nightwind river flowing down a street tributary, sobbing its` way to tomorrow. And, as I watch your window shades glimmer, a thrush pleads with the newly risen moon. Here, I picture you reading Bukowski in dappled lamplight, brushing aside a stray wisp of hair, sipping tepid coffee as Bob sings nobody feels any pain. You will not know this caressing wind, hear the scurry of leaf corpses across this deserted street or feel the first breath of rain. These are my realities, the beginnings of truth. Still I watch, as the light dies. And I think of you, alone in a strangeness of moonlight, your hair spreading a dark bruise across snowy linen. Someday soon, we will meet. Archived comments for Neighbours Bowlie on 22-10-2007 Neighbours *no coffee yet* but Wow! A fave for me- back later when able to comment comprehensibly... beksx Author's Reply: freya on 22-10-2007 Neighbours Ditto for me, except my incapacity is due to lack of sleep. I've had coffee aplenty! Fab, surprise ending though, Dylan. Sweet reading, this. Shelagh xx Author's Reply: Tanx, Shelagh. Glad you liked it. XXX, D. Bowlie on 22-10-2007 Neighbours Hiya, it's me I'm back, probably not a whole lot more comprehensible but there you go. What I love about this; it's a poem of longing, ( I love a bit of that) the tone is almost one of remembering, but remembering something that hasn't happened yet. Not only that you've a bird, a girl, a book, some music and a haircut- well almost- there's a wisp of hair, it's the tiny physical details that make it real) so what's not to like? It really picks up for me at ' a thrush pleads' I don' know if it's just me- seems to take that wee bit time to get going. anyway I enjoyed it immensely- definitely be reading again- get that next manuscript done you- I want a new book! beks x Author's Reply: Hiya, Oor Beks. On another site,( in another galaxy,far away, etc) the general consensus was that the last two lines were unnecessary. Personally, I don`t think the poem works without `em- I was going for a slightly sinister postscript, a sting in the tail, if you like. Whaddya think? And, even as we speak, I think a rejection slip is in the mail.(But hope not!) Thanks again. XXX, D. ruadh on 22-10-2007 Neighbours When I reached the end of this and realised they hadn't met yet it suddenly felt a bit voyueristic, but in a nice way, and the yearning somehow intensified. Loved it. ailsa Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind comments, Ailsa. The last two lines were intended to emphasise the narrators` state of mind-his obsession, if you like. Hope this worked! Thanks again. xxx, D. Jen_Christabel on 22-10-2007 Neighbours I just loved the metaphors in this - it was a damned fine piece. Nicely done Dylan! Jennifer x Author's Reply: Thanks, Jen. Glad you liked it. Orrabest, D. Bowlie on 22-10-2007 Neighbours Hiya Mr D, I agree with you about the parting shot- gives it another level, makes it a bit more interesting and yes even a little bit slightly sinister. *muah ha ha ha twiddles theatrical moustache* bx Author's Reply: Yeah, I thought so, Beks. Without these lines, the poem is far more ambiguous-more likely to describe a person`s obsessive behaviour at the end of a relationship. Not that I have ever behaved like this, of course. Well, not recently anyway. Thanks again, D. Ionicus on 23-10-2007 Neighbours Beautiful read, Dylan, full of longing. Loved the twist at the end. Regards, Luigi. Author's Reply: Thanks, Luigi. Your kind comments are much appreciated, as always. D. orangedream on 24-10-2007 Neighbours Pure magic! Tina:-) Author's Reply: Thanks, Tina, Glad you liked this one. XXX, D. Sunken on 25-10-2007 Neighbours Hiya Dylan. I am unable to comment properly of late. This is mainly due to a malfunctioning index finger. I shall instead let Bernard do the talking... woof, woof, bark, woof. Wow. Thanks Bernard. b e r n a r d Author's Reply: Cheers, young Sunky. I always appreciate your feedback-it is kind of you. D. quidnunc on 26-10-2007 Neighbours This is a wonderful poem, I agree with top bark! Top meoooww! from the cat as well. Quiddy Author's Reply: Thanks for taking the time to comment. Your kinds word are much appreciated. D. Bootylicious on 27-10-2007 Neighbours Just beautiful! Author's Reply: Thanks-glad you like it. D. Jolen on 28-10-2007 Neighbours Absolutely perfect work, IMO. A fave for me, as well. blessings, Jolen Author's Reply: Thanks, Jolen. Thank you also for the "Fave" read and author noms. Much appreciated. XXX, D. teifii on 30-10-2007 Neighbours Beautiful. I love a thrush pleads with the newly risen moon. As to the final two lines: I felt one could do without them as the two previous I think are stronger. By the way, even without the last two lines, I didn't think they hadn't met; I thought she had died [it was the hair on the pillow, which is not logical as the smae image would do for sleep]. It's probably just me getting it wrong. Must read again. Anyway it is lovely. Daff Author's Reply: Thanks, Daff. On the other site I mentioned, most readers seemed to prefer the poem without the last two lines. I honestly don`t know if it would work effectively without `em. Oor Beks told me to keep them in anyway, so I have no choice. Thank you once again for your kind words. D. |
| What (posted on: 12-10-07) A touch of Terza... That night, all down the curve of your spine, I tasted her perfume. And all of who I was stood accused. The night made you no more than a stranger. Confused in the streetlights` dead stare, I watched the small, hard madness of shadows flare. And fade. Then die. I`ve tried, I whispered to the night. No answer. The bastard, I wept to the God of Right. There was only silence, what you were and the night. Archived comments for What artisus on 12-10-2007 What super! Author's Reply: Thanks! eddiesolo on 14-10-2007 What I'm not too up on 'chain rhymes' but having read Shelley and Chaucer who both wrote in this form-I can see why you're piece works so well. Enjoyed reading very much. Si:-) Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind comment, Simon. Hope you are keeping well. orrabest, D. |
| Idylls (posted on: 05-10-07) Poem The legend sun finally accepts a slow descent through a sea of unacred blue. And shadows begin to congregate in the mouths of tabernas, in the corners and shutters of these winding streets. The Mediterranean scent- rose petals, coffee, pao baking, rises on a slipstream of ocean air and quivers the ochre-tinged window flowers. And always there are children- ''Escoces, algeum euros?'' brown, dusty and demanding. As a lizard skitters across the roughness of a stone, somewhere a bell is ringing. In Glasgow there is always rain. Ubiquitous thin drizzle, which silvers cars and clings like skin. In mid-afternoon twilight, police sirens will scythe the yellow light of yet another corner bar until dampness shrouds the streets in vagueness. Now, on the edge of day, with the night jars calling your name, the view is clear as this huge, silver disc of moon resting on the ocean rim. Archived comments for Idylls Bowlie on 05-10-2007 Idylls Hi D, I really like the contrast here, a poem of two halves, the first 2 stanzas feel slightly off kilter to me, then it seems to come into stride. Also *puts on interfering hat* I reckon you could lose one of the 'as' s in this line ---> the view is 'as' clear as but that's just me fiddling. have a good weekend bxx p.s - that wasn't you tickling that goalie under the chin the other night was it? Author's Reply: Hiya, Oor Beks. Unfortunately it was not moi who scudded Dida on Wednesday night. (I would have made sure he did not get up-what a tosser). Glad you liked this-have removed the "as" as suggested.(Does that make sense?) Hope you have a nice weekend. Orrabest, D. blackspot on 05-10-2007 Idylls I do like this, it has a taste - something real Author's Reply: Hi BS, Glad you liked this-thanks for the positive feedback. Orrabest, D. Leila on 05-10-2007 Idylls Nice work Dylan...as one who also fiddles so to speak I think you could drop the first verse, have the third verse as your opener and carry on from there, second verse would remain as second drop the 'and'...just a few thoughts as ever...L Author's Reply: Hi sweetness and light, (Am in an "old romantic" phase tonight. Tosses hair and lights candle. Arrgh, burned me bloody finger then). Thank you for the perceptive comments-much appreciated. Orrabest, D. artisus on 05-10-2007 Idylls the first stanza is simply beautiful, but my favourite stanzas are 6 and 7 Author's Reply: Thank you for your kind comment. Much appreciated, as ever. XXX, D. Sunken on 08-10-2007 Idylls Sorry Dylan. Did I miss this from last sub day? Not that a dumb ass comment from me is going to make a difference. You're still up there Mr. Dylan. Does it make you dizzy? I guess you'll just have to live with it. I blame hills, mountains and those pogo sticks that were big during the punk movement. I hope this helps. Good day. s u n k e n god save Bitty McLean Author's Reply: |
| The Myth of Transfiguration (posted on: 21-09-07) Poem On the edge of a rain-tinged Monday when the day and days stretch across the desert of consciousness, a long dead car splutters and scatters a handful of starlings. And the morning air is bitter with the taste of breezeblock and broken glass. Paddy rattles the bones of his empty bowl, as Prussian blue raindrops trace the window frames. Low cloud gathers on the hills where I hoped God lived. And I think of October when the north star filled the room, and touched your face with what seemed like purity. A glimmer of divinity, of Isis and Miriam and The Absolute. And I rise and clothe myself in the colourless bindings of who I am. Archived comments for The Myth of Transfiguration Jolen on 21-09-2007 The Myth of Transfiguration A myriad of images come to me from your fine poem, and the ending just clinches this, it really 'drove' it home. blessings, Jolen Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind comments, Jolen. D. Kenart on 21-09-2007 The Myth of Transfiguration A remarkably visual poem. The clarity of thought in each stanza is amazing Author's Reply: Thanks for taking the time to comment. Much appreciated. D. artisus on 21-09-2007 The Myth of Transfiguration 10. or Excellent. there's nothing else to say. Author's Reply: Thanks again for your comments. You encourage me more than you know. D. barenib on 21-09-2007 The Myth of Transfiguration Dylan, it's strange that out of sadness can come beauty and this is certainly the case here. The word 'transfiguration' conjures up so many Russian churches for me - just a personal thing 🙂 Anyway, this deserves a nib in my opinion - John. Author's Reply: Thanks, John. I`ll take this as a "Bare" nib, non? Ithankyew. D. Sunken on 22-09-2007 The Myth of Transfiguration Another classy chunk of Dylan and no mistake. Especially liked the breezeblock line. Tasty and no mistake. Rate: 10 s u n k e n wigan 2 - sensible shoes 3 Author's Reply: Wigan 3? I thought they were called Wigan Nil. Thanks once more Young Munky. D. teifii on 22-09-2007 The Myth of Transfiguration That's really lovely. It is so economical and yet conjures everything so exactly. Daff Author's Reply: Glad you liked this and thanks for the comment, Daff. D. silversun on 23-09-2007 The Myth of Transfiguration Dylan, I don't know why, but this reads to me as though it was written all at different times. This is neither good nor bad, just how it felt to read. What is definitely good however is the phrasing of quite a few of the lines/stanzas. After a slowish start we are hit with the morning air "...bitter with the taste/of breezeblock/and broken glass", and so it goes from there; the five lines between 'October' and 'purity' the high point for me, the final four being barely a step down. One thing maybe to look at would be a possible over-use of 'and', the final stanza in particular wouldn't miss it, I think. Unless you are using it as a device to imply the dragging on of time, in which case, it may just work. James Author's Reply: Thanks for taking the time to comment. I`ve no idea why you have the impression "this was written all at different times". The first lines are "On the edge of a rain tinged Monday"", which would imply to me that it is either the start or end of the day.Then, "desert of consciousness", "handful of starlings"and "morning air" nails it pretty much to the early morning. Why do you think the beginning is "slowish"? In what sense? It`s a total of 25 words-used to set the scenario of early morning mundanity, which is intended to contrast with the "October/north star" stanzas. silversun on 23-09-2007 The Myth of Transfiguration When I said at different times, I don't mean within the poem itself, but in reality, when you have written it; that you have put down a few lines then left it, then come back and added more. Again, I don't know why that was the case when I first read it, but it was. By slowish, I mean, and this could be what caused me to think it was written in stages, that there is a difference to me between the language/phrasing at a certain point. After reading from 'And the morning air', the beginning doesn't hold the same effect: 'rain-tinged', 'when the day/and days' and 'long dead car' don't do the same for me as the phrasings of what follows, though that 'desert of consciousness' has its charms. Don't get me wrong, Dylan, I liked this. Still do. James Author's Reply: |
| Relict (posted on: 14-09-07) Poem Inevitably we go back, as the slow ebb of light blurs the fierce outlines of glass and red sandstone into an infinite grey of small flurries of sleet against bone coloured windows. On the streets, random sightings of spider figures, tousled litter, a straggle of lamps in shuttered hair salons. And footsteps like a pulse, thread the harsh solace of seagull wails, assume the magnitude of annunciation, of doors opening, of not quite truth. Now the sense of presence in an empty room, a shadow moving just beyond sight. An almost- memory kept locked, secured and slowly dying, somewhere. Archived comments for Relict Bowlie on 14-09-2007 Relict Hi Dylan, A poem of not quite truths and almost memories, shade and light, shifting perceptions, beware of the undertow. or to put it more simply -as Russ Abbot once sang 'Oh what an atmosphere' I love the 'straggle of lamps', red sandstone and footsteps like a pulse. The only thing I tripped on slightly was the bone-coloured windows. Have a good weekend you. bek Author's Reply: Hi Beks, Sorry for delay-thanks for the kind comments. (Had some relatives staying over the weekend-it involved a trip to Parkhead and much alchohol). Still suffering a bit. Cheers, D. artisus on 14-09-2007 Relict very good! Author's Reply: Thanks. (continuing minimalist comments). Cheers, D. Sunken on 14-09-2007 Relict In keeping with Nic's minimalist trend I shall echo 'very good!' and add a surreal 'battle-star peculiar.' I know that this will probably mean nothing and that I am now in danger of becoming anything but minimal, but I just suffer terribly with nerves when I get inside these comment boxes. I've even had the alternative choice of rating taken away from me. What's a sunk to do? Coffee, I'll get a coffee, maybe a fag and a crumpet. I think you'll agree Dylan, one of my more useful comments? Top as ever. Thanks. Good day. s u n k e n less we forget bungle Author's Reply: Coffee, fags and crumpets are bang in order. Try also a roll(cob, barm cake, whatever) with fried Scottish square sausage and onions, a bottle of Irn Bru and a rub down with the Glasgow Evening Times. Works every time. And thank you once more, young Munky. Orrabest, D. |
| Horses (posted on: 03-09-07) Poem Through early morning market echoes, I walked past wood squared shop windows, resplendent in their cheese rounds and sunrise sides of ham, down narrow wynds, still tinged with slivers of autumn mist. To the vastness of the fields, ragged with damp gorse and thistle and the elms beginning their morphosis into grasping skeletons. And he appeared Disjointed, emaciated, twisted as a broken oath, The light, still growing, touched thin copper haunches as a light breeze raked the threadbare mane and swirled red and gold leaves across his back. In these revelations of the self, the bitter truth of who we were, I waited in the unending here and now, as he lay under that ashen-blue sky, not hearing the reproachful crows rail at the emerging dawn. Archived comments for Horses artisus on 03-09-2007 Horses hi Dylan, i have a question, perhaps it's a typo i don't know, but i had a problem with the word 'emaciated' here. it's full of images and strong emotions i feel, and I like your poem. cheers Dylan. Author's Reply: artisus on 03-09-2007 Horses ooooh, I see, yeah, my dictionary and the free dictionary com didn't have this word, but now I found it. so no typos! just a Greek learning more words 🙂 Author's Reply: Thank you for your kind comments, mon ami. Glad you like this `un. D. Jolen on 04-09-2007 Horses What a clever, clever poem! I started highlighting bits I was especially fond of and realized that the whole damn piece is just brilliant. But I will say these bits really spoke to me. "And he appeared Disjointed, emaciated, twisted as a broken oath, " That may be one of my most favorite lines ever! Blessings, Jolen Author's Reply: Thank you for your kind comments, Jolen. Orrabest, D. blackdove on 05-09-2007 Horses Hi Dylan, This made me think of the horse Boxer in Animal Farm when it smelled the knackers yard and realises it's been betrayed. Some wonderful images - you manage to capture the atmosphere of a scene, the moment, in your poems - quite a knack, sir. Jemx Author's Reply: Thanks, Jem. Much appreciated. XXX, D. Sunken on 05-09-2007 Horses Hello Mr. Dylan. Another tip top piece and no mistake. Especially like the reproachful crows line. Nice pome, crap comment. Who needs ratings anyway? s u n k e n made it to bed without a scratch Author's Reply: Hiya, Young Munky. Thanks again-crows in another poem? Am I developing a fixation? (other than Kylie?) Should I bovver? Not `arf. Cheers and orrabest. D. Ionicus on 06-09-2007 Horses Another top class poem as we have come to expect from you, Jon. You never let us down. Well done on the nib. Luigi. Author's Reply: Thanks, Luigi. Coming from a well-respected wordsmith such as your good self, the comments are all the more welcome. Cheers, D. Zoya on 06-09-2007 Horses What a lovely metaphor of a horse! And we live on... Broken, emaciated of hope, oblivious of the impending doom... Like in dream, or rather a surrealistic nightmare... A real piece of art as usual dear Dylan. Always a pleasure to read you! ((Hugs)) Love, Zoya Author's Reply: Ow, mind the auld back! Joking aside, thank you for your kind words. They encourage and are much appreciated. Orrabest, XXX, D. reckless on 12-09-2007 Horses Very very good. I do like the overall tone you have captured, the slow, meditative reflection, the contrast between the natural elements and the human brokenness - that, I think, is what makes it special. Author's Reply: Thanks for taking the time to comment. Much appreciated. D. Bowlie on 13-09-2007 Horses Hi Dylan, It's me bek, how's it going? I suspect you've a sore head this morning? How about that wee Faddy eh? Reading this made me realise how much I've missed reading your poems, so tell me you've either got or will soon have a follow up to Glasgow Kisses out ? Anyway on with the crappy comment - for me this conjures not only a scene but an emotion, I particularly enjoyed all the shapes in stanza one, its solidness/physicality the way you move on so easily to the natural and ephemeral. Horses indeed. bek Author's Reply: Beks, light of my life! How the devil are you? Long time no see (or read). Yup, I did watch the footie, but am not a great Scotland national team fan. Nice to see `em doing well, though. Glad you liked this one-no follow up to GK, as yet.(few things in the pipeline, but nothing concrete). Will send you a PM-nice to see you back. XXX, D. |
| The Seer (posted on: 27-08-07) Poem In the ruminations of these round faced trees and the vague scent of bruised primrose, there is a hint of October, of inevitable endings and the souls` unfolding. Here, the crows are excitable. Their dark vowels fill the afternoon with warnings, as they swirl charcoal lines through persimmon air. I watch a poplar seed spin to infinity. On the edge of this moment, between now and the constant revelation of what is to come, a blackbird sings among oak leaves still blue with rain. Archived comments for The Seer chant on 27-08-2007 The Seer evokes a kind of feeling i can really relate to. and beautiful concluding lines. Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind words, Ian. Much appreciated, as always. D. Sunken on 27-08-2007 The Seer Hello again Mr. Dylan. This is classic Dylan in my book. Loved it and no mistake. Especially liked - Here, the crows are excitable. Their dark vowels fill the afternoon with warnings, as they swirl charcoal lines through persimmon air. Top stuff. Well done on the muchly deserved nib. s u n k e n swathed in the shadows of coma Author's Reply: Thanks, Sunky. A nib and a 5-0 win for Celtic. What could be better? (Now where did I put my Kylie mag?) Thanks again, D, Ionicus on 28-08-2007 The Seer A very expressive poem, Dylan, with classical lines. Not related to that Thomas bloke, are you? He wasn't bad either. Best, Luigi. Author's Reply: Thanks for your kind words, Luigi. I am of course, the love child of the lapine hero from "The Magic Roundabout". (Think Andrea might be me mum!) Cheers, D. Elfstone on 28-08-2007 The Seer Now this is really good. That's it. It's funny isn't it that when something's very good there's not so much to say about it, but this is really, really good poetry. Elf. Author's Reply: Thanks, Elf. Glad you liked this one-your feedback is much appreciated. D. Jolen on 29-08-2007 The Seer I have to agree, this is very fine writing. I loved the title and then you drew me deeper into the 'theme' with your precise and powerful lines, economical wording and intense images. Congrats on the nib. The poem is very much deserving, imo. A true pleasure for the reader in every regard. blessings, Jolen Author's Reply: Thanks, Jolen. Your kind words are much appreciated. D. Macjoyce on 29-08-2007 The Seer Wotcher, John. This is a sweet little pome and no mistake. Really like the vowels of the crows, as though they can actually verbally issue warnings. What are they warning? The constant revelation? Is it just the end of summer or summat more sinister? ‘Persimmon air’ is interesting. Are the crows flying no higher than the trees themselves? Crows, blackbird, charcoal, all very dark. Do oak leaves go blue in the rain? I’ve never really looked. Ta-ra, Mac the Raven Author's Reply: dylan on 30-08-2007 The Seer Orl roight me owd mucker? It is, I admit, a far cry from your own finely wrought wordplay. I tend to go for imagery to illustrate any relevant points. Is it over-pretentious? (Moi?) I dunno-just liked the way it ran together. Tanx for your comments. Mac D. Author's Reply: artisus on 30-08-2007 The Seer amazing poem Author's Reply: Thank you, mon ami. Glad you liked it. D. Mikeverdi on 08-01-2015 The Seer Love this one mate 🙂 Author's Reply: |
| The Burning Tears of Yeshua Ben Yusuf (posted on: 17-08-07) Poem You will never hear the night sounds; The whispers of bush crickets or the fox`s bark I half believe is dreamed. Or see the immutable signs. The weft in the soul, the death of faith in the last cobalt blue of midnight. Or wake to the sun etching swallows on morning lit walls, the mouse patter of rain against dawn filled windows. These memories which constitute the self, exist in spirit not as empirical truth, but small bitter gifts of each day I knew you. Archived comments for The Burning Tears of Yeshua Ben Yusuf Rupe on 17-08-2007 The Burning Tears of Yeshua Ben Yusuf 'Weft' had me grumbling and reaching for the dictionary, but once I found out what it was I cheered up and realised it's the exact word - or one of a select group - for the meaning you want here. Loved the imagery - particularly the swallows - and the conclusion is dazzling in its careful precision, the way it forces the reader to think in a new way about the familiar. In fact, that's the skill of the whole - the precision of it, the freshness, and the stubborn refusal to yield to commonplace expressions or ways of thinking. Impressive. Rupe Author's Reply: Thanks for taking the time to comment , Rupe. Much appreciated. D. petersjm on 17-08-2007 The Burning Tears of Yeshua Ben Yusuf Dyl, I don't often comment on poetry as I don't know enough to be constructive with my comments, but I wanted to say I liked this. The imagery is startlingly fantastic! Like rupe, I had a problem with 'weft', but I let it pass 😀 Author's Reply: Glad you liked it. Thanks for the kind comments. D. teifii on 17-08-2007 The Burning Tears of Yeshua Ben Yusuf Absolutely beautiful. Have nominated it and can't say anything else pertinent. Daff Author's Reply: Thanks, Daff. I really appreciate your feedback. Have PM`d you re nom. Hope this is ok, D. teifii on 17-08-2007 The Burning Tears of Yeshua Ben Yusuf Absolutely beautiful. Have nominated it and can't say anything else pertinent. Daff Author's Reply: chant on 17-08-2007 The Burning Tears of Yeshua Ben Yusuf this is very sure-footed, and builds towards a quite excellent final stanza. quality. Author's Reply: Coming from a talented poet such as your good self, I appreciate your kind words. Thanks, Ian. D. orangedream on 17-08-2007 The Burning Tears of Yeshua Ben Yusuf I love the imagery of the 'mouse patter', along with all the rest. Nice one, Dylan well deserving of the nib and nom. Tina:-) Author's Reply: Thanks, Tina. Orrabest, D. e-griff on 17-08-2007 The Burning Tears of Yeshua Ben Yusuf a deep and enjoyable piece, and as has been said the last verse is very strong. Author's Reply: While I appreciate comments, feedback, opinions etc, I think it`s best if you don`t comment on my work. I have asked before-and given my reasons for requesting this, which remain valid. I`ve no wish to enter into (yet another) verbal slagging match, which, given past events, is a distinct possiblity. So, for you only-no comments, please. e-griff on 17-08-2007 The Burning Tears of Yeshua Ben Yusuf John, I had hoped, after this, your fourth (?) retreat and reincarnation, you might have regained tranquillity or some sense of reason. I was wrong. 'Verbal slagging'? - all yours, I'm afraid, and that is the cause of my regret. I have complimented you on a fine poem, as I would anyone else on the site. I still have no understanding of your attitude, or the reason for it. I may comment again if I choose to do so. You can choose to do what you wish of course. May I suggest a mature choice is to bite your tongue and simply say, 'thankyou' ? Otherwise PM me and resolve any issues. I can't be fairer than that. But this circus is simply daft - how many times do you creep in, then blow your top and disgrace yourself, retreat, and creep back months later to start the whole silly cycle again? FOUR so far - and you are about to do it again it I fear (and I really don't wish it, for your sake). Best regards, JohnG Author's Reply: If you check any of my replies to the comments on this poem, I have thanked the people concerned-and I sincerely appreciate their input. My problem is soley with you. I have no interest in your opinion, your poetry or your condescending attitude. To comment on my work is a waste of your time and mine. Also, I have "crept" nowhere. If I choose to post on UKA, then I will do so. For once I`m not going to point out your many personality flaws-all I ask is that you leave my work alone. Sunken on 19-08-2007 The Burning Tears of Yeshua Ben Yusuf Hello Mr. Dylan. Good to see you around again and no mistake. I like this more than the ten minute unscrambled porn preview that shows on Channel X. Ok, that's a big statement, but I means it. Nice one Mr. Dylan. s u n k e n blinded by the night Author's Reply: Thank you kindly, young Spunky. Glad you liked it. (The 10 min preview is better on Climax, btw-or so I am told). Orrabest, D. |
| So (posted on: 02-03-07) Poem There are possibilities here. In the slow burn of the setting sun or how a tern turns the edge of silence with broken hosannas. And promise in this wisp of blue wood-smoke and the slow breathing of light night rain. A mile away, a car park bristles with scattered glass teeth, "IRA ROOL" gleams on moonlit concrete, as a famished wind hunts high rise blocks. Reconcilation is the sound of laughter dissolving, of souls opening, drawing breath. Archived comments for So admin on 02-03-2007 So Well, to be fair, it's not been on site long. Dyl knows he's always welcome here. I read this before it was published on site (sorry, Dyl) - thought it was beautiful then, and think it's beautiful now. And that from someone who doesn't know a pome from a hole in the ground...:-) Author's Reply: Tai-Li and Andrea, thank you both for the comments. Much appreciated. In the grand scheme of things, it matters not a jot if the poem does not attract comments. Ce la vie. XXX, D. eddiesolo on 13-04-2007 So Bloody fine piece Dylan. Great write and hardly any comments...something wrong somewhere. Enjoyed reading very much. Si:-) Author's Reply: Simon, thank you for your kind comment-I do appreciate it. But The Ego Formerly Known As Posy will be most displeased.... D. |
| St Ives, ten years after (posted on: 19-02-07) Poem The Chinese print stirs blue against blue, in a slow breath of morning. As new light is broken on the thin shutter bones, the air is laced with last nights` perfume the taste of salt and rain and the sweeping gulls forage and criticize. I have seen your photograph on the dusty shelves of friends cold and serene. And perfect as this sun. Now the dappled sand gives up fragments of a broken grail, and some tenuous silk threads, improbably intact. And I watch morning fill the white sailed yachts, as the sea showers absolution on all the selves I have ever been. Archived comments for St Ives, ten years after Andrea on 19-02-2007 St Ives, ten years after I thought this was beautiful, Dyl, melancholy (not sure if it was supposed to be tho'!) and moving. I particularly liked this 'as the sea showers absolution on all the selves I have ever been.' Nice to see you back 🙂 Author's Reply: Michel on 19-02-2007 St Ives, ten years after I found this powerful, vivid, and beautiful. Author's Reply: delph_ambi on 19-02-2007 St Ives, ten years after I absolutely love this poem. Superb. Might have done some of it slightly differently myself, but so what. It works wonderfully your way. One typo spotted; nights' should've been night's, I reckon as it's referring to a specific night rather than nights generally. Author's Reply: Zoya on 19-02-2007 St Ives, ten years after Dear Dylan, I love the last stanza, it is very poetic! (((Hugs for the lyrical piece)) Love, Zoya Author's Reply: dylan on 19-02-2007 St Ives, ten years after Andrea, Michel, Delph and Zoya-thank you all for the positive comments. Glad you liked this one. D. Author's Reply: flossieBee on 24-02-2007 St Ives, ten years after Beautiful and moving. I particularly like the seagulls that 'forage and criticize.' fB Author's Reply: e-griff on 24-02-2007 St Ives, ten years after i can't help but say that this is a truly an excellent poem. G Author's Reply: dylan on 24-02-2007 St Ives, ten years after This last comments bothers me. In fact, it bothers me greatly. I`ve frequently said I couldn`t give a shit about your opinion and fundamentally, I stand by that. But I know that after our recent exchange of views, I could never have written these words about anything you had produced-no matter how highly I rated it. It goes against the grain to say it, but this does you credit. D. Author's Reply: e-griff on 24-02-2007 St Ives, ten years after I sincerely meant those words, full stop. There's nothing in me that stops me from commenting on work as I see it, whatever kind of person the author is, or however gratuitously offensive they may have been . 🙂 what else are we doing on this site? my opinion is you should listen to everyone's opinions objectively, respectfully, whether you 'like' them or not. How else does one grow and improve as a writer? The non-'good' poet of today can become the 'good' poet of tomorrow. Their intellect and creativity, even though unformed and unschooled can be beneficial as advice, even though they themselves may not yet have grasped some of the skills of 'good' poetry that a 50 yr old such as yourself may have learned. Trust them -many will achieve. Eveyone starts somewhere. Author's Reply: dylan on 24-02-2007 St Ives, ten years after Steady,me old fruit. Unfortunately, you never quite lose the knack of being condescending. I`ve been writing poetry for about 10 years now-have had a small measure of success. Don`t you think by this time I`m well schooled in the University of Hard Knocks? Contrary to what you say, I welcome measured, informed crit. I have posted work on other sites which has been torn up for lavatory paper. And I have thanked those responsible-because I respect their opinion. And there is the crux. BTW, although borne of frustration, I stand by my view of eddiesolo`s poem. It does not reflect my opinion of Simon Murphy as a person. He is a genuinely nice guy, who I hope will go onto much success. And I ain`t 50 yet. Author's Reply: admin on 24-02-2007 St Ives, ten years after Am I still invited to your 50th, Dyl? 🙂 Author's Reply: eddiesolo on 24-02-2007 St Ives, ten years after Hello Dylan, This is indeed a good write, outstanding poetry and much enjoyed. Si:-) Author's Reply: dylan on 24-02-2007 St Ives, ten years after Thanks, Simon-and, as I said, IMO you are a genuinely nice guy. HR, of course you are still invited. In fact EVERYONE is invited. (even Griff?) Yup, even Griff. Goddamit, at this rate, I`m not gonna have anyone left to argue with.... Author's Reply: eddiesolo on 24-02-2007 St Ives, ten years after Cheers for the compliment, and as for your opinion...I was miffed at the way you did it, not at the comment per say. Water under the bridge, move on a get writing. Si:-) Author's Reply: e-griff on 24-02-2007 St Ives, ten years after It wasn't about Simon, it was about most of the bulk of the site's members, who, as I recall, apparently weren't fit to comment on a 'good' poet's work. That was what my preaching was about. If that's not your view now, you're home free! 🙂 G Author's Reply: admin on 24-02-2007 St Ives, ten years after Name the date 'n' venue Dyl - me, Evelyn and Jess will be there 🙂 Right knees up that'll be... Author's Reply: dylan on 25-02-2007 St Ives, ten years after Will let ya know, HR. But come on, Griff. I never at any time said or thought , that "the bulk of the site`s members weren`t fit to comment on a "good" poet`s work." I only ever get pissed off at you- and that is when you are being overbearing and pompous. And if you are being honest, you know that DOES happen from time to time. But, let peace commence. I`ll draw up a pressie list for me 50th, ok? D. Author's Reply: admin on 25-02-2007 St Ives, ten years after That'll be beer, beer and beer, then 🙂 Author's Reply: littleditty on 25-02-2007 St Ives, ten years after Beautiful atmosphere, a delicate sadness - felt like a haiku to start, i am sure i have seen this print! The Chinese print stirs In a slow breath of morning Blue, against the blue and your last stanza could stand alone - it is beautiful. xxxldx Author's Reply: littleditty on 25-02-2007 St Ives, ten years after 🙠i forgot to say i like the description 'dappled sand'!:) Author's Reply: Mikeverdi on 08-04-2016 St Ives, ten years after John my old fruit, please post this on the site. I want to nominate it. I will beat you with a stick come September if you don't. You can say I requested it. Mike Author's Reply: |
| Please don`t send dead kittens (posted on: 09-02-07) Short and pointless The Megalomaniac said I think, therefore I am a genius, you see. You must agree no ordinary man Could produce such exquisite work. The sonnets and haiku flow from my pen. Just now and then I might damn someone new With faint, but well-meaning praise Well, no one can compare with my prose and I`m self-chosen as a nouveau rich Voltaire . The Megalomaniac said Jesus was mistaken. He used oil to heal. I only feel it cures my constipation. The Megalomaniac said for a long time I`ve known all native Scots are just ex-pats who should be carried home. The Megalomaniac said Old Einstein I declare, was quite absurd. My final word E never =mc2 Archived comments for Please don`t send dead kittens Macjoyce on 09-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens I don't think this poem is pointless at all. It's a very good satire of a particular type of person. I don't think you should use the word 'Megalomaniac' though. It gives too much away. Don't you think? Let the reader make up their mind if the bloke is a megalomaniac or not. Maybe you should just give him a name like John Ferguson. Great rhyme scheme by the way. It's unusual. And mistaken/constipation is a top rhyme. I think the rhythm could be sharper, it does clunk a bit. I reckon it'd be better if it was all tetrametric/trimetric, like a traditional abab or abcb-rhymed ballad. For example, 'exquisite' is too long, could be 'wondrous' or something. 'Well-meaning' would be better as 'well-intended'. "with my prose - I'm the self-chosen/ nouveau-riche Voltaire" again, I think would scan better. Regards and dead kittens, Macjoyce Author's Reply: dylan on 09-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Mes amis, thank you both for taking the time to comment. I would not take this too seriously-it was written in about ten minutes and has very little to do with my usual output.(Check Gilbert at ABC). For what it`s worth, the b/cc/b rhyming scheme and 6/8 syllable count give a certain cadence which I rather like. I described it as "pointless" as there is very little point in highlighting this type of behaviour to such an egoist; He/she will justify themselves no matter what. There is no name included as it was written about a certain megalomaniac of my aquaintance who was involved in a very nasty incident with a friend of mine. I hope he is suitably ashamed. Thanks again, XXX, D. Author's Reply: Dil on 09-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens I believe there are enough references included in your poem to enable one to pick out the culprit in any line-up. Thought the 'He/she will justify themselves no matter what'...was nicely rounded off by stating...'I hope he is suitable ashamed' Thanks for cutting the odds down. Dil Author's Reply: orangedream on 09-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens I agree. E certainly doesn't equate to mc2, rather E= m(c*c) n'est ce pas? And that equates to a hell of a lot of energy in any body! (sorry, don't know the html code for superscript) Nice to see you back by the way. regards Tina Author's Reply: dylan on 09-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Again, thanks for the comments. But this is very much a one-off (and a throwaway at that). XXX, D. Author's Reply: e-griff on 11-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens John, you continue to amaze me! I was previously reading 'Death of a Willow Warbler' by our current WOTM and some of your observations on care when commenting rang very true. Some people, eh? Author's Reply: dylan on 11-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens You continue to talk complete shite, Griffiths. Not that it surprises me. Hope some of the observations in the context of this poem rang true as well. Author's Reply: e-griff on 11-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Yes O master, just going off now to follow your own excellent practical example of how to comment ... *bows* I shall report progress later. Author's Reply: Flash on 11-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Hi Dylan I recognise this person, both tactless and vile, also self delusional that they think they're way above the rest of us. They think they can trample over peoples feelings without a 2nd thought, but when confronted... offer an attempt at apology, that is just a patronising superior hollow gesture. Hypocrits and narcisstic to the extreme, forever contradicting themselves. Sometimes it's amusing when their ego self destructs on them...other times ubelievably dreadful to witness, when they're allowed to go unmoderated and run amok, amongst people unable to meet such brutality. Omnipotent and arrogant, i love it when they're brought down to earth. Someone did instantly spring to mind during reading of your profile of a megalomaniac bully...hmmmm i wonder why? Take care pal. Flash Author's Reply: e-griff on 11-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens so (if I'm following you) if you find out you've hurt someone's feelings, and apologise and are kind to them after, that's wrong is it? gosh, I'm learning allsorts here. 🙂 *goes to check if examplar person apologised or not* Author's Reply: dylan on 11-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Flash, thanks for your comment. While you`re at it Griffiths, say "Hi" to the gendarmes for me. I understand they know you quite well. Author's Reply: Dil on 11-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Andrea, please come quick...the boys are fighting with handbags again. Dil Author's Reply: e-griff on 11-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens *pockets MANLY wallet* I was stopped for speeding twice, in France as I think I reported *shame* (never in the UK) You go to the Tabac and buy a stamp (€60) and the bloke behind the counter grins at you knowingly. You stick one half of the stamp on the postcard they give you and send it off, keeping the smaller for yourself (as proof you've paid). no points on a uK licence. Incidentally, you get charged now in France for a TV licence on your annual tax, automatically. You have to sign the card and send it off to opt out. So they only have to check on them, not everybody. How sensible! It would save us millions if they did it in the UK (and boost the BBC's revenue). Oops, I'm rambling now (it was the gendarmes that did it) back to the fray! Too true Dil. Well put. I for one shall stop this nonsensical froth after your bucket of water 🙂 nice touch, mate! Author's Reply: Andrea on 11-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Oh, gimme a break - you lot are pathetic. Where's your dignity? I think I shall delete all comments. Author's Reply: eddiesolo on 11-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Hello Dylan, Just wanted to say that for a throw away piece, I thought this rather good. An answer for everything and everything to answer, clever. I'm glad that you decided to carry on posting, as your work is a great source of understanding in contemporary poetry. Again, nice to see you back. Si:-) Author's Reply: eddiesolo on 11-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Pathetic is just one emotion of the range that writers show, pride we fight for precious work even when others rate it low. And when they say: the pen is mightier than the sword! Surely men of intellect should really strike accord. Si, talking crap:-) Author's Reply: dylan on 11-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Simon, in the midst of this snarling bile, you provide a voice of sanity. Your words do you credit and I thank you for them. D. Author's Reply: Andrea on 11-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Snarling bile is right, John - may I ask why? Why, after an absence of 3 months, do you come back and cause so much trouble? What's happened to you? We've met, broken bread (well, shared pints) together, remember? I thought we respected each other, but now it seems you want to bring down my site. Again, why? If you dislike UKA so much, best to stay away altogether, surely? If you have a problem with a member, why must this be aired in public? Have you not heard of emails and pm's? I am very disappointed in you - I had expected better. 'Surely men of intellect should really strike accord' - quite. Not much intellect going on here, methinks. *Andrea extremely pissed off* Author's Reply: dylan on 11-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens There was no intent to cause trouble on my part, Andrea. I posted this as a satire on a person I`m aquainted with-named no names, did not list misdeeds. In the above thread, I reacted to a snide comment. I have no wish to bring UKA down and will stay away, as you suggest. D. Author's Reply: richardh on 12-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens "There was no intent to cause trouble on my part, Andrea. " Then why write and submit it dylan? This is just a refection of how people in this world live. Things start small and escalate and then when the place explodes the originator(s) say 'It wasn't anything to do with me' and 'why do I get the blame' The majority feel totally blameless and herein lies the problem. Author's Reply: dylan on 12-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens As I said previously Richard, the poem named no names and was IMO, a fairly innocuous piece of satire. If a reader associates this with a person who frequents UKA, then that is their prerogative. And, as I also mentioned, I will stay away in future. D. Author's Reply: e-griff on 12-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens when in a hole ..... I liked the 'gendarmes' bit though. What was that about? Author's Reply: jay12 on 12-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Is this about Tony Blair? Nice poem, Jay. Author's Reply: dylan on 13-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Not quite, Jay. Close though. As regards the previous comment, while I would love to respond in like kind (snide remark and jibe), I will leave it for the time being. All I will say is that if the whole story behind this situation was known, I would not be the one being condemned. And that, mes amis, is my final word. D. Author's Reply: Michel on 13-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Apart from that (final word thingy), one hopes to see for camaraderie and spirits warm and if possible free, your brilliant poems wher'ere they be. To repeat what eddiesolo said (all best wishes to you, with the treatment for your eyes, Simon): your work is a great source of understanding in contemporary poetry. Not to say we don't all have real problems at times, but readers decide for themselves - from tone and nuance, often - and your poetry is art. It stands alone, it grips the heart, and it is important. Author's Reply: e-griff on 13-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens I've always admired John's poetry, it's the rest of him I don't understand at all now, sadly. Author's Reply: Macjoyce on 14-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Dylan, don't be silly. Don't leave the site. There's no reason why you shouldn't respond to a snide comment. I think, if there *are* people trying to bring this site down, then you're not one of them. Is all this mild bickering controversy, is it trouble? It doesn't sound as though it's even started yet. Isn't this poem in accentual verse?... Author's Reply: e-griff on 14-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens 'All I will say is that if the whole story behind this situation was known, I would not be the one being condemned.' Bollocks! Hey, Dylan's 'last stand' here was nothing to do with me, (as an aside, just in case...) He dug his own hole, IMO, insulting most people on the site, and dumping on an innocent poster in the most cruel way. I'm sorry, I'm generally a nice guy, understanding and tolerant. But the hypocrisy and self-delusion here worry me. John used to be a pal. i honestly have no idea why he's 'off on one' for a long time now, and I'm sad for him, but I can't let the crap pass any longer. Forgive me, please. JohnG Author's Reply: e-griff on 14-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens 'All I will say is that if the whole story behind this situation was known, I would not be the one being condemned.' Bollocks! Hey, Dylan's 'last stand' here was nothing to do with me, (as an aside, just in case...) He dug his own hole, IMO, insulting most people on the site, and dumping on an innocent poster in the most cruel way. I'm sorry, I'm generally a nice guy, understanding and tolerant. But the hypocrisy and self-delusion here worry me. John used to be a pal. i honestly have no idea why he's 'off on one' for a long time now, and I'm sad for him, but I can't let the crap pass any longer. Forgive me, please. JohnG Author's Reply: I seem to have hit a nerve here. To clarify my intentions and hopefully put this matter to rest, let me reiterate the statement from my first comment on this piece. The poem was written in response to a friend of mine being subject to vile abuse from a certain megalomaniac of my acquaintance. The repercussions were quite severe-my friend requested that no names or mention of the incident be included in the poem. This is the absolute truth. Why, after leaving UKA of my own choosing, would I decide to post this, otherwise? One major symptom of megalomania is that the sufferer often makes grandiose, sweeping statements on subjects he or she knows very little about. This would include for example, “Einstein`s theory of relativity is wrong. I know better. “ or “Ignore Scottish history. All Scots were English 200 years agoâ€. To this could be added “He insulted most people on the siteâ€. “One person†can be substituted for “most peopleâ€, in this case. I may be sadly mistaken, but Flash, Tai-Li, Tina and Michel on this thread seemed genuinely pleased to see me. I did describe eddiesolo`s poem as dire and I stand by my opinion. This of course, has nothing to do with my assessment of Simon Murphy as a person- He is IMO, a genuinely nice guy. “I can`t let the crap pass any longerâ€. This could well be linked to rampant egocentricity. I suggest syrup of figs. Most certainement, La Fin D. e-griff on 14-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens see https://www.ukauthors.com/modules.php?name=News&file=article&sid=17641 Author's Reply: Andrea on 14-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Oh give it a rest, will you? ALL of you. Author's Reply: jody on 14-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Hm. I might have said I found this poem amusing and interesting. Apparently there is more going on here than meets the eye. Well, I like the poem anyways - the title hooked me right in and the style is truly interesting. Dylan, I do not know of you, but would you allow yourself to be banished by some bullshit? Does anyone take this stuff so seriously that they will fight over a posting? Ridiculous! Speaking of ridiculous... can anyone enlighten me on the following: I received an email from a Brit friend today which included a link to Tony Blair on YouTube doing a rendition of "War! What is It Good For?" - people Is this for Real? And if so, why didn't Mr. Blair just hook up with a camera crew and tell the world that he listened to an idiot? Author's Reply: Michel on 14-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Agree with Jody. It's just a site, with all kinds of people, who continue in their own way, which they should do, ignoring words which people will make up their own minds about, speaking of which, here's a note about it from an 11-year-old. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ozDh4NQveJs Author's Reply: Macjoyce on 15-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Couldn't agree more with Jody and Michel. The beauty of this site is that it represents such a teeming swathe of humanity, it's a joy to behold, even the people who bicker and lie. All part of life's rich tapestry. No point getting upset about anything on here, it's unlikely you'll meet the other writers personally, unless you set out to do so. Even when I rant and rave, I don't really mean it, it's all just part of the fun. But if it upsets people I'll stop. I don't mean any malice towards anyone, not even to you-know-who. It's all just silliness. Read Piers Plowman, Macjoyce Author's Reply: kenochi on 15-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens don't see how it has anything to do with what was being talked about, but that link you posted up was amazing, Michel. I'm not easily moved by singers, particulrly ones on 'X factor' type programmes, but that young girl was something else. Wow. Author's Reply: Michel on 15-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Yes (no), it wasn't directly relevant - at all... except the song was: 'And I'm Telling You I'm Not Going' and I wanted to inject a *lighter note* to the thread, and, well, the whole thing was inspirational, I thought. Glad you got the wow, too, Kenochi! Author's Reply: Jack_Cade on 17-02-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens Yo, Dylan. I've missed all this dispute stuff. Can't get my bearings in it. But I will say this: I recognise in this the kind of motivations that have caused me to write similar things in the past. It is *very* tempting, when you're a poet, to want to find in poetry a useful outlet for your negative emotions. However, I've learnt (I say 'learnt' but I'll probably do it again) that the negativity totally corrupts it. The problem is that you just can't put your finger on it. People have said this is about a 'type' of person, and you know there aren't really 'types' of people. Hence, this rings false - there is no sympathy - hence no understanding - of the megalomaniac. It is not insightful. We don't recognise a human in this - only as an enemy. An 'other'. There are people I know whom I feel this adequately describes. But I know - or else the better part of me knows - that I am subscribing to a false belief. You need sympathy to be able to get to the bottom of people. Otherwise your characterisation is just caricature. Anyway, I've done it myself before. So I'm not going to tell you off. But I do think you should maybe have held this one back. Author's Reply: Corin on 04-03-2007 Please don`t send dead kittens What did the megalomaniac say to the Megabyte? I'm a bit bigger than you! Author's Reply: |
| Burntisland (posted on: 29-09-06) Poem In the morning, before the beach, there was the multi-coloured shop. Hanging with red buckets and shovels, swirling beach-balls and straw hats. The air thick with warm plastic and our ferocious swords of rock. On a glass counter, shell-encrusted jewellery boxes gaped like hungry mouths at unsuspecting day-trippers. Then, all down the afternoon`s long shadows, we scattered seagulls, built our harbours on unsteady sand. And the North Sea brought clinging seaweed and a hint of Norway. Until the sky grew stalactites, and you said the kelpie who lived under the pier only hunted at night. But I never saw him. Now, as a merciless wind blows your name across the dunes, somewhere buried deep in this bone-ridden ground are the choices we never knew. Slowly taken root and stiffened to history, Archived comments for Burntisland Romany on 29-09-2006 Burntisland Excellent! Loved this. Romany. Author's Reply: Thanks,m`dear. Glad you liked it. XXX, D. orangedream on 29-09-2006 Burntisland Beautiful Dylan! Love the idea of stalactites in the sky. My husband was in the oil industry and wonders if the oil-rigs are still there? Much enjoyed, thank you. regards Tina Author's Reply: Hi Tina. Glad you liked it. The oil rigs are indeed still there, but they are a bit further north (in the Aberdeen area). Burntisland is on the south east coast. Although I have always lived in the Glasgow area, for some reason we always seemed to holiday on the east coast. Probably to get away from the neighbours! Thanks again, XXX, D. Bradene on 29-09-2006 Burntisland Now, as a merciless wind blows your name across the dunes, somewhere buried deep in this bone-ridden ground are the choices we never knew. Slowly taken root and stiffened to history, I thought this was a stunning ending loved every word Great read Dylan Love Val x Author's Reply: Thanks, Val. Much appreciated. XXX, D. BigYin on 29-09-2006 Burntisland Liked this a lot - especially the ending. Is this Burntisland near Aberdour? Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind words, m`dear. It is indeed, the Burntisland near Aberdour. It used to be a thriving holiday town-haven`t been there for years. Have heard it has went downhill a bit.Probably best to stick to me memories. XXX, D. Kat on 29-09-2006 Burntisland Another great read indeed, Dylan. My family live just along the road in Kirkcaldy and Coaltown of Wemyss and growing up in Dunfermline, Fife, we certainly spent many a day along the coasts nearby - Silver Sands at Aberdour, Lower and Upper Largo, St Andrews' freezing and windy white sands! Even Limekilns - sneaked off there when we shouldn't have when we stayed in Rosyth. All great fun. Your poem displays your usual gentle, dignified and reflective skill - a surgical instrument to my hammer! ;o) Kat x Author's Reply: Thank you for your kind words, Kat. I used to love the place, but as I say, I haven`t been there in years. Aberdour is a lovely little town, too.The poem "The Fisher King" was actually based on events which took place on the silver sands . Me and my big mouth! XXX, D. teifii on 03-10-2006 Burntisland Oh this really brought on the nostalgia for childhood holidays, so very long ago as there were no more from the onset of war. It was the shop things that did it mostly. Lovely poem. You are so good at conjuring up a scene with all its associated feelings. Daff Author's Reply: SugarMama34 on 04-11-2006 Burntisland Hiya Dylan, This was a really good write. Your choice of words capture the reader and draw them into your story. well told with great imagery and good flow throughout. A pleasure to read of days gone by. Cheers From Sugar. x Author's Reply: |
| Small boy with dog, one Sunday. (posted on: 08-09-06) Poem It is a sky to be alone with. One that will keep secrets when whispered aloud But, as the sun trails rose-tinged fragments on a rusty edge of wind, Paddy chases shadows ears erect , and is content. Here, in a skin long shed, I skimmed stones, ran through vast tracts of wheat, gold and hazel as Marie`s eyes. Here, I searched and found and gathered rumours. Now a dying swaith of sunlight brings temporary blindness. In the dark green silence I can only look inside and grasp at who I used to be. Archived comments for Small boy with dog, one Sunday. pencilcase on 08-09-2006 Small boy with dog, one Sunday. Hello John, I find your poem very appealing and effective, capturing as it does a moment/related moments in time. There is a unity of place, and in the person, but as time passes, people and places change. The title provides a good way in - it's straightforward, yet arouses the curiosity, and as the poem progresses it takes on a more enigmatic feel. This could be you walking the dog now, thinking back and regarding yourself, or part of yourself, as that small boy, or you walking alone now and thinking back to walking the dog in that place as a small boy. It doesn't really matter since the essence of it comes across anyway, but my money's on the former and you are the small boy here and now. With a dog, of course. Paddy is content in his doggy immediacy. You, however, are a human being, and a thoughtful one at that, and whilst the sense of pleasure at watching the dog's enjoyment is an effective image, it works as a contrast to the human predicament. Anyway, I won't go on, but I think I'm very much there with this one. A pleasure to read. I might be missing something, but I would spell swaith as swathe. That might be a regional difference, but thought I'd mention it in case it's a spolling mistook. Best wishes, Steve Author's Reply: Kat on 08-09-2006 Small boy with dog, one Sunday. The kind of poem that poets write - beautiful! It's great to read Steve's comment too. Kat :o) Author's Reply: dylan on 14-09-2006 Small boy with dog, one Sunday. littleditty writes: Can i just dito Mr Pencil's comments, because your piece evokes all that for me too? I liked your hints of rhyme - a pleasure to read this gentle introspective piece. xxxlittleditty x Romany writes: It is a sky to be alone with. How much do I love that line, and wish I had written it?! Great poem, Romany. Bradene writes: Gorgeous poem with fantastic images, like Romany I am wishing I had written it too. Love Val x Author's Reply: As my replies have been lost in the recent hacking, I`d just like to thank everyone again for their kind comments. XXX, D. |
| Imprint (posted on: 04-09-06) Poem The glistening shoal of photographs are stranded across the bed, jostling for position in dusty morning sunlight. Still treacherous, even now with their vignettes of how we wish things had been. And I see you again under a broken moon skimming stones across a white charged sea. Or your hair feathering as you sheltered from a curtain of grey drizzle in a dragon clouded sky. And always time eroding who we were. As the past gathers in the darkness of this morning you grow clearer and more defined with each passing hour. Archived comments for Imprint Romany on 04-09-2006 Imprint I found this very moving. Well done, Romany. Author's Reply: Thanks for the comment, Romany. XXX, D. bluepootle on 04-09-2006 Imprint I like the way the stanzas grow shorter through this - for me, it gave me the sense that the photographs had simplified the memories, and that the reality of them was being lost. I'd maybe cut 'passing' from the last line to add to that sense, but could just be me rewriting for myself there! Hope that helps. Top stuff. Author's Reply: Tank you once more, m`dear. XXX, D. scotch on 05-09-2006 Imprint good...scotch Author's Reply: Thanks...Dylan. spongemonkey on 07-09-2006 Imprint I loved the line, in a dragon clouded sky. riveting stuff. Author's Reply: Thank you for the positive comment, mon ami. D. |
| Galba wears the Purple (posted on: 21-08-06) Poem First the darkness grows from a dark blue bruise of sky, until almost tangible. Then, through a malicious whisper of rain, a siren flickers . You become a mermaid. Your body brown, such white teeth. Beneath the blanket waves, you shake seaweed from your hair, glide your hand over water, as I gather Nero`s rags watch his life spin like a sliver of coin. And even though your name is a ghost, somewhere in the dawn and the distance between us, I am thinking of you. Archived comments for Galba wears the Purple Slovitt on 21-08-2006 Galba wears the Purple Dylan: Some very nice things here, and your last line is just right to give immediacy, and import to what has come before. I do wonder why Galba? as a subject, and I don't find the reason in the poem. Perhaps I don't know enough about Galba, very little except that he succeeded Nero and had a short reign, but the two stanzas, the first beginning 'You become a mermaid.'/, are especially obscure though the images are very nice. I kind of get the feeling of the gods standing around a pool and looking down into it to view human events, much as a movie from memory showed them. So, for all of it, a piece I enjoyed. Swep Author's Reply: Swep, thank you for your kind comments.The poem can be interpreted in various ways. The only thing I would mention is that Galba was the first Roman emperor who was not from the Julian bloodline-ie related to Julius Caesar. He was an army general, who was seen by the upper-classes as an interloper. His reign was brief and ended badly. Thanks again. D. e-griff on 21-08-2006 Galba wears the Purple confessing my ignorance on the topic as a whole, and leaving that to Swep, in a lyrical sense, these lines didn't work for me: watch his life spin like a sliver of coin. 'spin - sliver' I don't see the relationship. If it's the section of coin seen when it spins- a glimpse of the whole, maybe, but nevertheless it's obscure. (yes the silver/sliver thing works - but we need a reason) er, maybe. 🙂 Author's Reply: dylan on 21-08-2006 Galba wears the Purple I really do wish you would not comment on anything I submit. There are various reasons for this, the most pertinent being that I do not give a single solitary flying fuck what you think. I`m not entering into a debate about this-I`m not explaining or justifying my work to you.You have never produced one poem which I consider worthy of the name. Please don`t respond or I will delete the poem. Author's Reply: e-griff on 21-08-2006 Galba wears the Purple I have commented, reasonably, on your work, as this site is set up for, and intended to encourage. Your hang-ups are your own. Do what you want, mate. Belong to the community or dissociate, up to you. I can't go pussyfooting around irrationality. I treat you as anyone else on site. If you want to create a 'hierarchy' best of luck, do it! I make no apologies for a reasonable comment , which I simply wanted an answer to ... Best, JohnG Author's Reply: dylan on 22-08-2006 Galba wears the Purple Hierarchy,my arse. I`ve asked you repeatedly not to comment on my submissions. Basically, I consider you to be a blustering, egotistical fraud. You set yourself up as some sort of literary guru, when your own poetry is little more than horseshit. Now fuck off and leave my poem alone. Author's Reply: Griffonner on 27-08-2006 Galba wears the Purple ...almost tangible? I could touch this, and it could touch me. It was an interesting approach, and I think that it worked well. Such melancholy. Don't we all know that mood; that sense of loneliness? Well, that's what it did for me, my friend. I could even 'feel' the mood. It was brilliant. We all taste wine differently, and I definitely appreciated this vintage. Griffonner Author's Reply: Thank you, Griffoner. Glad you liked it. D. Andrea on 27-08-2006 Galba wears the Purple C'mon guys, be nice, eh? I'm back now y'know 🙂 Surely personal insults can be confined to pm's? Would be grateful... Author's Reply: I will ignore him from now on, HR. spongemonkey on 07-09-2006 Galba wears the Purple Were you high when yo wrote this? Sounds like someones heart got broke and you tried to cover it the usual Glasweigan manly way didn't work, I saw through it very smart. Maybe it takes another Glasweigen tae see it. Well written. Author's Reply: Thanks, glad you liked it. As I`ve said before, the poem can be interpreted in various ways. The essence of modernism is that it demands something from the reader. The overall meaning is very much up to you. I think I was comparatively sober when I wrote it-couldn`t swear to it though! Cheers, D. |
| The Secret Life of Chairs (posted on: 11-08-06) Poem Viciously then, I lock the door to the applause of retreating footsteps. A scattering of chairs loiters the room, each imprinted with the person they held. In silhouette, their outstretched arms seem to beg forgiveness. As the hall fills with midnight and a fragment of music escapes from the street, The chairs circle like wolves around me. The nearest containing all of your absence. Archived comments for The Secret Life of Chairs juliet on 11-08-2006 The Secret Life of Chairs I remember this from ABC, i loved it then and i love it just as much now. I can't quite decide what has taken place, a meeting in a hall, but i am not sure for what - but the sense of these empty chairs is a really strong image. The first line i am a little unsure, i think it is because of the comma after viciously - i read it with out so it sounds like the door is being closed viciously but with the comma it is on its own and seems a separate action. Maybe it is just the way i am reading it? Does this make sense? I guess what i am saying is does the comma need to be there? But anyway comma or not a powerful image that stays with you long after it is read. Author's Reply: Hi Juliet, Thanks for your comments-both on this site and ABC. You`re right re the comma. It should have been placed at "then"-ie "Viciously then,". It`s a typo which I didn`t notice.Now rectified. Thanks again, XXX, D. red-dragon on 11-08-2006 The Secret Life of Chairs Dylan, good to see you at UKA, especially with such a deceptively simple poem, which evokes great images and provokes questions. Well done on the nib, too. Ann Author's Reply: Kat on 11-08-2006 The Secret Life of Chairs Hi Dylan I think the form here is very apt for the words. When I read them they seem to dance to a rhythm that appears to be precisely at the will of the conductor/author. Beautiful, powerful work - love the image of the chairs as wolves. Kat :o) Author's Reply: reckless on 12-08-2006 The Secret Life of Chairs A fascinating poem that repays re-reading. I do like the sense of an event just gone. Author's Reply: dylan on 13-08-2006 The Secret Life of Chairs Thanks Kat, RD and Reckless for the kind comments. XXX, D. Author's Reply: Albermund on 13-08-2006 The Secret Life of Chairs Despite still being a wee bit in the dark (have deliberately avoided reading any of your crit in case you explained all) I do like how you have written this and am much taken by some of your lines.- "viciously" coupled with "the applause of retreating footsteps" "loiters the room" "the nearest containing all your absence." Will hopefully work this one out in the end. cheers, Albert Author's Reply: teifii on 14-08-2006 The Secret Life of Chairs Lovely. I have always thought that chairs had a life of their own. You have done them justice. Daff Author's Reply: Abel on 16-08-2006 The Secret Life of Chairs I must say this is breathtaking. Ward Author's Reply: eddiesolo on 20-08-2006 The Secret Life of Chairs Hi Dylan, Top write...top write! Enjoyed reading this very much. Some lovely wording in this piece on a unique subject. My best to you. PS Well done on the nib. Si:-) Author's Reply: Rupe on 15-08-2007 The Secret Life of Chairs Good. Bloody good. A clear, familiar image & a clear familiar feeling in perfect alignment. Rupe Author's Reply: Thank you for the comment, Rupe. Much appreciated. D. Michel on 15-08-2007 The Secret Life of Chairs This is so strikingly sharp, fearsome, and hilarious - got carried away and just tried to make it a favourite again. Author's Reply: Thanks once again for taking the time to comment, Michel. Much appreciated. D. |
| Business (posted on: 31-07-06) Poem. With dwindling claws of sun scraping at the city`s roots, how you stare without expression across the depth of an empty street, with your identity neatly folded, has the common touch of tragedy. Desire gnaws; a twisted love which has no existence other than this moment. A car shudders briefly to a climax. As caught in a sudden halo of dying sun, your upturned face flares a pale goodbye. I close the curtains, lift the phone. Archived comments for Business Kat on 31-07-2006 Business Such a beautifully poised poem that I can only admire - particularly good beginning and end (and bits in between!). Kat :o) Author's Reply: Romany on 31-07-2006 Business a twisted love which has no existence other than this moment. A car shudders briefly to a climax. Favourite lines, although I like the whole thing! Romany. Author's Reply: Sunken on 01-08-2006 Business Dylanseque and no mistake. Nuff said. s u n k e n breaks things by blinking Author's Reply: dylan on 01-08-2006 Business Kat, Romany and Sunky-thanks for the comments. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 05-08-2006 Business Thank you for your kind words, TL. I posted this on ABC some time ago and it promptly died on it`s collective arse. Always the way- does well on one site, nowt on t`other. XXX, D. Author's Reply: |
| Death by Water (posted on: 21-07-06) Poem After the aching heat had worn down the afternoon and set the stone faces of pavements, you appeared like Jairus` daughter pale and reborn in red chiffon. And I walked with you through the blue black harbour light still flickering with seagull ghosts, to a white lighthouse shell. Wrapped in a wraith of wind which tasted of smoke and the nickel of deserted fairgrounds you paused, your eyes as clear as the distant town lights. And we listened to the sound of our breathing above the sea`s desperate songs. Archived comments for Death by Water Sunken on 21-07-2006 Death by Water As classy as ever young Dylan. You make me positively sick. I hope you're happy with yourself! Thanks. s u n k e n in charge of trepidation Author's Reply: Hazy on 21-07-2006 Death by Water Oh, this is brilliant, Dylan. A fave for me. I was there, honestly. So vivid and sad. Loved: Wrapped in a wraith of wind which tasted of smoke and the nickel of deserted fairgrounds and through the blue black harbour light still flickering with seagulll ghosts, to a white lighthouse shell. Hazy x PS need to remove an l at the end of seagull Author's Reply: eddiesolo on 21-07-2006 Death by Water Top write Dylan. Wonderfully written. Well deserved is the nibby on this one. Si:-) Author's Reply: Kat on 22-07-2006 Death by Water Hi dylan Beautiful, sensual, spare poetry - love it! Fav bits: '...the nickel of deserted fairgrounds...' '...the sea`s desperate songs.' I hope all is going well with GK and that you're working on your next collection! Kat :o) Author's Reply: dylan on 23-07-2006 Death by Water Very grateful thanks to everyone for the kind comments. `s funny, this one didn`t do too well over at ABC (was cherried though), whereas "Ouroboros" did nowt on UKA and was POTW over there. Can`t please `em all, I suppose. Thanks again. D. Author's Reply: Abel on 27-07-2006 Death by Water Great write, Dylan...tour de force ending. Ward Author's Reply: dylan on 28-07-2006 Death by Water Again, thanks for the comment, Ward. I`ve actually made it into the top five most read! Shucks! How can I ever compete against Eddie and co? Author's Reply: robbie on 28-07-2006 Death by Water Sustained breath throughout poem, unfolding imagery, and emotional tone, - a feeling-portrait constructed with fine brushstrokes. Loved it. Rob Author's Reply: teifii on 29-07-2006 Death by Water Another lovely one. The images all so evocative -- can't choose special lines as all are just right. Daff Author's Reply: Mikeverdi on 18-01-2013 Death by Water Simply sublime, I loved every word. Mike Author's Reply: Thank you for the very kind comments, Mike. Glad you appreciate these oldies. Orrabest, D. |
| Ouroboros (posted on: 30-06-06) Poem On the silence`s towering waves the jagged edges of our words are scattered across the cool ivory of bed-squared sheets. Then more silence.These small variations of no-one speaking hang like rhetorical questions in the room`s astounding whiteness. Through the window, you watch a pattern of clouds drift across the moon, as a glass needle whirs contentedly. And I am empty as a broken promise in this abacus of days. Now, as I wait in the clinging drizzle of a June 4am still nursing a small belief which defies logic, I think of love and death and watch the stars go out , with the faint taste of salt on my lips. Archived comments for Ouroboros karenuk on 01-07-2006 Ouroboros Beautiful imagery and use of language. Author's Reply: Zoya on 02-07-2006 Ouroboros "And I am empty as a broken promise in this abacus of days." In this abacus of days, You are not the only one, empty, There are people like me , Who feel along with you, empty, Of thought, purpose, love and empty of life it self- On certain days... **Hugs for an awesome and thought provoking poem** Love, xxx, Zoya Author's Reply: dylan on 03-07-2006 Ouroboros Tai, Karen and Zoya, thanks for your kind words. As can be imagined, this is a very personal poem and I dunno if I have veered toward obscurity and introspection again. I still quite like it though. XXX, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 06-07-2006 Ouroboros Thanks for the kind thoughts, Tai. As I say, I think it`s ok, despite not going down too well on UKA, (not helped by the fact that it`s bottom of the pile-again). It`s actually POTW on ABC, which cheers me slightly. XXX, D. Author's Reply: ClareHill on 07-07-2006 Ouroboros I really like 'the cool ivory of bed-squared sheets' Great imagery Author's Reply: dylan on 10-07-2006 Ouroboros Thanks again-I know you ain`t the original Tai, but don`t have a nickname for you as yet. (Witness HR and DMH). Will give this some thought. Anyway, the good people of ABC have been very kind. XXX, D. Author's Reply: Bradene on 02-09-2006 Ouroboros I love this poem I have only just found it today and have read it several times in disbelief I have known these feeling in my life I am so envious of the way you were able to express these emotions in such vivid and emotive imagery. The title is perfect. Val x Author's Reply: Hi Val-how are you? Glad you liked this. It`s one of my favs -possibly because of the personal element and the emotions involved. Thanks again. XXX, D. |
| Prodigal Song (posted on: 29-05-06) Poem In the inexorable now of these morning streets, tree-lined and strewn with churches, my role is defined and exact as small dried women scuttle like crabs in the rituals of their 8 o`clock. Here, silence is an affinity. A closeness in the mind.. The hard quiet of endurance hangs in the mouths of narrow shops and the early ochre mist. I think of a mask, worn too long, which becomes impossible to remove. Or the hard-won acceptance of who I have always been. As the morning sun turns frayed green leaves to tongues of fire and a fresh wind swirls pigeons across the sky, I nod a mute hello to these old, new-born faces and this town becomes a poem. A sonnet I know by heart. Archived comments for Prodigal Song Sunken on 29-05-2006 Prodigal Song Ahhh, to live in a town that is like a poem. The city I frequent is like the closing paragraph of a scathing review. No such scathing here young Dylan. I cannot vote and so will offer you a packet of chili flavoured crisps instead (Walkers). I hope this helps. Thanks. s u n k e n notably absent from church Author's Reply: dylan on 30-05-2006 Prodigal Song Thank you for the kind comment, young Munky. As a traditionalist, I prefer cheese and onion, so will decline your offer. Keep taking the tablets. Orrabest, D. Author's Reply: Zoya on 31-05-2006 Prodigal Song How beautifully you write: Like an angel kissing spring, Like a heart on the swing, Like a morning dew settling in the heart long anguished in sin. How beautifully you write Dylan! **HUGS** Here is a new fan added to your list! Author's Reply: narcissa on 01-06-2006 Prodigal Song Hi dylan, What can I say? Wow, what a piece! As is my custom, I read this out loud - now, I don't know to what extend you compose out loud, but it certainly sounds like you did this one. At least, it sounds like you are incredibly, instinctively, aware of the way your words flow and ebb. It's a joy to read! Coming to the end of the first stanza, I couldn't help smiling to myself just for the joy of the words and images you used. I also found myself smiling at the wonderful image of the pigeons being swirled around- how wonderful! The only problem I had with it was the way you started a new not-quite-sentence for that last line. After the beautiful flow of the poem, it seems inappropriate to stop before that line (and a very powerful one it is) - it takes away some of the impact, I feel, as well as being an incomplete sentence. I would suggest perhaps and this town becomes a poem: a sonnet I know by heart. or even keeping the capital at the beginning of that last line to indicate the break in what you're saying. A full stop just seems out of place to me. Anyway - whatever you feel is right! Really enjoyed this beautiful poem! Laura x Author's Reply: dylan on 04-06-2006 Prodigal Song Zoya, Narcissa and Tai-Li, thank you all for your comments. Will give the last lines some thought. XXX, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 06-06-2006 Prodigal Song Thanks for the kind comment, Shy. D. Author's Reply: |
| Snowblind (posted on: 12-05-06) Edited and resubmitted. Neon twilight falls, sudden and tender. The wind hunts litter down a street of open-mouthed shops as footsteps pound the city`s heart. Useless clouds of speech gather at street corners. Figures, bright in glass, sip thimbles of coffee Somewhere, a busker sings about love and his indifference. Light multiplies and conjures darkness. While the Clyde glitters like a secret, the way it never looks in poems or cold mornings. Through whisky fumes your memory whispers "A poem is a naked wound". Words I should have said whirl in the snowflakes around me. Archived comments for Snowblind littleditty on 13-05-2006 Snowblind This struck me as more beautiful than when I read it before -the last lines are changed i think? There are many interersting lines that want me to read again and it flows a treat - super poem xxxlittleditty x Author's Reply: dylan on 16-05-2006 Snowblind Thanks for the comment LD. It`s actually quite a radical rewrite-I was never quite happy with the original. The last two lines were suggested by my mate Shelagh-(Freya of this parish.) Thanks again, XXX D. Author's Reply: Zoya on 28-05-2006 Snowblind "Light multiplies and conjures darkness. While the Clyde glitters like a secret, the way it never looks in poems or cold mornings." Yeah, daily drudge is so prosaic, how is one to remain poetic in this world of neon lights and thimbles of coffee... Thanks for sharing. love, xxx, Zoya Author's Reply: Mikeverdi on 17-01-2013 Snowblind Still looking in your early stuff, I found this one. I see you have a couple of versions; this one is my favourite. I was with a guy called Sulivan today he has a few books out, I read him your last one and you have a new fan! This is great poetry my friend. Mike Author's Reply: Glad you liked it, Mike. I remember having a rather heated discussion on another site about the line "Footsteps pound the city`s heart". A girl told me that the line was cliched-I replied that it was a play on words (footsteps pound=heart pounds etc) and I had never heard this being used before in this context. She told I should accept crit-I said I did as long as it was valid.Etc etc.. Anyway,thanks again for your very kind comments. Orrabest, D. |
| The Fisher King (posted on: 28-04-06) Poem For no reasons other than the sea is seasoned with wild white stallions and sleep is anonymous, I venture across a tousled slip-knot of beach in razor thin dawn mist. As seagulls beat their wings on the salt tinged air of January, Paddy is a restless dart on the sand`s fragile ridges. He crumbles their structures to scatterings of iron dust and stalks grey-green flotsam on the tails of towering waves. Then chases driftwood in the small ghosts of footprints. His hot eyes are blessed languid as a June night. In the barren sunrise, I look above for a God who does not speak and the silence is unrelenting. Archived comments for The Fisher King bluepootle on 28-04-2006 The Fisher King Hi Dylan, great poem. Loved the start, with the sea seasoned. I'd just say that the last image is a bit passive for me. I'd be tempted to try to make it more personal, with something like, I look above for a God who does not speak and hear silence, unrelenting. Or something like that, just to own that silence, if you see what I mean. But I can see that maybe you want it to be passive. It depends on the relationship with God I suppose! Author's Reply: bluepootle on 28-04-2006 The Fisher King Or, thinking about it, the sound of find silence, unrelenting would work well. I'll go away now. Author's Reply: dylan on 28-04-2006 The Fisher King Thanks for the comment,Ailya. I have posted this on a few other sites and one or two comments mentioned the ending. The silence obviously, is metaphorical;The narrator is looking for something which is untangible, in contrast to the main protaganist , who has all he requires. Thank you again for taking the time to offer constructive crit-I really appreciate it. XXX, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 28-04-2006 The Fisher King BTW, that`s "intangible" not "untangible" . Hard to type when pissed inntit? Author's Reply: Sunken on 29-04-2006 The Fisher King As ever, young Dylan, you come up with the goods as if it's all too easy for you. I am sickened to my stomach that you can write in such a way and insist that you dumb it right down. Please mention at least one of the following in your next sub - arses, hamsters, munkys or kylie. It will at least show willing on your part that you are as blahhhh as me (-; Top stuff Mr. Dylan. You really are a class act, and I'm not even trying to pull you. Thanks. s u n k e n sponsored by occasional furniture Author's Reply: Zoya on 29-04-2006 The Fisher King You must be the master of imagery out here, such beautiful word pictures you paint. I especially like the last stanza, it gives the whole poem a spiritual dimension, and takes it into another realm altogether, away from the mundane of a walk on the beach. These morning walks are so rewarding, don't you think so? I am also on my creative best during these morning walks. Love, and Respects, Always in a bit of an Awe, Zoya Author's Reply: Corin on 29-04-2006 The Fisher King My dog too sniffs out poems for me 🙂 A Walk with a Dog A walk with a dog Forces my observant eye Over nature's work. The Icy Lake All the snow is gone, The river runs clear and cold Yet ice stills the lake. Mallards On the island verge Three Mallards idly stand guard. A menage a trois Black-headed Gulls Wearing winter white, Black headed gulls on red feet Stand instead of swim. The River Restless even now With ice on its still margins, River longs for the sea The Kingfisher Darting down the stream A flash of orange and blue, Beware little fish. The Heron In January No fish swim the cold shallows, So the heron waits. The Little Dipper Icy waters rush But the dipper shakes his bib And walks right under. Author's Reply: Kat on 29-04-2006 The Fisher King A beautiful, thoughtful poem which (yet again) shows your talent, Dylan. You are the master of restraint (in a good way) when it comes to poetry. Kat :o) Author's Reply: dylan on 30-04-2006 The Fisher King Sunk, Zoya, Corin and Kat, thank you for your comments. D Author's Reply: |
| Grace (posted on: 17-04-06) Poem In the stark black and white sketches of October, we watch small handfuls of sparrows scatter. Sip tea, talk of life and death as the wind swirls rain and dry leaves in equal measure. You embarrass me with the short trousered evidence of the boy I used to be. Pressed to the past, I think of schooldays. The sweet, sour taste of stolen crab apples, hide and seek, marbles. Your laughter lingers in the room`s arid air, as spare and graceful as the whisper of wheat in autumn sun, and I realise you are not afraid. Archived comments for Grace Apolloneia on 17-04-2006 Grace I don't know if the title is a name or not, but somehow I connected the title with the final verse just like tourists connect Athens with the Acropolis. Very good poem as always. Author's Reply: littleditty on 17-04-2006 Grace How beautiful - thank goodness for Grace -and there is grace in how you have told this - liked the embarrassment and the acceptance at the end - lovely poem xxxlittleditty x Author's Reply: shackleton on 17-04-2006 Grace Hi, big D. Happy Easter! Your poem isn't just an accomplished piece craftmanship, it's also got heart and soul (two very different things in poetry). You've left me thinking of tall men, small boys, lost youth, swirling autumn winds and all. Excellent poem! Bye now. Author's Reply: Kat on 17-04-2006 Grace Dylanesque! It truly is: the word play, resonance, minimalism in your poem shows off your superb skill as a poet, Dylan. Finding, showing grace, is a holy grail conquered and if we can recognise it in another, then that is the lesson learnt. I'm confusing myself with my comments again (but I think I know what I mean!). A poem to be very proud of indeed! Kat :o) Author's Reply: dylan on 17-04-2006 Grace Thanks to everyone for the comments. This is rather a personal piece, -glad other people can relate to it. Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: Sunken on 19-04-2006 Grace Another winner Mr. Dylan. No flippancy from me, for once. Simply, well done. s u n k e n Author's Reply: pencilcase on 19-04-2006 Grace Great poem, John. It engages throughout and your conclusion suggests that this is personal - and I now see you have commented that it is. You've had a number of comments already and this all goes to support the view that this is a poem which many will relate to. The graceful power of the whisper of the wheat, as it reaches autumn days, comes through very strongly. Steve Author's Reply: teifii on 20-04-2006 Grace Can't add much to what has been sid. It's lovely. i especially love --Your laughter lingers in the room`s arid air, --I'm always on the look out for alliteration and arid air is just brilliant. I bet ir's never been used. Daff Author's Reply: Zoya on 21-04-2006 Grace "as spare and graceful as the whisper of wheat in autumn sun," As the dance of the lilacs in the April cruel as warm winds swirl, As the sunflower Fields in the middle of winter Appear in your dreams, As the sun that suddenly bursts forth and shines On a wintry morn... As the... What a lovely piece of inspirational poetry you have here Dylan! Transports one to another world. Author's Reply: RDLarson on 21-04-2006 Grace simple and truthful. Wonderful. Thank you for sharing. Author's Reply: dylan on 21-04-2006 Grace Sunky, Steve, Daff, Zoya and RD, I can only say thanks for the comments. This one means quite a lot to me-glad it has been well received. D. Author's Reply: Jolen on 22-04-2006 Grace Well for me this piece suggests that someone isn't afraid of dying, hence the 'grace' but that's my uneducated guess. Whatever it represents for you. The poem is wonderful. Great images and you really capture the reader and take them back and forth in time. Well deserving of the nib, imho. blessings, Jolen Author's Reply: dylan on 24-04-2006 Grace Thanks for the kind comments, Jolen and Shy. Much appreciated. D. Author's Reply: |
| Iscariot and Elvis Costello (posted on: 10-04-06) Poem I watch the thin blue veins of smoke rise through 4pm. My glass, which now contains the sum total of who I am, turns tiny ribbons of sun to dull amber. A disembodied juke-box flutes the syllables of your name across an empty bar. Alison, I know this world is killing you. Your face is full of years, as the rosebud of your lips slashes, true as Judas` kiss in Gethsemane. Archived comments for Iscariot and Elvis Costello bektron on 10-04-2006 Iscariot and Elvis Costello wow! last stanza excellent- my brain still too asleep/Monday morning fuggy to put together a coherent comment but this made me sit up and open my eyes- loved 'ribbons of sun' and love, love,love the scene, the subject and the execeution. A fave for me. beksx Author's Reply: Jen_Christabel on 10-04-2006 Iscariot and Elvis Costello Great piece :o) Lovely to read your work again Dylan x Jennifer x Author's Reply: Apolloneia on 11-04-2006 Iscariot and Elvis Costello Well-written and serious work! an accomplished poem. Author's Reply: dylan on 11-04-2006 Iscariot and Elvis Costello Beks, Jen and Nic-thank you for the comments and fave noms etc. XXX, D. Author's Reply: Sunken on 13-04-2006 Iscariot and Elvis Costello You are truly a master of this writing lark young Dylan. Long may you continue. Especially liked - A disembodied juke-box flutes the syllables of your name across an empty bar. It doesn't get much better than that I reckon. Top stuff Mister. s u n k e n what, no salmon spread? Author's Reply: dylan on 14-04-2006 Iscariot and Elvis Costello Glad you liked it, Sunky. Cheers, D. Author's Reply: HelenRussell on 15-04-2006 Iscariot and Elvis Costello Good to see you back again 🙂 Can't choose a favourite section, although I particularly like the phrase "you face is full of years" Regards Sarah Author's Reply: Jolen on 16-04-2006 Iscariot and Elvis Costello Dylan: Your work has come highly recomended, and I see why. A very fine piece. Crisp lines and the second and last stanza are incredible,imo. I shall have to read more of your work. Happy Easter. blessings, Jolen Author's Reply: dylan on 16-04-2006 Iscariot and Elvis Costello Tai-Li, Helen and Jolen-thank you all for the kind comments. Much appreciated. XXX, D. Author's Reply: Abel on 17-04-2006 Iscariot and Elvis Costello A brilliant write, D. First rate poetry. Ward Author's Reply: dylan on 17-04-2006 Iscariot and Elvis Costello Thanks for the comment, Ward. D. Author's Reply: Macjoyce on 31-08-2007 Iscariot and Elvis Costello Top poem, Herr Dylan. Could you really let a lassie relegate you to beer? They’re all Judases. All of them. Raaaaaaaa. I like the colour in this, blue, then amber, then rose red. If only fag-smoke was green, you could have reverse traffic lights. That’d be cool. Mac’s Army is here to stay Author's Reply: Hi, Big Mac. Glad you likee. It`s one of a few I have written about women and alcohol. (Things I am rather partial to, I havta say). I posted this on An American site and was amazed at how many of `em had no idea who Mr Costello was. Damn Philistines! Orrabest, MacD. |
| Day Return (posted on: 17-02-06) Something different. I`ve been reading a lot of the "Movement" poets of the late `50s. This needs some revision-any constructive crit is very welcome. The ancient bus ran a length of morning. Half-full of half drunks, as we headed south. The singing and laughter had all died out by the time the Tower announced our coming. I blinked into my memories, as I rose from the rock of my worn seat plaid and the bus`s beer and tobacco inside became like a womb. Long, long ago, I was young here. I knew the sharp, bitter sweetness of the sea at dawn. Had walked into sunsets, along tar-lined piers which suddenly grew crowds. Now I had travelled those dead straight miles looking for something. Or perhaps someone. I watched massed ranks of kiss-me-quick cherubs descending on a blaring metal pub. With sinking heart, I thanked the coachman and walked along a barren seafront, where vicious seagulls screamed obscenities, past back street shops, (closed every Wednesday) through gathered families. And in that moment I realised the change was irrevocable. The green trams would rattle, as they always had. The sea`s siren song would always be sad. But I was not who I had been. My feeble attempt had failed. I turned again, not knowing my direction. The sky grew rain-filled clouds. I shouldered the swell of new arrivals with the thin sadness of another ending. Archived comments for Day Return Romany on 17-02-2006 Day Return I don't see why you think this needs reworking, it is a fine poem as it stands; very evocative and full of yearning for a past that can never again be. Author's Reply: Claire on 18-02-2006 Day Return Hey there hun, Hhhmm, you know what... the more I look at the more I think it will look and read as a piece of flash fiction. Could be just me, though. Either way, it's a great little piece. Doesn't need improved in my eyes. ;^) Author's Reply: Emerald on 18-02-2006 Day Return I'm no good at crit but I don't think this poem needs any - It is wonderfully descriptive and evocative - I really enjoyed reading it. Emma:-) Author's Reply: tryptych600 on 18-02-2006 Day Return This is wonderful and, as people have said, I really don't think needs much editing. I absolutely loved 'I watched massed ranks of kiss-me-quick cherubs / descending on a blaring metal pub' This line is so evocative. In fact the whole poem has some wonderfully descriptive lines. On a first read my only problem was these two lines- The sea`s faint siren song would always be sad/ But I was not who I had been. The sea is like a siren? Of course this is very interpretive but I don't get it. If you mean sirens as in Homer's sirens, I don't know, for me it seems a little archaic. For me, I'd go for a different/more unusual metaphor. I'm not sure though.. I'll read it over a few times. Would the second line, here, be improved by 'THAT I was not who I had been'?. 'But' implies a difference, or departure from, the sea's siren song and what it is telling the speaker.. it strikes me that the second line is more a response to the sea's siren song.. resulting in the speaker's realisation.. in which case 'that' seems more appropriate. It's a tough call tho Your last two lines are stunning as far as I'm concerned. Andrew P.S- This poem reminds me of 'The Remains of the Day' for some reason. P.P.S- I've had a title for a long poem running round my head for ages 'The Sadness of English Coastal Resorts, Out of Season' ..your poem makes me want to push on and get the bloody thing written ..cheers! Author's Reply: dylan on 19-02-2006 Day Return Guys, thank you all for the kind comments. The "Movement" poets, of whom Larkin was probably best-known, tended to use rhyme, metre and clarity of language, which I`ve tried to incorporate here. The resulting poem is very unlike my usual style. I tend to think that some of the end rhymes (The siren song motif refers to the narrators youth, btw) could be improved. The problem I have with this type of poetry is that there is no element of deeper meaning/mystery/whatever-once it has been read, that is pretty much it. Anyway, I`m starting to ramble again. Thanks to everyone-it is very much appreciated. D. Author's Reply: Andrea on 21-02-2006 Day Return Awww, this is great Dyl, just found it. Mind you, you know what I'm like with poetry, so I don't expect you to be too chuffed 🙂 Well-deserved nib imo - it weren't me, but whoever gave it was quite rght! Author's Reply: (Gasp) Comments from HR? Whatever next? I feel as if I have just received a telegram from the Queen. Maybe I have, come to think of it. Thank you for the kind comment, HR-very much appreciated. XXX, D. teifii on 22-02-2006 Day Return In my opinion it works fine as it is. Mind you my brain isn't operating today so not likely to come up with any ideas worth having. Btw what's flash fiction when it's at home? showing my ignorance Daff Author's Reply: Hi Daff. Thanks for the comment. As I understand it, flash fiction is a short piece varying in length, which basically encapsulates an entire novel. Neil (of Be Write fame) offers a more in-depth description here- < https://www.ukauthors.com/phorum/read.php?f=11&i=11172&t=11172> XXX, D. Abel on 23-02-2006 Day Return Expertly crafted...reminded me of the grey exteriors of WG Sebald's brilliant prose. Very well done! Ward Author's Reply: |
| Watching stones grow (posted on: 10-02-06) Poem Yellow metal teeth have ripped out the green of your heart. The soaring oaks are stranded husks grasping at steel patches of morning and the drizzle has feathered your sinews to mud. The boy who I used to be swirled marbles on your slopes, lit Beltane bonfires and watched hawks hover in early morning silence. As brown wounds bleed earth, I touch the roots of your bones and watch the rain wash away all that is left. Archived comments for Watching stones grow Apolloneia on 10-02-2006 Watching stones grow I liked this one a lot Dylan. Author's Reply: Romany on 10-02-2006 Watching stones grow Stark, bitter and sad epitaph to nautre now ruined, and a childhood forever lost. Nice poem. Author's Reply: tai on 10-02-2006 Watching stones grow Hi Dylan, this poem of yours speaks to me sadly of change that one man who was boys, does not relish to witness. Each read makes it sadder. 10 from admiring you as ever, Tai Author's Reply: sirat on 10-02-2006 Watching stones grow A fantastic piece of writing. I say that as someone who doesn't know what he's talking about, you understand. The sadness of a lost childhood and the desecrated landscape make powerful, haunting images. Could I suggest one tiny thing? Lose the word "who" in the fourth stanza, first line. Author's Reply: Bradene on 10-02-2006 Watching stones grow a lovely piece of writing dylan full of sadness and regret for a lost world. Val x Author's Reply: Sunken on 10-02-2006 Watching stones grow As strong as he ever was, as strong as he ever was... I feel a burst of, 'Once in a lifetime' by Talking Heads coming on. The very tips of the very tops Mr. Dylan of 'Glasgow Kisses' fame. Well done on the nib. I would have sulked if it hadn't got one. Eat cod in white sauce. s u n k e n Did I dream? 4 - Wolves 3 Author's Reply: red-dragon on 10-02-2006 Watching stones grow Amazing poetry, Dylan. Each word is used to perfection, tho' I agree with Sirat about dropping the 'who'. Well done on the nib. Ann Author's Reply: narcissa on 10-02-2006 Watching stones grow Wow. It's one of *those* poems: I started highlighting bits and ended up highlighting the whole poem as a bit-that-I-especially-liked. Humph. Another one for losing the "who" but otherwise, as red-dragon said, each word is certainly perfectly placed and used. I love the images and the impact of the poem on me - it goes pretty deep. Thanks! Laura x Author's Reply: teifii on 11-02-2006 Watching stones grow Beautiful as usual from you. There is always something particularly tragic about the destruction of trees.. Daff Author's Reply: e-griff on 13-02-2006 Watching stones grow All been said above, I'll just tick the box as well. Very effective 🙂 Author's Reply: dylan on 14-02-2006 Watching stones grow Guys, chaps and gals, have been away for the weekend, holed up in a hotel in darkest Glasgow. (It was Mrs D`s parents Golding Wedding anniversary-I am still recovering). Anyhoo, what I am struggling to say is that I have not been in a position (I was mostly vertical) to reply sooner.Thank you all for the kind comments. As ever they are much appreciated. XXX(To the women. Manly handshake to the guys). D. Author's Reply: Jen_Christabel on 15-02-2006 Watching stones grow Wow, great poem with your (usual) vivid imagery - great :o) Jennifer x (kiss from a girly LOL) Author's Reply: BlueyedSoul on 17-02-2006 Watching stones grow in all humbleness i say to you...such a vivid picture, great expression and delivery...i admire your work very much. ~blueyedsoul Author's Reply: |
| Under the Bodhi Tree (posted on: 27-01-06) Poem On a cold waiting room Monday, rain fingers cracked rectangles of morning as I flick through threadbare pages listening for the shards of my name to cut a brown leather silence. The door groans an opening when a young girl enters like a fragment of memory. In the blue ice of her china doll eyes I know who she could have been. On the wall, Buddha sits under the Bodhi tree awaiting enlightment impassively. In the constant moment of the droning rain I see all of my life with you unfold again. Archived comments for Under the Bodhi Tree tryptych600 on 28-01-2006 Under the Bodhi Tree I think this is a very good poem. It has a very specific atmosphere about it that really draws you in. You have painted a scene with the minimum of fuss to really bring about a significant moment. I love 'waiting room Monday' and 'brown leather silence'. My only criticism would be, for me, there are too many stanzas, too much page ..so that it feels that you're milking the scene for all its poetic worth. I reckon you could cut out some things ('rectangles' feels a bit clumsy, and the repetition of 'I see') and bring some stanzas together to make an even more effective poem. Regardless of all that, very good indeed. Andrew P.S- I did another an edit of it.. probably just to amuse myself more than anything.. but if you DO need any fresh takes on it I'd be happy to send you a copy (would have posted a copy here but the line spacing won't behave itself) Author's Reply: Hi Andrew, Thank you for your kind words and suggestions. As you can see, I have modified from original layout. Your constructive crit is v. much appreciated. IMO, it has improved the poem. Thanks again, D. Michel on 29-01-2006 Under the Bodhi Tree Favourite for me. Author's Reply: Hi Michel. Thank you for fave nom etc. D. e-griff on 29-01-2006 Under the Bodhi Tree cracked/crack for shards to cut brown-leather silence chine / china? droning? (again) - need it be spoken? agree - could be condensed. G Author's Reply: Thanks for the comment, Griff. I personally, would not substitute Crack/cracked for shards. Shards is intentionally used-primarily to convey the speaker`s low self-esteem. Droning? Well yes, heavy rain drones. Again?-Yup, I feel the rain/again rhyme rounds off the poem-also,the use of irregular rhyming can emphasise a line, which is the intention here. D. |
| Snowblind (posted on: 09-01-06) Resubmission Neon twilight. Footsteps pound the city's heart. As useless clouds of speech gather at street corners, a busker sings of love and hate. The Clyde glitters like a secret. Across its span I watch worn faces outstare city lions, as a tall Mephisto grins in the dusk charged air. Through whisky fumes sirens scream a banshee warning. Your memory whispers '' A poem is a naked wound''. Words I should have said whirl like snowflakes around me. Archived comments for Snowblind bektron on 09-01-2006 Snowblind Hi Dyl, I meant to comment on this last week, I enjoyed it, its solid,well written and its got that good old Dylan thing going on. I think I told you already that I'm going to try and be more helpful in my comments this year so here I go- The whirl of snowflakes-while a great image is somewhat predictable,mind you I'm sat here trying to come up with alternatives and struggling-although I do like the word 'flurry' but that wouldn't work I don't think. I thought the busker line could be made more interesting by the swapping round of 'love and hate' to 'hate and love' which is less expected- and how about 'clouds of useless speech' although that does sort of change the meaning and it's just me interfering 🙂 err I mean 'helping' OKay here's what I liked- the Neon twilight is a beautiful opener (but you have a typo!) love this: Across it`s span I watch well-worn faces out-stare city lions lovely vivid imagery but my favourite part is 'sirens scream a banshee warning' beks:) PS fancy having the word Clyde in yer poem this mornin' tut tut... I thought maybe you'd have replaced it with ***** ;^) Author's Reply: Hi Beks. Clyde is indeed a swear word this morning. Thanks for your kind comments. The original version was quite different-much more dense. I tried to catch a series of images, with a "turning-point" near the end. I took the unprecendented (for me, anyway) step of posting it on ABC. It received a mixed reception-some readers said they liked the imagery, but I was also told rather condescedingly, that it read like "someone has an idea that poetry is the kind of thing to house their observations and ideas but doesn't know the structures of poetry, so can't arrange or develop these disconnected things into an actual poem as a unified whole." Anyhoo, I revised it and this is the end result. Thanks again. XXX, D. As an update to this, my original intention was to try something different. Originally, I tried a series of unconnected images, which culminated in the last lines-if you like a "blizzard" as conceived by the narrator-hence the title. Oh, fuck. I think I should take up golf.... Ginger on 09-01-2006 Snowblind I feel the imagery is powerful, and I actually like the snowflake line, the image sticks with me. Yes, a collection of images and ideas, and yes, they work well as part of the collective whole. Lisa Author's Reply: Thanks for the kind comment. Glad you liked it Lisa. XXX, D. Kat on 09-01-2006 Snowblind Hi Dylan This is to me, a 'Dylan'! ;o) A super read and what you do so well - evoking city life and linking it seamlessly to its folks so that each aren't whole without the other. But that beks knows a thing or two about poetry, and I think her suggestions are worth mulling over too. Thanks for this! Kat :o) Author's Reply: Hiya, Kat. Glad you liked it. I agree that young teuchter Beks knows a thing or two. She is also knowlegable about poetry (Heh-heh). Thank you for the kind comment. XXX, D. e-griff on 09-01-2006 Snowblind I liked this very much, I think the subject built progressively and created a suitable 'mind picture' besides. That ABC person's crit I shall keep by me to prove mine are not so bad after all! 🙂 OK, two small comments and a suggestion: 'it's' 'outstare' is one word. (yes, I realise it may be a deliberate hyphenation-repeat) . I would also tend to 'dusk-charged' to smooth understanding, but I'm the 'Hyphenator'. I understand Bek's comment on snowflakes. My only suggestion is the use of 'frozen flakes' which can be linked to Snow more subtly. also 'frozen' is appropriate for the words locked in time..... G Author's Reply: Thanks for the comments, Griff. The poem for me, is a hybrid. It started as an attempt to capture a series of random images and crystallise these in the final verse-the original first draft was very dense. To be fair to the person at ABC, it did require work. I knew this, but wanted to try it in an enviroment where I wasn`t well known.(Not known at all, come to think of it) . As I mentioned to Beks recently, I wanted to try something different, but ultimately have reverted to my usual style. Anyhoo, I will keep trying. Thanks again. D. Jen_Christabel on 10-01-2006 Snowblind Again, another good piece. I do so enjoy your slices of city life, they are full of imagery. Jen :o) Author's Reply: Thank you kindly for the comment, Jen. It has just occurred to me that i have not propositioned you for some time. I will send a PM soon. XXX, D. barenib on 10-01-2006 Snowblind Dylan, another atmospheric slice of Glasgow life - you do this very well. I know what Beks means about the snowflakes - how about: Words I should have said whirl their blizzard round me. Or something like that anyway. Good stuff - John. Author's Reply: Thanks for taking the time to comment, John. It really is appreciated. D. Leila on 11-01-2006 Snowblind Dylan you write so well about Glesca and this is another fine example. Hauntingly atmosheric is maybe an overused term but it's very true of this. To tweak I think.. lose the as that opens verse two it's typo should be its and I might consider the general layout. But all in all another fine poem...L Author's Reply: Thank you for the comment, Leila. XXX, D. Sunken on 12-01-2006 Snowblind I can't figure out if Phillips screw heads are preferable to the normal straight screw-heads of the early 70's? I know that the Phillips screw-head is better for general grip and leverage, but the straight type offers far more in the way of universal manipulation? For instance, a simple penknife can screw/unscrew a straight screw-head, whereas Phillips require the exact tool. It's a quandary alright and no mistake. Thanks. s u n k e n Parktick thistle 3 - Sonny and Cher 2 Author's Reply: Sunken on 12-01-2006 Snowblind Oh bollocks. I'm so sorry young Dylan. I posted that last comment by mistake. I am also a member of a very interesting tools web site ya see. Great stuff, as usual Mr. D. Thanks. Take care and a thistle. s u n k e n Manchester 4 - Piece of cake 3 Author's Reply: I agree with your original comment, young Sunky. You can`t beat a good screw! Tanks for comment. Orrabest, D. red-dragon on 12-01-2006 Snowblind fantasic, atmospheric poem. How about adding a line at the end.. Words I should have said whirl, like snowflakes around me, frozen on my lips. Ann Author's Reply: Thanks for the comment and suggestion, Ann. Will give it some thought. XXX, D. teifii on 13-01-2006 Snowblind I've never been to Glasgow but I'm sure here is its essence. A favourite. I tend to agree with Leila about the 'as' but please excuse meddling. I really love -The Clyde glitters like a secret -- it's one of those phrases tham akes me utterly jealous for not having thought of it first. Daff Author's Reply: Thanks for taking the time to comment, Daff. The Clyde only glitters when you are drunk, btw! XXX, D. freya on 16-01-2006 Snowblind Dylan another stunningly evocative write, and I agree: you've become a master at describing the isolation and aching loneliness one can feel on a city street, and you skilfully lead your reader, image by startling image, to the heart of both poem and speaker. Did stumble a bit over the very short, cut off 'statement' of your beginning and wondered if it could not simply lead into the next line as in something like: Neon twilight, and footsteps pound the city’s heart. And in your last lines, instead of another simile why not a reality? Is this - or could it not as easily be - a winter scene? something like: Words I should have said whirl in the snowflakes (falling?) around me. Whatever, I do like words that whirl in snowflakes because the image powerfully suggests a muffling/shutting out and further isolation of speaker from all others who may be passing by - emphasizes the singular loss and regret implicit in your resolution. A very fine poem. Shelagh xx Author's Reply: dylan on 16-01-2006 Snowblind Thank you for the v. kind comment, Shelagh. Almost every response suggests an alteration in the final lines. Will consider a change. As I said, I did set out to try something different but seem to have taken the option of familiar territory. A cop-out? I dunno. XXX, D. Author's Reply: e-griff on 16-01-2006 Snowblind Do what you do do well, boy! Author's Reply: e-griff on 16-01-2006 Snowblind 'ware the Judith Durham syndrome. (the seekers?) she was fab. pure accurate voice... decided she wanted to sing jazz. faded... happy? probably. it's a choice to diversify, not an imperative. 'Get famous at one thing first' (me) Author's Reply: Well, I think it is important to keep trying to develop, Griff. Witness Mr Zimmerman, who could have been writing alternative versions of "Blowin` in the Wind" to this day, but had enough (dare I say it) artistic integrity to move on. I do intend to try a few new styles this year. Whether or not they will ever see the light of day is another story. D. e-griff on 20-01-2006 Snowblind I accept that (developing). after all, you've come a long way since ' 'twixt ground and sky' already, I hope you won't mind me saying that there is a sharpness of vision and tightness of description in your current work that wasn't so pronounced before.... so maybe it can only get better... best G Author's Reply: High praise, indeed."Maybe it can only get better...". I have never (and would never ) use the words "`twix ground and sky". But I do take your general point. D. |
| Clearances (posted on: 19-12-05) Poem There are no random coiled serpents of silk scarves or bras. No ferocious gathering of sharp-nosed stilletoes or small dried insects of eyeliner or mascara. There is no lipstick gloss congealed on coffee cups. Only small daggers of jasmine pierce the beginnings of 9am. As a window shaped morning folds into fractured silence, the rest of my life begins. Archived comments for Clearances bektron on 19-12-2005 Clearances Hi Dylan, really enjoyed this as usual, very nicely done, love the 'sharp-nosed stilettoes' the 'window shaped morning' and especially 'daggers of jasmine' but it just so happens that today I am in the mood to nitpick! so here I go: or small dried insects of eyeliner or mascara. - has one too many 'or's for me, perhaps small dried insects made of/from... also I'm not getting the 'worn' binliners, I mean to say binliners are so thin already generally that they tend to tear rather than wear, by their nature they are disposable, so that stuck out for me, there i have now had my Christmas nitpick, so don't go in the huff with me ok? happy hols to you and yours. beks:^) Author's Reply: Oh, you are such a demanding woman, young Beks. The original wording was "consigned to the depths of a memory", but I changed it to the binliner motif `cause I thought it sounded a bit Barry Manilowish. I`ve gone back to "memory" and decided to sulk for the rest of the day. Thanks for the comment-best wishes for Christmas and New Year to you, Mr Beks and Shug the Dalek. XXX, D. Hazy on 19-12-2005 Clearances Hi Dylan *flutters eyelashes* Just wanted to say there are some great lines in this, but Beks has already picked them out so I won't list them again! Hope your out of your sulk now. Nothing worse than a sulking bloke. Well, I suppose there is... one that doesn't do *exactly* as he's told is far worse :-p Without seeing the binliner line, I agree with Beks 😉 Merry humbugs n all that! DMH x Author's Reply: Have only just stopped sulking, DMH. Glad you liked this(You did, didn`t you?) But this is no time for frivolity. You should be off organising the UKA Calendar Girls. (Beks is up for it-the calendar, I mean). Oo-er, missus. Thanks again, XXX, D. (And a very happy Christmas and New Year.) XXX(again) D. AnthonyEvans on 19-12-2005 Clearances some great stuff here, dylan, some very pointed reminders of the physicality of that 'last illusion.' however, because of that very physicality, i have some problems with the stanza: Love, the last illusion /has been consigned /to the depths /of memory. because, it hasn't got that far yet, the images are so sharp that they seem to be etched onto your very eyeball. so, i'd be tempted to cut that stanza and head straight for the last one. don't know if that would work or if you feel that something would be missing. anyway, just my take on things. like i said, some great stuff here. agree with beks/hazy. best wishes, anthony. Author's Reply: dylan on 21-12-2005 Clearances As ever,thanks for the astute comments, Anthony. I too, am still not sure of the "Last Illusion" line-it does smack of Barry manilow. Thanks again. D. Author's Reply: Jolen on 26-12-2005 Clearances I don't see why this doesn't have a nib? Where are the nib faeries? Are they on Christmas break? A very strong and well constructed piece of poetry.. I absolutely loved your analogies. An the ending was tight as hell...Amazing impact! blessings, Jolen Author's Reply: Jolen on 26-12-2005 Clearances I don't see why this doesn't have a nib? Where are the nib faeries? Are they on Christmas break? A very strong and well constructed piece of poetry.. I absolutely loved your analogies. An the ending was tight as hell...Amazing impact! blessings, Jolen Author's Reply: Jolen, I really, really appreciate your kind comments. I personally, thought the changes (as suggested by Anthony) made a lot of difference and that the poem was ultimately, a reasonable effort. But it did not seem to be to well received on UKA-I seriously though about pulling it and trying a rewrite. Thank you again. XXX, D. Apolloneia on 26-12-2005 Clearances very nice, loved the following lines: or small dried insects of eyeliner or mascara. Author's Reply: Nic, any approval from your good self is appreciated. XXX, D. |
| Chess (posted on: 05-12-05) Poem The 5 `o clock traffic crawls through the muslin of a wet November. And Queen`s Street bustles to the sound of goodbyes. Past the haze of coffee stalls trains beat their wings on the violet walls of dusk as the city turns home. And you and I will play our game of chess, defend abstract concepts in black and white deceits or manoveure pawns to a silent checkmate Now, from the worn tragedy of the 5.30 direct, You sleep. I watch crowds scatter like handfuls of dust. Archived comments for Chess Jen_Christabel on 05-12-2005 Chess Loved the metaphors in this! I find it conjures up a very vivid picture - good piece. Jen :o) Author's Reply: Hi Jen, Thanks for the kind comment. Glad you liked this one. XXX, D. AnthonyEvans on 05-12-2005 Chess dylan, i like some of your stanzas here, especially the first and the penultimate. however, it read to me as though they were playing chess on the train, we have to move some way down the poem before we discover that the game of chess is played in the evening. this troubled me. and re-reading it i wanted them to be playing chess on that train! and now they weren't if ever they were, well, they had been in my head, of course. but, of course, it could just be me. but those images, crawling through the muslin of november & the worn tragedy of the 5.30 direct are great. best wishes, anthony. Author's Reply: Thank you for the kind comments, Anthony.The line "And you and I will play our game of chess.." was originally "Where you and I will play..." as the previous stanza had ended with a reference to home. I do take your point and will think about a change here. Tanx again, mon ami. D. Lare on 08-12-2005 Chess Hi dylan...I like this...a lot...you give much to think about...and your words and structuring are wll thought out and planned...you have a neet gift here, my friend...well done... Just me, lare Author's Reply: Thank you for the positive comment, Lare. Much appreciated. D. woodbine on 11-12-2005 Chess Hi Dylan, I liked this a lot. Anthony already made an excellent comment quoting some of your best lines. I would include trains beat their wings on the violet walls of dusk, which is very appealing. Much more so than: maneuver pawns to a silent checkmate which is kind of what you expect would expect. something like;` manoevere pawns to their silent disadvantage, would express their tendency to get sacrificed to the greater good. No....oh well...only a thought. A very accomplished piece of writing. John Author's Reply: Thank you for the very kind comment, John. It`s very much appreciated-I feel that the poem does require some "tweaking" and will revise accordingly. Probably still come up with something naff, but anyway! Thanks again, Mon Ami. D. |
| The Art of Conformity (posted on: 11-11-05) Poem She is black stilletoes, starched white blouse two buttons open, more than a hint of the graduated high school prefect. Beginnings unfold. In the massed ranks of empty screens she shuffles papers like tarot cards and wonders if suffering redeems the immortal souls of fax machines. In a solitary pause near the malicious gurgles of the water cooler, heads turn as heads always turn and small pincers of laughter gnaw the roots of self-esteem. In the office bedlam her dress rages at the greys, the worn beiges of nearly 10am. With defiant footsteps and a razored smile, she moves like the sound of tears. Archived comments for The Art of Conformity tai on 11-11-2005 The Art of Conformity Very nice work Dylan. I loved these lines the most, 'and small pincers of laughter gnaw the roots of self-esteem.' The atmosphere of conformity is thick, just as is the darkness of her surrender. 10 from me Rebel, to the last breath Tai Author's Reply: Tai, mon petit cherie, thank you for the comment. On re-reading this, it strikes me as more a work in progress than a completed poem. I feel it could do with some editing, but can`t be arsed at the moment. Thank you once more. XXX, D. (You haven`t rated it though.Tut-tut) tai on 12-11-2005 The Art of Conformity Sorry about that Dylan, mind mind works faster than the fingers these days!lol tiring Tai Author's Reply: NP, m`dear. I think it may be your age. (D, who is older than Santa Claus)! barenib on 13-11-2005 The Art of Conformity Oh the joys of office life... You have described very well a number of women like this who I've encountered over the years, and wrapped it very well in the shades of emotions that have stirred in me at their existence. The sheer sadness of it. John. Author's Reply: Yup, they do grind you down eventually, John. Thank you for the v. kind comment. D. dylan on 25-11-2005 The Art of Conformity Thanks again, Tai-Li. It also seems to have grown a nib after 2 weeks. Strange, but very welcome. XXX, D. Author's Reply: Jen_Christabel on 06-12-2005 The Art of Conformity Cracking piece Dylan and a well deserved nibby, even if it was late! Thanks for the read. Jen :o) Author's Reply: Thanks, Jennypoos. I`ve just noticed your comment, as I still am not receiving notification e-mails. V. much appreciated. XXX, D. |
| Sunflowers (posted on: 03-10-05) For Kirsty. The thin tussocky billow of thistles gives way to the massed feather heads of past-purple foxglove. And late swallows stab at the frail grey-blue afternoon. I think of you here, caught against leafless winter trees while the wind hunted corpses. Or watching December grow dark with unshed night. The sudden surprise of warm sunflowers under a stony patience pierces the turning light. I walk away. My senses cleansed by your nearness. Archived comments for Sunflowers Bearz on 2005-10-03 08:03:41 Re: Sunflowers A delicious arrangement of imagery Dylan. Just delightful! Author's Reply: Bradene on 2005-10-03 12:03:12 Re: Sunflowers Beautiful poetry, wonderful imagery, altogether fantastic. It seems familiar, is it a re-post? love Val x Author's Reply: ruadh on 2005-10-03 12:47:16 Re: Sunflowers Great imagery in this Dylan. Love these lines; while the wind hunted corpses. love ailsa Author's Reply: allieuk on 2005-10-03 13:14:03 Re: Sunflowers Ohhh that's just beautiful! What a lovely way to start my reading day 🙂 Allie Author's Reply: Gee on 2005-10-03 15:30:16 Re: Sunflowers Everyone else has beaten me to what I wanted to say, but I still have to tell you how beautiful this is. Author's Reply: dogfrog on 2005-10-03 17:18:02 Re: Sunflowers There is obvious charm in the swallows stab and the overall sense of the piece makes me almost want to take the dreadful Bill Oddie for a few hours and hide in the bullrushes. There's one word that nonetheless grates. You guessed it - tussocky. Its a bit like carpety or cupboardy or curtainy for me anyway. But the rest of the poem is sweet, dude. df Author's Reply: Sunken on 2005-10-04 08:14:30 Re: Sunflowers It won't surprise you to hear that you continue to be one of my fav authors here on uka young Dylan. What really pisses me off is that you aren't female. How am I meant to flirt fer godz sake? Top, as ever. s u n k e n he's scared of the light Author's Reply: pencilcase on 2005-10-04 08:22:33 Re: Sunflowers Once again, your economy of style is very effective, with great language and imagery. I like the pace and conclusion of this 'missing/thinking of you' poem as well, and the references to changing seasons convey the reflective content over a longer timescale. Oh yes, the ending. I like it because it's more positive than might have been expected - sometimes the way after time passes through a sense of loss. Steve Author's Reply: bluepootle on 2005-10-04 12:41:43 Re: Sunflowers I liked verse three in particular. Lovely sense of time in this one. Author's Reply: chrissy on 2005-10-04 16:48:40 Re: Sunflowers This is the kind of poem I would like to write, to have written. It feels good read out loud. That's the way I judge. It made me feel cold and exposed but I enjoyed reading it and for me that's all that counts. chrissy Author's Reply: tai on 2005-10-05 10:30:49 Re: Sunflowers Wonderfully refreshing Dylan Great read indeed. 10 from me No crit to offer Smiling at thoughts conjured Tai Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-10-05 14:22:27 Re: Sunflowers Yeehaw.Finally on-line.Thank you for the kind comment.Gladd you liked it. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-10-05 14:26:08 Re: Sunflowers Hi Val.Thanks for the comment. A version of this was posted some time ago, but I withdrew it, as I wasn`t happy with the ending. More generally, it may well be that a lot of my work is becoming formulized. Thanks again. XXX, D. Author's Reply: teifii on 2005-10-05 14:30:56 Re: Sunflowers Beautifil imagery, economy and the way it flows. Right up to your usual standard. Daff Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-10-05 14:31:11 Re: Sunflowers Thank you, Ailsa. It`s interesting that the vast majority of comments are by women. Always knew they had good taste! XXX, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-10-06 09:53:15 Re: Sunflowers Thank you for taking the time to comment and glad you liked this, Allie. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-10-06 09:54:11 Re: Sunflowers Thank you for the kind comment, Gee. D. Author's Reply: JonAyre on 2005-10-06 16:48:20 Re: Sunflowers This could so easily be a visit to the grave of a loved one - but I guess each reader finds their own meaning. Love the piece. The simplicity is it's strength. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-10-06 17:08:46 Re: Sunflowers Thanks for taking the time to comment, df. I do appreciate the feedback. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-10-06 22:29:28 Re: Sunflowers Bloody Hell young Munky, that is slightly worrying. I suggest you have a cold shower and study some pictures of Kylie`s arse. BTW, please lemme know what you thought of GK-I would appreciate any feedback. PM, mail, whatever. And seriously, thanks again.Your encouragement helps more than you know. Orrabest, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-10-06 22:46:51 Re: Sunflowers Hi Steve, Thanks for the astute comments. My problem with this one (and most of my recent poems) is that there is a basic similarity-ie, all are short, strong on imagery, with recurring themes of loss, regret and alienation. While the poem on the whole, is reasonable, it doesn`t take any chances.There is a lack of edginess, of originality. Forgive me, I`m thinking aloud (and rambling). Thanks again, Orrabest, D. Author's Reply: rozee on 2005-10-06 22:51:35 Re: Sunflowers Loved the first few verses especially. I was back in Scotland for a while there - liked the contrast between the bleak winter trees and the sunflowers Author's Reply: skinnyscot on 08-10-2005 Sunflowers this is truly lovely. i thought it was the nearness of God which cleansed your senses rather than someone you miss. I particularly liked the third verse. i give this an 8 Author's Reply: Leila on 08-10-2005 Sunflowers Dylan I found much to enjoy here and I really like the last two lines. Your economic style and imagery runs through Gk which I thoroughly enjoyed and intend to pass on to a Glesca friend. I have some favourites in the book but the one I returned to many times was Swallows and Crows on the Curling Pond, think it excellent...hope the book is doing well...L Author's Reply: Chaps, I hope you will forgive me not answering each comment individually, but my ancient PC continues to play up.Believe me, all are very welcome. Leila, glad you enjoyed GK-the poem "Swallows and Crows" was inspired by a curling pond in a country park not far from where I live(the one where Wimpey wanted to build houses). It`s a place of incredible beauty.My friend, the very lovely and talented Beks(enough grovelling), wrote a superb review on Amazon for the book and I expect sales to go through the roof.Well at least to reach double figures. I hope your own Slim Volume is doing well . XXX D. Frenchy on 09-10-2005 Sunflowers Trés beau... A haunting hymn to love... really good mood writing. Take Care, Dave. Author's Reply: dylan on 09-10-2005 Sunflowers Ye Gods-I have no idea what is going on with the reply screen. I seem to have replied to DF when I wanted to reply to Ailsa and to Sunky when I wanted to..well, you get my drift. Alors-merci, mon ami. D. Author's Reply: BlueyedSoul on 10-10-2005 Sunflowers Dylan... you have penned a mere piece of loveliness deserving of a flower... wish i could write like that...loved this one. ~Cindy Author's Reply: Mikeverdi on 02-12-2014 Sunflowers This just popped up on the front page.... I had to comment 🙂 Beautiful words as always. Mike Author's Reply: Thanks Mike and apologies for delay in replying. This one is going back a bit-think it was actually in "Glasgow Kisses", which wasn`t yesterday! Anyhoo, thanks again and have a nice Christmas. Orrabest, D. |
| Singles (posted on: 12-09-05) Poem The room is indifferent to my presence. And turns to watch the glimmer of the thin night drizzle. A Hamlet, Prince of Denmark mirror throws my bleary-eyed reflection across the sadness of a wedding-day frame and sharp-faced window shades are slitted against grey waves of rain-tipped roofs. The scent of you is a labyrinth. I picture you here, in fractured telephone conversations, watching the black ash of each night deepen. In the kitchen`s one-bulbed half-darkness You offer decaff coffee with a warm touch of desperation. Archived comments for Singles karenuk on 2005-09-12 10:00:56 Re: Singles I loved the little descriptions in there - one-bulbed, decaff, etc. They really brought the pictures to life, as well as being kind of sad and not quite 'right' in some way - i.e. you wanted the room to be brighter, the coffee to have caffeine in - or maybe that's just me? 😉 Karen. Author's Reply: littleditty on 2005-09-12 22:45:04 Re: Singles Superb - gave me the shivers - a fav - a bit spooky this one , for me - shiver :o) xxxlittleditty x Author's Reply: Leila on 2005-09-13 21:07:33 Re: Singles Powerful images Dylan, muchly enjoyed...I can't help playing with it though and as you know I only ever do that when I really like something...anyway here goes, feel free to ignore my tuppence ha'penny worth...L The room is indifferent to my presence and turns to watch the glimmer of thin night drizzle. A Hamlet, Prince of Denmark mirror throws my bleary-eyed reflectiion across the sadness of a wedding-day frame. Sharp-faced window shades slitted against grey waves of rain-tipped roofs the scent of you a labyrinth. Author's Reply: Leila on 2005-09-14 10:05:13 Re: Singles sorry Dylan looks like I cut myself off there, but the rest of the poem I didn't tinker with, only the first part...yeah I am a cheeky bugger...L Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-09-14 21:25:07 Re: Singles Hi Karen, Tanks for the comment. Glad you liked this one. There are a few undercurrents here-not sure if they are detectable or if I`m verging on the obscure again. Thanks again, XXX D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-09-14 22:27:10 Re: Singles Glad you liked it and thank you once more for your encouragement and kind words. (I know it ain`t my blue eyes!) XXX D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-09-14 22:35:21 Re: Singles Hi LD.Thanks for the fav nom etc. The "blue eyes" reference was to a joke between Tai-Li and I, btw. (No offence intended) Glad you liked this one. D/ Author's Reply: Apolloneia on 2005-09-15 17:25:12 Re: Singles truly good NP -x- Author's Reply: Sunken on 2005-09-15 17:46:32 Re: Singles Until recently I thought that decaf coffee was just coffee from de cafe. Honest. That's how truly think I am young Dylan. Anyway, that's not important right now. I think world peace is important, the price of fuel, Kylie's health and of course, the number 93. Thanks. Another Dylanesque triumph. s u n k e n a subtle shade of desperation Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-09-15 18:43:54 Re: Singles Hi,young Leila. Thanks for the comments and crit. I actually thought about ending the poem at the point you mention (scent,labyrinth) but decided against it, as it didn`t really capture the atmosphere of the incident and could be construed as yet another "Barry Manilow" poem.(Of which I seem to write a good deal). Reading this again, my main concerns are that the first line is rather pompous-(The room is indifferent etc) and the metaphors a trifle over done. I feel it would be carry more power if most of the 3rd stanza (Sharp-faced shades) were omitted or at least modified. Just musing aloud-please ignore me. I really do appreciate your constructive comment. XXX, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-09-15 22:56:07 Re: Singles Thank you, young Munky. I think Tai-Li`s description of decaff as "horsepiss" was very apt. As regards Kylie, I sincerely hope she gets well. We need arses like that in this sad world. The no 93 ? I personally prefer 69. Orrabest, D. Author's Reply: teifii on 2005-09-17 12:33:57 Re: Singles This is a real picture in words. Verry good. I can't pick out any images for special appreciation as all are so good. Reading the comments -- whatever you do or don't do about the shades, please don't sut out the whole stanza. are slitted against grey waves of rain-tipped roofs. - is wonderful. 'rain-tipped roofs' -- we have a lot of them round my way, all slate. A little quibble if I mayt make so bold -- If ypu have a comma after 'Hamlet', shouldn't you have another after 'Denmark' or it leaves one hanging. I love the poem anyway. Daff Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-09-17 14:45:38 Re: Singles Hi Daff, thank you for the kind comments. You are correct re comma-I will add one immediately. I think the metaphors are slightly overdone-ie following the "Hamlet" stanza with "grey waves" is perhaps too much. These are my thoughts at the moment, but I will probably be in a different mood later! Anyhoo, thanks again. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-09-17 14:47:42 Re: Singles Hi Nic, Thanks for positive feedback. Very much appreciated. XXX, D. Author's Reply: Jolen on 2005-09-22 04:11:37 Re: Singles Oh what a powerful and well written piece of too often the way it is. I enjoyed this and congrats on the well deserved nib. blessings, Jolen Author's Reply: |
| Fog, amphetamines and pearls (posted on: 26-08-05) Poem The first time I heard "Tambourine Man" you sang the chorus as we crisped over blue-snow streets in a blood raw sunset. Your words rose on the razor`s edge of December and I saw evening`s empire return into sand vanish from my hand and we danced beneath a diamond sky silhouetted by streelight far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow. But time demands everything. And the ghosts of who we were fade to platformed soled absurdity. Now, another winter twilight throws black and white perspectives. As blades of rain slash at the window, this night bleeds like a jagged wound. Archived comments for Fog, amphetamines and pearls Bradene on 2005-08-26 12:33:36 Re: Fog, amphetamine and pearls This should have two nibs!!IMO.. but then who am I, what do I know! Great Dylan. Fanbloodytastic. Love Val x Author's Reply: blackdove on 2005-08-26 12:45:59 Re: Fog, amphetamine and pearls Oh, this is so sad it hurts. 'And time demands everything' - doesn't it just. The melancholy in this is like a deep felt wound, Dylan and yes, you've captured the essence of time passing and regret. It sings. Luv Jem x Author's Reply: teifii on 2005-08-26 18:38:43 Re: Fog, amphetamine and pearls Beautiful and sad. The images are exquisite. Even if 'in a blood raw sunset.' was not surrounded by other images of cold, it would still be cold. A favourite definitely. Daff Author's Reply: tai on 2005-08-26 18:51:16 Re: Fog, amphetamine and pearls Absolutely soul destroying beautiful work Dylan. If it were not for the title I would have omitted the 'soul destroying' part. You are such a romantic poet. 10 from me. Tai Author's Reply: BaBy_PoeT on 2005-08-26 21:20:53 Re: Fog, amphetamine and pearls this is defiantly a great read..... i can almost feel and imagine this. you used great lines thats what i thought. keep it up Dylan. take care xXx...:::...BaBy PoeT...:::...xXx Author's Reply: barenib on 2005-08-26 22:02:50 Re: Fog, amphetamine and pearls John, another Glasgow kiss fuelled by raw Dylan-ness and northern street-cold. Excellent stuff - John. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2005-08-27 19:08:56 Re: Fog, amphetamine and pearls A great read and only 50 odd hits!? Where are my placards? There's no justice. At least the nibbers know what they're doing. This is you at your best young Dylan. The book, by the way? - Fan-bloody-tastic. It is, along with Leila's and a girl named Faerie, constantly by my bedside - I hope this thought isn't too disturbing. Consider life without bacofoil. s u n k e n replicating minor road traffic incidences of the late 1960's - just for a laugh. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-27 23:09:35 Re: Fog, amphetamine and pearls Val, My pc continues to play up-so apologies for the delay in replying. Thanks for the kind comments. To be honest, I had (and have) serious reservations about this one.(Am not just saying this, btw). Is it just a teensy bit sugary/self-indulgent? It is almost entirely factual, but I kep thinking of bloody Barry Manilow, rather than His Bobness.. Anyway, am musing aloud. Thanks again, mon cherie. XXX, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-27 23:19:58 Re: Fog, amphetamine and pearls Hiya Jem, how the devil are you? Haven`t heard from you in ages-hope all is well. I think you were contemplating a serious change of life-style? Please pm meand lemme know how it went. Glad you liked this one. XXX, D. Author's Reply: Elfstone on 2005-08-28 12:20:39 Re: Fog, amphetamines and pearls I liked this very much dylan. But time demands everything. - how true and of course 'time destroys everything' too. A very atmospheric piece of work. Elfstone. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-28 21:38:58 Re: Fog, amphetamine and pearls Daff, thank you for your comments. Very much appreciated. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-28 21:47:35 Re: Fog, amphetamine and pearls Tai, thank you so much for the v. kind comment. I try for gritty reality, but as you say, am an old romantic at heart. XXX, D. Author's Reply: pencilcase on 2005-08-29 02:26:23 Re: Fog, amphetamines and pearls Loads of stuff I really like about this poem. Intensely engaging. Blue snow/blood raw, etc. And 'platformed soled absurdity' is a masterstroke. Great stuff, mate! Appreciated, Steve Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-29 18:43:07 Re: Fog, amphetamine and pearls Hi BP, Glad you liked it and thanks for the v. kind comments. XXX, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-29 21:32:44 Re: Fog, amphetamine and pearls Thanks for the comment, John. Very much appreciated. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-29 21:39:35 Re: Fog, amphetamine and pearls Hiya, Sunky. I really appreciate your comments re this piece and GK. The encouragement is heartening-like every person who has ever wielded a pen, I`m often unsure of a piece`s worth. Thank you once more, mon ami. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-30 21:25:55 Re: Fog, amphetamines and pearls Thanks for the comment, Elf. Glad you liked it. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-30 21:35:07 Re: Fog, amphetamines and pearls Hi, Steve. Thank you for the kind comments. I`ve actually used some lines from "Tambourine Man" in the poem.-"Evening`s empire" to "Crazy sorrow" are lyrics courtesy of the esteemed Mr Zimmerman. The title too, is from another Dylan song. I thought some of the afficianados of his work (The Griffmeister, Rosco etc) would have picked up on this. I don`t think he`ll sue somehow.... Thanks again, mon ami. D. Author's Reply: Lu on 2005-08-30 22:37:31 Re: Fog, amphetamines and pearls So elegantly done! Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-31 12:55:02 Re: Fog, amphetamines and pearls Thank you once again for your v. kind comments, Tal-Li. I really do appreciate the encouragement. XXX, D. Author's Reply: tryptych600 on 2005-09-01 03:09:54 Re: Fog, amphetamines and pearls Looks like I'm gonna be the one to disagree. Am I mistaken or do you have a spelling mistake at the end of stanza five? I really like lots of your stuff mate but this one doesn't cut it for me. All the better lines are Bob's and you've got a really overplayed ending. Totally lacks subtlety IMO. I think you CAN get round this by bringing out the background of the relationship more and perhaps lessening the quotes? Is it possible to find just one or two of Bob's lines that sum up the relationship more succinctly? Is it also possible to bring out the sense of place.. of where these two characters are.. a bit more strongly?.. and relate that atmosphere to the Bob lines? I think the points you made about it are perfectly valid. Just think that you need to bring that 'place' the two people are inhabiting much closer to the lyrics with more description 'They're just thoughts really' ..feel free to disregard. Andrew Author's Reply: Rosco on 2005-09-01 03:50:14 Re: Fog, amphetamines and pearls Sorry, couldn't help replying to something like this. Oddly, Dylan never used the adjective 'jagged', but 'wound' is a mainstay and this quote might belong to the current author's state of mind as described: "Everything stays down where it's wounded."(Series of Dreams). 'Time out of Mind' also covers this territory very well, so Bob did end up here himself. I think it's rather fitting in a way as a gloss of his career. By the way, Gaslight(62 coffee house performance) and the CD for No Direction Home was just released here. They include many of the very first performances of the great songs. Gaslight has 'Hard Rain's a Gonna Fall' heard for the first time in a coffee shop in Greenwich. Sorry, too much Dylan talk. You got me going, but you know how it is. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-09-01 11:25:59 Re: Fog, amphetamines and pearls I havta say I think you are making fair comment, which I appreciate. I seem to stray into over-sentimentality, when dealing with this subject matter.It`s something I am well aware of. I may well try another draft of this. Having said that, the poem does seem to have been quite well-received on UKA. Thanks for the constructive comments-it is appreciated. D. Author's Reply: karenuk on 2005-09-09 16:18:22 Re: Fog, amphetamines and pearls Great imagery and very expressive use of language throughout. You missed a 't' on 'streetlight' though. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-09-09 22:32:08 Re: Fog, amphetamines and pearls Thank you for the kind comment, mon ami. (Am unsure if you are male or female, so will not sign off with (Glasgow) kisses.) D. Author's Reply: |
| The colours, they are fine (posted on: 08-08-05) Poem As Saturday ripples through the Union flags, an unrepentant baton spins like shrapnel and the colour of July turns bitter orange. Past the chaos of drums and flutes in the flowing streets on brick red corners and in the backs of cars Glasgow gathers up the afternoon. The sunlight snares the wind filled banners, moves slowly past the brazen brass, the heavy bellied drums, and throws twisted shadows across blank faces. "Orange bastards" explodes from an ash-grey high rise. The fluorescent guards buzz like angry wasps in a sea of bowler hats and shining gloves. I think of fossils caught in amber and skeletons washed in ocean waves. So they fade to distant snarls. In the aftermath, as evening rakes the Glorious Twelfth to violet skies and jasmine air, the city turns again to the sad, slow music of night. On the river`s placid darkess pin-pricks of light flare like beacons. Archived comments for The colours, they are fine bektron on 2005-08-08 07:10:26 Re: The colours, they are fine Dylan, I love the fossils / amber metaphor- which perfectly captures and echoes my feelings on the subject of marches, the last stanza is perfection, you have a way of bringing Glesga to life as it is, and as it is in your heart, with love but without the blindness usually associated with that condition. Another slap of class. beks Author's Reply: Bradene on 2005-08-08 12:07:55 Re: The colours, they are fine Wonderfully evocative poem on an emotive subject. Beatifully written as usual Dylan. Love Val x Author's Reply: chrissy on 2005-08-08 12:38:21 Re: The colours, they are fine Having been brought up by a Norther Irish (Newry) Catholic and a Southern Irish (West Meath) protestant, I understand this poem so well. It is a wonderful piece of writing and I really liked the bowler hats which to me still seem so incongruous. As long as people carry such bitter feelings it's never going to change where ever the two sides come into contact. Except in the case of my parents who were married forty years and who, to my memory, never a spoke a cross word about religion. Very well done. chrissy Author's Reply: chant on 2005-08-08 14:26:30 Re: The colours, they are fine very well-paced & graceful. Author's Reply: AnthonyEvans on 2005-08-08 21:35:04 Re: The colours, they are fine i really like this poem, dylan. it seems spot on. so many good images and a brisk movement that matches the march. best wishes, anthony. Author's Reply: teifii on 2005-08-09 13:52:36 Re: The colours, they are fine Brilliant! A favourite. I love the way it consists of real sentences and yet absolutely scans as poetry. And the images are amazing. I especially like: an unrepentant baton spins like shrapnel and the colour of July turns bitter orange. and Glasgow gathers up the afternoon. I'm off to click on fav. Daff Author's Reply: tai on 2005-08-09 14:32:27 Re: The colours, they are fine I really enjoyed the way the poet contrasts what is going on around him with wonderful scenes in his mind. The metaphors were cool too! Excellent work.imo Deserving of a 10 at least!lol Smiling Tai Author's Reply: e-griff on 2005-08-09 19:40:36 Re: The colours, they are fine excellent. sometimes we forget that Northern Ireland and Scotland are almost one and the same, with the same root problems, apart from the IRA. That the populations have shifted back and forth over time, that all lowland scots came from england a few hundred years ago... mad, really innit? funny old world.................. G Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-09 21:28:46 Re: The colours, they are fine Yee-haw! Have finally got back on line on home pc. Apologies for delay in replying, -still not 100% so may take some time to reply to the v. kind comments so far. Thanks awfully,young Beks. My main concern was that sectarian marches are virtually unknown outside the Scottish/Irish divide and this poem would leave most readers mystified. Seems to be understood so far. For me it is an incredibly sad poem, but not without hope. XXX, D. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2005-08-10 08:48:25 Re: The colours, they are fine As ever, class. Enjoyed the book young Dylan. I am currently enjoying it again. Good to see you getting some decent responses. Well done mister. s u n k e n running on double AA Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-10 13:58:28 Re: The colours, they are fine Thanks for the v. kind comments, Tai. XXX, D. Author's Reply: Leila on 2005-08-10 17:32:56 Re: The colours, they are fine Dylan I won't pick out any favourite lines because this is altogether an excellent poem. You have a couple of typos.. 2nd line should be 'through' I think and also 'fluorescent'. I still haven't received your book but will check up today...reading this I am more anxious than ever to get my hands on it...L Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-10 20:45:32 Re: The colours, they are fine Hi, young Munky. Thank you for kind words and glad you enjoyed GK. Allrabest D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-10 20:58:59 Re: The colours, they are fine Hi, Griffykins. Yep, most W o S Catholics are 3rd or 4th generation Irish-the potato famine in the late 1880s was the last big migration. Unfortunately, the ancient prejudices also live on. Glad you liked it and thanks for the comment. D. Author's Reply: pencilcase on 2005-08-10 21:00:15 Re: The colours, they are fine Hi - was really good to meet you a couple of weeks ago. I guess you've just made it home! I can just about remember through copious pints that we touched on the sectarianism in Glasgow. This poem is a very good expression on this unfortunate subject and I think the images of the spinning baton and heavy bellied drums, etc, is very effective. 'As Saturday ripples through union flags' is very succinct and immediately engaging opening. It occurs to me that one short word 'missing' from this poem might be 'sash'. Might even be possible to make a play on words with 'sash windows'. That's just a thought I had, so thought I'd mention it, 'sash' being such an economical yet highly emotive word in this context. A very fine poem, I think, the conclusion of which can be taken in more than one way...indeed, in two extreme ways. All the best, Steve Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-10 22:02:30 Re: The colours, they are fine Hi, Steve. It was very nice to meet up at the UKAlive do. As I said at the time, I thought your reading was brilliant. Have no recollection of talking about sectarianism, though.(Probably shows how drunk I was!) Thanks for the kind and constructive comments-the main objective was to capture something of the chaotic, intimidating atmosphere without becoming self-righteous.(Wagging the index finger, as Billy Connolly would say). Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: Leila on 2005-08-11 09:40:00 Re: The colours, they are fine Would you believe your book arrived this morning....I am now running late but happily immersed in a feeling of pure Glesca...L Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-11 14:05:45 Re: The colours, they are fine Hi Leila, Sincerely hope you enjoy GK. Thanks for the v. kind comments and congratulations on WOTM.Very richly deserved. XXX, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-11 21:03:27 Re: The colours, they are fine Apologies for not responding sooner, Daff-am still having probs with me PC. Glad you liked this one-thanks for the fav nom and kind comments. Awrabest, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-12 21:29:28 Re: The colours, they are fine Thank you for the kind comment, Chrissy. I find the sectarianism in the West of Scotland incredibly sad-the people marching, parading their ancient hatred belong to the same country, the same city, in some cases, as I do. We`re all Jock Tamson`s bairns, as my dad used to say. Anyhoo, tanx again. XXX, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-13 19:35:51 Re: The colours, they are fine Hi, Val. Thanks for the comment. Hope you are well. XXX, D. Author's Reply: littleditty on 2005-08-14 13:55:57 Re: The colours, they are fine a beautiful poem - very well told as so a pleasure to read, and read again. Super :o) xxxlittleditty x Author's Reply: barenib on 2005-08-14 16:55:16 Re: The colours, they are fine Dylan, excellent stuff and though I only have a moment to comment before going out, I hope you won't take my brevity to be just lip service. I too enjoyed meeting you and hope that we will again soon. Great poem - John. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-14 19:51:27 Re: The colours, they are fine Ian & Anthony-thank you both for the comments. Hope you don`t mind me answering both together. Allrabest, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-15 21:03:22 Re: The colours, they are fine Hi again,John. It was good to meet you-enjoyed our (drunken) conversation-I will order your Slim Volume v. soon. Thanks for the kind words-very much appreciated. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-08-15 21:11:55 Re: The colours, they are fine Hi Tai-Li. Thank you for the kind comment. I am very partial to Dylans,be it DT, His Bobness or the rabbit from "The Magic Roundabout". Glad you liked it. Also v. grateful thanks for the "Fave Author" nom-very much appreciated. XXX Author's Reply: |
| Without (posted on: 18-07-05) Poem If you refuse to acknowledge me said the unrelenting loss who grinned like a deathshead, I will conceal myself in the folds of shrivelled skin. In the loosening of sinews. I will hide behind veiled compliments and in the hideous kindness of strangers. In the depths of smoky rooms, I will linger like forgotten music. I will wait in gargoyle shadows when midnight crawls, among miracles that bloom in stone carved streets. And in the whisper of the near-dawn song and the loneliness of footsteps, you will know my name. Archived comments for Without Sunken on 2005-07-18 23:28:06 Re: Without Phooaarrr. Know what I mean? A lot of your work gives me a Phooaarrrr feeling young Dylan. Don't worry, it's merely a literary Phoaaarr. You need not fret about my intentions towards you. Jeez, do you think one day I'll get the hang of this? Top write young man. Too many great bits to cut it down, to do so would be Wrong with a big 'W' Still waiting on the book by the way. I think they do sometimes take a while. It will be worth the wait. 'The loneliness of footsteps' Oh balls, I said I wouldn't do that... 'i will conceal myself in the folds of shriveled skin' Now that my friend, is class! Believe. s u n k e n Trading childhood traumas for solitary walks in parks frequented by the shadows of dying foliage - cause he wants to, cause he wants to. Author's Reply: AnthonyEvans on 2005-07-18 23:42:48 Re: Without hi dylan, i agree with sunken that those lines (i will conceal myself in the folds of shrivelled skin) are pretty nifty. and even though the prose is pretty purplish in parts, well, it kinda works for me. i don't quite like the intro, i mean, the 'if you refuse to ack me' is fine but i have some problems with the 'said the unrelenting loss who grinned like a deathshead.' best wishes, anthony. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-07-19 23:32:04 Re: Without Hi, young Munky. Thanks again for your encouragement-I really appreciate it, particularly as this piece doesn`t seem to be that popular on UKA. It took ages for my copies of GK to arrive too. Maybe worth asking HR to prod those Bluechrome types. Thanks again -You coming on the 28th, btw? D. Author's Reply: Claire on 2005-07-19 23:41:25 Re: Without Now I like this one of yours, it has a hidden dark feel to it, very nice indeed. There's some canny descriptions in this too. Enjoyed. ;^) Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-07-20 09:13:23 Re: Without Thanks for the comment, Claire. Glad you liked it. XXX, D. Author's Reply: tai on 2005-07-20 09:31:05 Re: Without Blimey Dylan, this is so chilled and so true. A Great read imo. 9 from me but I think it's worth 10. Smiling Tai Author's Reply: Bradene on 2005-07-20 12:52:48 Re: Without Wow! Dylan you are so good at creating an atmosphere of doom.. this is great and to think I almost missed it. love Val x Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-07-20 18:21:30 Re: Without Hi Anthony. Glad you liked at least part of it. I don`t quite know what you mean by "pretty purplish", though. The language has to be formal to fit the overall mood of the poem, I feel. Anyhoo, thanks for the comment-very much appreciated. D. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2005-07-21 07:26:29 Re: Without Worry not young Dylan of the north, it arrived yesterday (Wednesday). Its worth every penny, but then I always knew it would be. I'm up to 'Alice by the window' I could have read it all in one sitting, but I want to savor it. Well done. As for the uka meet, I'm afraid my curfew will not allow it. I have tried removing the tag, but its pretty much stuck there. I have contemplated amputation. It seems a little extreme though? I shall attempt to connect via a medium I know by the name of Ethel. She stinks of piss but she knows her stuff. Eat steak, drink cola and randomly accuse a stranger of cutting your grass whilst you were down the pub. s u n k Filling in the cracks between paving stones with ready-brek, cause he wants to, cause he wants to. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-07-21 09:12:15 Re: Without Hi ,Tai. Thanks for the comments and rating-I really do appreciate it. Looking forward to meeting you on 28th-I may even buy a round! XXX, D. Author's Reply: eddiesolo on 2005-07-21 18:13:00 Re: Without Hi Dylan, I really liked this piece. Some people have commented before that it has a dark feel to it...I agree. It left (for some reason, I can't put my finger on) a shiver down my spine. Si:-) Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-07-21 22:20:30 Re: Without Hi Val, how are ya? Thank you for the kind comment-glad you liked this one. XXX, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-07-23 22:32:07 Re: Without Hi Si, Have just realised that I haven`t replied to your very kind comment. Thanks for that-I seem to be back into my manic depressive phase again. Well, it keeps me happy... Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: teifii on 2005-07-24 19:23:27 Re: Without This is wonderfully spooky. I agree in part with John's comment -- I'd just drop who grinned like a deathshead, Great poem though. Daff Author's Reply: teifii on 2005-07-24 19:37:41 Re: Without Sorry. I was reading several at once and it was a case of more haste less speed. i meant Anthony's csuggestion. But I like the 'unrelenting loss'. daff Author's Reply: Leila on 2005-07-24 20:05:06 Re: Without Dylan I have always been a huge fan of your work and its darker side and so you impress me again. I love 95% of this but personally would be very tempted to remove 'who grinned like a deathshed' and 'hideous kindness of strangers'. The poem is strong enough to lose those lines because every other line is deep, dark and finely crafted...Looking forward to Glasgow Kisses arriving...L Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-07-24 23:29:34 Re: Without Thanks for the comment(s), mon ami. Much appreciated. Perhaps the personification of an emotion followed by a simile is a bit over done. I personally quite like it. My "Guru" (who is an aged relative, btw), thinks I am slipping back into Eliot impersonations, but there ya go. Can`t please everyone(especially aged relatives). Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-07-24 23:41:19 Re: Without Hi, Sweetness and Light. Thanks muchly for the comments. Again, I think both these lines-particularly "Hideous kindness.." work quite well in the context of a poem primarily about loss and regret. But anyhoo... I really, really enjoy your work-I know I don`t comment a lot these days. It`s honestly due to serious lack of time. That and the fact that I am a lazy GOM (Grumpy Old Man). Can you make it on 28th, btw? XXX, D. Author's Reply: Nimbus on 2005-07-25 19:31:35 Re: Without I like the Hillerman-esque imagery in this poem...though you work with shorter lines, I like the internal rhythm. Nimbus Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-07-26 00:20:03 Re: Without Thanks for taking the time to comment, mon ami. Glad you liked it. D. Author's Reply: |
| Gull (posted on: 27-06-05) Poem Night. And the city glitters like a reptile. "Revolution" heaves to bodytouchingbodytouchingbody and the scent of women howls through the salt of midnight. He watches with seagull eyes, with wing-boned hands and his cream two button Jaeger caws "Here"! He is all the voices of the sea, And, ravenous as the gates of Hell, He smiles, waves, says hello. Archived comments for Gull LenchenElf on 2005-06-29 02:14:49 Re: Gull Really enjoyed your poem "He is all the voices of the sea" an excellent line, thanks for sharing it. all the best LE Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-06-29 15:09:52 Re: Gull Thanks for the v. kind comment, mon ami. D. Author's Reply: Bradene on 2005-06-30 15:15:12 Re: Gull Hi Dylan, this is a great poem you have here. I don't know why but it made me shudder. It reminded me of a Dean Koontz Book whose title escapes me at the moment.. but I think it was these lines in particular that did it for me:- He is all the voices of the sea, And, ravenous as the gates of Hell, He smiles, waves, says hello. Fantastic. Love Val x Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-06-30 18:18:21 Re: Gull Hi Val, thanks for your kind words. To be honest, I would probably have pulled this had it not been nibbed.Glad you liked it. XXX, D. Author's Reply: eddiesolo on 2005-07-03 01:35:18 Re: Gull Hi Dylan, I really liked this piece, I just loved: "Revolution" heaves to bodytouchingbodytouchingbody I think that's a great line. Worthy of the nib my lad. Si:-) Author's Reply: Jolen on 2005-07-03 02:02:18 Re: Gull I enjoyed this, the imagery evokes haunting images of a 'lounge lizard' for me... Wonderful writing. blessings, Jolen Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-07-03 13:04:14 Re: Gull Thank you for the kind comment, mon ami. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-07-03 13:21:01 Re: Gull Thank you for taking the time to comment. Glad you liked it. XXX, D. Author's Reply: |
| La Pieta (posted on: 13-06-05) Poem The sun grows to a chrysanthemum in a sky clear as cathedral silence. And July putrifies the tarmac to a slow quicksand with each step protesting stut-schop, stut-schop. Which we decide is vaguely German. Rome intensifies; businessmen brandish inevitable attaches in a myriad of Raybans. Her arms are mottled plums. Too-ripe fruit clutching a tousled bundle already labeled "Nato cieco". Someone spits an untidy crucifix a car howls derision. But her eyes are grey, coldly passive, broken stone made flesh. And in an Eternal City street they are the only poem. Archived comments for La Pieta Flash on 2005-06-13 09:54:40 Re: La Pieta Mon ami i know nothing of poetry as you know, but this was a beautiful reminisce of a your visit to Rome. The line about the vespas i thought very creative, and i could see that image clearly even in my dull bonce. And sort your damn popups out man!! There are lots of brazen young women in that chatroom that need attending to. Regards Flash Author's Reply: chrissy on 2005-06-13 11:25:07 Re: La Pieta Beautiful, evocative, A lovely piece which was a joy to read. chrissy Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-06-13 13:32:51 Re: La Pieta Hiya `Poos. Glad you like it (the poem, I mean). Me pop-ups are enabled, I assure you.Kept receiving an error message on Friday-probably has to do with the antiquated heap I laughingly refer to as a PC. Will sort out afore-said brazen fillies at a later date. Cheers, D. Author's Reply: AnthonyEvans on 2005-06-13 13:50:27 Re: La Pieta dylan, this is great. i loved that opening stanza. my first ever published short story was set in rome and i think you capture that city well. the only thing i didn't quite go for was the vespas swarming like mythical swans. i had a ride on the back of one of those things, they are always driven by total maniacs. you must have been looking at them from a great distance! (wish i had been). best wishes, anthony. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-06-13 20:51:08 Re: La Pieta Glad you liked it, Chrissy. Thanks for the very generous comment. XXX D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-06-13 20:57:42 Re: La Pieta Thanks, Anthony. I think the driving in Rome is generally of the Wacky Races variety.I remember the vespas as being a constant menace to man and beast. But they did glide through crowds-mind you, most of the pedestrians were running for dear life! Once again, thanks for your comments. D. Author's Reply: Ionicus on 2005-06-13 21:05:26 Re: La Pieta Dear Dylan, this is great. Very evocative of a city I know well. And the description of the traffic is so true. I remember that once, in order to cross the road safely, I followed a clutch of nuns. They seem to be the only ones for which Italian drivers have any respect. Cheers. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-06-13 21:11:53 Re: La Pieta Hi, Luigi. Glad you liked it. Rome is probably my favourite city (after Glasgow, of course).Fully intend to go back soon.Hmm-shouldn`t that be a prayer of nuns? Or a rosary? Thanks again, mon ami. D. Author's Reply: Kat on 2005-06-14 04:52:32 Re: La Pieta Yes! Yes! Yes! I think this is a bit of a dylan special. That penultimate stanza is a cracker - I love, 'broken stone made flesh.' A very fine poem which has layers within its apparent simplicity - very masterly indeed! Kat 🙂 Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-06-14 22:27:56 Re: La Pieta Thanks for the comment, Kat. The incident described here happened the same day I visited the Vatican and saw Michaelangelo`s masterpiece (well, one of `em). So much of poetry seems to be like this-tiny clues to something larger. Am I gibbering again? Sorry. XXX, D. Author's Reply: Griffonner on 2005-06-15 12:56:02 Re: La Pieta Yes, Rome... ah yes, Rome... *dreams nostalgically* It brought it all back... and amazingily, for me, it was quite a long while ago. Things never change! But poetry keeps getting better and better in my eyes. This is one great example. Kind regards, Griffonner Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-06-15 15:42:11 Re: La Pieta Thanks for the very kind comment, Griff. It is ok to call you Griff, I hope. Well, praps not.... Cheers, D. Author's Reply: tai on 2005-06-19 00:18:11 Re: La Pieta Who did you nick this Scultured beauty from then? What a wonderfully vivid depiction of Rome. I always wanted to go, I only made it to the transit lounge though!lol Maybe one day, but you gave me a spendid taste to tempt. Smiling Tai Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-06-19 13:50:15 Re: La Pieta Hi Tai. Glad you liked it-Rome is a fantastic city, well worth a visit. Last time I was there was a couple of years ago and I`ve written about half a dozen poems about it. Not a bad return methinks.(Am off to Cork this year, btw.) XXX, D Author's Reply: eddiesolo on 2005-06-25 23:15:21 Re: La Pieta Hi Dylan, Nice piece, I liked your poetic portrait of Rome. Well written. Regards, Si:-) Author's Reply: |
| The Stone Gardens (posted on: 30-05-05) Poem Here,as the newly-satined night grasps the remains of the day, thoughts flare and spiral like fireflies. And words crawl across the page, meaningless as the night-jar`s voice. In the blank face of a window, the town is bathed in sleep and burnt-eyed longing. There is a sound, a heartbeat, a sadness of solitary footsteps and the fierce glare of lamplight condemns me, knowing I will never capture moon and stars on an April night or the you-shaped silence which grows and grows. Archived comments for The Stone Gardens Sunken on 2005-05-30 20:47:24 Re: The Stone Gardens Bank holidays have a lot to answer for young Dylan. I'm sure comments will pick up as the week goes on and on and on... Another top piece in my munky opinion. Loving the 'you-shaped silence...' line amongst others. Can I get the book yet? s u n k e n Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-05-30 21:01:46 Re: The Stone Gardens Hiya Sunky. Thanks again for the comment. GK is still stuck somewhere in the ether, unfortunately. Her Randiness assures me all is in hand-(which worries me, but there ya go ). Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: LenchenElf on 2005-05-31 01:17:18 Re: The Stone Gardens Lovely, lilting, thanks for sharing it. all the best LE Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-05-31 13:29:17 Re: The Stone Gardens Thanks for the kind comment and glad you liked it. D. Author's Reply: Bradene on 2005-06-01 16:27:32 Re: The Stone Gardens This is beautiful Dylan, pure magic.. Love Val x Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-06-01 22:44:45 Re: The Stone Gardens Hiya Val. Glad you liked it. As is often the case when nibbed, it seems to have rather spectacularly died on it`s arse. Anyhoo,thanks again, XXX, D/ Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-06-02 21:56:34 Re: The Stone Gardens Trevor, I can only say thanks for your kind words. D. Author's Reply: Leila on 2005-06-25 18:15:31 Re: The Stone Gardens Dylan most enjoyable and the poem gains strength with particularly fine last four verses...L Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-06-25 20:42:29 Re: The Stone Gardens Thanks for the comment, Leila. Glad you liked it. XXX, D. Author's Reply: eddiesolo on 2005-06-26 00:04:51 Re: The Stone Gardens Nice piece, I enjoyed this immensely. Regards, Si:-) Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-06-26 00:23:53 Re: The Stone Gardens Thanks for the comment, Si. You are making me feel awful `cause I didn`t like your "Foxhole" poem-believe me, it`s nothing personal. I find that, in my old(ish) age, I have developed an aversion to A/B rhyming poetry. Probably something to do with the male menopause. Anyhoo-thank you again for the kind comment. D. Author's Reply: eddiesolo on 2005-06-26 00:36:07 Re: The Stone Gardens Hi Dylan, No worries mate, didn't take it personal. I don't always like rhyming myself because I think its hard to convey what you want properly, hence I try (not always) to keep my pieces short. I think some of my best work (and believe me my best is poor compared to many on this site) is non rhyming. Si:-) Author's Reply: |
| Ecce Homo (posted on: 23-05-05) Poem His face is often seen on the ragged necklace of simmering crowds or gathered near the storm centre of close attention. He knows the rat swept alleys in the dark bellies of gorged cities he sways, bends, blends with the scavengers, the savages, the whores, the lawyers. And trawls restless nights in cheap hotels where faded night clerks flash their razor smiles and he waits and waits.... In the corners of long deserted rooms in the bitterness of love exhumed and scrawled across the shattered mirror of youth the words; No-one is innocent. Alter verum. The truth. Archived comments for Ecce Homo LenchenElf on 2005-05-23 15:16:13 Re: Ecce Homo "ragged necklace of simmering crowds"...Wow! Superb line. Liked the taut dark spare language,the rhythm, pace... well, everything 🙂 Thanks for sharing this all the best LE Author's Reply: Bradene on 2005-05-23 15:50:54 Re: Ecce Homo Sombre but brilliant read Dylan. Really enjoyed. Love Val x Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-05-23 19:41:51 Re: Ecce Homo Glad you liked it and thanks for the comment. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-05-23 19:49:25 Re: Ecce Homo Thanks for taking the time to comment, Val. I`m not sure about this one at all. The first draft was very ambiguous, but the poem developed into this version-on reading it again, I think it`s a bit smug. The ending is rather cliche, too. But again, thank you so much for your kind comment. XXX, D. Author's Reply: Flash on 2005-05-23 22:23:25 Re: Ecce Homo You've gone all dark and moody again mon ami? Ah yes the barbarian hordes triumphed again yesterday.I see now Flash Author's Reply: e-griff on 2005-05-23 22:36:48 Re: Ecce Homo This, I like. powerful, sustained imagery. good, nay excellent, stuff. Only thing I would query is the repetition of waits (...and waits...) - not needed, IMO and at the end, better punctuation of the 'words' would help (ie a colon pre-words, Alter Verum in italics, and the three sets of words below each other (by putting a para after the colon). and maybe commas between them to connect them into one statement..... G Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-05-23 23:15:18 Re: Ecce Homo ARRGGHH-Do not go there, Flashy. In all my years of following footie, I have never been so gutted. But I am by nature, a miserable sod anyway. Tanks for the comment. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-05-23 23:23:23 Re: Ecce Homo Glad you liked it and thanks for the comment, Griff. As I said, I`m not at all sure about the overall concept. It was originally deliberately ambiguous, inasmuch as the reader was required to decide who the subject of the poem was. I feel this version is just a little smug. Thanks also, for the suggestion re punctuation. D. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2005-05-24 08:22:42 Re: Ecce Homo Good to see you back young Dylan. As strong as ever in my weak opinion. s u n k e n Author's Reply: chant on 2005-05-24 14:20:37 Re: Ecce Homo brooding intensity about this one that i really liked. disagreeing with griff, i like the waits and waits. only query would be alter verum - another truth. verum (verum, i) being neuter, so does alter need to be ... alterum verum. Author's Reply: AnthonyEvans on 2005-05-24 15:13:51 Re: Ecce Homo like lenchenelf, i loved that opening stanza. i think there is a lot of really good stuff here. if you feel it is too smug (as you say in a couple of comments) then perhaps you could just cut out the conclusion. have it more as a descriptive/obesrvational piece as the first five stanzas are. then, after the waits ... waits ... you could still have stanzas seven and eight but keep on in that space (in the, in the) instead of concluding. also, isn't latin out and latino in these days? really enjoyed this one, anthony. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-05-24 21:01:52 Re: Ecce Homo As my knowledge of Latin is infintesimal, I bow to your correction, Ian. Glad you liked it-It`s starting to grow on me slightly. I always try not to wag the index finger, but it is twitching a bit here. Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-05-24 21:12:46 Re: Ecce Homo Thanks for the comment and suggestion,Anthony. The conclusion of the poem jars a bit for me-without being disrespectful, it reminds me of a "People`s Friend" style verse-one which points out inadequacies in a superior tone. Same with my last submission "White Room". Some of it was ok, but the concept was a tad cliche. Anyhoo, thanks for your kind comment. D. Author's Reply: Rosco on 2005-05-24 21:14:42 Re: Ecce Homo Pure film noir for me. Your poems often seem to exude that atmosphere which distinguishes them for me from your influences. Nicely done as always. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-05-25 15:51:40 Re: Ecce Homo Thanks for the positive comment, Rosco. Glad you liked it. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-05-26 09:23:43 Re: Ecce Homo How are ya, Sunky Munky? Thanks for the comment-glad you like it. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-05-27 13:27:11 Re: Ecce Homo Magnopere magnus opere memor, Lupustimidus. Dylanus Author's Reply: tai on 2005-05-28 12:59:09 Re: Ecce Homo A great poem. Your metaphors a brill. All the best Tai Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-05-28 13:05:03 Re: Ecce Homo Glad you like it, Tai. Thanks for the v. generous comment. XXX, D. Author's Reply: |
| White Room (posted on: 22-04-05) Revised poem The light bulb hangs a question mark in the gently whirring air. A knife of sunlight splits this depth of silence, Then a slow drip of footsteps and the whisper of starched coats gathers to a surprise of strangers, ferocious with the tang of healing. I listen to their voices splinter like the end of age, And the sunlight which engulfs you is cold and white and endless. Archived comments for White Room teifii on 2005-04-22 16:02:24 Re: White Room Briliant evocation of hospital. I particularly like 'a slow drip of footsteps' and 'ferocious with the tang of healing'. Daff Author's Reply: Emerald on 2005-04-22 17:49:06 Re: White Room Excellent - great lines and imagery Emma:-) Author's Reply: Griffonner on 2005-04-22 19:48:20 Re: White Room Terrific... and with just a soupçons of a mystery at the end; at least that's the way it went for me. Kind regards, Griffonner Author's Reply: AnthonyEvans on 2005-04-22 19:59:47 Re: White Room dear dylan, like the others i enjoyed this evocation of a hospital (once i'd managed to push the cream track out of my head). and, like teifii, i particularly liked 'a slow drip of footsteps.' best wishes, anthony. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-04-22 22:03:24 Re: White Room Daff and Emma, thanks for taking the time to comment.(Hope you don`t mind me not responding to each individual comment, but I don`t wanna clog up the comments box) Glad you liked it. I read somewhere that around 95% of UK residents begin and end life in a hospital. I am a cheery sod, non? Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-04-22 22:09:29 Re: White Room Anthony, Griffoner (Not related to The Griffmeister e griff, are you?), very grateful thanks for your kind comments. The Cream track actually gave me the title for this-I had written a few drafts and read that Cream were to re-form for some gigs this year.I stuck an old cd on and there was my title-thank you Eric! Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: Griffonner on 2005-04-22 23:05:46 Re: White Room No, no relation. I think when I first joined, I agreed that I wouldn't use my shortform to try and help not confuse people... anyway, I have endeavoured to refrain from doing so for that reason. Kind regards, Griffonner Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-04-23 22:26:26 Re: White Room Thanks for the kind comments, Trevor. This was one I didn`t intend to write-I happened to be passing a hospital recently where both my parents died. I`ve already written about loss etc, but I remembered sitting alone when my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer.This is really just a description of events, with one or two allusive images-lightbulb/ question mark, a tapestry of shadows,voices splinter/end of age etc. Glad you enjoyed it. Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: Leila on 2005-04-24 13:56:17 Re: White Room Ohhh Eric...the title grabbed me of course. You captured the cold, stark reality...liked especially slow drip of footsteps and ferocious with the tang of healing...L Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-04-24 19:00:41 Re: White Room Well, Goddam that Claptonesque title! I think George Harrison also played on the Cream track. It is a strange one for me- unprepared, not complete...I sense another revision. But thank you so much for taking the time to comment. XXX, D. Author's Reply: jay12 on 2005-04-25 00:17:53 Re: White Room A nice poem dylan. I aint read much of your stuff but will keep an eye out for you in future. Jay. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-04-25 01:03:16 Re: White Room Tanx for taking the time to comment, Jay. The "Hospital" poem is rather cliche as a concept-as I said earlier, it`s one which virtually wrote itself. I just happened to be there, is all. Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: Bradene on 2005-04-28 21:10:28 Re: White Room Great imagery that sets the mind to work, and some unpleasant memories to surface. Nice work though Dylan as per. Love Val x Author's Reply: Abel on 2005-04-28 21:14:51 Re: White Room Superb work..."I listen to their voices splinter like the end of age..." REALLY enjoyed this. Ward Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-04-28 21:30:30 Re: White Room Thanks for taking the time to comment, Ward. Glad you liked it. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-04-28 21:35:37 Re: White Room Thanks, Val. I think most people have experienced loss. In written form, I feel it`s best understated.Glad you liked it. XXX, D. Author's Reply: |
| I am Talesin. I sing perfect metre. (posted on: 25-03-05) Poem The morning lays bare the skeletons of last nights words. They lie, hollow and smooth as rich men’s promises. As my eloquence withers in the mercenary sun, you shelter behind thick walls of news only allowing me the Mirror of my conceits. And if I could tell you now how to walk on water or raise the unrepentant dead would you turn off the TV with a groan? Would you yawn and say; "You do go on. How you go on" I should have been a weathervane pirouetting in the breeze. And so you pin me with your eyes to the canvas of my inadequacy and in a cold grasped morning the myth of what we are falls trembling around the room and slowly curls and dies. Archived comments for I am Talesin. I sing perfect metre. mynci on 2005-03-27 13:46:31 Re: I am Talesin. I sing perfect metre. I don't know how this didn't get any comments. i really liked it. good use of language. Mynci Author's Reply: teifii on 2005-03-27 14:36:13 Re: I am Talesin. I sing perfect metre. I don't know either. It's lovely, full of such well crafted images. I especially like As my eloquence withers in the mercenary sun, and And if I could tell you now how to walk on water or raise the unrepentant dead Daff Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-03-27 18:51:46 Re: I am Talesin. I sing perfect metre. Mynci, thanks for taking the time to comment. Glad you liked it. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-03-27 18:55:33 Re: I am Talesin. I sing perfect metre. Thank you, Daff. Your comments are much appreciated. D. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2005-03-27 20:15:40 Re: I am Talesin. I sing perfect metre. As ever, frighteningly good. Loved - And so you pin me with your eyes to the canvas of my inadequacy You continue to be the man. s u n k e n Take measurements, I predict growth. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-03-27 20:52:28 Re: I am Talesin. I sing perfect metre. Sunky, I doubt if you realise how much you encourage me. You are generous as ever, even if we do not always see eye to eye on the subject of female arses. Again, I can only say thanks. D. Author's Reply: shangri-la on 2005-03-28 01:13:36 Re: I am Talesin. I sing perfect metre. Utterly brilliant, I was going to try and pick out my favourite bit but as I started reading it again I found I couldn't because it's all so good. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-03-28 17:08:31 Re: I am Talesin. I sing perfect metre. Shangri, thank you for the very kind comment and fave story nom. Very much appreciated. XXX-(I am assuming you are female, btw. If not, please ignore the kisses.) D. Author's Reply: margot on 2005-04-13 22:30:44 Re: I am Talesin. I sing perfect metre. some lovely phrasing, sensitive yet clear and strong. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-04-13 22:50:04 Re: I am Talesin. I sing perfect metre. Thanks for taking the time to comment, Margot. Glad you liked it. XXX D. Author's Reply: Leila on 2005-04-14 18:40:28 Re: I am Talesin. I sing perfect metre. You know Dylan I'd be really tempted to remove the last verse of this because the verse before is just so strong...L Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-04-14 22:17:44 Re: I am Talesin. I sing perfect metre. Hi, Leila. Thanks for taking the time to comment. I posted this on an American site, where it was generally very well received and a reader suggested exactly the same editing. The problem with this is that the poem deals with the beginning of disillusionment in a relationship and without the last verse it doesn`t reveal enough. (In my view anyway). But thanks again for your comment. XXX D. Author's Reply: Rosco on 2005-04-23 18:28:53 Re: I am Talesin. I sing perfect metre. Loved hearing Eliot's voice reimagined in a more intimate way. Can hear a mutual friend of ours too: Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quiet? We sit here stranded, though we're all doin' our best to deny it. Author's Reply: Apolloneia on 2005-04-23 18:37:15 Re: I am Talesin. I sing perfect metre. Amazing poem, and I agree with you about the last verse. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-04-23 21:58:54 Re: I am Talesin. I sing perfect metre. Give that man a see-gar! Well spotted, Rosco-I thought the Prufrockian allusions had passed unnoticed on UKA. Dunno about "Visions of Joanna" , but will happily accept any identification (however fleeting) with His Bobness. Thanks for the very kind comment and glad you liked it. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-04-23 22:06:43 Re: I am Talesin. I sing perfect metre. Hi Nic. I really appreciate your comments and the fave nom etc. Coming from such a talented writer as your good self, it means a lot. Thanks again, XXX D. Author's Reply: Mikeverdi on 25-09-2014 I am Talesin. I sing perfect metre. I love this and have given it a Nom' hope you don't mind. A little after the posting.... but fuck it; it's better than anything of late. Mike Author's Reply: Hi, Mike. Thanks again for your very kind comments-the nom is very much appreciated. I haven`t been writing much of late, due to a family bereavement-hence the delay in replying. Hope all ok with you. Orrabest, D. gwirionedd on 22-06-2015 I am Talesin. I sing perfect metre. "and in a cold grasped morning the myth of what we are falls trembling around the room and slowly curls and dies." Wow. This is an inspiration. I need to come back to this and think about it in real depth. Favourite story for me. Excellent. Author's Reply: |
| Whores (posted on: 21-02-05) Poem The moon smiles like a witless hag rises from the gutters rim and stirs tomorrow into vowel shaped clouds. She paces the thin corners of this naked room. Threads spider bones through gaping streets mais la lune ne garde acune rancune. And somewhere you grow beautiful at her touch and whisper bittersweet lies to the depths of this shattered night. Archived comments for Whores Bradene on 2005-02-21 23:25:56 Re: Whores You manage to make it sound beautiful. Love Val x Author's Reply: KevTheRev on 2005-02-22 02:54:59 Re: Whores Terrific! I love the dark side showing a burst of light and yet still remaining soiled. I am reading your other work. Regards and well written. Author's Reply: Jen_Christabel on 2005-02-22 18:59:37 Re: Whores Just great! I don't usually comment on poetry, but I thoroughly enjoy writing like this! JayCee Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-02-23 08:35:10 Re: Whores Kev,Val & Jay, Thank you all for taking the time to comment. Glad you liked it. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-02-23 08:39:29 Re: Whores Trevor, Wolfie thank you for your kind comments. (Merci, mon ami) D. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2005-02-24 11:39:35 Re: Whores As ever, pure class. s u n k e n Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-02-24 15:58:13 Re: Whores Thanks for the comment, Sunky. Glad you liked it. My recent work doesn`t seem to have mass appeal on UKA. I don`t know if it is too samey or if I have to rethink my whole approach to poetry . Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2005-02-24 16:55:31 Re: Whores Naaa. balls to em Dylan. Worry not young man. My last effort didn't do great either. It's the fickle world we 'attempt' to live in I'm afraid. Don't go changing too much. And don't forget to shout about your book on the forums when it comes out. I received Leila's last week, 'Stroking the air'. A damn fine read, and I'm sure yours will be up there too. Sorry my comment was dire, they always are. Your work continues to shine. s u n k s Author's Reply: deepoceanfish2 on 2005-02-24 17:48:43 Re: Whores dylan, Most beautiful noir! A fine piece and a fav. Regards, Adele Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-02-24 21:52:06 Re: Whores Thanks again, Sunky. Your encouragement is very much appreciated. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-02-24 21:55:55 Re: Whores Adele, you are generous as ever. Thank you for comment, rating etc. XXX, D. Author's Reply: AnthonyEvans on 2005-02-25 12:17:07 Re: Whores dear dylan, i really enjoyed this poem. very visual. i agree with sunken. i mean, this site is a microcosm of the macrocosm. there are certain core readers who will read you but you never know who is going to come in from the outside and what they will read. sometimes it is a title that catches them, sometimes the pitch. sometimes it depends on whether you poem is at the top when the fifty are posted. best wishes, anthony. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-02-25 20:50:13 Re: Whores Thanks for the comment, Anthony. As I`ve said, it`s not so much the number of times the piece is read, but rather the reaction to the work, which I look for. Please don`t misunderstand me-UKA members on the whole have been very kind to me-probably more than I deserve, ` cause I don`t comment half as much as I should-but some constructive crit is very welcome. The problem seems to me that my work is becoming formulised-(short in length, sparse, heavy on imagery/symbolism etc etc) and the majority of readers have come to anticipate this. It may be time to vary things a bit. Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: teifii on 2005-03-27 14:43:04 Re: Whores Beautiful! Daff Author's Reply: Leila on 2005-04-14 18:29:45 Re: Whores Dylan missed this one during my move...again...and as you know I have so enjoyed your work since I joined here. The moon smiles like a witless hag and Threads spider bones through gaping streets.. are quite superb lines...L Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-04-14 22:27:35 Re: Whores Thanks once more for your very kind comment, Leila. As you are a very talented writer yourself, I really appreciate it. XXX, D. Author's Reply: |
| Pentecost (posted on: 31-01-05) Re-submission. Have redrafted this one.(Apologies to Chant, who offered some very good crit on original.) Now the room terrifies. Half-full of guilt, grasping shadows and the silence of bone-white midnight. Your needle sharp smile is pure as death, mercury on the edge of night. I shiver with the heat of my blood, reach for Nirvana and watch the street lights become sharp tongues of fire. Archived comments for Pentecost AnthonyEvans on 2005-01-31 12:40:45 Re: Pentecost dear dylan, sharp. and this is my kind of line: 'the silence of bone-white midnight' - very noir. this nirvana business, the band or the buddhist goal? best wishes, anthony. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-01-31 15:33:16 Re: Pentecost Thanks for taking the time to comment, Anthony. The poem is simply drawing a parallel between religious experience and the use of illegal substances. "Nirvana" in this instance, has bugger all to do with Kurt! Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: deepoceanfish2 on 2005-01-31 16:50:50 Re: Pentecost dylan, Nice to know I'm not so far out of the loop that I didn't grasp the gist of this one. Fine lines these: 'Your needle sharp smile is pure as death, mercury on the edge of night.' and '( I ) reach for Nirvana and watch the street lights become sharp tongues of fire. ' Very noir and sensually brutal in clarity. Intriguing read. Regards, Adele Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-01-31 18:30:47 Re: Pentecost Thanks for v. kind comments, Adele. I should stress that this wasn`t based on personal experience.(A likely story, I hear you cry!) No, honestly. I`m aquainted with a person who was involved with"hard" drugs (and the subsequent devastation caused). Anyhoo, tanx again, m`dear. D. XXX Author's Reply: Sunken on 2005-01-31 19:44:12 Re: Pentecost As usual young Dylan, too fuckin good! Picking out a fav bit would just see me copying the lot in to this comment box. Top banana. s u n k e n Author's Reply: bluepootle on 2005-01-31 19:47:17 Re: Pentecost Flipping great. Love the first line in particular, really grabbed my attention. Author's Reply: Kat on 2005-01-31 19:55:04 Re: Pentecost Another poem which showcases your talent Dylan. Cheers Kat 🙂 Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-01-31 21:28:56 Re: Pentecost Thanks for the v. kind comment, Kat. Glad you liked it. XXX, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-01-31 21:57:22 Re: Pentecost Hi Ailya, how you doin`? Have not heard from you in ages. Thanks for the comment-glad you liked th`pome. XXX(It`s brill when girlies comment, cause I can leave kisses) D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-01-31 22:01:49 Re: Pentecost Well, young Munky! Congratulations on WOTM-very well deserved. But I still think Beyonce has the best arse on the planet.... Author's Reply: Jack_Cade on 2005-01-31 22:55:26 Re: Pentecost Yep, some excellent lines. The ambiguous ones are my faves - 'Half-full of guilt', 'mercury on the edge of night'. One part that jarred slightly was following the 'bone white midnight' with 'needle sharp smile'. It's one 'noun adjective noun' metaphor right after another, and you run the risk of them diluting each other. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-02-01 13:56:12 Re: Pentecost Hi Hen, how ya doin? The line you quote did actually give me more trouble than the rest put together. I wanted 4 syllables, so added "sharp", but was aware the 2 metaphors were slap bang after each other. Think it aint too bad though. Thanks for taking the time to comment. D. Author's Reply: Leila on 2005-02-01 16:41:05 Re: Pentecost Dylan I like what feels to me like a cold, detached air to this while at the same time a strange kind of intimacy...nicely done...L Keep thinking is that 'is' necessary.. Your needle sharp smile pure as death mercury etc.....just a thought. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-02-03 09:25:23 Re: Pentecost Hi Leila, thanks for taking the time to comment. Again, I wanted to keep this line to 4 syllables,hence the "is". On reflection, it would probably work just as well without it! Thanks again. D. XXX Author's Reply: tai on 2005-02-03 18:53:41 Re: Pentecost Very off it piece. Enjoyed very much dylan. Trouble with Nirvana, once you've been there you can never get back again.imo All the best poets of fcuked somehow!lol Tai Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-02-04 00:13:57 Re: Pentecost HiTai. Nice to see you back and in such fine form. Glad you liked the poem and thanx for the comment. XXX D. Author's Reply: |
| What Claude Rains said (posted on: 07-01-05) Poem The past is treacherous now. A double agent, a Claude Rains in Casablanca. Who claims he is completely neutral and leads me to dark alleyways, where a figure waits. Who smiles like trees in winter. and I hear the sound of As Time Goes By, watch Elsa leave with Victor Lazlo and wait for my own inevitable letters of transit. Archived comments for What Claude Rains said flash on 2005-01-07 03:55:13 Re: What Claude Rains said Dark piece Dylan, don't know or don't want to know quite what is going on in this piece. But it's very intriguing and quite an atmosphere was built in such few skillfully chosen words. You may have noticed i am inept in giving any kind of constructive advice on poem. I just pop in to say i enjoy reading your work from time to time, i know how petulant you get when you get ignored, especially by the young bits of stuff flocking to join UKA. I'll put in a good word for you so don't worry m8...i'll lie about your age. Fancy you be old enough to remmeber Casablanca!!! xxxxxxxx Flashypants Author's Reply: tai on 2005-01-07 04:25:06 Re: What Claude Rains said Hi Dylan, I loved this poem and decided to dole out a 10. Hope you take it seriously! Yes very dark is the past indeed. Best forget it imo.lol All the best writers are sensitive souls. Smiling Tai Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-01-07 13:46:05 Re: What Claude Rains said Well Flashypoos, I almost forgive you for impersonating The Divine Ms H....broke my heart, that did. Anyhoo, thanks for the comment. In an aged person such as say, Sirat or (whisper it) Her Randiness,the past is a dangerous place. The future even more so. Thank God I am young, footloose and fancy free. (Why are you pissing yourself laughing?). Casablanca is me fav movie of all time, btw. (Ok, I`ll be Humph Bogart, you be Victor Laslo and Ms H can be Ingrid Bergman. Of all the writers sites, on all the net, in all the world,she walks inta mine....) Author's Reply: richardwatt on 2005-01-07 14:18:12 Re: What Claude Rains said Dylan, Not knowing who Claude Rains was (have never watched Casablanca all the way through), I hoped that the poem was about Claudio Reyna, Man City's staunch midfielder. After my initial disappointment, I found this to be a good ditty. One thing, 'letters of transit' would make a far better title, depending on your sympathies towards self-titling pieces. richardx Author's Reply: Sunken on 2005-01-07 14:38:19 Re: What Claude Rains said Glad you're posting Dylan. Uka will always need it's class acts. s u n k e n Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-01-07 15:31:14 Re: What Claude Rains said AAARRGGHH! Mon ami, the aforesaid Reyna formerly played with a Glasgow club whom I have a deep apathy for. I would sooner castrate meself than write about him. Claude Rains was the corrupt chief of police in Casablanca-he walks away with Bogart in the closing scene-"I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship". Tanx for the comment, D. Author's Reply: richardwatt on 2005-01-07 15:38:57 Re: What Claude Rains said Right, I'm with you there. I know the fella, but not having seen it in sequence I didn't match the name with the hat. Reyna never was my favourite Gers player, didn't perform all that well in Europe, although you could say that of the team. It was a shame Celtic didn't come away with anything this year, but considering the group that would have been a miracle. I can't wait for Barca to tank Rouble FC (sorry, Chelsea). Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-01-07 15:55:18 Re: What Claude Rains said Did not know you were a City man, Rick. Barca this season are the best side I have seen in Glasgow for years-I think they must be favourites for the tournament. My own team need a cash injection drastically-it`s basically the same side which reached the UEFA cup final 2 seasons ago-minus Larsson, of course. And we play The Other Mob on Sunday. Will still win though. Cheers, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-01-08 08:37:42 Re: What Claude Rains said Thanks for the comment, Tai. Glad you liked it-the 10 is appreciated. XXX D. Author's Reply: ruadh on 2005-01-08 09:50:31 Re: What Claude Rains said Liked this Dylan, dark overtones. Wasn't quite sure what it's about..... figured you were waiting for something in your past to suddenly jump up and bite you on the ass .... which is probably wrong, but I enjoyed it anyway. love ailsa Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-01-08 10:13:46 Re: What Claude Rains said Hi Ailsa, Nice to hear from you-long time no see. Yeah, you are more or less correct in your interpretation. Basically the poem is a reflection on the narrator`s life.He recalls the past (regrets,etc) and ponders the future, as aged people (so I am told) often do. I thought Claude Rains was brilliant in Casablanca,so used him as the metaphor for past/future. The original title was "Everyone comes to Rick`s", which was the proposed title for Casablanca, but I dropped it as I thought not too many readers would be aware that Humphrey Bogart`s character was called Rick. Anyhoo, I digress. Thank you for your kind comment. XXX D. Author's Reply: Leila on 2005-01-08 12:23:22 Re: What Claude Rains said Dylan, a great film, Claude Rains was the policeman(or similar) in it I believe. I was trying to think of some famous line he said...anyway this is in your own unique style and as often takes the reader on a journey and allows them to choose their destination...a little dark as yours often are, but then I've always liked that. I'd interpreted letters of transit as awaiting death. Anyway I'm looking forward to Glasgow Kisses, a date yet? ...L Author's Reply: Nicoletta on 2005-01-08 13:32:43 Re: What Claude Rains said The opening line is fantastic, simply fantastic. Very very good poem Dylan. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-01-08 15:03:38 Re: What Claude Rains said Hi Leila, Yeah, Claude Rains was the French chief of police in Casablanca-corrupt, but likeable. At the end of the film, he is seen walking away with Bogie and says"This could be the start of a beautiful friendship".Mind you, the film is loaded with catch phrases-"Here`s lookin` at you, kid","Play it again, Sam"(which he never actually said) and "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks inta mine". I am gibbering again. Thanks for the generous comment-no release date yet for GK, but cover is now completed, so should be soon.Watch this space. XXX D. Author's Reply: deepoceanfish2 on 2005-01-08 15:17:46 Re: What Claude Rains said dylan, Ahhhh, you've struck a nerve with this old romantic! I adored the final verse....superb! Can't help but think of my wait for a visa LOL. Anyway, a fine read and a fav. Cheers, Adele 😉 Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-01-08 15:54:45 Re: What Claude Rains said Thanks for the very kind comment, m`dear.(I am ancient and can call everyone m`dear-well, women anyway). Very much appreciated-glad you liked it. XXX, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-01-08 16:02:15 Re: What Claude Rains said Believe it or not Adele, it was while thinking about your visa problems that I conceived the original idea for this. Shows my convoluted thought process, I suppose! Thanks for your kind comment, the fav nom etc. XXX, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-01-09 10:00:39 Re: What Claude Rains said Sunky, have just realised I didn`t reply to this. Thanks again for kind comment.I wasn`t complaining btw-in general UKA has been very kind to moi, particularly as I don`t critique half as much as I should. The recent submissions seem to have not gone down too well though. I`ve asked a few friends on site (who I know would be truthful), if they were sub-standard. All said no, the poems were ok. I dunno. (Actually, am over the moon as my team has just won Glasgow derby.I feel like kissing everyone on site. Apart from the guys of course...) Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-01-10 04:36:30 Re: What Claude Rains said Thank you for the very kind comments, mon ami. But please, feel free to crit as you please. I`ve had some of my work torn apart-(not on UKA, it has to be said),so have developed a skin like an elephants backside. But thanks again for taking the time to comment. D. Author's Reply: Jack_Cade on 2005-01-14 14:50:00 Re: What Claude Rains said I think the title's fine as it is! Makes it sound like we're going to be getting secret advice of some sort. I like all the description, the film references (although, shamefully, I haven't seen Casablanca yet either!) and the dark undercurrent. The one thing I'm not sure about is the opening lines, rendering the whole thing a metaphor for 'the past'. Seems too simple. Forgot to mention earlier, Dylan - I love the front cover to your book! Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-01-14 16:39:46 Re: What Claude Rains said Hmmm, When the Henmeister speaks, I listen. The original opening line was "Memory has turned treacherous,now" but I thought this could be interpreted as mental illness-Alzheimers etc and didn`t want this sort of connotation.It may well be an over simple metaphor.Will give this some thought, as I feel you are right, Hennypoos. Glad you like the cover for GK. The original artwork was by my son Mark, who promptly fell ill and young PJ was left to produce the cover from his basic work. In my opinion, he did a fantastic job. The statue is of the Duke of Wellington,(just off George Square in Glasgow city centre) who always, but always, has a traffic cone perched on his head. Apparently Glasgow City Council withdrew some brochures on Glasgow a few years ago as they showed the Duke without a traffic cone and it was pointed out that this was not a true image. I kid you not. I digress and gibber. Thank you for your kind comments, Mr Cade. D. Author's Reply: Rosco on 2005-04-28 01:23:18 Re: What Claude Rains said "Who smiles like trees in winter." Another arresting image, sinister and enigmatic, yet so evocative of the whole tone and meaning of the poem. Crystalized and memorable those haunted, frightened trees. Author's Reply: |
| Elisabeth (posted on: 27-12-04) Resubmission Near the sleeping half-timbered walls of le Taureau Noire you stood fragile as a cloud, in pouring sunlight. Alice in Wonderland, I said. Alice dans pays des Mervilles. You smiled like the bright coin I threw to le musicien ambulant, as he plucked music from the absinthe flavoured air and sang of old love. Archived comments for Elisabeth chant on 2004-12-27 05:48:42 Re: Elisabeth loved the atmosphere of this one and very fine closure. imv, 'au Pays des Merveilles' would be better French. Author's Reply: deepoceanfish2 on 2004-12-27 11:58:01 Re: Elisabeth dylan, A superb and exquisite read. This is stunning... 'You smiled like the bright coin I threw to le musicien ambulant, as he plucked music from the absinthe flavoured air and sang of old love. ' A fine read! Regards, Adele Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-27 20:11:01 Re: Elisabeth A positive comment from (in my opinion) the most accomplished poet on the site is brilliant and much appreciated. As I have said, I lived in France as a young person and me command of the language was tentative to say the least. But thank you so much for taking the time to comment. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-28 15:05:49 Re: Elisabeth Hi Adele, glad you liked this one. Like most of my recent work,it shows every sign of dying on it`s arse. Thank you for taking the time to comment. XXX D. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-12-29 13:28:49 Re: Elisabeth Can't pretend to understand the frenchy bits but this section alone is worthy of a 10 in my book - you stood fragile as a cloud, in pouring sunlight. My book is very well presented by the way as I have never studied from it (-: More top stuff from one of uka's best. Take it easy young Dylan, you know you're great - believe. s u n k e n Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-29 16:12:18 Re: Elisabeth Sunky, thanks again for taking the time to comment. As I mentioned to Adele, I felt that maybe I had over-submitted recently and most people were "Dylan-ed out"-i.e. bored with reading my miserable verse. Anyhoo, will probably have a break and hopefully returned bright-tailed and bushy eyed.(Or should that be the other way round?) Cheers again, mate. D. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-12-29 16:30:17 Re: Elisabeth Tis the season for miserable verse young Dylan. I don't think anyones ''Dylan-ed out''. It's that limbo time between xmas and new year, I think a few of us are feeling a bit rejected lately. I'll be kinda glad when all this new year stuff is out of the way and we can get back to normal... Were we ever normal? I really can't see that you've over subbed. You, my friend who I'm completely jealous of, are too hard on yourself. No one gets tired of decent subs and you constantly post decent subs. So think on, and don't go breaking. s u n k e n without spell checking faclitity Author's Reply: tai on 2004-12-29 21:22:35 Re: Elisabeth I liked this a lot dylan, the bittersweet taste gives it an depth of its own. All the best for 2005 Tai Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-30 13:20:55 Re: Elisabeth Didn`t notice this comment last night, Sunky and can only thank you once agin. Don`t worry mon ami, am not gonna top meself just yet. I can have no complaints, as most of my work has been well-received on UKA and I do not comment on other work half as much as I should. But, as I say, maybe a short break would be refreshing. Thanks once more. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-30 13:23:54 Re: Elisabeth Glad you liked it, Tai. Hope you had a nice Christmas and all the best for `05. XXX D. Author's Reply: |
| Mary Kelly and Billy Cameron (posted on: 17-12-04) Poem She moves with the winter rain. Ebbing past doorways flowing through the rivulets of the High Street. Shop windows gather a pale Easterhouse Jane Austen hurrying as the city breathes night. He is tall and dark as the heart of Govan. A wall screams "I.R.A. ROOL" as he waits, while a bus coughs a question. Together, they leave all of who they are behind and in the dull ache of a December sunset, they shine like herald angels. Archived comments for Mary Kelly and Billy Cameron deepoceanfish2 on 2004-12-17 06:14:30 Re: Mary Kelly and Billy Cameron dylan, IMO this is one of your best! Can't give anything high than a ten, except a nomination. That last line knocked me out! Cheers, Adele 😉 Author's Reply: bektron on 2004-12-17 09:09:23 Re: Mary Kelly and Billy Cameron the beauty is in the detail here Dylan, the graffiti the coughing of a bus, the shine at the end, very strong. Really enjoyed it. not overly keen on the 'rivulets' though- but I expect that's just me... beks 🙂 Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-17 15:45:02 Re: Mary Kelly and Billy Cameron Thanks for the comments, nom, etc Adele. It`s occured to me that the subtext to this poem might not be picked up by those unaware of religious sectarianism in the West of Scotland. Anyhoo, I`m glad you liked it, m`dear. XXX D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-18 09:55:14 Re: Mary Kelly and Billy Cameron Thanks for the comments, Beks. This one seems to have died on it`s arse, but I still like it. Dunno if the sectarian undertone is too obscure for most.Glad you enjoyed it. XXX D. Author's Reply: Leila on 2004-12-19 18:10:55 Re: Mary Kelly and Billy Cameron Dylan, I've come back to this several times and I really like it, especially.. ..a pale Easterhouse Jane Austen and ..He is tall and dark as the heart of Govan A nice love story...a happy ending??..L Author's Reply: Jack_Cade on 2004-12-19 18:31:49 Re: Mary Kelly and Billy Cameron There's definitely *something* going on here. Runaways in Northern Ireland... reminds me of 'Odd Man Out' (excellent James Mason film). Not sure at all who the title is referencing! There's the anti-war protestor convicted for criminal damage to an aeroplane? But chiefly, for me, the IRA reference is overpowering, and makes me think it must be something like two people fleeing the violence (a Catholic and a Protestant maybe). Excellent images. Clear and stark. Would query the authenticity of 'I.R.A ROOL'. Seems like unlikely bad spelling? Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-19 18:39:38 Re: Mary Kelly and Billy Cameron Leila, m`dear, you have really made my night-I thought this one had totally died on it`s arse (technical term). The poem basically deals with young love in the background of a city which is divided. The names of the main characters-Mary Kelly is (in this neck of the woods) obviously Catholic, and Billy Cameron, Protestant. Likewise, Easterhouse,Govan etc. Herald angels? I sincerely hope so. I really, really thank you for taking the time to comment. XXX D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-19 19:09:11 Re: Mary Kelly and Billy Cameron Hennypoos, I value your comments on poetry more than anyone on UKA. But you have this one wrong-I live in the West of Scotland, where religious sectarianism is still, in the 21st century, an everyday issue. "I.R.A. ROOL" can be still be seen (thankfully not so much as in recent times) on an awful lot of high rise brickwork. Likewise, "U.D.A. ROOL", or "FTQ-Fuck the Queen" "FTP-Fuck the Pope" etc etc. Sad, I know. Mon ami, I appreciate your comments and really, really welcome your feedback. D. Author's Reply: |
| 38 Kirklands Crescent (posted on: 10-12-04) Poem The brittle corpses left by Autumn gather under thin-fingered trees Caught in the mouse pattering drizzle, the house is a stone island. Stripped to bare silence, I pass through a hall as long as years where the Sacred Heart still bleeds above a doorway. The room holds winter and the neat roundness of memory. Here, the Fatima children, and a wedding day, gather cold steel dust while I wait wordlessly, as one by one ghosts appear. Stark and pale as December roses. Archived comments for 38 Kirklands Crescent blackdove on 2004-12-10 07:29:59 Re: 38 Kirklands Crescent My, the Catholic Church has certainly done a job on you John. But then it has left you with such a wealth of memories and images to work with. I love the way your poems are so sparse, plain and clean, yet can evoke so many scenes in the mind of the reader. How do you do that? Let me know when your anthology is out, will we see it before Christmas? Cheers, Jemima Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-10 13:38:05 Re: 38 Kirklands Crescent Hi Jemima, Thanks for taking the time to comment. I do use Christian iconography quite a lot-the picture of the Sacred Heart described here used to bloody terrify me.There is little or no "religion" in any of the poems, though. Not my job. I think the cover is almost ready for GK-(Thanks to the wonderful PJ), but will not be out this side of Christmas. Early `05, I hope. XXX D. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-12-10 14:42:50 Re: 38 Kirklands Crescent The master returns with yet another classic Dylan moment. Do you have a book in the pipeline? I'll be first in line. Hoping to return to your back catalog soon. Top stuff Dylan, sorry my comments lack depth - but hey, I'm as shallow as they come. s u n k e n Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-10 16:02:33 Re: 38 Kirklands Crescent Sunky, you are too kind. Also too modest. Your own work is funny, outrageous and witty. If I try to be witty in pomes, it`s usually disasterous. I do indeed have A Slim Volume to be published by UKa press. Entitled "Glasgow Kisses" it should be available early next year.Some of the work has already appeared on the site-albeit in much revised form.A few have been published in lit mags, but most are all-new, all-singing, dancing etc. And I am shitting meself. Thanks again,mate. D. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-12-10 16:27:17 Re: 38 Kirklands Crescent Nice 1 Dylan. Just clocked it on ukapress. I'll order just as soon as it comes available. Congrats are due but not unexpected. I'd have kicked Andrea's butt if you were rejected (-; It's ok, she won't be reading this. Great title by the way. s u n k s Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-10 17:35:44 Re: 38 Kirklands Crescent Tanx again, Sunky. I had a rejection from a small publisher just prior to GK being accepted by UKA.It felt like a kick in the balls. They had been very complimentary and I was gutted at the rejection. Sad bastard that I am, I e-mailed them my thanks, when the rejection led to my acceptance by UKA press. I also threw in that I was WOTM at UKA! I know, I know. But I felt a lot better. Cheers, mon ami. D. Author's Reply: Safron on 2004-12-21 05:31:15 Re: 38 Kirklands Crescent Dylan, Wonderful piece well done. Haunting effect to the end of waiting. "Here, the Fatima children, and a wedding day, gather cold steel dust while I wait wordlessly, as one by one ghosts appear. Stark and pale as December roses." Safron Happy Holidays! Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-21 13:36:57 Re: 38 Kirklands Crescent Thanks for the comment, Saf. Glad you liked it. Me past few submissions seem to have died on their arse, so an appreciative word is very welcome. XXX D. Author's Reply: Leila on 2004-12-29 15:53:14 Re: 38 Kirklands Crescent A strong poem Dylan and I particularly liked the first ten lines...L Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-29 16:19:27 Re: 38 Kirklands Crescent Thanks for the comment, Leila. Glad you liked it. XXX D. Author's Reply: AnthonyEvans on 2005-01-18 08:12:52 Re: 38 Kirklands Crescent dear dylan, i can only agree with the others, a very nice poem. very evocative. i especially like the opening stanza but also much more. best wishes, anthony. Author's Reply: |
| Stigmata (posted on: 29-11-04) Have changed, on advice of Chant. Not so syrupy, I feel. Again, would appreciate any comments Kathy smiles like the morning and words dissolve into a station full of silence. As she waves away a wreath of smoke her hands are doves. Her hair, black ice. And in the stale thunder of the coming train close enough to gather secrets, I taste her. Archived comments for Stigmata Michel on 2004-11-29 08:19:11 Re: Stigmata I think your work is enigmatic, original, beautiful and unpredictable enough to withstand most themes - this, too (especially since the theme is captivating). Author's Reply: tai on 2004-11-29 08:33:10 Re: Stigmata Blimey this was so good I rated it twice. Keep doing it, is the best advice I can give....oh and give her the poem at the station. She will swoon. All the best Tai Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-29 15:05:31 Re: Stigmata Thanks for your kind words, Michel. At the risk of sounding pretentious, I feel my work is becoming formulized. Don`t get me wrong, I like most of it, but on reading say, "Horsemen", "Magdalene", "Solstice" etc, they all seem very similar.A friend ( a good mate, btw) told me he found the last submission, "For Marie, almost", very sugary. It`s something I want to avoid, if possible. Thanks again. D. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-11-29 15:24:39 Re: Stigmata Dylan my good fellow, only this morning I was watching tv (luckily whilst plugged in to an ipod) and that twat Cliff came on advertising his new Xmas 'Hits' cd. Why does he have to ruin every fuckin Xmas? Anyway young man, I almost through the remote at the tv. Now if you had a cd out, of say.... that Hazy bird or one of the other Uka wenches reading your poetry and prose, I'd be there like a shot. Cliff Richards!? Naaaa, I don't think so Dylan. Christ, if he could write like you (if he could write at all) I'd have his name emblazoned (in tipex) on the back of my jacket. As it is, I have DYL.. (I ran out of tipex as I have painted some cheap earplugs with it, so it looks like I actually do have an ipod). I know... I'm fooling no one but myself. I'll do one. I'm rambling. Think on. Cliff Richards? Pfff. s u n k e n Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-29 15:39:07 Re: Stigmata Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tai. Dontcha think it is getting a bit samey, though? I wasn`t going to submit this, but I value the opinions offered on UKA (Most of `em anyway). The subject of the poem is only a friend btw. I should be so lucky...(checks Mrs D is not reading this over me shoulder) Thanks again. XXX D. Author's Reply: Michel on 2004-11-29 15:52:57 Re: Stigmata I thought the last line of this one a deadener, in a sense - being a 'sweet' summing up, which the poem would be better without. The last line of Marie (which I liked very much) I would have liked to chop up and sell at the pastry shop, too - BUT your other lines, I thought, were not what I would call sweet at all; they were too clear and subtle for that. Just writing about a woman, a lost love, lost dream, for example, though, doesn't make something sweet. It's the treatment that sets the aftertaste. *and I would only call those last lines 'sweet' in the sense that the words spell out a yearning in a way that trite material does. If you look at something like (can't remember the name of it) your poem about going back to the flea market after so many years - the ending is extremely powerful and leaves the reader in no doubt as to the writer's feelings; but the READER must make that connection between what you say and feel; drawing the reader's emotions up and evoking a strong response, as if the reader, not the writer, were there on the spot. The last lines of the above poems, to me, announce the writer's feelings in another way - almost making a claim to emotion, as if that is enough in itself; what you feel; as if the writer is central. Sorry if I've missed the point, Dylan - but I don't think you should shy away from a theme; I just feel that the concrete serves you better, more brilliantly, in conveying deep emotion and engaging the reader, than you may realise. *but enough of this frivolity! - let us away and feed the horses* *dashes off with bucket over head* M Author's Reply: margot on 2004-11-29 16:00:20 Re: Stigmata too sugary - almost. samey - so what? picasso had his blue mood etc and you can spot a mondrian, rothko, raphael and seurat a mile off (to name but a few from a media more familiar to me). whilst part of me thinks you may be testing us you have presented a challenge and i love a challenge. so here's my honest view.... 1. the sentiment does seem to suggest more than friendship. 2. i'm not totally convinced that the train/station analogy works thoughout and this is in part (but not wholly) due to the sexual connotation of trains (from movies - or is this just the way my mind works?) where it is least succesful it's in 'words dissolve INTO a station full of shattered silence' and stale thunder perhaps 3. i think the last 3 lines are there because you liked them but they do sound a little contrived. sorry if this is harsh. the poem is still appealing and has something. (think your intro could be basis of a decent poem too!) Author's Reply: Michel on 2004-11-29 16:00:30 Re: Stigmata 'of her nearness' I thought might not be needed, in this one (forgot to say that) - was also not too keen on : 'like the morning' (too close to: 'sunny' or 'a breath of fresh air', perhaps). Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-29 17:21:58 Re: Stigmata Thanks for the comments, Margot. I honestly don`t think they are harsh at all. There is an intentional hint of sexual tension throughout the poem.(Hence the setting). I felt that the last lines were perhaps a touch self-pitying and could be cut as you suggest. Overall I still like the poem, but as I say it`s very similar to recent work and The Sugar Factor is something which worries me. Thanks again. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-29 17:33:39 Re: Stigmata Ta Sunky, me old mucker. Must reveal this- Apparently I bear a passing resemblance to Martin O`Neill, the football manager. A few years ago, I was involved in the running of a boys football team. Almost every night one of the boys would tell me I looked like the Illustrious Martin. Finally, one ten year old approached me. "You know who you look like?" he queried. "Martin O`Neill?" I said wearily. " No." came the answer."Cliff Richard". Little bastard never played for us again. Anyhoo, thanks for your kind comments, mate. D. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-11-30 17:28:34 Re: Stigmata LOL - Kids can be so cruel. I'm not surprised your confidence has been knocked young Dylan. That's possibly the most tragic story I've heard all year. How the hell do you get over something like that? My thoughts are with you. I may even sing the millennium prayer for you... Naaaa, then again - it could only make matters worse. Well done on the WOTM by the way. I'll be re-visiting your work over the coming weeks. I'm chuffed as you've long been a fav, even if I don't say it much. Try not to dwell on the Cliff thing. Really, that could do some major damage if you let it. s u n k y Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-01 03:22:33 Re: Stigmata Thanks again, Sunky. I agree the Cliff Richard comment could be soul destroying.It may start to take root. I may be seen at next years Wimbledon singing "Bachelor Boy". Well, I`m not a Young One anymore,but can still Move It on my Summer Holiday with the best of them. See what I mean? It`s starting already. AAARRGGHHH. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-01 03:26:25 Re: Stigmata (Gasps in amazement at slanderous comment) Why sir, I will have you know I am an extremely macho Glaswegian. I drink Irn-Bru and sleep with the light off. Only last week I glared at a passing police car. I wear the trousers in my house (and have my wife`s permission to say so). BTW I always use Palmolive.So much kinder to the hands. Author's Reply: deepoceanfish2 on 2004-12-01 21:53:11 Re: Stigmata dylan, Nil desperandum, luv. This is alovely piece and there is a time for the more mellow in life. Loved this: 'And in the stale thunder of the coming train close enough to gather secrets,' Beautifully done! Regards, Adele 🙂 Author's Reply: Kat on 2004-12-02 00:29:31 Re: Stigmata Having just read some stompers from you, where every word was perfectly and gloriously positioned, I have to say I do really like this, esp. stanzas 3-5, BUT, wasn't keen on 'like the morning' or 'I taste her essence'...So, I think this otherwise very good poem, would be tighter and stronger with a more original simile to begin, and I think 'essence' is one of those over-used words (used it enough myself I think). However, catching up with some of your work has easily persuaded me to get your book! Long may yer lum reek! Kat 🙂 Author's Reply: chant on 2004-12-02 07:51:39 Re: Stigmata shattered silence is a bit of a cliche, did feel the last 3 lines were a bit syrupy, like Kat, wasn't keen on essence. knocking out those elements leaves a poem i'm rather keen on, and one that fits well into your 'blue' cycle, i think. Stigmata Kathy smiles like the morning and words dissolve into a station full of silence. As she waves away a wreath of smoke her hands are doves. Her hair, black ice. And in the stale thunder of the coming train close enough to gather secrets, I taste her. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-02 09:42:56 Re: Stigmata Am at place of employmenT right now, but have to say that I`m going to break the habit of a lifetime and change the poem to your suggested wording, Ian. Thanks-it`s a big improvement in my opinion. D. Author's Reply: Abel on 2004-12-03 10:15:29 Re: Stigmata Fine, rhythmic, lyrical...another song I think. Love the "stale thunder of the coming train..." line. Wonderful work Dylan. Ward Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-03 15:39:15 Re: Stigmata Thanks, Val. I think the edits suggested by Ian have been a big improvment. Starting to feel (and look) more like Keef again. XXX D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-03 16:46:05 Re: Stigmata Thanks for the comments, Kat and for the "Fave author" nom. All very much appreciated. To be honest, I didn`t take as much time over this one as I normally do.The more organised I am, the less bloody time I seem to have! On subsequent readings, I definitely would have changed the ending (as I have now)"Like the morning"-slightly cliche perhaps, but I quite like it. As I said to Beks recently, I m actually shitting meself about "Glasgow Kisses" coming out. Anyhoo, thanks again, XXX D. Author's Reply: Zydha on 2004-12-04 09:20:28 Re: Stigmata Wonderful read, Dylan, to say so much in so few words can never be described as 'samey'. I loved just about every line, but it's al been said already, lol, so ... well done, Zydha Author's Reply: Kat on 2004-12-04 17:19:26 Re: Stigmata ...On checking out your changes...another stomper! Chant's suggestions were super, and the opening simile is a winner with this. Don't fret about 'GK' - just aliken it to wearing nothing on under your kilt - proud, but aware you're at risk of being mooned - and then I'm sure you've got a set of buttocks as tight as your poetry! Kat 🙂 Author's Reply: Leila on 2004-12-04 18:44:56 Re: Stigmata Have read a few times now and followed the changes...still think I'd be tempted to remove...like the morning.. Kathy smiles and words dissolve... I like the rest especially her hands are doves her hair black ice...L Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-04 19:04:27 Re: Stigmata Well, glad you liked the changes, Kat. Am still shitting meself on GK going out into the big bad world though-I have been savaged on a few other sites and it ain`t pleasant. But, what the fuck, it matters not a jot. Am never gonna please everyone. I actually wore a kilt to a wedding last year and found it very comfortable. Mind you, I kept doing handstands and saying "How`s that for a shuttlecock?" XXX D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-04 19:18:12 Re: Stigmata Hi Leila, nice to hear from you again. "Like the morning" seems to be the most contentious part of the poem. I find it inoffensive-obviously, it`s not a great metaphor, but I think it suggests a fresh start, which was my intention. It also establishes a time, which allows the next few lines to describe the surroundings. Come to think of it, it is a bit Barry Manilow. But I still like it. XXX D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-04 19:25:21 Re: Stigmata Ward, Zydha, Thank you both for taking the time to comment. I really appreciate it (Still can`t sing though) D. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-12-04 20:08:26 Re: Stigmata Good to see a true pro in the top 5. Well done. Respect. s u n k e n Author's Reply: pullmyhair on 2004-12-27 16:20:32 Re: Stigmata Agree partially with Leila, but I think you can use that line with a little modification and it'll really add to the poem. Perhaps you need something more than just "like the morning". I find it hard to make that jump from "smile" to "morning". Think I need a solid shape that links the smile, or an effect linked to both the action and the morning. Something like that. Other than that, your skill lies in simplicity and sparse linguistic cherrybombs. Looking at the title, I can probably imagine religious imagery in the doves and the wreath, but there needs to be a stronger link with the title, being as it is so absolutely loaded with connotations. Really atmospheric, Dylan. I can feel the smoke of the station creeping along the platform. Cool. Pully x Author's Reply: Bramwith22 on 2004-12-27 16:33:11 Re: Stigmata dylan, A fine read. Sensual and evocative. Enjoyed this one very much. Bram Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-27 20:43:11 Re: Stigmata Again, the reaction of having a talented poet offering advice is V. much appreciated. (Actually,I am pissed again-will offer better comment tomorrow XXX. D. Author's Reply: Rosco on 2005-04-28 01:28:17 Re: Stigmata The transition from that image of the train and great impending distance to the intimate physical sensations of the ending is gorgeous. Author's Reply: |
| For Marie, almost. (posted on: 22-11-04) Poem. Today, in the bitter grey pause before dawn when dead men walk, I watched you breathe. As the night died over rain streaked roofs I saw the small shreds of morning almost touch you. And in the slow hooves of rain I held your warmth like a crown of thorns and wished you were here. Archived comments for For Marie, almost. Nicoletta on 2004-11-22 03:46:20 Re: For Marie, almost. A very good poem Dylan, but I would cut "and wished you were here." and permit me to change the layout a bit. For Marie, almost Today, in the bitter grey pause before dawn when dead men walk, I watched you breath. As the night died over rain streaked roofs I saw the small shreds of morning almost touch you. And in the slow hooves of rain I held your warmth like a crown of thorns. Nicoletta Author's Reply: bektron on 2004-11-22 05:12:10 Re: For Marie, almost. 'slow hooves of rain' Too perfect Dylan. I felt this as I read behind my ribs quite palpably. beks:) Author's Reply: blackdove on 2004-11-22 08:17:50 Re: For Marie, almost. Dylan, I think your lay-out is right, words at their best, each one turned like a smooth stone. Was it breath or breathe in the third stanza? Pure poetry. Jemima Author's Reply: margot on 2004-11-22 08:50:51 Re: For Marie, almost. i think the layout is right too and the final two lines are essential as a closing statement to give context and pathos to the rest. only thing i'm uncertain about, amongst the beautiful imagery, is the reference to crown of thorns. the contrast with other images is effective but i'm not sure about the link to warmth (tho i do understand your intention) thismay be just me! margot Author's Reply: Bradene on 2004-11-22 09:26:46 Re: For Marie, almost. This is so beautiful Dylan I don't think it is necessary for me to say more except this is definitely a fav for me. Love Val x Author's Reply: tai on 2004-11-22 09:35:14 Re: For Marie, almost. Excellent poem dylan. the love pours from it. I would have to disagree with nicoletta's suggestion however, because it changes the outcome. We do not know she is not with you and that line was the one that brought the lump to my throat and tear to my eye. All the best Tai Author's Reply: uppercase on 2004-11-22 10:18:59 Re: For Marie, almost. This is truly beautiful ...Erma Author's Reply: discopants on 2004-11-22 11:35:40 Re: For Marie, almost. Tender, poignant and very good. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-22 16:06:04 Re: For Marie, almost. Nicolette, Beks, Thanks for the very kind comments and suggestions.(And please forgive me not answering each individually). As has already been noted, the last two lines emphasise the fact that the person for whom the poem was written, is not present. I fear I will metamorphosis into Catherine Cookson one of these days... Thanks again, XXX D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-22 16:16:07 Re: For Marie, almost. Jemima, Margot, Thanks for taking the time to comment.Very much appreciated. The "crown of thorns" metaphor was, as you say, intended to contrast with the previous images.Am unsure of how effective it is. Originally, I thought it added depth, but remain to be convinced. Thanks again, XXX D. Author's Reply: Nicoletta on 2004-11-22 16:22:15 Re: For Marie, almost. Dylan, I dared to suggest the cutting of those lines because I immediately understood that the person is not present (For Marie, almost). I felt that the emphasis was unnecessary, although if you didn't include it perhaps for some readers it would be difficult to see that the person is not present. In a way I wanted that almost (which is extremely original) to be extremely powerful as well. I like it when the ending of a poem has almost a psychic connection with the title, giving one the sense of another dimension, another secret world waiting to be discovered. The 'distance' between the title of a poem and the ending lines is then bridged, if you see what I mean, and I found it necessary to happen in this eerie poem. Nicoletta Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-23 03:19:05 Re: For Marie, almost. Val, thank you for the kind comments, fave read, etc. It really is much appreciated. XXX D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-23 14:52:57 Re: For Marie, almost. Erma, thanks for taking the time to comment. Glad you liked it. XXX D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-23 15:01:42 Re: For Marie, almost. Hiya Tai. Thanks for the comment. I did think long and hard about leaving out the last two lines, but decided against it for clarity of meaning. Glad you liked it-here`s a hankie, btw. XXX, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-24 06:10:36 Re: For Marie, almost. Thanks for the comments. Very much appreciated. XXX D. Author's Reply: Kat on 2004-11-25 23:54:10 Re: For Marie, almost. Really enjoyed this! Kat 🙂 Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-26 16:05:07 Re: For Marie, almost. Thanks for the comment, Kat. It`s interesting that all comments so far have been by women. Is the poem overtly soppy? I dunno. Didn`t think so at the time of writing. Can`t please `em all. Anyhoo thanks again,very much appreciated. XXX D. Author's Reply: Domino on 2004-11-30 15:43:36 Re: For Marie, almost. In keeping with many of your previous works, I found myself reading this repeatedly until a picture emerged to me - I have said many times, unashamedly that, when deciphering author intent in poetry I am not the best. I'm only playing at it when I attempt to write poetry (more a prose amateur) but I do have an enormous respect for poets who just 'have it'. You certainly do. Never fail to impress. My interpretation: [START] Without assuming that this was written in the first person I surmise that the subject has awoken early. Perhaps not fully aware or alert and perhaps not with a start, but has considered his partner aside him, who is blissfully unaware of the consideration the subject is offering. I sense he also feels that, as he resigns himself to what lies ahead in the day, he rewards himself with a moment of joy. Self indulgent type of 'glad I'm here' moment. Perhaps then it turns back to stark reality. Normality. The "hooves" are in my interpretation, almost unwelcome, given that they symbolise evil in many cultures. I am undecided on that, however. Very interesting imagery though. I can almost see a violent rainstorm battering a bedroom window. A bedroom in which only the author can see them, feel them and be terrified by them. Even momentarily. Amidst it all he feels so, so close to his partner and yet so far. There is a great deal of love in my image though. Amazingly so. Jumps off the page! An overwhelming love between both parties but THEN.... It suddenly appears that, when he contemplated what it may be like to succumb, once again for the sake of harmony, it suddenly hits home he must resign himself to the fact that there will always be a sharp, jagged and hurtful edge to what he otherwise once knew as a comfort zone. She appears to him to be love in those moments of reflection but then it's almost as if demons dictate the humanity of it all. The "crown of thorns" analogy does not rest easy with me because I have tried in the last hour to associate any warmth (as the poem suggests) with such a brutal and profound image. I do see a bit of the 'bitter-sweet' though. Does that make sense? An ugly, yet very beautiful image. She appears to be the centre, the focus, the loved and yet tolerated. [END] I'll go back to this. Added to favourties. I must say that, for such a short piece, I have rarely been so drawn in different directions. Quality stuff, Dylan. 9/10 (never give top marks). Thank you for a great read. Added. Reg's Domino Author's Reply: Domino on 2004-12-01 13:21:02 Re: For Marie, almost. I must admit that having read again, my prior interpretation goes 'oot the windae'. Your stuff is like that though. For me anyway. Never the same picture twice. That's one hell of a canvas you have there, mate. Well done and thanks again. DOmino Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-01 15:06:57 Re: For Marie, almost. Brian, thanks for taking the time to comment and critique. I try not to make the meaning of any poem too obvious, but the intention was to offer a slight twist , in that it`s only in the final lines it becomes apparent that the subject of the poem is not present. There`s also a slight undertone of doubt-is there another person present and the author(not moi!) is thinking of somone else? It`s basically just descriptive lyricism. Another Catherine Cookston moment... Thanks again. D. Author's Reply: Domino on 2004-12-01 15:33:59 Re: For Marie, almost. Hardly a critique. I just felt like typing what I felt at the moment in an attempt to show how I interpreted it. I would not presume to crit poetry. I love it. It's easy to get lost in. Some of your imagery is simply stunning. I get what you mean re: most of your endings. Very thought provoking and enjoyable to the end. See my last reply for a 'Doh!' moment in my previous interpretation. As I said, it changes with each reading. Thank you for a great read, mate. DOmino Author's Reply: AnthonyEvans on 2005-01-18 08:53:35 Re: For Marie, almost. dear dylan, well, i'm a man (at least the last time i took a slug of rye) and i don't find it sentimental at all. a great poem. i also like the line about the slow hooves of rain. best wishes, anthony. Author's Reply: Rosco on 2005-04-28 01:15:54 Re: For Marie, almost. I second that: "and in the slove hoves of rain" Smashing. The whole poem is almost thrown into those measured evocative lines. Equal to ee cummins: "noone, not even the rain, has such small hands" or "skelton keys in the rain" by someone else. Author's Reply: |
| Six inch nails (posted on: 08-11-04) Poem She is poised like a switchblade. In the cool dark blue of 7.30 the night is pure as Pilate`s hands and glasses chink and murmur. The first words of a litany (Off, off,off) rise like an empty cross. While they worship as savages her eyes become broken porcelain as she stares past grey footlights at a mirror there is no answer to. Archived comments for Six inch nails blackdove on 2004-11-08 08:21:10 Re: Six inch nails Dylan, Is this about a crucifixion, or a modern day one? I love the images of 'rise like an empty cross' 'eyes become broken porcelain' and ...'a mirror there is no answer to.' Is this Mary Magdalene, or a again a modern metaphor using these images? Perhaps I'm not seeing it in the right context, can you shed some more light for weak eyes? I'd like to understand it better. Jemima Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-08 09:43:20 Re: Six inch nails Hi Jemima, Thanks for taking the time to comment. By way of explanation,I attended a stag night recently. The "Crucifixion" was metaphorical, but only just. Thanks again. Author's Reply: pencilcase on 2004-11-08 12:52:22 Re: Six inch nails I doubt I would have understood what this was about, but for your response to Jemima's comment. I might have twigged it from the 'off, off, off' line. Whatever: I can see that this is sad and demeaning, from both perspectives. 'Pure as Pilate's hands' is a good line for me. At first, I thought only of the obvious contradiction, but then I realised the additional ironic observation. I mean his hands were clean, just like the lads scrubbed up for the night out: conscience is another matter. 'Grey footlights' is also an interesting point in this thought-provoking poem. steve Author's Reply: barenib on 2004-11-08 16:08:12 Re: Six inch nails Dylan, a fine poem - I particularly like the last couplet which seems to summarise the closed loop of it all. The only thing that puzzles me slightly is the title - I've got a few ideas, but none of them quite work. John. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-08 16:27:23 Re: Six inch nails Thanks for taking the time to comment, Steve. Your observations on the poem are exactly right; It was (in my opinion) demeaning for both parties. There are one or two (deliberately) ambiguous lines, which are open to interpretation, but hopefully it isn`t too obscure. Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-08 16:38:56 Re: Six inch nails Hi John, The title was actally the last part of the poem to be completed.It was originally called "The Baying of Stags", but I ditched this at the last minute. Again, the intention was for ambiguity. The crucifixion references in the poem lent towards a title which reflected this metaphor and also had phallic connectations. In Flashy`s case,of course this would be two inch nails.... Thanks for your comment. Author's Reply: chant on 2004-11-09 04:40:20 Re: Six inch nails spare and precise, i enjoyed this one. though not your intention, i know, i thought the off off line could refer to a football crowd chanting for a player to be sent off. this might be considered another example of savages worshipping, i guess. the only line i was unsure about was the Pilate one because a) it sent my mind off to a completely different place and time and b) i thought it passed explicit moral judgement on what was being described, such that the reader wasn't allowed to draw their own conclusion. Author's Reply: blackdove on 2004-11-09 04:53:56 Re: Six inch nails Dylan, This is a clever piece. There are so many levels, like cutting through rock, you've made me see the layers. And as in any type of crucifixion, figurative or otherwise, its the ones who are culpable that carry the guilt with them. And , by the way, I liked the 'title six inch nails', but can men never get away from size... Luv Jemima Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-09 07:49:18 Re: Six inch nails Thanks for the comment, Ian. I didn`t intend to pass judgement on the situation as I felt that both parties involved were debased in some way. The "Pilate" line was only intended to develop the crucifixion metaphor.It`s never my intention to lecture, but I take your point-it could be interpretated in this way. Thanks for taking the time to comment-I really appreciate it. Author's Reply: Bradene on 2004-11-09 08:06:06 Re: Six inch nails When I read this at first I didn't know what the hell you were on about.. Then I saw your explanation to the others and read it again, it tumbled into place, of course I thought.. It is a guys poem I think! It's a clever piece of writing Dylan. Love Val x Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-09 08:42:44 Re: Six inch nails Thanks, Val. I may have tended to veer towards the obscure here. I thought it was comprehensible, but most readers don`t. Says a lot about my state of mind! Thanks again. Author's Reply: tai on 2004-11-09 08:49:41 Re: Six inch nails Hi Dylan, I love this little dance though a mind of a lunatic. sicko killer...Yes you have to have eye's in your capabilities these days huh. Very transparent to some though. Oh....Just a footnote. ....men who brag about manhood, are just, men having to brag about manhood. Glad to see you amongst friends. Always at my best. Tai Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-09 12:58:49 Re: Six inch nails I know m`dear. We are all the same. Some are more the same than others, though.(Especially Flashy.Two inches was being generous). Thanks for you very kind comments.Much appreciated. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-09 14:39:14 Re: Six inch nails Bloody Hell! Am still trying to work out if this is a compliment or not. Probably not. Thanks for taking the time to comment, m`dear and for the rating etc. XXX D. Author's Reply: Abel on 2004-11-09 15:46:53 Re: Six inch nails A sober comment, at least it seems to me, of the crucifixion of females in today's "perfection" society. She--obvious victim. Fantastic work, and again, I hear the beginnings of a song here. Ward Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-09 16:17:59 Re: Six inch nails Thank you for the very kind comment, mon ami. Unfortunately, I cannot sing a note. The Divine Hen is (as in so many things) much better at this. The subjectation of the feminine is two-edged here, though. I felt both parties were debased by the events.I hope that doesn`t sound too pompous or pretentious, but it was not a pleasant experience. Tanx again for taking the time to comment. D. Author's Reply: margot on 2004-11-10 04:45:12 Re: Six inch nails powerful statement - which is not at all obscure (reading comments below), it's the "off off off" which makes clear what we are witnessing. though i like the imagery of the cross i'm not sure it's a perfect fit. but i do like piece and it forces thought. i would say she is less debased than her worshipers, if that is indeed what they are, as she is aware of what she is doing and of their responses. they on other hand are instinctively responding. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-10 13:25:10 Re: Six inch nails Hi Margot, Thanks for taking the time to comment. Glad you liked the poem-well, parts of it. Part of the fascination for me in this situation, was the manner in which "mob rule" quickly took hold. It`s not in any way sexist, as I`ve seen crowds of women behave (almost) as badly. I dunno if this is a dark primitive urge or just the result of too many lagers. Bit of both, methinks. Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: margot on 2004-11-10 13:40:06 Re: Six inch nails hi, don't misunderstand me - i do like this piece. and i agree it's not sexist and if anything i find this type of behaviour more scary in women (perhaps that's ME being sexist). what's interesting in this situation is the almost latent or subtle power of the performer (male or female) as they can so easily control their audience...entrap them....excite them....leave them wanting. i understand your fascination and desire to write about it. think there is something in the 'primitive urge' - lagers or not! best wishes Margot Author's Reply: Leila on 2004-11-10 16:36:51 Re: Six inch nails Good work Dylan...like the title...and liked a lot.. ...the first words...... ...................empty cross. L Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-10 17:33:56 Re: Six inch nails Thanks for taking the time to comment, m`dear. (I have developed a very irritating habit of calling everyone m`dear. It`s not meant to be patronising. A gentleman of my mature years is allowed these terms of endearment). I digress.Thank you for the very kind comments. Much appreciated. D. XXX Author's Reply: Jack_Cade on 2004-11-12 11:16:05 Re: Six inch nails I think the description here is excellent, but without reading your comments, I found it very difficult to picture the scene. The footlights, porcelain, mirror and 'off's set me thinking she was an actress who had offended the crowd - so a metaphor for any public failure. But then there's the chinking of glasses, which made me wonder if she was at some kind of posh do. The stag night never occurred to me, but then, I've never been to one. Great opener, and I do like the words rising like a cross, but why empty? Are crosses filled? Maybe a bare cross? Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-12 14:32:28 Re: Six inch nails Hi Hen, how the devil are you? Have not seen or heard from you in ages. (Never been to a stag night? Will invite you to next one I attend) Thanks for the comments-the expression "Rise like an empty cross" was intended to convey the impression that the female participant (stripper, actually) was about to be metaphorically crucified on the crowds perceptions of feminine perfection. I realise I must sound like a miserable sod here-I`ve been to plenty of these nights and had a laugh etc. On this occasion it just seemed a touch sad/empty/degrading, whatever. Anyway, hope you are well and thanks again, mon ami. D. Author's Reply: Jack_Cade on 2004-11-12 19:57:59 Re: Six inch nails Hey, Dylan! I'm doing OK - thanks for asking. Hope you're well too. It doesn't sound like miserable sod-ness to me. I find it very easy to sense an emptiness at social events, even perfectly nice ones - you've got to be in the right mood, and that's just for starters. Have to say I don't think I could ever comfortably enjoy that kind of strip show, however light-hearted. Not my cuppa. I understood the cross image - is superbly done. I was just querying 'empty'. Know what you mean by it, but doesn't quite seem the 'mot juste'. Author's Reply: Kat on 2004-11-17 10:04:29 Re: Six inch nails I must admit, I was also thinking along the lines of Mary Magdalene. Reading the comments, all is revealed...a very fine poem. Kat 🙂 Author's Reply: |
| Shape shifting (posted on: 01-11-04) Poem Today you were a wraith of scent in a deserted room the colour of midnight. Yesterday grey-blue eyes molten in the arctic winter of a cafe somewhere. Then a handful of notes from a worn jukebox as the night died and a solitary street light fluted the wind into syllables of your name. Tomorrow you may be only the sound of a voice branded with anger. Distant as the crimson rising sun. Archived comments for Shape shifting Nicoletta on 2004-11-01 04:46:45 Re: Shape shifting Enjoyed it. Full of excellent lines, especially liked: a solitary street light fluted the wind into syllables of your name. tOrN Author's Reply: e-griff on 2004-11-01 12:58:47 Re: Shape shifting If I were allowed to comment, I would remark that this is an admirable poem, crisp and meaningful. Make of that what you will..... G Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-01 16:07:43 Re: Shape shifting Glad you liked it, Torn. I, personally was not (and am still not) sure of this one. The original premise was some time ago and I keep feeling it is a teeny bit cliche. Mind you, the missus liked it and that`s the main thing.. Thanks for your comments, much appreciated. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-01 16:22:14 Re: Shape shifting Well, I`m glad you liked it. Make of that what you will... For me, it`s rather a strange poem. It was begun (the first stanza at least) about 5 years ago and only completed last week.It`s difficult to relate to.I remember exactly my state of mind during other biographical work-say, "Ceremonies" when I was a teenager. But the zeitgheist of this one now escapes me. Maybe for the best. Thanks for the comment. Author's Reply: Safron on 2004-11-03 22:35:36 Re: Shape shifting Dylan, Flowing memoirs and done so well. Safron Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-04 08:24:26 Re: Shape shifting Glad you liked it, Saf. Thanks for the comment. D. Author's Reply: Bradene on 2004-11-04 19:14:59 Re: Shape shifting I love this Dylan, written with your usual flair and style. love Val x Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-11-05 05:57:03 Re: Shape shifting You just get better Dylan. You make me well sick. I look forward to throwing up over more of your work. s u l k Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-05 06:46:47 Re: Shape shifting Thanks for the generous comments, Val. Much appreciated. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-05 06:55:19 Re: Shape shifting Sunkee, mah man! Thank you kindly for the comment. D. Author's Reply: Kat on 2004-12-02 00:10:49 Re: Shape shifting Excellent work! If I come across just one more poem that I like...I'll have to take some kind of action... Kat 😉 Author's Reply: Zydha on 2004-12-04 09:23:32 Re: Shape shifting Super title, Dylan, perfect for another concise, yet beautiful piece, full of excellent imagery, Zydha Author's Reply: |
| Night Song of the Magdalene (posted on: 18-10-04) Not up to scratch? Mary entered like a silken paraclete and spoke in tongues (Comment allez-vous?) with lips as red as early apples. While music burned and night bled into day her eyes said I have my pride and don’t need pity. In a room grown cold as an epiphany, her hands made trembling love to the ghost of a cigarette. Then she paused. As if waiting for the first stone to be thrown. Archived comments for Night Song of the Magdalene chant on 2004-10-18 05:24:21 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene clever piece with the holy ghost of a cigarette being particularly fine, i thought. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-10-18 07:16:03 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene 'In a room grown cold as an epiphany, her hands made trembling love to the ghost of a cigarette.' Fan-fuckin-tastic! Well worthy of the 'Great read' and the nomo. s u n k e n Author's Reply: Bradene on 2004-10-18 07:21:22 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene Another piece of genius Dylan. While music burned and night bled into day her eyes said I have my pride and don't need pity. That is just perfect. love Val x Author's Reply: bektron on 2004-10-18 07:29:00 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene This is exceptional Dylan. Pure and clear and true. beks 🙂 Author's Reply: uppercase on 2004-10-18 08:44:26 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene Wow good one, I love it...Erma Author's Reply: blackdove on 2004-10-18 13:32:40 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene Dylan, This reminded so much of Leonard Cohen, with the tortured biblical references. The last stanza was the most powerful for me. Loved it. Jemima Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-18 14:26:46 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene Very grateful thanks to everyone for taking the time to comment and I apologise for not replying sooner(Just able to get on line). I`ve actually been reading Cohen just recently, Jemima. Did not consciously base this on his work, but as you point out, it is rather Leonard-esque. I hope no-one minds me not replying to each comment individually .Believe me, they are all much appreciated. Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: Kat on 2004-10-18 19:15:58 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene What a poem - the 5th stanza was so inspired - love it all - a favourite. Kat 🙂 Author's Reply: Sabrina on 2004-10-19 00:00:42 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene Oh My Gawd...what beautiful word painting...it just captures the moment: "...hands made trembling love to the ghost of a cigarette." Perfect. A beautiful set up for the last verse, which in itself is an echo of the picture of proud defiance set up in the first verses. The movement is as deliberate as a walk to the electric chair... ciao..Sabrina Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-19 03:21:34 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene Glad you liked it, Kat. Thanks for taking the time to comment. D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-19 03:24:56 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene Thanks for the very generous comment, Sabrina. Glad you liked it. D. Author's Reply: Leila on 2004-10-19 13:21:20 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene Dylan, strong poem...I am going back to school days French here but should it be.. Comment allez-vous ? Leila x Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-19 15:34:45 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene Hi Leila, You are correct. I apologise for the missing hyphen. I spent some time in France (quite a few years ago, it has to be said),spoke the language very badly and age hasn`t improved it! Seriously, thanks for the comment. XXX D. Author's Reply: tai on 2004-10-19 18:10:50 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene All I can say Dylan is moi bien..... I like it a lot Tai Author's Reply: Emerald on 2004-10-20 03:30:01 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene Hi, a great poem the last stanza for me spoke for the whole poem - you captured the defensive feel so well. Emma Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-20 04:35:15 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene Merci, mon petit cherie.(Oo-`ark at `im, talking all foreign). Seriously,thanks Tai. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-20 04:49:30 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene Thanks for taking the time to comment, Emma. Interestingly, the vast majority of comments (mostly complimentary) have been from women, while my missus was not at all keen on the way this scenario portrayed a friend.I personally, didn`t think it patronising-certainly wasn`t intended to be. Anyhoo-I digress. Thanks again. D. Author's Reply: ritawrites on 2004-10-20 06:39:51 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene didn't understand the French -- but is a terrific poem -- Author's Reply: Nicoletta on 2004-10-20 07:54:50 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene As if waiting for the first stone to be thrown OR for La Passerella D' Addio........................................ tOrN Author's Reply: Skeeter on 2004-10-20 08:34:01 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene A very fine poem; with some very original images. I'd never thought of an epiphany as being cold; but I like the idea of that... and I like the underlying sense of judgement, who are any of us to judge anyone...? very well put together, evocative and sad. Author's Reply: Abel on 2004-10-20 14:01:04 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene "In a room grown cold as an epiphany, her hands made trembling love to the ghost of a cigarette." Fantastic line! Great work, Ward Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-20 17:30:02 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene Thanks for the comments, Rita and Torn. Very much appreciated. (Means "How are you" btw). D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-20 17:35:59 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene Thanks for the comment, Ward. Much appreciated. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-21 16:45:58 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene Have just notice this comment, Skeet and apologise for not replying sooner. The original line was "In the room, an epiphany grew cold", but I thought it made "epiphany" sounded like a cup of tea or something similar, so changed to this version. Glad you like it and thanks for the comment. D. Author's Reply: royrodel on 2004-10-21 19:04:40 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene You obviously know or you don't. If you do then your scum. If you don't then you've a lot to learn. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-22 03:20:21 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene Must have a lot to learn mon ami, cause I have no idea what the fuck you are on about. Author's Reply: Pilgermann on 2004-10-24 04:04:31 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene These lines 'In a room grown cold as an epiphany,' seem out of joint. Tell me why you are equating 'epiphany' with coldness? Like the overall succintness and clarity. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-24 07:29:53 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene The poem touches on guilt being cathartic and perhaps necessary-in this case in the ending of a relationship. The "ephipany" is simply the person`s realisation that both parties were responsible for it`s failure. "Cold" can be equated here with starkness, bleakness. It was intended to contrast with the self-confident denial in the opening lines. The original line was "In the room, an epiphany grew cold", but as I said I changed to this version. Glad you liked at least part of it, thanks for taking the time to comment. D. Author's Reply: Ionicus on 2004-10-24 14:50:41 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene First class composition, mon ami, worth the nib, the ratings and the nomination for the anthology. The pedant in me, though, can't help worrying about the missing 'L' in the word 'allez'. Au revoir. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-24 15:57:24 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene Mon Dieu! The first time I use French in a poem and I mis-spell it! Pardonner, s`il vous plais.Have added the missing "L" plus hyphen (Which I believe is d`union in Froggie). Merci pour le commentaire.(Bet I`ve bloody spelled that wrong too)! Thanks, mon ami. D. Author's Reply: teifii on 2004-10-25 08:54:49 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene I love this one -- not a word out of place in my opinion. Don't know of the connection is intentional but I see the magdalene in this case as in a way also a bird; something about the title. But I get the human picture nevertheless. Lovely. Daf Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-25 14:53:39 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene Thank you for both the comment and the fave story nomination. Both are very much appreciated. D. Author's Reply: Safron on 2004-10-28 23:33:36 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene Dylan, This is like a beautiful painting on a canvas. "Then she paused. As if waiting for the first stone to be thrown. " Safron Author's Reply: pullmyhair on 2004-10-29 23:37:59 Re: Night Song of the Magdalene Nicely paced and some really nice imagery in here, sir, such as "the ghost of a cigarette" and "as red as early apples". Very delicate and nicely chosen phrasing. Perhaps my only niggling points would be that I wouldn't normally think of an epiphany as cols (in which case, perhaps my fault for being close-minded) and don't think you need a full stop/new sentence after "paused". Maybe a comma at most. Those are minor niggles, though, because this is a cracker. pully x Author's Reply: |
| Ceremonies of the Horsemen (posted on: 04-10-04) For PM-and what we shared. In those mornings, cold as anvil iron You braved the breath-clouded dawn and lit splinter fingered fires, boiled spluttering water in frozen silence. I stumbled, bleary eyed, in your wake, to sit near smoky warmth in a kitchen full of nothing. The clock crawled as heavy as sin. And soon we left together. Father and son, with all the depth of winter between us. Archived comments for Ceremonies of the Horsemen silentmemories on 2004-10-04 02:22:28 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Dylan I liked the poem very much and the last stanza is really great. Nic. Author's Reply: bektron on 2004-10-04 05:00:16 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Brilliant Dylan, you took my breath away. with your splinter fingered fires and spluttering water and the smoky smell and your clock crawling as heavy as sin completed with a truly fine ending beks:) Author's Reply: bluepootle on 2004-10-04 05:49:10 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen this has a real weight. All the words are so heavy - it has serious gravity. Great. Author's Reply: chant on 2004-10-04 06:35:34 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen yes, i thought this was an impressively weighty piece, very well written. meddling with it to suit my personal taste, i'd delete 'frozen' - unmediated by an adjective, the silence becomes more dangerous. and i'd delete 'full of nothing' and 'heavy as sin' as being a bit clicheed, and to postpone the full weight of the negative context till the final stanza. also added a comma after warmth to rejig the kitchen line. so i'd have it ... Ceremonies of the Horsemen In those mornings, cold as anvil iron You braved the breath-clouded dawn and lit splinter fingered fires, boiled spluttering water in silence. I stumbled, bleary eyed, in your wake, to sit near smoky warmth, in the kitchen the clock crawled. And soon we left together. Father and son, with all the depth of winter between us. Author's Reply: Bradene on 2004-10-04 06:39:07 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen It speaks of great emotion in so few words, there is a whole world of meaning in this. I am in awe by it. Excellent writing. love Val x Author's Reply: Penprince on 2004-10-04 07:12:41 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen CHEF DE OUVRE of the HIGHEST order, excellent work mate! I would expect a more dramatic ending, in the next revision... Debashish Author's Reply: uppercase on 2004-10-04 08:28:03 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Wow very deep and moving. A definate 10...Erma Author's Reply: e-griff on 2004-10-04 09:12:27 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen This certainly stands out as one of your better pieces. Excellent! Author's Reply: woodbine on 2004-10-04 09:13:47 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Bek, just took the word "brilliant" out of my mouth. So lucid, concise, and every line pulling it's weight in gold. John/Woodbine Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-04 13:56:10 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen (Gasps and rubs eyes at number of comments). Mes enfants, I am truly grateful for the very positive feedback. I hope none of you will be offended if I don`t reply to each comment individually, but it would choke up comments box and anyway you know what a modest cuss I am. Ian,thanks for your excellent suggestions-will give it some thought. Author's Reply: tai on 2004-10-04 16:15:05 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Hi Dylan, I loved your poem. An insightful look into a father and son relationship. The metaphors said it all! It reminded me of a Native American Indian relationship. All the Best Tai Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-04 17:20:09 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Grateful Tanx for your comment, Tai. The father/son relationship can be complex. As I am now finding out from the father`s perspective! Wasn`t like that in my day, I`ll tell `ee. Seriously,thanks again. D. Author's Reply: deepoceanfish2 on 2004-10-04 17:40:45 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen dylan, Phenomenal piece! Brilliant line: 'The clock crawled as heavy as sin.' A succinct vignette, crystal and breathtaking. You will never know how well you have portrayed an era of my own life. A fav read and a nomination, indeed! Warm Regards, Adele Author's Reply: Kat on 2004-10-04 22:09:05 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen I think it stands brilliantly as is... Kat 🙂 Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-05 04:47:09 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Adele, Thanks for the very generous comment. Parental conflict seems to be a common experience. Glad you liked pome and thanks for nom etc. XXX D. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-05 04:47:58 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Thanks for the comment, Kat. Very much appreciated. D. Author's Reply: Abel on 2004-10-05 11:18:39 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Profound work...enjoyed this immensely. Ward Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-05 16:14:29 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Thanks for taking the time to comment, Ward. Very much appreciated. D. Author's Reply: Slovitt on 2004-10-05 17:10:07 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Dylan: You've come to a spare, substantial way of speaking, of making poetic lines, that is resulting in poems. This one is very fine, and seems free of influences. You've found a vein, now it only remains to mine it. Again, very nice. Swep Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-05 17:47:04 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Swep, thank you for your astute comments. Over the past year, I`ve worked at evolving a(mostly) original style. Hopefully,it can improve further. I really admire your work and your comment is greatly appreciated. D. Author's Reply: flash on 2004-10-05 18:06:13 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Hi Dylan A strikingly personal poem on my reading....a deep rift between you and your dad? My own father was almost a complete stranger to me because we didn't get on, so i can empathize with your feelings if I've interpreted it correctly. Father and son, with all the depth of winter between us. Sums me and my Dad perfectly.A very rich vein you're mining from at the moment John. Flashypoos Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-05 18:26:32 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Thanks for the comments, Flashy. As I mentioned elsewhere, the relationship was complicated. We were very different people and it wasn`t until the last years of his life that we were reconciled. For that I am grateful. Now as a parent meself, I understand him a little. Anyhoo-tanx, mon ami. Author's Reply: Skeeter on 2004-10-05 18:38:52 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen It's a fabulous poem, lean and sinewy, if you kinow what I mean. Nothing wasted. I love the opening, it's very evocative indeed. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-06 06:59:59 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Thanks for the comment, mon ami. Very much appreciated. Author's Reply: freya on 2004-10-06 09:36:33 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Dylan, not my usual two pages of analysis this day, but had to stop by to say this is stunning. Beautiful in its minimal lines and stark simplicity which further the impression of a sad, cold distance, both emotional and physical. And and I'm drop-jawed with admiration as well as envy, dammit! Must add, I only see one person that I think hits precisely on the poem's essence in commentary, and that's the one who 'isn't a poet' - flash. I would do this: You braved the breath-clouded dawn But bet you won't 🙂 This is definitely Great Read of the MONTH for me.The freya, who seems to have misplaced her apple tree. xx Author's Reply: Leila on 2004-10-06 10:08:33 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen I love Skeeter's description of this as lean and sinewy, I agree...and the opening lines are super. My personal observations lead me to think that ...frozen silence...could be changed and I might choose...vaporous silence...I understand the choice of frozen to express the length and depth of the silence but.. breath clouded dawn and boiling water makes me think vaporous would be interesting. Also not sure about ...kitchen full of nothing. As ever just my take on what I consider to be an extremely good and well crafted poem...L Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-06 10:58:39 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Oh, Ms O`Neill ! You produce fantastic work like " Mattrix Run" ,"Doll`s Crib" and say you have misplaced your apple tree. Believe me, you have nothing to be envious of. On a serious note,thanks for the characteristically generous comment.It is very much appreciated. XXX D. Author's Reply: pencilcase on 2004-10-06 12:15:41 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Yes, very enigmatic and economic, but effective description of the physical and emotional atmosphere. Worthy of the complimentary comments received, I think. At the risk of sounding a bit dim, I'm not sure about the title. I think I see the ceremonies bit: routines, going through the motions. Did you intend the horsemen to be suggestive of the apocalypse?! I get the feeling that there is a factual side to this, that you were setting off to work with horses in one way or another, and I like the reference to anvil iron in this context. If you get the time to respond to this then it might further enhance my appreciation of a fine effort. steve Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-06 16:43:20 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Leila, thanks very much for the comment and suggestions.Much appreciated. Steve, The title is factual.(Hate explaining pomes, but anyway). Towards the end of his life my father did some casual work for a farmer and would rouse me at an incredibly early hour for my own work/college, whatever I happened to be doing at the time.The term "Horsemen" was also intended to be a metaphor for workers, in much the same way Larkin referred to those performing mundane tasks as "Toads". It`s also a line from "Love minus Zero" by Bob Dylan-"In the ceremonies of the horsemen, even the pawn must hold a grudge". Seemed to fit... Thank for your kind comments. D. Author's Reply: pencilcase on 2004-10-06 19:14:53 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Thanks for that! I wasn't aware of the line you've explained (and I bet I wasn't the only one). I'm pleased I asked, since this now adds to my appreciation of your poem, and I can see that it is a most fitting allusion. steve Author's Reply: barenib on 2004-10-08 18:58:03 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Dylan, it's late here, so I will just add my agreement that this is a very good piece. 'With all the depth of winter between us' speaks volumes about the mysteries of family relationships - unconditional, I think, is the word. John. Author's Reply: Safron on 2004-10-09 10:13:18 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Dylan, Have read this one over and over. So much emotion packed into this piece. This part really was my favorite. "I stumbled, bleary eyed, in your wake, to sit near smoky warmth in a kitchen full of nothing. " excellent expressions and depth. Safron Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-09 12:14:05 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen John and Safron, Thank you both for the kind comments. The positive feedback is really appreciated. XXX(Not you, John!) D. Author's Reply: e-griff on 2004-10-10 12:44:21 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Dylan, old chap, if I can be permitted a personal comment here, your work, for a while, generally has seemed uncomfortable and to be brutal, not really up to scratch (by your standards). And you yourself have seemed unhappy, even (to me) bitter at times... But here we have a shining example of what you really can do, when motivated, poked, prodded, whatever, and maybe forgetting your demons and going for it full-on. If you can find what incentive caused this, and use it again, you'll have many more fine poems, IMO. BUT you have to analyse and identify WHY... told you it was personal: respect JOhnG Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-10 14:51:56 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen You are entitled to your opinion Griff, but it`s not one I share. My own assessment is that my recent work(Kelvingrove Park, Solstice, this one) is on a par with anything I`ve ever produced. All were written, or completed within the last few months.All have been accepted by small-press `zines and were relatively well-received on UKA and other sites. To be brutal in retaliation, I don`t give a fuck what you think. Author's Reply: e-griff on 2004-10-12 08:28:44 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen John has drawn my attention to the above remark, which I see now could be read as a pretty sweeping generalisation, saying that his work was not good. What I meant to convey, in my enthusiasm for this particular poem, is it stands out as VERY good, excellent, compared with the past couple of submissions, which I'm not saying were BAD (which I agree could be implied in my words, which were badly expressed). So, apologies... JohnG Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-12 09:36:30 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen I ain`t biting, Griff. I would trust you about as far as I could kick cannonballs and would appreciate it if you didn`t offer any more gems of wisdom. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-10-12 16:12:39 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Ya know, when I first joined Uka you were one of my favs Dylan. You still are, but for some reason I've not commented on much of your work. I'm trying to think up an excuse here, but I can't. This piece is a perfect example of Dylanesque brilliance. Maybe I'm subconsciously jealous? As excuses go, that's not bad is it? It's good to see, some fifteen months down the line, that you are still doing it Dylan. This hit a nerve with me. Nerve hitting isn't usually advisable, but in this case I'm happy to make an acception. If you made sense of any of that please let me know (-: I meant every word, and I'm not drunk. Thanks. s u n k e n Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-12 16:26:36 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Sunky, mah man! A really grateful thank you. I am the last person to criticise anyone for not commenting-I don`t do it half as much as I should (commenting, I mean). And I have loved loads of your stuff-I promise on my reputation as a lover that I will comment on your next submission. An` boy do I have some reputation! (Why are you laughing). Just ask Her Randiness... Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: e-griff on 2004-10-12 16:32:42 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen my apology was sincere your problem is your problem this is an excellent piece of work, as I said .... Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-12 17:12:47 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen And as I said, I ain`t biting. Find another avenue for your self promotion. And please don`t comment on any of my work in future. Author's Reply: chrissie on 2004-10-16 12:05:56 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen superb. chrissieX Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-16 12:42:32 Re: Ceremonies of the Horsemen Glad you like it, Chrissie. Thanks for taking the time to comment. D. Author's Reply: |
| Acquiesce (posted on: 24-09-04) Poem Is that Daddy on the TV? Are those people his friends? They don`t look very nice. Are they having a game? I wish he could play with me. Does Daddy like those people more than us? Why does he stay with them? Why do people leave people? That man at the back is waving a toy knife. Is it a toy? Doesn`t Dad look funny with that blindfold on? He said he would come back soon. He will come back. Won`t he? Archived comments for Acquiesce Bradene on 2004-09-24 07:28:02 Re: Acquiesce Brilliant and so relevant, i got the idea at first you were talking about Colin Montgomerie then it became obvious you were talking about the hostages.. then it occurred to me that you may be weaving them altogether, whatever your intention It worked for me. Love Val x Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-09-24 10:48:41 Re: Acquiesce Val, Thanks for the comment. On reading this again, I thought I had veered towards the obscure, but on subsequent readings it seems to be ok. Thanks again. xxx D. Author's Reply: Penprince on 2004-09-24 13:49:03 Re: Acquiesce Maaaaaaaaaan, you know how to flirt with connotations...EXCELLENT work, Dylan! Author's Reply: Penprince on 2004-09-24 13:49:03 Re: Acquiesce Maaaaaaaaaan, you know how to flirt with connotations...EXCELLENT work, Dylan! Author's Reply: Penprince on 2004-09-24 13:49:05 Re: Acquiesce Maaaaaaaaaan, you know how to flirt with connotations...EXCELLENT work, Dylan! Author's Reply: Penprince on 2004-09-24 13:52:55 Re: Acquiesce apologies for multiple posting (a problem with my web browser)... Author's Reply: Abel on 2004-09-24 15:32:51 Re: Acquiesce Sobering indeed...and quite sad. You've captured this moment...as we (poets) are supposed to do... fine work. Ward Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-09-24 15:55:18 Re: Acquiesce Mon amis, very grateful thanx for the comments. Tried to go for anti-war without wagging the index finger. It`s a complex issue-I took part in the anti-war demonstrations in Glasgow before the Iraqi invasion and one of the most eloquent arguments I heard was that the only guaranteed outcome was more human suffering. I`m not a pacifist and believe that some wars are justified(-WW2 for example), but I believe history will confirm this conflict was avoidable. I digress-thanks again. D. Author's Reply: ritawrites on 2004-09-24 16:47:32 Re: Acquiesce yes, it’s the kids that are most badly hit -- vivid picture you paint here -- Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-09-24 17:41:23 Re: Acquiesce Rita mon cherie, grateful tanx for taking the time to comment. Merci beaucoup, XXX D. Author's Reply: Elfstone on 2004-09-26 15:35:52 Re: Acquiesce Nothing obscure about this dylan and it packs a punch. A powerful perspective on a truly dreadful situation. "but I believe history will confirm this conflict was avoidable" - for certain, my friend. Elfstone. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-09-26 17:31:50 Re: Acquiesce Thanks for the positive feedback, Elf. I really hope the situation is resolved, but fear the worst (as usual) D. Author's Reply: Safron on 2004-10-15 03:35:47 Re: Acquiesce Dylan, Almost to powerful this take on the situation. Sad isn't it. Safron Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-15 14:28:27 Re: Acquiesce Hi Saf, Thanks for taking the time to comment. It is (and was) a tragic situation. I hope the overall state of affairs improves soon. Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: tai on 2004-10-15 15:29:45 Re: Acquiesce Avoidable it may have been, no point in discussing. But, stoppable it is...and this is a very smart way to start....nice work Dylan....hit the barstewards where it really counts and hurts. I like your style very much Tai Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-16 05:22:20 Re: Acquiesce Thanks for taking the time to comment, Tai. Glad you liked the poem.Tragic what happened, wasn`t it? Since being told by a very clever person recently that most of my work was "not up to scratch", I`ve been going over a lot of it and find I still quite like this one too. Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: tai on 2004-10-16 14:53:48 Re: Acquiesce Dylan! I am shocked, what prat would say such a de-constructive thing....Your work is more than up to scratch.....All I can say is.....#$&*@G....NO...I will resist the impulse.....I have to start somewhere, after all! rofl Tai, restrained but smiling Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-16 18:46:29 Re: Acquiesce Thanks, for the supportive comments Tai. Tis true, nonetheless. If you check the comments on "Ceremonies of The Horsemen" you will see deconstructive crit by aforementioned prat. D. Author's Reply: |
| Shriven (posted on: 13-09-04) Poem Here, As I watch early mist limp between broken stones, the day begins a solilioquy. Ghosts are not charitable and demand the chatter of sparrows and the curve of these snowdrops. A blank faced sheet of marble is a stranger and does not know How you changed the air I breathed. And were the best of my days. Time gnaws the minutes. Words crumble. The day becomes empty. We go on living. Archived comments for Shriven silentmemories on 2004-09-13 02:21:25 Re: Shriven It may not make sense to you or others, but this poem that I like very very much is written ascetically. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-09-13 13:14:34 Re: Shriven Glad you liked it, Nic. Total aesthete, me. Love, D. Author's Reply: ritawrites on 2004-09-14 03:35:59 Re: Shriven i liked this very much -- Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-09-14 05:58:09 Re: Shriven Thanks for the comment, Rita. Glad you liked it. I may have tended to veer toward the obscure with this one, but it`s good to have some positive feedback. Thanks again. D. Author's Reply: Bradene on 2004-09-14 07:38:30 Re: Shriven I too liked the beauty of this and found myself saying "I wish I had written that" love Val x Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-09-14 08:40:58 Re: Shriven Val, Very grateful thanks for taking the time to comment.It is much appreciated. Love, D. Author's Reply: Penprince on 2004-09-15 13:35:56 Re: Shriven I can see existential feel creeping in, in ethereal imagery! I like the last two couplets, like the change of motif there...GREAT POEM! Debashish Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-09-15 17:05:26 Re: Shriven Very grateful thanks for taking the time to comment, Debashish. When posted elsewhere, I was asked in all seriousness if I had misspelt the title.One person (who shall remain nameless) thought it should be "Shrivelled". Thanks again. D. Author's Reply: deepoceanfish2 on 2004-09-16 08:14:15 Re: Shriven dylan, A hauntingly beautiful piece. I especially loved this: 'Ghosts are not charitable and demand the chatter of sparrows and the curve of these snowdrops.' Superbly done and a fav read. Cheers, Adele 🙂 Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-09-16 15:04:55 Re: Shriven Thanks, Adele. Nice to see you back on the site. Haven`t heard from you in ages. Will drop you a PM whenever I get a minute (about Christmas, probably!) Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: |
| Solstice (posted on: 22-08-04) Poem The scent of bruised grass wavers in an arc of broken sunlight. Under a thin tussocky sky, the crucified clotheslines weave furious shadows. Wind-chimes and blue chiffon voices drift through the fragments of afternoon, As July and suburbia stare harsh as arctic winter. Now, I hear your voice, see the blue ashes of your eyes. A flower blooms somewhere inside me. Archived comments for Solstice Bradene on 2004-08-22 16:09:44 Re: Solstice This is just perfect and perfectly beautiful. Love Val x Author's Reply: Ham_on_Rye on 2004-08-22 18:25:58 Re: Solstice Loved this too, mate. Not entirely sure if my interpretation is same as yours at time of writing. Great to see regular, quality work though. Thank you. B Rabbit (Ham) Author's Reply: Kat on 2004-08-22 19:38:48 Re: Solstice Brilliant poem. Regards Kat Author's Reply: Kat on 2004-08-22 19:40:46 Re: Solstice Brilliant poem - hope I'm not repeating myself...just posted a comment (I thought). Kat 🙂 Author's Reply: deepoceanfish2 on 2004-08-22 20:17:39 Re: Solstice Fine imagery here, Dylan. Lovely descriptive phrases leading to the juxtaposition of; 'July and suburbia stare harsh as arctic winter.' Nicely done! Cheers, Adele 🙂 Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-08-23 03:13:20 Re: Solstice Chaps and chapessess, thanks for the comments. Am in something of a "Hopeless Romantic" phase just now, which is slightly worrying. (Or should that be plain "hopeless") Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: ritawrites on 2004-08-23 06:55:10 Re: Solstice liked it – some interesting imagery – Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-08-23 09:22:24 Re: Solstice Thanks for the comment, Rita. Glad you liked it. I am a soppy old sod, non? Author's Reply: Penprince on 2004-08-25 05:56:43 Re: Solstice I like the fluid imagery in this symbolic wonder... Debashish Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-08-25 08:07:45 Re: Solstice Thanks for the comment, Debashish. Glad you enjoyed it. "Symbolic wonder" is one of the most extravagant compliments I have ever had.Very welcome, mind you! Cheers, D. Author's Reply: tryptych600 on 2004-08-26 01:36:56 Re: Solstice Enjoyed this very much. Absolutely nothing wasted. Nice work, mate. Andrew. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-08-26 04:59:55 Re: Solstice Thanks for the comments, Andrew. Glad you liked it. I am in danger of becoming the Catherine Cookston of UKA! Author's Reply: freya on 2004-08-28 09:28:12 Re: Solstice Dylan: you surpass all expectations. This is breathtakingly lovely. Delicate and lace like, the yearning and leaning toward the loved one is palpable. I envy the woman who is the recipient of such a beautiful love poem. Not a word out of place for me, and a favorite pick. My great admiration. Shelagh Author's Reply: Lu on 2004-08-28 11:41:26 Re: Solstice Brought me a smile... Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-08-28 12:13:14 Re: Solstice Shelagh, Lu, Very grateful thanks for the comments. If truth be told Shelagh,my missus was slightly peeved about the revised "Kelvingrove Park", which appeared on the site a week or so ago, so had to come up with something to keep the peace. Of course the events portrayed in "Kelvingrove" happened long before I met my wife, but you know what Bloody Wimmen are like! Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: tai on 2004-08-29 07:31:10 Re: Solstice A truly beautiful love poem. I bet your wife is smiling now! Tai Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-08-29 16:32:51 Re: Solstice Well y`know, one does one`s best. Always nice to have a few crumbs from a true master. D. Author's Reply: |
Kelvingrove Park, 1976 (posted on: 16-08-04) 
PoemThat spring I felt the green buds open on skeletal trees. Near a winding path of ash as the river grew ripe in the slanting sun, thoughts became places. We watched the Sunday-best children, impaled on shining communion medals, smile at a camera`s jagged edge. The sky turned to dying lilac. And I remember watching you walk away in a heaviness of thunder and the first drops falling like winter-tipped arrows. Archived comments for Kelvingrove Park, 1976 richardwatt on 2004-08-16 08:11:47 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 It's lovely, one of the few poems I couldn't really get my claws into for that reason. So full of loss, and such a beautiful setting. Before going to a Mogwai concert in town I took my sandwiches to the Stewart Memorial fountain, where I remember crying for the last time over a woman! It's amazing how small a world it is, isn't it? rick? the very same! x Author's Reply: ruadh on 2004-08-16 08:50:04 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 Melancholic but soo good. I liked this Dylan. love ailsa Author's Reply: Skeeter on 2004-08-16 08:53:36 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 I like this very much, it resonates with me. It is put together very well, and speaks to me fluidly. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-08-16 09:38:58 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 Thanks to everyone for the comments. Although this took place many years ago, I still remember it vividly. Bloody wimmen! Author's Reply: silentmemories on 2004-08-16 11:38:47 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 This is a very well written poem and I especially liked : Near a winding path of ash as the river grew ripe in the slanting sun, thoughts became places. Author's Reply: Bradene on 2004-08-16 11:42:36 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 This is so so lovely it brought tears yo my eyes A favourite I think. Love val x Author's Reply: Penprince on 2004-08-16 13:07:13 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 Poem dispenses a melancholic backdrop along its superb flow...Poignant write... Thanks for creating, poet! Debashish Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-08-16 13:56:33 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 Again, very grateful thanks to everyone for taking the time to comment. The theme of lost love (of any kind) has been done to death and I tried to avoid feeling too sorry for meself. Mind you, it was 28 years ago, so am over the worst now! Author's Reply: Slovitt on 2004-08-16 17:28:07 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 Dylan: Now this is a nice piece. There is a hushed quality, an understatement, though with gravity, that is very attractive, and the visuals are great. I particularly like thoughts became places. And then, the last six lines are very fine. My only suggestion would be to cut 'as' in the 2nd line of the 2nd stanza, to read Near a winding path of ash, The river grew ripe In the slanting sun, Thoughts became places. In any case, to your attention. A good poem. Swep Author's Reply: Kat on 2004-08-16 20:19:03 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 Hi Dylan What a beautifully understated poem which is full of impact - so many wonderful images and shades of colour and feeling. Really like 'The sky turned to dying lilac' and 'like winter-tipped arrows.' Excellent! Regards Kat Author's Reply: Michel on 2004-08-16 23:07:45 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 Beautiful and mesmerising. Crystal-clear. (Is this in your book to be published?) Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-08-17 03:23:26 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 Again, very grateful thanks for all comments. Very much appreciated. No, this one isn`t in the book, Michel.(Glasgow Kisses-available for pre-order, now). Sorry about the advertisment. I hadn`t finished it at time of submission. Also,thanks for the suggestion, Swep. Will give it some thought. Author's Reply: bektron on 2004-08-17 05:55:21 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 Dylan, Subtle and full of half light, in fact I want to say chiaroscuro, super balance of light and dark. sharp and precise use of language. I enjoyed it and I'll enjoy your book too I know. bek Author's Reply: freya on 2004-08-17 06:23:00 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 Dylan: this is an OLD poem? So you had this spare, delicate touch for just the right detail under wraps all the time? And here I am, lingering over your 'latest' poetry and 'newly' found voice , line by line, just to see how you do it! Tell me you reworked it, at LEAST! Such a stunningly effective transition to describe the pain of loss. From this: That spring I felt the green buds open to this: and the first drops falling like winter-tipped arrows. May I tinkeringly suggest some wee (Scot-talk!) changes? And I remember watching you walk away in a heaviness of thunder, the first drops falling like winter-tipped arrows. A wonderfully, evocative piece. Why hasn't this been given a nib? Shelagh Author's Reply: freya on 2004-08-17 06:25:52 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 Dylan: this is an OLD poem? So you had this spare, delicate touch for just the right detail under wraps all the time? And here I am, lingering over your 'latest' poetry and 'newly' found voice , line by line, just to see how you do it! Tell me you reworked it, at LEAST! Such a stunningly effective transition to describe the pain of loss. From this: That spring I felt the green buds open to this: and the first drops falling like winter-tipped arrows. May I tinkeringly suggest some wee (Scot-talk!) changes? And I remember watching you walk away in a heaviness of thunder, the first drops falling like winter-tipped arrows. A wonderfully, evocative piece. Why hasn't this been given a nib? Shelagh Author's Reply: freya on 2004-08-17 06:31:15 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 er..... I just MUST have the last word. That beks muscling in there....grrrr... Author's Reply: ritawrites on 2004-08-17 08:08:12 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 It’s very beautiful.. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-08-17 11:46:01 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 Once more, grateful thanks to everyone for taking the time to comment on this.Loss seems to be a universal issue. Thanks for the thought Shelagh, but me last submission "Negotiations" was nibbed and seemed to die on its arse.(Technical term). So maybe it`s best to have positive feedback from you wunnerful people..... Thanks again. D. Author's Reply: freya on 2004-08-17 18:22:56 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 HA! Author's Reply: chrissy on 2004-08-18 02:54:24 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 I don't often think things are perfect (unless they're mine of course) but this is. There is a lightness and freshness and immediacy about the language and the imagery is wonderful. It doesn't have the feeling of being re-worked but it does have the perfection of being carefully thought about. Bloody beautiful (technical term) chrissy Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-08-18 14:34:44 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 Thanks once more to everyone for taking the time to comment. The first draft of this was written around `77, but was very different from the completed poem.(Was young and starry-eyed then, am a miserable sod now). I note it has now been nibbed, young Shelagh. Bet it dies on its arse.....(Yet more use of technical terms). Author's Reply: barenib on 2004-08-19 07:05:46 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 Dylan, I too like this very much, such a wistful atmosphere. The last main stanza and final line are very well done. John. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-08-19 14:13:36 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 Thanks for your comments, John. Apparently something positive always grows from a painful experience. Looking back, this hurt like hell, but "`tis better to have loved and lost..."? Sod it, I should have stuck in at the footie. Author's Reply: uppercase on 2004-08-19 14:55:05 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 This poem made my eyes leak. Dam poem anyhow...Erma Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-08-19 15:30:01 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 Between you and I, Erma-I have been happily married for over 20 years now, but there is not a day goes by that I don`t think about this person. Bastard that she was...(Bloody eyes leaking an` all-Bloody wimmen.Bloody pomes.Bloody Kelvingrove Park..) Author's Reply: Ham_on_Rye on 2004-08-22 18:23:30 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 It's wonderful, mate and one to go back to time and time again. I lived just adjacent to Kelvingrove Park when at Glasgow Uni. For me it holds such memories ranging from the most romantic and sublime to the most lonely and cold. It's one of my haunts and a place that once truly defined me. I sincerely hope that in private times you have made a point of going back. Exorcise the demons? If not, then it's simply somewhere special to me. Glad it is to you too. Very touched by this. Thank you. Quality work. B Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-08-23 03:10:35 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 Thanks for the comments, Gordy. Have been back to Kelvingrove quite a few times. Lovely place, but still holds memories. Author's Reply: Leila on 2004-09-20 11:50:16 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 This one has a haunting, atmospheric feel, comes across really well...good balance of depth and delicacy...L Author's Reply: Safron on 2004-10-07 06:09:38 Re: Kelvingrove Park, 1976 Unique Poetic Voice you have. "The sky turned to dying lilac. And I remember watching you walk away in a heaviness of thunder and the first drops falling like winter-tipped arrows. ' Especially liked your visual contact the soft flow and silence of verses draws me into the poem and the moment. Well done. Safron Author's Reply: Mikeverdi on 21-08-2015 Kelvingrove Park, 1976 Just came across this one 😊 Mike Author's Reply: Hi Mike-thanks for the kind comment. My God, this is going back a bit. Looking back at older work can raise old ghosts-(sometimes can be embarrassing too!) At the time of writing this, I`d been reading a lot of work by a Scottish poet call John Burnside-(still a fav, btw)and this is very much in his style. Anyhoo, thanks again. D. deadpoet on 23-08-2015 Kelvingrove Park, 1976 So did I! Spring- such a wonderful description.. Author's Reply: |
| Negotiations (posted on: 09-08-04) Poem A graphite sky is full of crystal shavings As breathing hangs under blood-orange lights, the night is broken into pieces and I have a hundred ways of turning. Lighted windows dot like shrapnel, sad as forgotten love songs. Alison waits below a fingernail moon. As time becomes a Damascene dagger, I realise you are far away. Archived comments for Negotiations bektron on 2004-08-09 03:38:14 Re: Negotiations quality as usual dylan, loved this As breathing hangs under blood-orange lights, the night is broken into pieces and I have a hundred ways of turning. class. bek Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-08-09 08:36:53 Re: Negotiations Tanx for the comments, Beks. Glad you liked it. Author's Reply: Skeeter on 2004-08-11 12:22:28 Re: Negotiations This is one of those that puts things nicely in a nutshell; concise and succint, and full of great imagery. Liked it very much. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-08-11 14:28:24 Re: Negotiations Thanks for taking the time to comment, Skeet. Glad you liked it. It`s one I have had lying around for a while, which I finally got round to submitting. Author's Reply: |
| The Parable of the Sun (posted on: 26-07-04) Poem In a dried brown square filled with the essence of sunlight, the death-suited waiters move in precision. Like water bending, straightening, shifting. Flowing over perfected tables. The heart of Rome beats into subtle afternoon. As the sky gathers fingers of cloud over gracious pavements which shimmer and blur, in staccato brushstrokes of red and lilac, unlikely landscapes crystallize. Diamond hard, two burning suns pierce my shade. "A portrait of the lady? Then she will not grow old." Fluid as sand, his hands trap the fuchsia lining of you. Caught in a canvas by a nameless Roman who spoke like absinthe, your memory is preserved in charcoal lines, in amber and the essence of pale sunlight. Archived comments for The Parable of the Sun Bradene on 2004-07-26 07:40:02 Re: The Parable of the Sun I love this.. It's just made me wonder what the hell I'm doing in dismal Grantham, when I should be sitting in a pavement cafe somewhere romantic having a charcoal portrait of me, done whilst sipping ice cold lemon tea or some such... beautiful image you have created Love Val x Author's Reply: bluepootle on 2004-07-26 08:55:41 Re: The Parable of the Sun It's a perfect picture of a moment - I wanna be there! I wanna be in it! Sigh... Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-07-26 14:09:06 Re: The Parable of the Sun Thanks for the comments. Rome is one of my favourite cities (after Glasgow, of course). This incident took place in a square in the centre of the city and I`ll be damned if I can remember the name of it. Just havta go back and check, I suppose...!! Thanks again. Author's Reply: Gee on 2004-07-27 02:31:27 Re: The Parable of the Sun This was so beautifully described I felt as though I was there. A perfect image captured, like the sketch, forever. Author's Reply: Jack_Cade on 2004-07-27 05:26:20 Re: The Parable of the Sun Nice, Dylan! By which I mean, beautiful sketch. Really like 'spoke like absinthe' (the word suggests a certain colour and luminosity without you having to add anything more), 'in amber' and 'The heart of Rome beats'. Was a leeetle beet unsure about the 'brushstrokes', because they're so often used in descriptions of scenery. Also, perhaps too many 'ing' words applied to the waiters? 'Like water' was really all needed here to see the rhythms of their movement. Not sure why it's a parable? Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-07-27 06:35:30 Re: The Parable of the Sun Tanx for the comments, Hen. I take your point about the waiters movement-"Like water" may suffice. There are two expanations re the title. One is that the "parable" shows that a sketch was unnecessary-sunlight, Rome, his partner etc is captured in the narrators memory. The other is that the name of the square was gonna be the title and I can`t remember it! Author's Reply: Domino on 2004-08-03 17:26:24 Re: The Parable of the Sun I should have posted comment at time of making mention to you personally how much I have enjoyed your recent work. Having a wee read (as a lurker unfortunately, as any writing of my own is on back burner for the time being) but would just like to add my own voice to those that have responded in kind. I can see throngs of leather trousers and Vespa scooters. I can almost smell hot dogs with mushroom and cheese (or con funghi é formaggio) from the vendors which line those narrow strada (streets) in Roma. Also, I will never forget walking hand in hand with my intended in Roma when I was propositioned by a sketch artist. I asked, "Quanto costa?" (how much?) - was asked, "Inglese or Scozzese?" (English or Scottish). All that aside - It is a great story, told in few lines and your use of imagery and especially your knack of making one conjur such imagery, is remarkeable. Well done, mate. I can only hope to enjoy such scenes with you sometime in future. Roma (with Glasgow a close second) ranks, as it does with you, among the most marvellous places to be. Thank you. Genuinely. DOmino Author's Reply: Domino on 2004-08-03 17:29:11 Re: The Parable of the Sun I meant *remarkable.* Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-08-04 04:53:45 Re: The Parable of the Sun Thanks for the kind comments, mon ami. Rome is a beautiful city, maybe not in the same class as the East End of Glasgow, but nice all the same! Thanks again. Author's Reply: margot on 2004-09-24 10:32:14 Re: The Parable of the Sun some lovely imagery here and good rhythms too. not sure if i agree with jack as the 'ings' help create that sense of ebb and flow to an extent and so the comings and goings of waiters is well illustrated in my view. i think perhaps the ending is a little too literal ref 'preserved in charcoal lines' ...maybe the charcoal lines could go? Author's Reply: |
| The Prisoners (posted on: 02-07-04) Poem The grinning light hangs like a testimony. Naked. And staring past the grey on grey of crumbling walls and dull metal morning. The windows are unfocused, not responding. As these skeletons of red-gravel streetlights unfurl to astounded silence, the profiles in the ceiling cracks are all asleep. I see dead men walking like trees. An alarm rips the foreign air. A car coughs like a baby. In the depths of this hotel room, cheap perfume turns to frost. I look at your picture, almost smiling. Archived comments for The Prisoners Frenchy on 2004-07-02 08:57:01 Re: The Prisoners Made me think of a Cohen song where he says "the walls of this hotel are paper thin" I've slept in a few rooms like this. Excellent poem 🙂 Author's Reply: uppercase on 2004-07-02 09:29:24 Re: The Prisoners Sounds like a no tell motel to me...good poem Erma Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-07-02 14:53:53 Re: The Prisoners Thanks for the comments,chaps. The poem isn`t really about a hotel at all. But, come to think of it, I have stayed in a few dives meself. Thanks again. Author's Reply: Leila on 2004-07-02 15:48:59 Re: The Prisoners Been pondering on this one...prisoners of what...I wondered if we were talking prisoners of war..and I even thought about graves...so many lines I like but they ar sending me in different directions...someone will see it and make us all look silly.. love when I keep coming back for another read..L Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-07-02 16:51:10 Re: The Prisoners Tanx again Leila. The poem was originally about the cult 60 `s series "The Prisoner" but as it unfolded, a myriad of meanings opened up. I really can be a pretentious tosser when I get started, can`t I? Comes with old age I suppose. Anyway, my definition of prisoners may not be the same as yours. Thanks again. Author's Reply: Leila on 2004-07-02 17:16:34 Re: The Prisoners Dylan you need Jack Cade for this, he'd have spotted it right off, see his journal, anyway I know people got hooked on that series, but as you say the poem could be interpreted in many ways...that's a good thing...L x Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-07-02 18:09:46 Re: The Prisoners Thanx for the comments again, m` dear. But kindly do not mention The Illustrious Hen (Jack Cade) to me. He is young, he is handsome(well,according to Her Randiness), he is supremely talented. When I meet him at UKAlive, I may just kick him straight in the balls. Seriously, he is a great writer. Thanks again. Author's Reply: Jack_Cade on 2004-07-03 14:57:12 Re: The Prisoners Intriguing! I was just coming down here to remark that the poem initially made think of the Prisoner, and so on, only to find I've been preminisced! Please don't hoof me in the crotch, Dylan - I assure you I am only, at best, handsome and talented in a particular and strange kind of way that does not exclude me from criticism and rejection! Found this a very appealing poem - did make me think of Patrick McGoohan observing his surroundings in frustration, and I also picked up on the Cohen-esque elements - but both only frame a very strong description, half-real, half-surreal. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-07-03 15:13:26 Re: The Prisoners Cade, you bounder! Come to mock, have you? Seriously, I promise not to kick you at UKAlive, if only for the reason that Her Randiness will kick me back! Tanx for the comments. I thought I was the only person old enough(apart from Sirat etc) to remember "The Prisoner". As I say,the poem started life as a paen to this series/straightjacket of modern living etc, then personal experience started to intrude and it ended up totally incomprehensible! Author's Reply: Ham_on_Rye on 2004-07-22 18:26:22 Re: The Prisoners If not about a hotel experience then I have not got an idea of what you mean by it. Reads nicely though and I like it. Sorry that you choose not to respond to any messages too. I'm losing net access from home office in a few days as I've managed to shift career and will be working from home a lot. Won't be keeping a close eye on the net as I would like as we will be on dial-up access but I wish you well. Thanks for all your support when I was down. My best Ham (Gordy) Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-07-23 02:36:50 Re: The Prisoners Glad you liked the poem Gordy and apologies for not getting in touch. Apart from having a barrowload of old PMs, I have been v. busy (no excuse, I know). I have now responded to your message, please keep in touch. Author's Reply: Rosco on 2005-04-28 01:33:47 Re: The Prisoners Loved that series myself. There's also the feeling of the Old Iron Curtain days when few of the west were allowed behind the scenes, so to speak. Wonderful imagery which I suspect, forgive me, might have been assisted in places by some experiences with Quinn the Eskimo. Author's Reply: |
| On George V Bridge (posted on: 18-06-04) poem On this city bridge the moon fragments and drifts to ocean blackness. Light rain silvers the sporadic traffic as somewhere, glass disintegrates into midnight. An unquiet silence falls like treason. The figures pass, as close as death. Self-wrapped in their protective love. Oblivious to night and rain and Glasgow. I watch their faces glimmer in pieces of broken moonlight. As the dark closes in, across this fragile bridge footsteps begin a litany. Archived comments for On George V Bridge Leila on 2004-06-18 15:56:49 Re: On George V Bridge This one gave me a tingle down my spine...a beautiful write re city life and fragility and love...I love bridges, especially this one by Central Station and all the history of the area, the steamers going 'doon the Broomielaw' and all that...and of course Glasgow today....but these lovers will follow in the footsteps of many other lovers....special poem...is this intended for the Scot's Anthology, I do hope so...L Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-06-18 16:28:42 Re: On George V Bridge Thanks for the comment, Leila. I had no idea you were Scottish-do you still live in the Glasgow area? I wrote this with the anthology in mind. Glad you like it. Author's Reply: Leila on 2004-06-18 16:40:37 Re: On George V Bridge Glad you intend it for the anthology. I did live in Glasgow for a while but have moved around a lot... last five years in London, just came up to the Highlands about 5 weeks ago...L Author's Reply: Faerie on 2004-06-19 02:59:50 Re: On George V Bridge definitely deserving of the great read tag.. there are lots of great lines in here.. i especially loved: "somewhere, glass disintegrates into midnight." the whole poem has this atmosphere around it.. almost like you're in a bubble when you're reading it. that's a terrible way to describe it but i cant think of any other way.. a sense of isolation and quiet at any rate. i hope at least some of that made sense 🙂 nancy Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-06-19 05:43:49 Re: On George V Bridge Thanks for taking the time to comment, Nancy. I had hoped to achieve a sense of alienation-ie the narrator is not involved in the scene he is describing.There is also a slightly dark undertone (of course!). Thanks again. Author's Reply: chrissy on 2004-06-19 11:36:09 Re: On George V Bridge I thought this was very beautiful and it triggered a memory for me that I can't quite get hold of, yet. It's the rain and the traffic. Perhaps I'll remember, perhaps not. I have problems with my memory. This was certainly a wonderfully written, evocative piece and well worth the great read. chrissy Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-06-19 12:44:13 Re: On George V Bridge Thanks for the comment, Chrissie. Glad you enjoyed it. Author's Reply: Gerry on 2004-06-19 13:42:52 Re: On George V Bridge Nice tender little poem. (I always get lost in Glasgow. (lol) Gerry. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-06-20 05:28:54 Re: On George V Bridge Glad you liked it, Gerry. Thanks for the comment. The one-way road system in Glasgow city centre is a pain.Mind you the worst Scottish city for traffic is Edinburgh.Parking tickets are guaranteed... Author's Reply: bluepootle on 2004-06-20 06:07:48 Re: On George V Bridge Beautiful, and bewitching. But I wanted more, I wanted longer. It felt like a setting of a scene more than a capturing of a moment, and I wanted to know about the figures, and where their footsteps were leading them. Have you thought about following this up? There's so much room here. Author's Reply: flash on 2004-06-20 06:34:56 Re: On George V Bridge Exquizite.........i know I've spelt it incorrectly but i don't care you old romantic fool, what are you doing out at that time of night anyway you'll catch your death at your age. I'm no help but i thought it was eloquent and beautifully crafted. Well done PS did you know you appear briefly in one my recent stories eating a fried egg. platonic types xxxxxx's Flashy Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-06-20 06:54:05 Re: On George V Bridge Fried eggs? Moi? Has never been known, mon ami. (Will check it out and see if I can sue). Thanks both for the comments. The poem was intended to catch a moment, Blue. The slightly dark undertone is that it doesn`t specify exactly whose footsteps "begin a litany". Could be the lovers, the narrator or an unspecified third party.(An` remember "glass disintigrated into midnight".) I`ll tell ya, spooky place down by the Clyde at that time of night! Author's Reply: bektron on 2004-06-20 14:49:14 Re: On George V Bridge so well crafted, you took me away for a moment. I particularly enjoyed An unquiet silence falls like treason. The figures pass, as close as death I don't like being sycophantic but I would pay money to read this. excellent. bek 🙂 Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-06-20 16:37:44 Re: On George V Bridge Money, eh? You interest me strangely, Beks.(How much and how often?). Seriously, I hope all is well with you and thanks for the comment. Author's Reply: ceo61 on 2004-06-20 16:38:53 Re: On George V Bridge I found this a very intriguing work. I'm not the greatest in the world at expressing myself when commenting on other's work, but this is good. I haven't left a rating.......being new to the site, I prefer to look for a while and see what sort of marks others give in relation to what their comments say!............Clive Author's Reply: alcarty on 2004-06-20 20:26:10 Re: On George V Bridge The imagery and motion are well blended. Nice feeling. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-06-21 02:16:39 Re: On George V Bridge Thanks again for the comments. Very much appreciated. Author's Reply: ruby on 2004-06-22 04:28:44 Re: On George V Bridge Such a good poem with its carefully crafted and atmospheric description - it really brought Glasgow alive - I have family there and the last time I spent time up there it rained and rained. Your descriptions reminded me of Pound's poem with its description of the faces he sees in the London underground. Enjoyed it very much - and finally got the courage together to comment!! Ruby Author's Reply: teifii on 2004-06-22 06:06:51 Re: On George V Bridge What a wonderful sense of atmosphee and not a word out of place. I loved it. I've never been to Galasgow but recognise the setting from other places. Definitely a hot read or whatever it is called. must find out how one does that. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-06-22 07:51:57 Re: On George V Bridge Thanks for the comments-very much appreciated. I think Her Randiness (Andrea) is soley responsible for nominating hot (or cold) reads,teifii.She can be persuaded(for a price, of course!) Author's Reply: freya on 2004-06-22 14:58:45 Re: On George V Bridge Dylan, your work has changed in a tremendously effective way since your return from a hiatus. You seem to have found your poetic center, discovered the way to hone in on precise moments and details of your conceit to exclusion of all excess. This is a very skilfully wrought poem in my estimation, and I sensed suggestive associations within it (intended or not!) which added a full bodied richness to the meaning and message for me. Firstly, I was fascinated by the title, wondering about any significant meaning in the poet's choice: last of the old style bridges, designed at that moment in history when Europe teetered on the brink of World War One, that moment when all began to slowly but fatefully shift and break down for the British Empire - and, today, as poem is written, the metaphorical irony that the bridge now only allows one way traffic into the city: you no longer have choice but must go THAT way - adds a bit of a haunting Solient Green quality, for me! I thought about how all these circumstances and the very personality of King George V - his legacy- may have been deliberately introduced to invite the reader more closely into an awareness of a lost selfhood and an essential aloneness in this piece. So, for me, there is this additional comparison between what was once strong and proud in country, as well as individual, and a great crumbling of both -a dissolution - down to the present moment of an almost disassociative, hollow disillusion. Some beautiful lines and images brought me right onto the bridge to absorb the atmosphere: the moon fragments and drifts to ocean blackness. Light rain silvers and hear the night sounds of city life echoing across the dark: glass disintegrates into midnight. and sense his suspicion that somehow he has been cheated out of those things - the warmth and bonds of love - from which others take comfort, been shut out, or conspired against by Fate, or Life which makes him so aware of what is on the other side, waiting: An unquiet silence falls like treason as close as death and then, the great line break after: I watch which heightens the feeling of speaker, apart from others. so on to the strong and very effective ending: across this fragile bridge footsteps begin a litany. I love, here, the analogy of footsteps to litany, and use of the word fragile to suggest the very tenuous hold on the meaning of his/everyone's existence that the speaker experiences. Some minor suggestions for your consideration: Would it be better, perhaps, to cut 'and' in the first verse as well as 'the' in the second, and move 'in' from end of line to beginning of next, in the fifth? All strike me as weak endings to those particular lines. Also wondered about a possible change in punctuation here: the figures pass as close to death, self-wrapped in their protective love, oblivious to.... But a powerful, much enjoyed read, Dylan. Shelagh Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-06-22 16:25:04 Re: On George V Bridge Shelagh, thank you for your kind and very perceptive comments. It`s gratifying to realise that certain nuances within the poem are being recognised. Firstly, you are correct in that my own personal style has changed, perhaps becoming more contemporary.Hopefully, it can continue to develop. As to the poem,the choice of the George V bridge was deliberate, for some of the reasons you mention. It seems to (to me at any rate) encapsulate something of Glasgow-ie,gaudy,aging but vibrant and alive. The alienation (of the narrator) from the events/characters is the main point of the poem. I tried to do this in a subtle way,to avoid the self-pitying "Poor me" trap, which is so easy to fall into. I also feel it is important to leave "spaces"-unspecified events, metaphors, characters, which the reader can interpret to their own satisfaction. As you so rightly note, the "fragility" of the bridge is not physical. A good friend of mine advised me that the poem is "too pretty".It does have fragmented moon, silvered rain and lovers. But it also has "glass disintigrating" and the "litany of footsteps"(which late at night can be very eerie, believe me!) Anyway, I digress. Thank you once more and I look forward to reading some of your own work. Author's Reply: Claire on 2004-06-22 17:08:00 Re: On George V Bridge I got the impression that this is the beginning to a wonderful longer piece. I got a slight chill reading this, an enjoyable read. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-06-25 12:34:46 Re: On George V Bridge Thanks for the comments, chaps ( and chapesses). The positive feedback is very gratefully received-even if this one didn`t scare Flashypoos! Thanks again. Author's Reply: Abel on 2004-08-27 10:32:09 Re: On George V Bridge Don't know how I missed this one...but well worth my wait. I am partial to "Place" poems, and loving my memories of Scotland some 25 years ago, it brings back the feel of cool dark rain in "a northern town." This is so beautifully written, so simple (which is the aim of my own work, to varying success), very special to me. A winner. Ward Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-08-27 16:13:48 Re: On George V Bridge Thank you for both the comment and favourite read nom-both very much appreciated. Although set in Glasgow, the language of a city at night is pretty universal, it seems. Thanks again. D. Author's Reply: Kat on 2004-12-01 23:39:47 Re: On George V Bridge Just catching up with some of your work Dylan - big congrats on writer of the month! And the first poem I've popped into is a stomper - very 'raintown', I've got that Deacon Blue tune going around now, but nothing is detracting from this very fine poem. Kat 🙂 Author's Reply: Rosco on 2005-04-28 01:42:32 Re: On George V Bridge You really hold the experience in your mind with the delicacy of a painter. That transfiguarative experience is quite an aesthetic discipline with a wonderful pay off in the hands of a talented writer. I'll stop posting. I've just discovered a feast. You're obviously a robust individual, yet you maintain that narrow controlled almost imagistic line through what I've seen of your work. Spellbound an' swallowed 'til the tolling ended. Author's Reply: Mikeverdi on 30-06-2014 On George V Bridge This one just popped up on the 'New Page' so... as usual I love reading your work, this one for me had an undercurrent of menace that I always (as a softy southerner) imagine Glasgow would have; in amongst all the love and bullets 🙂 Nice to see your name on the site again..even in retrospect Ha Ha! Author's Reply: Thanks again, Mike. This one was written some time ago-was actually in the "Glasgow Kisses" book. I worked near the bridge in question and encountered some interesting characters in and around the area! I`m still not writing a lot, but have bits and bobs on the go. Hope all ok with you. D. |
| St Stephen`s Dawn (posted on: 31-05-04) poem The path shudders and dies. In the before-light stillness the pitiful trees in their thin disguise raise the small madness of grasping hands. I will them to blackness. Far above the empty heart of Babylon. The river dwindles to a bitter brown exile. I walk on scarred fissures of earth. The moon dies in the crook of a broken apple branch and inevitable, unstrange ghosts turn the edge of silence . As dawn unravels in slivers of copper, your face is haloed in a jagged morning. Newly-born, as bright as the Magi’s star burned in Bethlehem. Archived comments for St Stephen`s Dawn Jack_Cade on 2004-05-31 04:01:07 Re: dylan Cool! Blackly biblical - a detailed landscape of the heart. Really like, "The moon dies in the crook of a broken apple branch." Personification of the moon, plus Bablylon and Bethlehem... all very Cohenesque! 😉 Author's Reply: flash on 2004-05-31 04:22:59 Re: dylan Oh spooky POE like one, you lure me in with a nicely titled poem called 'Dylan,' and then get me all shivery again with your dark visions. Why is it called Dylan? Author's Reply: neil2 on 2004-05-31 06:09:12 Re: dylan EXcellent. Dark vision with rays of personal hope - I think ... Takes me to the famous Dylan song "All Along The Watchtower" where the watchers are waiting for the news of the fall of Babylon. Author's Reply: Kat on 2004-05-31 11:04:00 Re: dylan Hi Dylan I do like the flow and language, particularly: 'scarred fissures of earth' 'in silvers of copper' 'jagged morning' Kat Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-05-31 12:29:19 Re: dylan Only gone an` posted it with the wrong bloody title, didn`t I? I fell asleep yesterday evening, woke up and submitted when still half asleep. It`s me age, I tell you. Thanks for the comments, very much appreciated. D. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-05-31 15:28:35 Re: St Stephen`s Dawn Great stuff Dylan. Very brooding. s u n k Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-05-31 15:42:13 Re: St Stephen`s Dawn Thanks for taking the time to comment, Sunk. Very much appreciated. Author's Reply: Skeeter on 2004-06-01 05:50:19 Re: St Stephen`s Dawn Good poem, with a haunting quality to it. I need to work out who the 'you' is, for it to make sense to me. Mind you, does poetry need to make sense? I like the imagery of this, the connections it makes. Author's Reply: Leila on 2004-06-01 10:49:54 Re: St Stephen`s Dawn Some very strong lines in this and especially like...The moon ......of silence. Keep wondering did you mean to write inevitable or inevitably maybe it's just my reading of it. Anyway still loved the images...L Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-06-01 13:34:31 Re: St Stephen`s Dawn Leila, Skeet, thanks for the comments. The line should read "inevitable, unstrange ghosts", Leila. I think I was awake by that time... I left the "you" unspecified,Skeet.Touch of the old deliberate ambiguity-pretentious sod that I am! Thanks again. D. Author's Reply: chrissie on 2004-06-02 14:26:21 Re: St Stephen`s Dawn hi dylan - another beatifully controlled piece. what i admire about this is the sense that it is struggling to escape that control; that it takes a huge effort of will to prevent this thing from cracking open with the force of its own unconscious pressures. for example, "small madness", "grasping hands", "unstrange ghosts", "scarred fissures", "broken apple branch", "edge of silence", "jagged morning". the success of the endeavour is marked in the final stanza with something akin to euphoria. you really are very gifted. chrissieX Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-06-02 15:47:35 Re: St Stephen`s Dawn Aw shucks, Chrissie... Seriously, thanks for taking the time to comment. The intention was to create a contrast of "light and shade", if you like, while leaving most of the metaphors open to conjecture.On another site, the poem was conceived to be of a religious nature, which wasn`t my intention, but is an interesting interpretation. As long as it succeeded in scaring Flashypoos, then I am happy. Thanks again. D. Author's Reply: dargo77 on 2004-06-05 03:38:03 Re: St Stephen`s Dawn Dylan, loved this with a passion. Dargo Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-06-05 05:46:14 Re: St Stephen`s Dawn Thanks for your comment, Dargo. At a time when the old ego is badly dented, due to publisher`s rejection (see my journal), it`s very good to know that something is appreciated. Thanks again. D. Author's Reply: |
| What the river told me on New Year`s Day (posted on: 17-05-04)
Poem I know you. Your eyes are already stones. I have licked clean the bones of your dead. I have spawned monsters.As your guilty silence gathers in these dark bitter waters where the sirens sang, are you prepared for what the night will bring? Only the garbled wind and the leavening rain and the darkening day. Here, I choke on silt. As you drink my essence, I am drained by every ocean. In this perfected tomb, I spin roses of foam. Silently wait for you... Archived comments for What the river told me on New Year`s Day dargo77 on 2004-05-17 17:23:01 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day Dylan, well written a good read. Dargp Author's Reply: dargo77 on 2004-05-17 17:23:02 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day Dylan, well written a good read. Dargp Author's Reply: Frenchy on 2004-05-18 11:32:43 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day A tense piece of work where shadows haunt our relation to the words. I liked it a lot 🙂 Dave. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-05-18 14:05:43 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day Thanks for the comments,very much appreciated. I am a miserable sod these days, non? Author's Reply: flash on 2004-05-18 14:48:57 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day You're beginning to scare me now. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-05-19 03:33:39 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day Bloody scare meself, Flashypoos. Glad you liked it-(you did, didn`t you?...) Author's Reply: Leila on 2004-05-19 03:38:18 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day I am surprised this poem has not had more comments. I think it's really good..dark and deep like the ocean...has many haunting lines and images and also allows the reader to interpret in in different ways...as to it's deeper meaning. Very good...L Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-05-19 11:37:49 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day Thanks for the feedback Leila.Glad to see you are not a wimp-unlike some I could mention....(Glares at Flashypoos) Author's Reply: Skeeter on 2004-05-19 14:31:40 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day This is excellent, a very well written piece with thought behind it. Question. Does the last line add anything? Is it what yopu needed to say? For some reason, and I can't put my finger on it, it seems a bit out of kilter with the rest of the poem. How about 'Waiting for you..' does that retain the tone? Its probably juyst me, so don't pay any attention. Great read. Author's Reply: ShadowChaser on 2004-05-19 15:17:14 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day Haunting stuff...quite creepy (in a good way!) Author's Reply: neil2 on 2004-05-19 15:38:30 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day Succession of good and original images. The kind of poem you could throw yourself into .. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-05-19 15:40:10 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day Again, thanks for taking the time to comment. One of the most recurring crits I have had was about the last line, Skeet. Most advised me to cut it altogether, but I felt it needed a post script,a last malicious whisper as it were. Will exercise the grey matter (and probably come up with something worse!) Thanks again. Author's Reply: Michel on 2004-05-19 15:54:59 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day I kind of like the last line - the idea of it, anyway - it's strong, filled with undercurrent, and almost, almost, in a way, an Edgar Allen Poe 'answer back' to the inevitable or the fear of inevitability ... I like that word 'silently' here, too. It runs with the river, softly slipping malicious little waves whispering in the darkness ... 'always here ... waiting ...' (Don't mind me, though! Probably over enthusiastic reaction to being scared to flash point!) Author's Reply: flash on 2004-05-19 16:42:43 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day Of course me likey this, me likey a lot.........but i have to sleep with the bedroom light on now and is um havin nasteee dreams. Write a poem about butterflies and posies for God sake. And stop glaring at me. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-05-20 11:41:03 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day Thanks for the comment, Michel. You set my mind at ease at a time when I am seriously worried about the moral fibre of this site. I refuse to write anything about butterflies and posies.Or even butterposies and flies. So there, Flashypoos Author's Reply: richa on 2004-05-21 02:27:14 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day I felt a chill run down my spine. It was eery, but in a very beautiful way. Author's Reply: e-griff on 2004-05-22 12:07:16 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day I see strength in this. Very good. I like the whole. In detail, I feel this: lose 'already' lose the full stop after stones - introduce a dilemma between licked and bones and stones. need space before 'As' and not sure placing it on the preceding line adds much.... [i]not so sure about[/i] suggest ' in dark, bitter waters where sirens sing (I know, but it feels better!) .....bring? - ungrammatic I may be, but ... I have a gut-feel that a colon might be better than that Q-mark, to lead us into the next line/list. 'every ocean' - 'oceans' ? and the foam don't work , [i]pour moi[/i] seriously nice, however. G Author's Reply: OolonColoophid on 2004-05-22 14:08:43 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day Dylan, I like the anger and spite churning behind this poem - it really gives it a drive. Nice use of the watery metaphors and sirens, too. Can I guess that this poem is the voice of the ocean as it waits for a suicide victim, a victim who knows they've done something terribly wrong..? Author's Reply: shangri-la on 2004-05-22 14:36:38 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day Very chilling stuff, well painted dark vivid imagery..hmm think I shall sleep with the light on for a while... Author's Reply: freya on 2004-05-22 15:06:16 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day Very clean, spare offering with not a word wasted, which serves doubly well to create a dark and ominous tone, not unlike that in Hamlet, where the audience soon realizes that the next Act will usher in a bleak conclusion! Why am I hearing an echo of Sylvia Plath? It's those sharp, unforgiving images which bring us up short on a sudden catch of breath, I think: Your eyes are already stones. I have licked clean the bones of your dead. I like this conceit. The relentless indifference of the larger, ongoing life cycle, and the insignificance of the individual compared to that from which he and all life emerges, will return. The only phrase I question here is the use of the spinning rose analogy. Not that it isn't novel, but that it jumps out as too soft, too 'pretty', juxtaposed as it is against all the hard edges cast by the rest of the language used. For me, anyway. But a very good poem. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-05-22 18:21:28 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day Again, grateful thanks for taking the time to comment. Apart from the spacing before"As", I disagree with everything you suggest, Griff. Which somewhat reassures me. The poem is, as has been recognised, a contemplation of suicide. Plathesque? I hadn`t realised it previously, but yeah, there are echoes of Sylvia here, Freya. Well spotted. Author's Reply: chrissie on 2004-05-23 13:26:34 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day dylan, this is sublime. i'm quite new to the site. but this is the one of the best pieces i've read so far (no offence meant to others). i was so excited when i read it. its uncanny atmosphere, it's relentlessness. it's so deep and so dark. and i love the spun roses image at the end - that got the hairs on the back of my neck. sorry am i gushing? i don't care. you executed it all with terse, plathian economy and i love it. it's this kind of thing that keeps me striving. Author's Reply: Safron on 2004-10-07 06:04:13 Re: What the river told me on New Year`s Day Dark side of poetry this was done well. "In this perfected tomb, I spin roses of foam. Silently wait for you... " Dark but had it's own beauty. Safron Author's Reply: |
| Swallows and crows on the curling pond (posted on: 30-04-04)
Poem The new sun reflects a ghostly coin on a sealed stillness of fractured twigs and an impressionist`s strokes of froth The dawn is Arabesque. Fragments of cloud cut the fossil bones of elm and oak, budding where the crows deride.They only stare between the runes as swallows skim and dive where tomorrow is not known. Light as ash, in shining arcs of whorling air. Crows only ever stare. Archived comments for Swallows and crows on the curling pond flash on 2004-05-01 04:33:39 Re: Swallows and crows on the curling pond Your recent work has been a tad on the dark side Dyl.I liked the flight of swallows being described as 'light as ash,' nice work again. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-05-01 05:38:18 Re: Swallows and crows on the curling pond Thanks for taking the time to comment, Flashypoos. This is the cheerful stuff I post here! Author's Reply: barenib on 2004-05-01 10:07:54 Re: Swallows and crows on the curling pond Very nice, Dylan, the atmosphere is well created in the first stanza and developed nicely with the contrast between the two birds. Just wonder in the first - could you replace the 'and' with a comma - I feel it might flow better? John. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-05-02 07:55:50 Re: Swallows and crows on the curling pond Thanks for the comment, John. I posted this elsewhere and received feedback suggesting exactly the same alteration. I feel an amendment in the offing... Author's Reply: chrissie on 2004-05-27 08:25:15 Re: Swallows and crows on the curling pond i don't believe this has received the attention it deserves. a very strong and finely tuned piece; works like a painting. am i stating the obvious, given the ref to "impressionist's strokes"? i think the "and" is fine here - it supports the sense. why are poets so frightened of this word? Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-05-27 16:01:29 Re: Swallows and crows on the curling pond Thanks for taking the time to comment Chrissie. I havta admit, I quite like this one meself and was a tad disappointed it didn`t go down too well. This was another piece which was misunderstood on a US-based site. A very nice lady commented favourably on the poem, then asked me if "Curling" was a typo. She thought it should have read "Curing"(as in cured of illness). I had to explain that curling was/is a Scottish game played on ice, the rules of which I am none too sure of.There is one such pond near my home btw. To the best of my knowledge, it has never been curled upon. Anyhoo, I digress.Thanks again. Author's Reply: Skeeter on 2004-05-27 17:48:54 Re: Swallows and crows on the curling pond One of the good things about this is that it has a last line that really works, that rounds it off with a flourish and hints at more (well it does to me). I like the idea behind it, and if I'm not mistaken, it is carefully worked out, the references to birds, to trees, natural elements, together with and contrasting to images of decay, ('ghostly', 'fossil' etc). So, that is why I like it. Also, it packs an emotional punch. Author's Reply: |
| Fenian (posted on: 23-04-04)
Poem From a distance the words flare like sudden tongues of fire into a sky full of apathy. Poison tipped, Minutely articulated. The early surprise of wheels throws patterns across vacant glass, as the city looks the other way. Almost, death could appear. Shrill voices rake the shadowy roots of streets. They scatter blindly and bleed into silence. The mouths are bared. Their grins still alive. Theresa exhales;she is branded and damned and wears her faith like a crooked talisman. Archived comments for Fenian silentmemories on 2004-04-23 10:18:00 Re: Fenian strong points of this poem are 'Almost death could appear' (no need for a comma in my opinion) and the name Theresa along with the faith-crooked-talishman. good enough. Author's Reply: flash on 2004-04-23 12:20:30 Re: Fenian I thought this was a poem about Protestant bigotry towards a Catholic Woman. i like the lines below. the words flare like sudden tongues of fire into a sky full of apathy. The early surprise of wheels throws patterns across vacant glass, as the city looks the other way. Well done Dylan Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-04-23 16:57:27 Re: Fenian Thanks for the comments, chaps. Flashy, you are correct in surmising that the poem does concern bigotry, but lemme qualify it. I have lived all my life in the West of Scotland (Just outside Glasgow to be precise). Most of the people in this area are decent and tolerant, but a shadowy undercurrent of religious bigotry persists. It tends to surface after certain football matches and/or sectarian marches and of course, is to be deplored. The scenes described here actually happened to a friend of mine.She was absolutely terrified. Sad, innit? Author's Reply: Abel on 2004-04-27 08:03:42 Re: Fenian Very good work Dylan. Shrill voices rake the shadowy roots of streets. They scatter blindly and bleed into silence. Great imagery of intolerance. Thanks for this, Ward Author's Reply: richardwatt on 2004-04-28 11:13:11 Re: Fenian A good read Dylan, which sensitively deals with something that in our culture is rapidly becoming out of control, and perspective. Best to understand the human cost to the individuals. whom bigotry really hurts most. One of my flatmates came from Beith, not too far from some of the West Of S's hotspots. Yet a lot of the horrible things I hear from him and another of my flatmates (from Belfast) seem to occur more and more in the East nowadays: it appears to be more acceptable now to have a sort of casual religious bias with the kid-on attitude that the British feel it's acceptable to be racist in general, accepting in particular. Worryingly, a local bar owner has started organising Orange marches in my hometown over the last few years - having had a look into local law, there is no illegality in this form of bigotry, so the boozer i work at had to settle for giving him a life ban. What I don't understand is that in these parts, where maybe 10% of 'Christians' are Catholic, 70% of 'football fans' support Celtic, and around one half of those 'fans' use horrible anti-Protestant language. Why do these people want to slag off their own family background and friends? And why does Alan Hansen want to be English? 🙂 This last question is not so serious, but also taxes me greatly! Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-04-28 14:28:49 Re: Fenian Thanks for the comments,guys. Richard,I would say that religious bigotry lingers at almost very social level in the W of Scotland.While thankfully, it is not nearly as prevailant as in the past, it is still an issue which exists and is seldom referred to, never mind addressed by any Church or Government body. I have seen so-called football "rivalry" spilling into scenes of horrific violence-the bigotry exists on both sides of the divide, as you say. Gandhi once commented that Christianity was a great religion-if only people would practice it... Author's Reply: petersjm on 2004-04-29 04:51:26 Re: Fenian Dylan, I had to read this a couple of times to 'get' it. I understood from the title what it was about, but for some reason on the first read I couldn't see what you meant, except for the last stanza, which, in my opinion, is fantastic. A second read cleared it up. Perhaps it was simply the WAY I read it first. You'll need to add a space in the first line of the last stanza (Theresa exhales; [space] she), but other than that, I think it's very good. Author's Reply: bektron on 2004-04-29 14:57:58 Re: Fenian a beautiful poem on an ugly subject, I hate all that 'football/religion stuff, it's so petty and demeaning to everyone, in my book football may be a religion, but it shouldn't be confused with the real thing, i've experienced a hostile reaction in just such a situation when I was 'clapped' out of a divey football pub in Glasgow for having my hair dyed the 'wrong' colour, -when football had nothing to do with why I had done my hair ...but some people are ignorant enough to believe that everything revolves around their petty sectarian lifestyle. I enjoyed and empathised with this piece. an important message Dylan- bek Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-04-29 15:49:50 Re: Fenian Thanks for taking the time to comment. I honestly believe that the situation regarding religious intolerance is improving, Bek.The sooner it dies and is forgotten, the better. Incidentally, I posted this poem on an American site and no-one had a clue what it was about. One subscriber asked me if the city in question was Calcutta! (Absolutely true). Author's Reply: richardwatt on 2004-05-07 09:48:42 Re: Fenian -What do you think of Western civilisation? -I think that is a great idea For someone who advocated non-combativeness, he didn't half make some stingers on unwary political correspondents! Author's Reply: Leila on 2004-05-11 08:52:00 Re: Fenian With excellent use of language and powerful images you have captured the essence of this long existing problem which as you say is hopefully lessening. Well written...L Author's Reply: Kat on 2004-12-01 23:55:07 Re: Fenian Wonderful imagery - great work! If I continue like this I just might have to get your 'Glasgow Kisses' - the title is enough! Kat 🙂 Author's Reply: |
| In Transit (posted on: 09-04-04) poem In Transit "..Of course, this was where she stayed. She was happy here." The nurse concludes "Perhaps it is all for the best...." The room, full of blinding emptiness echoes grimly to the platitude while I nod, perhaps to persuade Myself and stand where she watched the cynic wind tousle ragged clouds from a vowel shaped window and so realise it may be true that our death reflects our life. How often time misspent or wasted Leads to rooms like this. Or shapes these merciless packing cases, containing all that we once had or have known: It is intensely sad Archived comments for In Transit Slovitt on 2004-04-09 04:08:23 Re: In Transit Dylan: A good piece, though with debts to 'Mr. Bleaney' and 'Here' by Larkin. I would cut 'grimly to' from the 5th line to simply read 'echoes the platitude.' Again, a good poem. Swep Author's Reply: Leila on 2004-04-09 09:57:27 Re: In Transit Yes definately shades of Mr Bleaney, especially 'frigid wind, tousle clouds' but Larkin did do it well and so have you. I enjoyed the poem immensely but would take out the last four words, for me they are not required...L Author's Reply: Jack_Cade on 2004-04-09 10:05:35 Re: In Transit I like, in particularly, 'Leads to rooms like this' and 'It is intensely sad'. Their effect is intensified by the way the rest of the poem runs on, and although 'Leads...' is part of a bigger statement, you have separated it. Poignant! Like 'merciless packing cases' as well. Similar to Swep, I'm not sure about 'blinding emptiness echoes grimly' - seems over-qualified, and slightly contradictory: something blinding that does things grimly? Also, would a 'frigid' wind do much tousling? 'Frigid' to me suggests awkward stillness, actually *being* frozen rather than freezing, and is at odds with a playful gesture like tousling. Strong stuff, mind. Intense. Author's Reply: Frenchy on 2004-04-09 10:08:45 Re: In Transit This touched me in a strange way. Probably because I'm trying to nurse back to life a very dear friend. The room in which her hollowed yellow body fights for survival contains boxes upon boxes of books and memories of happier times. Author's Reply: uppercase on 2004-04-09 10:39:26 Re: In Transit I like this poem it's so very sad. We just buried a family member and this echoes a lot of the feelings I have. I like the way it's written and I wouldn't change a thing...Erma Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-04-09 13:38:32 Re: In Transit Very grateful thanks to everyone for the comments. This was based on a true life incident, which occurred a few years ago."Beaney" was indeed the starting point and I agree some tweaking is required. Thanks again. Author's Reply: Lulu on 2004-04-09 13:56:06 Re: In Transit Beautiful Dylan. I cannot believe how good poetry is getting in this site, while out there is inedible lately (or at least it is for me). Thanks for that Dylan. xx Luisa. Author's Reply: deepoceanfish2 on 2004-04-09 18:49:02 Re: In Transit dylan....A stunner, this! Evokes all the vacuous feeling associated with loss. Loved this: ...'from a vowel shaped window'..... Your final verse, at least for me, was your strongest, and if I changed it at all (in wanting to keep all of it), I would try to place ' It is intensely sad', somewhere earlier, but this is, after all, your choice and I feel it is worthy, as it stands.....Definitely a great read!......Adele....:-) Author's Reply: nibs on 2004-04-10 11:08:37 Re: In Transit An evocative poem that doesn't need 'It is intensely sad', because it is. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-04-11 16:23:54 Re: In Transit Almost all of the comments above are valid. But, y` know UKA and me..... Thats how it is. See ya. Author's Reply: woodbine on 2004-04-13 06:26:22 Re: In Transit Dear Dylan,, You are right: ' How often time misspent or wasted Leads to rooms like this.' I am not even dead an I've got there already. Can't find a bloody thing there so much of my life in heaps around me. A very good poem with an unusually trenchant voice and a sharp point. The others are right about giving 'It is intensely sad' the heave ho. It's alright for a character to say this, but naff for the author to do so because if he's any good his writing should make us feel it without any such obvious sign; that art being at the very core of verse Nice work!! John Author's Reply: Skeeter on 2004-04-14 02:44:42 Re: In Transit I very much liked this, I especially liked the opening, the effect of immediacy and involvement. I agree that there are possibly too many adjectives in the first verse, and maybe one could be removed. And yes, it IS sad. Author's Reply: Safron on 2004-10-09 14:01:16 Re: In Transit Dylan, This is an intensely sad poem. life can be cruel at times your last stanza said it all. Safron Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-09 14:31:02 Re: In Transit Thanks for your kind comment, Safron. Coming back to read this, I think it perhaps owes too much to Larkin`s "Mr Bleaney", but it is based on the death of a relative. I still remember how impersonal the place was.And yes, very sad. Thanks again, D. Author's Reply: |
| Midnight at The Coach Hotel (posted on: 02-04-04) Poem A cold yellow light engraves The stained elusive doorway and spreads to the absurdity of the gate. A gaping lounge and worn dining room behave like long retired circus clowns. The desk declares a rigid loneliness of cups and keys. A porter with housemaids knee and red eyes, glares drawn blades. My greeting is acknowledged, then gnawing silence cascades Down forlorn shoeless corridors missing the hordes of salesmen and business reps who left when the conference ended. Their lives touched here, those assorted whores and thieves, traitors, husbands, wives. Now she smiles. The last twist of the knife....... Archived comments for Midnight at The Coach Hotel silentmemories on 2004-04-02 11:37:20 Re: Midnight at the Coach Hotel Dark story, interesting flow, original lines, eerie feeling. This poem is good. Author's Reply: e-griff on 2004-04-02 11:51:13 Re: Midnight at the Coach Hotel deceptive poem, needs reading properly. liked the line with housemaid's knee - cute trick! Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-04-02 14:03:37 Re: Midnight at the Coach Hotel Yeah she was, Griff. I mean-glad you liked it! This one didn`t go down too well on an American based site. It`s something I have encountered before.This is influenced by Larkin, BTW and descriptions of the mundane (or in most cases, trancension of the mundane) just do not seem to appeal to this part of the world. Ho-hum. (Damn Yankees, what do they know)-(I am joking Shelagh, Slovitt, etc) Author's Reply: deepoceanfish2 on 2004-04-02 15:14:37 Re: Midnight at The Coach Hotel dylan...Don't let the cool Yank reception fool you...some of them just don't know genius when they see it; even when it's one of their own! ...;-)....( I can attest to this, from experience. It is sad, but true, that Britains are much more inclined to appreciate new writers and are not interested in 'glossing the image'!!!). A good poem this...I especially loved this line...: ...'A gaping lounge and worn dining room behave like long retired circus clowns.'... A good read!...Adele 🙂 Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-04-02 15:35:59 Re: Midnight at The Coach Hotel Again, thanx for the comments m`dear. I have been absent from the site for some time and am unsure if you are male or female(A bit like Flashypoos, really!) Your comments are perceptive and appreciative, so I would surmise female(only cause me missus is sitting next to me, mind you!) The American psyche is hard to fathom, but I think we British (well I am Scottish, but don`t tell anyone) take the proverbial biscuit.All that class distinction. all that suppressed sexual tension-oo-er missus! Seriously-Thank you. Author's Reply: deepoceanfish2 on 2004-04-02 15:42:53 Re: Midnight at The Coach Hotel LOL.....Ah, shades of Frankie Howard!....Spot on....'Female', it is....You've flattered me with my own flattery! 'Perceptive and appreciative'...Hmmm...must remember that for the CV. LOL...I look forward to reading more like this....Cheers..Adele Author's Reply: Michel on 2004-04-04 01:13:29 Re: Midnight at The Coach Hotel Mundanity, at night with biscuits, housemaid's knee, knives and pots of of brisket, cabbage leaves and yellow light, sum up the Yank aversions to the world of Willy Loman, replaced by Disney and conglomerate profanity. (none of this makes sense, just thought I would write it after reading all the comments) Dylan, I like this poem very much: evocative, mysterious and cheerfully depressing. Author's Reply: Leila on 2004-04-04 10:03:13 Re: Midnight at The Coach Hotel I feel a little dark chill here and some old Eagles record playing in the background...a lot going on in this...L Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-04-04 11:34:33 Re: Midnight at The Coach Hotel Once more, grateful thanks for the comments. A good friend ( one whose opinion I respect) told me this was another pastiche of Larkin and that I must find my own voice soon.He said I basically write 2 types of poetry, imitating either Eliot or Larkin.While he does have a point inasmuch as that both poets have influenced me (along with every other person attempting to write modern poetry) , I dunno. As I told him, I can only write something which pleases me. I welcome crit like this which points out the flaws and while acknowleding merit, does lend direction.I personally, don`t think this is overtly derivative, but would appreciate anyone elses`opinion. Again, grateful thanks for the comments. Author's Reply: Leila on 2004-04-04 11:46:10 Re: Midnight at The Coach Hotel I'm a bit confused now, I liked the poem...L Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-04-04 14:01:00 Re: Midnight at The Coach Hotel Apologies, Leila. In my previous rambling post, i was speaking either in generalities or to myself. I confess, I think it is my age...... Author's Reply: |
| Janus (posted on: 12-03-04)
Poem I see my rival in bitter disguises. He lingers like the taste of broken glass on a lifeless morning after. He is reflected in cold hostile stares on grisly subways and the shining grey of coffee cups on empty stalls. I stand unprepared. He grins from every crevice. And I know this of rivals and of death, they are intransigent as old love and survive a brief forever. As blank as air, cold as my desperation, colourless as evil, he is untouchable, unknown, a familiar stranger. He waits in the splinters of electric night, at yawning doors. I watch him in slithering crowds, in a diaspora of eyes. He knows my secrets. He does not mean well..... Archived comments for Janus Michel on 2004-03-12 05:32:57 Re: Janus *GREAT READ* (and I've been looking for new work by Dylan, creeping around corners myself, peering in broken windows and all that - knocking on the door at night of the old boarded-up tavern down by the harbour, fishing from the rocks and getting up at first light, pausing Scottish movies, dodging along the street at the back of the crowd - shopping at Marks & Spencer, taking tea with the Queen's homepage, calling Faber's, taking time for me, but nowhere could I see his Poetic Majesty - I think I speak for all of us, Mr Dyan, here at Army & Navy Stores (buy flashlight accessories, military surplus, field supplies, cycle or use a motorbike, walk the dog, do a spot of camping or just enjoy being outside (some people do, you know!) Lowestoft Army & Navy Stories have the equipment and footwear to prepare you for any eventuality), that we have missed the evil Janus (1. A practical tool for application sandboxing; 2. The Roman god of gates and doors)), almost as much as has our postlady Pru (frocks of all shapes and sizes another speciality, all fitted with expandable Waist Land, correction Band, as in 'Bands' which are fully stocked in all colours and sizes along with the latest UKA Press book 'Guide to Shooting Rubber Bands' for all your home and office enjoyment). (sorry about this long comment - got carried away - but I think your poem is powerful, beautifully written, original, witty, deeply meaningful, spare, true and extremely vivid; I made it a favourite at once) Author's Reply: deepoceanfish2 on 2004-03-13 02:35:15 Re: Janus First time I am reading your work Dylan...Must say I was impressed with the shadow self here...nicely drawn antagonist...dark, disturbing...cutting...loved the final line! It's baited. I added it to my favs. Author's Reply: deepoceanfish2 on 2004-03-13 02:37:14 Re: Janus First time I am reading your work Dylan...Must say I was impressed with the shadow self here...nicely drawn antagonist...dark, disturbing...cutting...loved the final line! It's baited. I added it to my fav reads and authors. Author's Reply: Rene on 2004-03-14 03:52:38 Re: Janus Superbly atmospheric, vivid, chilling, controlled ... haunting ... and musical. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-03-14 12:45:07 Re: Janus Chaps and Chapessess,(Chapi?) Thank you sincerely for your kind comments.(Sounded a bit like Hughie Green then). Very much appreciated. Author's Reply: Gee on 2004-03-14 13:04:10 Re: Janus Dark, chilling and atmostpheric. There's a touch of paranoia about this poem that I like very much. Author's Reply: flash on 2004-03-14 13:11:15 Re: Janus Moody and sinister i like it alot, lyrically dark. Who is this nemesis this dark stranger is it doubt? Something within yourself a lack of confidence perhaps? Excellent stuff. Alan Author's Reply: japan on 2004-03-16 02:43:06 Re: Janus exquisite art mysterious mood perfectly posited Author's Reply: britgrrl on 2004-03-17 00:07:33 Re: Janus Really Dylan, this is quite remarkable! What a come-back piece of work [you are!]. Wonderful clean, razor sharp language and sinister mood. I'm scared to death I'll find someone like this living inside MY psyche! Damn good stuff. Where did you go for the transplant and what are you on? I want some. But... brief forever??? ~ Shelagh Author's Reply: Michel on 2004-03-17 01:13:23 Re: Janus (perhaps 'brief' is 'in another sense') (I imagine) Author's Reply: Michel on 2004-03-17 01:13:47 Re: Janus (perhaps 'brief' is in another sense) (I imagine) Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-03-18 08:38:16 Re: Janus Again, grateful thanks to everyone who took the time to comment.I agree the "brief forever" does jar a bit, Shelagh.Will give it some thought...(probably will come up with something equally naff, mind you!) Author's Reply: e-griff on 2004-03-18 10:52:58 Re: Janus Dylan .... great to have you back, and on such form. This gets a special 'Griffpick' from me, here! *tosses golden button with big sparkly G on it*- no hesitation.....super stuff. Author's Reply: silentmemories on 2004-03-18 11:52:51 Re: Janus He waits in the splinters of electric night, at yawning doors. I watch him in slithering crowds, in a diaspora of eyes. very original And I know this of rivals and of death, they are intransigent as old love and survive a brief forever. very meaningful Author's Reply: Andrea on 2004-03-19 04:18:01 Re: Janus Sorry Dylan, have only just got around to your pick, very remiss of me - it's bloody excellent! Sorry again *flays self with wet spaghetti* Author's Reply: jim on 2004-03-19 04:30:19 Re: Janus Hi Dylan Memorable poem. Just wanted to say I thought 'brief forever' was the best bit. I read it as meaning all the tiny moments of life that make up forever. Some things/thoughts/actions dissipate as soon as they are formed, others become set and immoveable? But then I might just be talking wank . . . Author's Reply: Michel on 2004-03-19 04:37:25 Re: Janus Yes, I like jim's interpretation of 'brief forever'; liked the words on first reading, too; thought the idea most interesting. Author's Reply: e-griff on 2004-03-19 10:46:32 Re: Janus Hooray! Sanity reigns! I thought UKA had gone daft - that Andrea! er, John, can I have my shiny button back - they cost money - and you got a proper one now...... Author's Reply: Domino on 2004-03-20 12:25:10 Re: Janus Very well done, D. I have not been posting for reasons such as yours and also due to time constraints. Been more of an on-and-off lurker on brief occassions. This is quality. I sincerely hope it is included in pride of place in the next anthology. Well done. DOmino Author's Reply: e-griff on 2004-03-20 13:06:21 Re: Janus nice to see you appear mate. hope you will more often. we need good honest talent here, and fresh work.... G Author's Reply: Kat on 2004-12-01 23:50:47 Re: Janus Another great one, that's 2/2 so far! Be prepared - I'm stalking... Kat 😉 Author's Reply: |
| Pilate Tells Jesus His Sins (posted on: 08-12-03) Short? Yup. Strange? Yup. Any good? Dunno. I dream of a repentant woman. She dries your feet with hair and slowly curls up and dies. Laughing, I throw coins. I dream of the Baptist,alive. He cries for my repentance with the Kingdom at hand. Sighing, the sand licks his bones. I dream of Lazarus,dead in the earth for days. I lie beside him as maggots kiss his flesh and slowly he ebbs away. I dream I search for kingdoms. I dream you are before me at Gabbatha. I wash my hands again and again, cry "No-one is innocent" and watch you leave.... Archived comments for Pilate Tells Jesus His Sins Chell on 2003-12-08 03:46:46 Re: Pilate Tells Jesus His Sins Well, i'm not religious or anything so i can't really comment from that angle, but i will say it's well written and i like the realism you brought in about death, maggots are good for that. Interesting write well done 🙂 Author's Reply: Skeeter on 2003-12-08 04:04:13 Re: Pilate Tells Jesus His Sins This is a powerful piece, offering an unusual perspective on one of the oldest stories. I like the repetition of 'I dream', it gives a momentum to the poem. 2 things though: the line 'curls up and dies', is slightly too familiar, and I'd put spaces after the commas (lines 5 and 9). Author's Reply: ruadh on 2003-12-08 07:28:14 Re: Pilate Tells Jesus His Sins Short? Yup. Strange? Yup. Any good? Excellent!!! 🙂 ailsa Author's Reply: petersjm on 2003-12-08 07:50:55 Re: Pilate Tells Jesus His Sins I was reluctant to read this, at first. And yet unbelieveably tempted... And I'm glad I did. very real. Very harsh. Very well written. Cheers PJ Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-12-08 13:14:41 Re: Pilate Tells Jesus His Sins Thanks to everyone for the comments. I must admit, I thought this would have very limited appeal.It aint the most commercial piece, I have ever written.Tanx again. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-12-09 04:30:53 Re: Pilate Tells Jesus His Sins As a very brief post script to this, I should point out that the poem is not religious in any way.The figures of Pilate and Christ are intended as metaphors for victim/victimizer.I tried for a dream-like effect to convey impressions of guilt and remorse.All good cheerful stuff, non? Author's Reply: Domino on 2003-12-09 17:48:58 Re: Pilate Tells Jesus His Sins Sorry for not posting too much lately but I have honestly only been on for minutes each week. Tonight though I had the luxury of the other half doing something with her mum so was able to read the submissions in peace. Another one of your pieces that left me stunned in silence before commenting. This is quality work. I have said it before, but "Ay Carumba!". Dylan you need an agent. Seriously. This is superb. DOmino Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-12-10 16:31:21 Re: Pilate Tells Jesus His Sins Merci beaucoup, mon ami.I must admit I did not expect such a positive reaction for this poem.Very grateful thanks to everyone for taking the time to comment.(The missus did not like this one.I may have to replace her.) Author's Reply: Domino on 2003-12-10 16:50:54 Re: Pilate Tells Jesus His Sins Reminds me of a story. It was religious instruction in school and the teacher asked the children to draw a picture depicting the 'flight into Egypt'. This little boy drew a picture of an aeroplane with three people in the back and one up front. The teacher asked, "Who are the three people in the plane?" To which the boy replied, "That's Mary, Joseph and the child." "Very good" she said, "But who'se that sitting up front?" Shocked, the boy said "That's Pontius. The pilot." Ouch. Author's Reply: |
| Alice, by the window. (posted on: 14-11-03) This is something of a regression,(also slightly dark.-Again!) but would appreciate any comments. Alice, she spends her days by hooded windows with vistas of the past slowly counting heartbeats, watching gathered sparrows. Old age invades and suffocates and grows in the stony face of bungalows and footsteps rise like Lazarus in brick red walls, wrought iron gates past genteel cups and china plates, and the trees are restless. Death intrudes in dancing streets and cocktail bars the hands that move past silent faces the hands who know the secret places reach conclusions and solutions. There is dust here and silence twists this darkened room as the day descends among yesterdays and lilac blooms congeal the air, the click of needles fall and rise and fall in desperate rhythm, the drawing near... and Alice does not stir. Archived comments for Alice, by the window. e-griff on 2003-11-14 05:50:28 Re: Alice, by the window. ahem! Mr Dylan..... 'fall in desperate in rhythmn, ' ? didn't like the first 'she' either. Liked the rythms of the two major sections - it could be matched better throughout, but adds a lot to the poem, which overall I enjoyed very much. the long wind containing 'bungalows' reminded me of Betjeman conclusions and solutions. - sounded like Bobby D there! 🙂 Author's Reply: e-griff on 2003-11-14 05:51:06 Re: Alice, by the window. or Paul Simon? Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-11-14 08:29:00 Re: Alice, by the window. AARRRRGGHHH!-A typo, which The Griffmeister has spotted!(Curses).Have now rectifed, Griffy.Thanks for your comments and am glad you liked it. Moi? Ripping off His Bobness or PS? I `ll have you know I rip off no less than Eliot, DT or Larkin... Author's Reply: barenib on 2003-11-14 08:36:09 Re: Alice, by the window. We seem to be having rhythm problems here! (And that means you too Griff). Actually the rhythm is what really makes this for me, I really enjoyed it. The only thing I'd change (apart from rhythmn) would be the beginning - I'd just have 'She spends her days by hooded windows'. The 'Alice' makes it begin with a jolt and we already know her name from the title. Author's Reply: e-griff on 2003-11-14 12:17:53 Re: Alice, by the window. well, bare *spits* that's perzactly what I meant Guv, innit? just you dun it more tenaciously, eh?*spits again* and it wasn't just rhythmn Dyl (oh, you took out the extra 'in' but not the 'rhythmn) cheeky! G Author's Reply: barenib on 2003-11-14 14:40:43 Re: Alice, by the window. You bin watchin' Eastenders Griff? Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-11-14 15:06:25 Re: Alice, by the window. Methinks The Griffmeister has been partaking of the vino again-I know not what he means-an additional "in"? Rhythm spelt wrongly? Figments of your imagination, mon aged ami... Author's Reply: e-griff on 2003-11-15 08:48:38 Re: Alice, by the window. ageing, not aged, my dear fellow...... and if it's truth you want, I do have a coopy of the original as posted (and I believe it's also in my first comment). Pull the terylene over somebody else's eyes *spits* bugger! *missed* Author's Reply: ritawrites on 2003-11-20 13:33:56 Re: Alice, by the window. Why is it that it’s only women who are portrayed in this spinsterish fashion by men when they age? It’s such a stereotypical portrayal. Most ageing women I come across are full of joie de vivre and the bounce of life. Alice, I’m afraid, belongs to a bygone age which no longer exists. To that extent the poem sounds counterfeit. But, if one chooses to ignore that, it’s indeed full of great lines, and great emotions. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-11-20 16:34:39 Re: Alice, by the window. Apologies if Alice came across as a sterotype. The poem was actually based on a story I read in a local newspaper, where an elderly lady had died .Her neighbours only became aware of this some time later because she had not been seen sitting at the window. I found it desperately sad and tried to capture something of it here.I agree that the elderly(particularly women) do tend to be unfairly stereotyped in this manner and fully intend to grow old disgracefully! Author's Reply: |
| North (posted on: 03-11-03) Well, I haven`t been reading Eliot, Larkin or Thomas(The Unholy Trinity) this week. I thought about putting this in experimental, but my missus reckons it is fairly mainstream and who am I to argue?All comments,thoughts & donations greatly appreciated! In an impressionist field the horizon moves with white gloves of cloud fluttering unreasonably. Disappointed before the empty spaces below they dwindle to odd promises. Broken and splintered, the heather is a purple victim bruised in meek submission to a wind moaning odd vowels in a strange accent. Near the lands end silence astounds, unfamiliarity intensifies. These are not my footsteps and the afternoon is a stranger. Time annihilates. Across restless gorse and pale frantic streams darkness begins as a thickening of grassy shadows. In the distance yellow lights gather moths and slowly the sky breaks down and the sheep are bewigged judges of the merciless moon. Archived comments for North Jack_Cade on 2003-11-06 12:57:34 Re: North I'd say the style is experimental, while the subject matter is conventional, so you're both right. Very tactile - reminds me of Van Gogh's 'Wheat Field with Crows'. I'm drawn in particular to where the images could be doing things in a human way - the sky 'breaking down', the sheep 'judging', the wind moaning 'in a strange accent'. Not sure about the moon being merciless though, as it seems to contradict the status of the sheep and the implied threat of darkness. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-11-06 14:54:10 Re: North A word from the Hen is worth two in the bush (or something like that) .Thanks for taking the time to comment, Hen. I wasn`t (and still am not) entirely sure if this piece works. On reading it now, it seems to read more like a work in progress than a completed pome. A friend advised that the personifications of sky, wind etc were a bit overdone.I definitely am going to revise it (once more).Will not make the moon merciless next time! Thanks again. Author's Reply: |
| For the Guy (posted on: 27-10-03) A touch of Eliot, perhaps. All comments greatly appreciated. Autumn is a gradual dying. The uneasy rusting of trees, the slow poison of cinnamon air spread silent as sunrise and death appears in a new disguise. As the year grows threadbare on deserted windswept streets, the useless straw men appear. Painted signs at puny feet flicker in the rains` caress and groveling in rags, straw arms with the hands on backwards, clutch and grasp at passing shadows. Pebble glass eyes grow tears. Stuffed straw heads full of last years leaves wear out. Swept aside and left to rot in dead rooms . They are forgotten. Abandoned in the autumns` turning, we wait for winters onslaught...... Archived comments for For the Guy a_harmless_poet on 2003-10-27 09:14:21 Re: For the Guy I thought this was going to be a bit cliched when I started to read it but the description of the straw men lifts it above the mundane and makes it special. Author's Reply: shadow on 2003-10-27 16:05:13 Re: For the Guy Atmospheric, even a bit creepy. I liked it. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-10-28 06:19:26 Re: For the Guy Thanks for the comments-very much appreciated.Have been reading Eliot again... Author's Reply: Bee on 2003-11-02 08:08:55 Re: For the Guy I was drawn into your autumn scene and felt you could have developed it further to include the smell and feel of autumn (both very pungent for me). As you say, shades of old Eliot, but that's no bad thing. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-11-02 10:27:17 Re: For the Guy Thanks for the comments, Bee. I think that autumnal pomes in general, have been overworked and it is difficult to add anything new.I tried to use autumn as a (rather obvious)metaphor for a decaying relationship.TSE is my hero.I had been reading "The Hollow Men" prior to writing this.Hopefully he won`t be spinning too hard in his grave! Author's Reply: |
| Turning Point (posted on: 13-10-03) No Description The harsh air of Sunday blows grey and wet. With water ringing and seabirds screaming, I shoulder the North wind and tread pools of glittering ocean. The sun forces gleams of fire through dark-bellied clouds and a pale imitation of a shadow follows me. The bay expands, contracts to a gateway. On the edge of morning the dawn halts. As the grasping wind scatters careless debris, from the far side of today someone calls to me.... Archived comments for Turning Point Cleve on 2003-10-13 04:59:30 Re: Turning Point I quite liked certain parts of this poem. Some clever use of images. I deserve to read this again for more meaning. Well done. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-10-13 05:51:35 Re: Turning Point Thanks for taking the time to comment-glad you liked parts of it.Thanks also to the person who continually rates my work as 3s or 4s without leaving comment.Shy are you? Author's Reply: Skeeter on 2003-10-13 14:30:35 Re: Turning Point yes, I like this too. To me, it feels like a memory is being evoked by the landscape you are in, maybe someone you knew who once accompanied you to that place. I might be wrong, but that's the feeling i pick up. Its well expressed too, with some nice, succint images. Author's Reply: woodbine on 2003-10-13 23:18:53 Re: Turning Point Atmostpheric;you can taste the salt air. Personally I think a stronger and more arresting first line would be: I shoulder the North wind/ and tread pools/ of glittering ocean. 'I shoulder the North wind' is such an evocative description of you in relation to the elements and it places us instantly in the heart of the poem. The current opening is, to my mind, less effective, and could imply that the airis harsher on Sundays for some reason. And does water ring? The last line is spot on. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-10-14 15:22:59 Re: Turning Point Thanks to everyone who took the time to comment. I have had v. little time recently to respond or offer feedback and apologise for this.As to Woodys points,(all relevant, of course) the term "Harsh air of Sunday" is intended to convey the narrators` negative frame of mind.I didn`t want to use "morning" ,as it is used later to perhaps more dramatic effect. Personally, I would say that the ocean does ring (you can hear it in any shell), but will agree to differ on this.Thanks again. Author's Reply: ruadh on 2003-10-16 09:03:56 Re: Turning Point I liked this Dylan, nice imagery. I also get the impression of memories being provoked by a particular place. Well done 🙂 ailsa Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-10-17 18:45:27 Re: Turning Point Mon Dieu! A comment I have just noticed. I thank you very sincerely for taking the time to voice an opinion.The poem actually has a dark undertone,which remains unseen. Perhaps best so! Thanks again. Author's Reply: Safron on 2004-10-07 13:55:19 Re: Turning Point Effectual imagery and memory this has a shawl of nostalgic emotion. Safron Author's Reply: freya on 2005-09-27 07:04:31 Re: Turning Point dylan, since I missed this one originally, thought I'd copy my thoughts somewhere you're BOUND to hear about it. :O) With modification, that is. Your word and image choices here masterfully evoke an early morning walk by the sea. I love the shivery lines rolling off my tongue from: I shoulder the North wind... through a shadow follows me. And the last three lines just blow me away, they are so perfect for this scenario. IMO, their impact makes the poem. But as usual, I get stuck on the use of an ellipsis at the end of any piece, and especially here (seems to be a pet peeve of mine!) For me it causes the poem - its resolution - to limp off the page. I felt the desire for some different device/technique which would provide a greater emotional contrast to the vast and awesome power of the ocean. The kind of contrast that would emphasize, perhaps, the humanizing pull that drags speaker and reader alike back from 'the edge of dawn' on this particular, yet universal, beach. And to my mind this could be accomplished by a change in punctuation alone. For example: The bay expands, contracts to a gateway on the edge of morning. The dawn halts as the grasping wind scatters careless debris. From the far side of today, someone calls to me. See what you think? But wonderful work, as always, dylan. With respect and admiration, Shelagh xx Author's Reply: dylan on 2005-09-30 17:39:45 Re: Turning Point Hiya, Shelagh. Apologies it has taken so long to reply to this-my pc is on it`s last legs. You are probably aware this was written some time ago and has undergone a few revisions-a version appears in "Glasgow Kisses". I take all of your points-they are valid and would add to the effect of the poem. XXX, D. Author's Reply: |
| Rome (posted on: 22-09-03) Another soppy one. Well, the missus liked it.... Some day we will visit Rome again. Brave the awesome summer thunder to throw coins in the Trevi fountain and drink strong coffee in cafes, under rain soaked sunshades.Watch as the birds soar gracefully over the sunset in St. Peter`s square.The shadow of the Colosseum will absorb late afternoon glare.Today, there is only an antiseptic ward and a kindly young man who does not know what to say. Rome waits for now in an unknown mist.Some other time we will return, you say. Another time, I promise.Some other day... Archived comments for Rome bluepootle on 2003-09-22 04:28:19 Re: Rome Very atmospheric & powerful stuff. Author's Reply: e-griff on 2003-09-22 05:08:14 Re: Rome liked this - opened straight into a tumble of images. As this is a list - could you do with out the 'to' in line three? I felt 'coffee in cafes' distracted us from the train of thought (after all they're the same word). how about an italian word for coffee? I hesitate at latte, that too produces a rhyme. some other drink perhaps - then again, p'raps its just me. 🙂 When you change the mood , 'who does not know what to say' seems long and intrusive, could you shorten it to 'the ward and a doctor, who turns his face away' or somesuch? The last bit from ' Rome waits.... ' I think should be very short, and would be more effective so. it is the keystone of the poem, and a few carefully-chosen words could leave us gasping rather than misting as at present.... (I won't suggest any myself... ) 🙂 Author's Reply: bluepootle on 2003-09-22 05:21:52 Re: Rome i think 'espresso in cafes' would work well and not upset the rhythm. mmm, rome, espresso, macchiato, ristresso... need coffee... Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-09-22 14:04:51 Re: Rome Thanks for the comments chaps.Some of the words(ie "to" in line 3) are necessary to keep the syllables regular.Changing "coffee" is an option, though.Re the ending, I originally had this as "Rome- waits for now in an unknown mist.Some other time, I promise. Some other day"-ie leaving out "Some other time we will return, you say".I decided to add another line as it the ending seemed rather abrupt.Hmm, will contemplate...Thanks again. Author's Reply: flash on 2003-09-22 14:15:41 Re: Rome Another poem thats a little dark,very atmospheric and sad. Your missus has got good taste IMHO. Nice one m8 Flash(eroo) Author's Reply: britgrrl on 2003-09-22 19:21:59 Re: Rome Today, there is only an antiseptic ward and a kindly young man who does not know what to say Aha! Herein lies the surprise revelation of your poem after you have steadily built-up a descriptive passage and have your reader's attention. This kind of resolution is just what you managed so effectively in Beginning and End, and I would suspect you were going for in 7:45 Direct, but didn't quite pull-off! I like what e-griff and bluepootle have to say; maybe changing a couple of things as suggested would make this an even stronger poem, but you have the essence down, imo. Good one, Dylan! Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-09-23 06:04:52 Re: Rome Thanks again for the comments.Grand Barbu-may the hair on your arse never grow thin.(Note to Shelagh-this is for Flashy, not you my dear) Author's Reply: e-griff on 2003-09-23 07:10:37 Re: Rome 'ere Dyl, are you sure? I'm going to start counting now, so watchit! Anyway, as I discovered when I did The JapaneseGarden with good 'ol Rodieniol, I learnt it's not the basic syllable count, it's how the stress goes (metre) - eg an additional soft syllable at the beginning of a line can be lost in reading. It explained to me why I wrote poems with syllable count, but they sounded better to me when I altered them a bit - the male/female endings etc actually explained some real examples to me. (I'm sure you told me this as well.....) Off to get counting/sexing your poem ! 🙂 wa hoo! G Author's Reply: |
| 7.45 Direct (posted on: 15-09-03) First draft-I dunno.Be kind... Queen street yawns, gaping at seven am. Iron clad, oily, in a cold reluctant morning, carriages crawl slowly like overweight snails. As early coffee stalls blink in puny daylight, I stand with a poor excuse of a suitcase and shake off the night, wishing I could be almost anywhere else. An impatient porter is bad tempered in wakefulness. His scowl dares any questions and sensing weakness, he stalks past as I struggle to stake my place and grasps easy victory. Alone and waiting, I think of you again. With the sudden clarity of absence, each feature is magnified and starkly drawn. I wonder vaguely what you are doing now, this instant and if I will ever examine this day dispassionately. An announcement, a boarding later, in the sighs of doors and the rustle of newspaper, I settle down and watch Glasgow retreat to the distance. In the inevitable rain, a monitor stops.It begins again..... Archived comments for 7.45 Direct bluepootle on 2003-09-15 05:04:40 Re: 7.45 Direct particularly liked the end - from 'an announcement'. wondered if maybe a full stop rather than ..... would work better at the end, but it sort of throws a different light on the poem. interesting. i didn't really begin to enjoy the piece until 'i stand with a poor excuse' , but can't suggest any reason why. maybe just moody today! my, that was helpful! i think i'd put that section first, maybe as a separate stanza.? Author's Reply: e-griff on 2003-09-15 06:10:45 Re: 7.45 Direct I didn't understand the last two lines - 'monitor' ? I wonder why you post a first draft here, I'm not saying it's faulty in any way, just wonder at your intentions .... 🙂 Author's Reply: bluepootle on 2003-09-15 08:27:27 Re: 7.45 Direct i thought the monitor referred to those horrible computer screens you get in train stations that flick on and off whenever you actually want to find out any info? could be wrong though? Author's Reply: britgrrl on 2003-09-15 22:16:52 Re: 7.45 Direct I have to agree with bluepootle; this piece seems to want to begin at 'I stand with a poor excuse'. For me, this is because the speaker and the 'you' to whom he refers are the heart of the poem. Unfortunately, the relationship between speaker and 'you' is left unclarified; the reader can only speculate on why the speaker wonders 'if I will ever examine this day dispassionately.' Though there is some good writing here, some richly phrased description, and though this leaves us with a clear picture of the area and atmosphere surrounding Glasgow's rail station, it is what's left out of the poem that disappoints. It might be fairly simple to keep most of the descriptive elements if they fell into a different order - supported the essence of the whole. But I wanted to hear less about what it's like there, and more about why this particular morning is so important to the speaker. Author's Reply: Ham_on_Rye on 2003-09-16 13:03:00 Re: 7.45 Direct I've never read such pretentious hogwash. Did you see NO good in this? I would suggest shoring up your own backyard before sniping over others'. Left out? You do not think that was intentional? It's not what you want to hear it's what the author wants to tell you and the type of imagery he is trying to conjur. That's like saying "Ooh yes the bible is good but I would prefer there were more murders and whores." The list goes on. This kind of claptrap for crit pisses me off. Ham Author's Reply: Ham_on_Rye on 2003-09-16 13:04:18 Re: 7.45 Direct Yes I do know how to spell 'conjure'. Ham p.s. Dylan, a lovely read. Nothing missing. Author's Reply: jim on 2003-09-16 13:11:48 Re: 7.45 Direct Um . . . Ham, Britgrrl's crit said there was a lot to work with, a load of rich phrases etc. She clearly saw quite a lot of good in this poem. Dylan said this was a first draft. I don't agree with everything that Britgrrl's said, but I think her comments are fair. They're not trashing the poem. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-09-16 14:23:51 Re: 7.45 Direct Thanks to everyone who took the time to comment.I posted this draft here hoping a cross section of readers would comment, which certainly seems to be the case! To be fair to Shelagh, I think the poem does needs revision.I will exercise the grey matter... Thanks again. Author's Reply: Frenchy on 2003-09-17 09:54:04 Re: 7.45 Direct Firstly I am not going to be harsh 🙂 I really liked the way this was put together. Having taken quite a few trains in my life it was easy to identify to this poem and its contents. Dave. Author's Reply: Ham_on_Rye on 2003-09-17 17:32:04 Re: 7.45 Direct So it may need some revision and to a lesser degree I agree with e-griff in the respect that revision should have been done before posting. With the same sentiment though Dylan, I would say that you were right in asking for crit before posting or having published the finished article. Rise above it. I'm quitting this ark soon. Griff et al should have a look at their own works. That way they would honestly find therein flaws that they so regularly describe to you regarding your submissions. It angers me. Best with this Dylan. You have a wonderful talent. Fucem. Ham Author's Reply: Slovitt on 2003-09-18 13:21:27 Re: 7.45 Direct Dear Ham_on_Rye: Britgrrl's assessment of 7.45 Direct was measured, sincere, and I imagine appreciated by Dylan. There are problems with his poem, things to be worked on. Your response to her was disproportionate to her "imagined offense." In fact, if you want to read pretentious, self-indulgent hogwash, re-read your comments. And I doubt whether you would like how you'd fare if your own "work" was compared to hers. Your claptrap of self-righteous indignation on the part of another, is a disservice to anyone trying to provide useful feedback. Author's Reply: e-griff on 2003-09-18 14:18:40 Re: 7.45 Direct then comment on them (Griff et al-our own works) , for god's sake, sensibly! I'd welcome it - it's why I'm here, it's what I want - people reading and sincerely commenting on my work so I can learn to do it better - it's a privilege, not a threat! uncomprehending, but sincere, JOhnG Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-09-19 03:57:36 Re: 7.45 Direct Bloody Hell! Such controversy and the pome aint even that good.As I said before,I posted this knowing it required revision/editing.I just wanted to gauge feedback on it at this stage-I welcome any comments and am grateful that people took the time to do this.The pome was always intended to "Show and not tell"-at least not all, but it does require clarification.I thank Shelagh, Griff, Ham and everyone else. Author's Reply: Ems on 2003-09-20 07:39:36 Re: 7.45 Direct I don't think there is anything wrong with posting a first draft as long it is readable, by the way. After all, the point of the comment box is to offer constructive criticism is it not? For what it is worth, I think Britgirl made some very useful comments... Moving on... I liked this. I do think it requires some revision. Perhaps a rearrangment of some lines? Also I think the language could be pared down slightly and maybe more focus on the emotion of the narrator...? Overall definite potential and I loved the imagery. I'd like to look at it again once you've revised it. Author's Reply: Ham_on_Rye on 2003-09-20 13:24:59 Re: 7.45 Direct Well done Dylan on getting to number one on the top stories. Deservedly so. Please send more IM's. I don't get too much of a chance online but when I do it's wonderful to know talented writers (especially Tims lol) 🙂 C'mon the Hoops. 3-0 Ham Author's Reply: Wolfgirl on 2003-09-21 14:41:06 Re: 7.45 Direct I think that there is a clever circularity to the piece and some good use of language. A jiggle here and there may produce a very memorable poem. I think we should be proud that writers feel trust enough to show us first drafts..they are like artist's sketches and reveal the workings of their mind....before a tuck and a juggle of meaning may it the neat finished masterpiece. Look forward to seeing the final cut. Author's Reply: |
| Requiescat (posted on: 01-09-03) Recently I`ve been trying out a "Larkinesque" style, which has been criticised quite severely on another site. This is another attempt.I would really appreciate feedback, even if negative. The church was full by the time I got there. Unobtrusively, I made my hurried way to a wooden death trap pew, disturbing strangers in a line who glared unhappily at me. All dressed like elegant crows they rustled wings of best coat. In the hum of muted noise I listened to homilies from both the pulpit and the rows of mourners. And I could not assimilate the strange sense of unconnected unreality or equate the hushed tones with the person I had known. I drifted in smoky incense and no emotion touched me. Until I heard Glasgow, busy in a spring you would not see and the cemetery loomed with yards of departed mortality. The redundant past was nothing, it was spent. And one at least would mourn. Rest in peace, my friend. Now we rest in peace...... Archived comments for Requiescat e-griff on 2003-09-01 05:38:50 Re: Requiescat Hmm , I'm pondering on this. What was the nature of the criticism? Tell me by PM if you don't want to give it away. Meanwhile, I have to go and refresh my acquaintance of Mr Larkin........ Ho hum! Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-09-01 06:17:04 Re: Requiescat The crit was on the poem "Market Values" which was quite well recived here.I have cut and pasted. -"This is so Larkinesque as to be almost pastiche. I just don't get any sense of heightened language, nothing memorable that strikes me, and perhaps being overly confessional without a point. Ok, if it's a deliberate stylistic effect - much like the lyrics of Morrisey, to try and obtain something bejewelled out of the mundane, then that is something I would like to see, but sadly, don't see anything particularly redeemable here." Mind you, the person who wrote this is also a poet and I find his work overbearing and pretentious.May well be a matter of taste. The style I was looking for was indeed "embracing the mundane" for want of a better desription.I mean I like it, but does anyone else? Author's Reply: e-griff on 2003-09-01 06:35:40 Re: Requiescat well, as I always tell people who I comment on - I am only one voice and I am not an expert. so if you didn't get any more crits than this one, I wouldn't react too strongly - one crit means nothing unless you yourself recognise its truth. But if two or more say something you don't agree with, look again , carefully! 🙂 MY first reaction to this was positive overall, I have some questions, but thought I'd check and see how much is Larkin and how much you, as my knowledge is thin on these matters.... later! Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-09-01 06:59:07 Re: Requiescat Thanks, Griff. I have tried to adopt something of Larkins` style, not any of his themes or lines. I realise he is miles better than moi, but I admire his phrasing and use of everyday language. Author's Reply: Jack_Cade on 2003-09-05 06:46:01 Re: Requiescat Haven't read the previous 'Larkinesque' one, but I like this. I think 'wooden death trap pew' and 'wings of best coat' are very droll observations, conjuring mood and strong images. Same for - "I drifted in smoky incense and no emotion touched me." Image, smell, truth (the feeling, when you think you should feel a certain way and you don't,) in a kind of pastiche of a more celebratory style (If you see what I mean - the phrasing is like those lines in poems where someone claims to be free - 'I drifted - nothing could touch me!') Also, the reversal at the end, so that it's the living who rest in peace. I don't feel it has the same effect as Larkin though, or Morrissey. Celebrating the apparently mundane isn't enough for me - that's what so much poetry is, it seems. Or perhaps, more accurately, drawing attention to what is beautiful or interesting in the apparently mundane. This deals with quite a profound subject anyway - our response to death. It's missing, I think, the profound self-pity and whiff of melodrama. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-09-05 15:06:13 Re: Requiescat Hen, very grateful thanks for your comments.Along with mon ami Woody,you have given me hope that I am not moving in totally the wrong direction. As I mentioned to Woody, it honestly is not about ego-I am never going to be a great (World-renowned?-Sorry) poet. I do take it seriously though and my main aim is to produce good work.But, like everyone, I am insecure.When the poems are being torn apart, doubts emerge. Thanks again. Author's Reply: Jack_Cade on 2003-09-06 03:13:48 Re: Requiescat "When the poems are being torn apart, doubts emerge." Ah, don't I know it! But don't worry - it's the nature of poems, even the best, that some people (maybe many people) are going to be averse to them. I've been reading Holderlin and Celan for a course in the new term, and I had to laugh when I imagined how some of their stuff would go down on UKA or ABC! Author's Reply: |
| Market Values (posted on: 25-08-03) No description It was a Saturday, I remember. A mid-70s market morning. Light rain slowly falling on wooden bric-a-brac. We wandered in a grey September. The smell of the over done hot dogs mingled with candy floss. And ragged queues soon formed, long and disorderly, for football tops or cheap new shoes. By then we had passed the antique stall the months of polishing hid the defects and you told me you were very bored or bland tactful lies to that effect. I shrugged , I think and it was done. A simple act, the blank kindness of opening a door for someone who had just outgrown me. I felt numb and watched the families pass. Bored fathers, flushed mothers, children pushing and no-one else seemed to notice that the world had just stopped turning. I visited the market yesterday believing that I had myths to debunk or ghosts to exorcise, I don`t know. But it rained and they still sell junk....... Archived comments for Market Values bluepootle on 2003-08-25 03:38:36 Re: Market Values hi, really enjoyed this. one line just clanked a bit for me because i've heard it once too often- 'the world had just stopped turning' but loved the structure and the images. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-08-25 12:54:11 Re: Market Values Mon Ami, I thank you very kindly for the comment. The line "The world had just stopped turning" is indeed rather cliche. However I was looking for a phonetic half-rhyme for " pushing" and this seemed to fit.Will give the matter undivided attention (at least until Corrie begins...) Thanks again. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2003-08-26 05:12:52 Re: Market Values I enjoyed this too Dylan. Some great descriptive lines in there. '... the world had just stopped turning' ? Got to admit, I've used a similar line myself on more than one occasion. Well up to your usual standard though. I guess we're all guilty of using certain lines. I don't see a real problem with that though because the rest is so original. Especially liked the ending. Nice work fella. snk Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-08-26 13:13:52 Re: Market Values Again, I thank you for your comments, Sunken. I posted this on another poetry site and one person remarked it was so Larkinesque as to be almost pastiche.While it is obviously influenced by him, I don`t think it is overdone.Damn it, his ghost will moan for weeks! Thanks again. Author's Reply: woodbine on 2003-09-05 00:38:18 Re: Market Values This is a gem, Dylan. A comma after 'I think' wouldn't hurt. Something about 'and you told me you were very bored or bland tactful lies to that effect' doesn't feel quite right because it sounds, to me at least, as if she is lieing about being bored, which she isn't. But maybet that's just me. A great ending. I loved 'opening a door for someone who had just outgrown me.' Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-09-05 02:57:34 Re: Market Values Woody, I really thank you for taking the time to comment on this.As I said,I have been trying the "Larkinesque" descriptive style of the mundane which has been slaughtered on other sites.(see the comments on Requiescat).This poem,along with Ten Years After are typical.I think it comes down to a matter of poetic taste, as the styles used by the critics leaves me cold .Anyway , mon ami-thanks again for your comments-most appreciated. Author's Reply: |
| 13a (posted on: 18-08-03) I submitted this a few weeks ago and it didn`t go down too well. Have revised and changed a few sections. Would appreciate any feedback. The disinfected corridors wind on and on endlessly. Full of pre-starched bustle and raw ferocious efficiency which well matches the brand new and recently completed wing. Marching now in the labyrinth alone, I think of nothing. In a damp Sunday morning I smuggle a pale bottle snug in a yellow wrapper and contraband cigarettes in well concealed pockets as if it helps or matters. I am now a nuisance, officially. Always ubiquitous bringing useless guilty gifts as I scream in silence. Suddenly arriving at 13a "Hi", hopelessly, is all I say..... Archived comments for 13a silentmemories on 2004-07-16 13:18:24 Re: 13a That's absolutely great. Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-07-17 06:26:42 Re: 13a Thanks for the comment, Nic. I`d actually forgotten about this one.It was written when my mother was terminally ill and recalls a sad period. Thanks again. Author's Reply: |
| Ten Years After (posted on: 11-08-03) A sort of homecoming... In the wastes of suburbia time is the common enemy as unknown weeds and stress cracks grapple pebble dash normality. Beyond the brick red rooftops the grey fog which lives near the boat infested canal smiles grimly in the smoky air. The room is now rearranged Bed moved, lamp gone, colder than usual. Nothing much changed. Only me. And I have grown old... The downstairs morning bustle intensifies. Early as ever, prompt and punctual. The small window brings breakfast smells from coffee stalls. A black clothed Sunday silence crawls empty streets and disperses in the stony bells of a churchyard and the past slowly, slowly emerges ... Archived comments for Ten Years After barenib on 2003-08-14 07:16:34 Re: Ten Years After Very atmospheric and a bit Larkinesque? It reads out loud very well too. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-08-14 13:30:22 Re: Ten Years After Thank you very kindly, mon ami.You are right about the Larkin influence. I have been reading a lot of the illustrious Philip recently.(This is probably why his ghost was stalking me in the shout-box.Huh-you don`t catch DT or Eliots` ghost complaining).I really appreciate your comment.Thanks again. Author's Reply: |
| Old (posted on: 04-08-03) No metaphors or imagery this time-just the truth! Tomorrow I will take control of a life which threatens to go nowhere fast. I will tell my life in paperback, accept advice be circumspect. Keeps cats and dogs avoid alcohol take up golf give up football. I will organise my life somehow, wear v-neck sweaters drive a Volvo. Grow cabbages, be middle-aged, and all this begins tomorrow of course. Archived comments for Old flash on 2003-08-04 04:51:36 Re: Old No mention of DIY thank goodness "You didn't want to do it that way." Author's Reply: Sunken on 2003-08-04 07:33:48 Re: Old Another corker, in my grubby little book Dylan. 'I will tell my life in paperback' - Love that line man. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-08-04 13:27:22 Re: Old Thanks for comments chaps.This sprang from a couple of lines I had written some time ago-"I will tell my life in paperback,accept advice,be circumspect" . I thought at first it was a bit bland, but Mrs D. said she liked it...so had no choice(of course!) Thanks again. Author's Reply: Skeeter on 2003-08-08 03:46:07 Re: Old I like it too! You'd be lucky to drive a Volvo though. Of course, is a life that ends up like that actually a life that HAS gone nowhere? Is that what you meant? Good stuff. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-08-09 10:45:10 Re: Old Tanx, mon ami. I doubt if I ever will own a Volvo.The poem was conceived on a horrendous night I spent in the company of some work aquaintances.Their whole conversation seemed to consist of a list of their possessions and/or achievements.It was only later I realised that they were not much older than moi.I fear wearing fawn v- neck sweaters, growing a moustache and cultivating lettuce. The future stretches ahead bleakly-will have to speak to Griff/Sirat etc on how to cope(The words cat, pigeons and among spring to mind.) Author's Reply: Thomjack on 2003-08-09 11:05:15 Re: Old I liked this a lot. Kind of thoughts you have late at night then wake to think, nah, won't bother changing. Made me smile. Thanks. Author's Reply: Jen_Christabel on 2003-08-10 14:42:17 Re: Old And how old would that be?! LOL Made me smile and think of my brother-in-law, he was like this in his 20s! Thanks for the read Dylan, it's just so true, and therefore hits the mark! Jen Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-08-10 16:00:49 Re: Old Grateful tanx to everyone who took the time to comment. You have made a happy man feel very old...or something like that. I honestly was not going to submit this pome, as it is quite unlike the "usual" stuff.Just shows I am a bad judge of my own work.(I still like "Wolf" though.Problem is nobody else does) Thanks again. Author's Reply: Domino on 2003-08-10 17:19:10 Re: Old I do Dylan. Just can't break it down into crit as I am no poetry expert. When I write poetry I write it as I feel and more often than not it breaks form and law regarding how a pome should be written. Bollox though, I shall continue my trait of UKA anarchy and submit as I please. Good work mate. For such an unassuming guy you have a huge talent. You're my hot author. DOmino. Author's Reply: |
| Waiting Room (posted on: 28-07-03) The points (and subsequent questions etc) raised in this pome aren`t necessarily my own opinions.Just thought I would share them... Wednesday is the saddest day. Loud in their discontent with a passing clutch of handbags is a sharp gossip of women. The day sees a snivelling man in a coughing, shuffling stain of wrinkled grey raincoat take root and slowly rust. They are stranded in the embracing days of here and now. Thin laughter winding weakly down cool passageways mocks time and age. And after. Is God there? In that crumpled air of shrunken faces and grey shrivelled hair with the watching windows misting? In an antiseptic silence slowly shifting eyes unsure, they are waiting. Still waiting. Archived comments for Waiting Room Sunken on 2003-07-30 05:01:25 Re: Waiting Room Can't understand why no one has commented on this. I can't pretend to be anything other than a novice when it comes to writing, but I do know what I like. And this, I like. It has a realness about it. I'm always slightly biased towards shorter pieces. My attention span is extremely sho.... Cool writing Dylan. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-07-30 15:00:14 Re: Waiting Room Thank you very kindly for the comment, mon ami. The piece was intended to thought-provoking, but does not seem to have provoked too many! Dunno if I am veering toward the obscure again... Thanks again. Author's Reply: jim on 2003-07-30 23:59:38 Re: Waiting Room Thought this was really strong. Witty echoes of Eliot. I was bowled over by: 'Is God there? In that crumpled air of shrunken faces and grey shrivelled hair Two editorial comments - but really they're only personal taste: I found antiseptic with silence a bit expected, as though I'd heard it before. Dunno, maybe I have. I think the ending might be stronger if delete 'always waiting' - not sure you need to underline it so much. Just tiny things. Loved the rest. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-07-31 07:56:42 Re: Waiting Room Tanx for comments, Jim-very much appreciated. Actually, I had thought about leaving out the final "always waiting",but decided against it. Will give "Antiseptic silence" some thought also. Thanks again. Author's Reply: niki on 2004-09-07 15:23:49 Re: Waiting Room poetically, the idea that life is a waiting room for the whatever comes after life is an interesting one...but in a practical sense (although i noted your specification this was not necessarily your view) i think it is an unfortunate way to live that has a tendency to abstract life from the living. i think this is communicated well by your use of the sensation of being "stranded", particularly on a "Wednesday" (limbo of the week, suspended between beginning and end). - niki x Author's Reply: |
| Beginning and End (posted on: 21-07-03) I dunno-any suggestions? The day is wrapped in crinolines, wrinkled velvets. The chosen few pose in their bristling kilts their ferocious shining shoes. There is a spinning mixture of the threadbare and deadly new, as long-lost aunts, uncles, brothers smile and exchange pleasantries and warily circle each other. "Did you bring-" stops in mid sentence as the frantic whispers drop in a last-minute inspection of permed hair and make-up. To a groaning organs tune we will spring to attention. And three lions under a tree sleep, having fed to satiety. Eyes lock on the white figure clutching flowers to her breast. Your face tiny in the vast echoing emptiness. Archived comments for Beginning and End e-griff on 2003-07-21 02:30:08 Re: Beginning and End I'm on tiny pickings today - shouldn't it be 'organ's'? why the lions? got the rest. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-07-21 12:50:54 Re: Beginning and End You are correct, O most observant (and nit-picking) Griffmeister-should be organ`s. The lions are a metaphor-will drop you a PM. Just want to see how others interprete it.-Not that important of course.... Author's Reply: Romany on 2003-07-21 13:44:39 Re: Beginning and End Okay, I'll be brave and have a go at your lion metaphor. I'm probably way off the mark, but here goes: Don't know where you're from, but 3 lions could equal England right? Three lions sated = englishmen that the bride no longer wants as she has found her 'one'? Or that no longer want her as she has chosen one man over all others (Would make more sense) The bit I don't get is the last two lines? So, probably way off the mark as I say, but that's what poetry is all about, right? Interpretation. Author's Reply: e-griff on 2003-07-21 14:08:38 Re: Beginning and End oh that's easy. bride... surrounded by vast panoply, custom and big church. I see looking down, like TV on royal wedding, small nervous figure arrives at door -ALL EYES LOOK!!!!!! yes - got that one. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-07-22 07:34:07 Re: Beginning and End Actually, the three lions metaphor was about Griff, Pi and Her Randiness. They all got pissed at the wedding and passed out. I jest, I jest, mon cherie-will let you knowlater in week. Author's Reply: Thomjack on 2003-07-26 03:48:44 Re: Beginning and End Not sure what the lions reference means but think i got the rest. Liked the wedding guests circling each other - family but almost strangers. The strange dress code of weddings, the image of the bride all alone, all great. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-07-26 09:20:57 Re: Beginning and End Thanks all for the positive comments.The "Three lions" line is a metaphor(only one in pome) for the emotions the narrator is feeling. Basically, his conflicting emotions of regret, sadness, envy, have run their course-"Fed to satiety".Just a little touch of surrealism.(Either this or you can believe the earlier explanation concerning Her Randiness, Pi and The Griffmeister-come to think of it that sound much more likely!) Author's Reply: britgrrl on 2003-07-27 07:00:32 Re: Beginning and End Oh masterful! The intense intimacy of the speaker's 'your face tiny' preceeded by a long, rather distant, 'BBC'- like narrative of the wedding had my eyes flying immediately to your title and I 'got it". Very, very effective. I did not really know the meaning of the three lions, and though I've seen one tethered tiger or other wild animal at public events, I can't imagine three lions lying under a tree, satiated, to be anything but symbolic of the feelings of the speaker. Someone giving up on unrestrained anger/ bitterness/ lashing out etc.. and accepting an end, perhaps? A skillful write, dylan. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-07-27 08:19:45 Re: Beginning and End Thanks for the kind comments, Shelagh.You are the only person who has "correctly" interpreted the Three Lions metaphor as I intended it. Ie-a metaphor for the emotions the narrator is feeling. Basically, his conflicting emotions of regret, sadness, envy, have run their course-"Fed to satiety".Just a little touch of surrealism.(Either this or you can believe the earlier explanation concerning Her Randiness, Pi and The Griffmeister-come to think of it that sounds much more likely!) Thanks again. Author's Reply: |
| Here (posted on: 14-07-03) Eliot meets Bukowski and DT.Sod all to do with me. All comments greatly appreciated. The morning is only another night ending Dawn breaks in a sky of lead as sunlight dances across the room with countless feints and masquerades that time and place can now assume. In twisted corners of the night dying shadows merge and meet the sad invasion of grey daylight and silence stalks a weary street. There is silence here and in these soiled hands a vision of the street the street hardly understands. The pale rain whispers slyly "Remember? Remember?" But morning light is untrustworthy. I wait for night and have no need of memories. Not even now when morning is only another night ending without you. Archived comments for Here e-griff on 2003-07-14 08:05:45 Re: Here I liked this greatly, aadmired it, and read it aloud. Then I found the problem - street, street and street. difficult little patch there. I think if you patched that this would be a very admirable little poem. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-07-14 12:16:31 Re: Here Thanks for the comment, Griff. Will amend as soon as. Author's Reply: dgl on 2003-07-14 15:32:52 Re: Here I agree with the above- nice poem. One further point to add though: Don't say "a sky of lead" The reasons: 1. Cliche; 2. I've never seen a morning sky that was actually grey and grainy. "Hammer beaten rippled copper" would better describe it (particularly at this time of year, which is the most likely for someone walking the streets at that time). You then have rhythmic space to fill... suggestion: add the word salmon before the word sky and insert a full effective-line-length line after copper suggesting how/why this person came to be alone on the walk at this time, ending with a para-rhyme to be resolved with "masquerades", as before when you had "lead". I hope this makes sense to you. Author's Reply: Domino on 2003-07-14 15:41:47 Re: Here I like it. Sounds like lost love. Perhaps I am wrong. I'm no expert. Read it over and over which means for me I was held and touched enough as to be acquainted by it. Made me feel very sad though. Not sure if I was supposed to. DOmino Author's Reply: richardwatt on 2003-07-14 19:16:29 Re: Here There isn't a problem with having 'street' in a couple of times as long as there isn't a hard rhyme problem. I think Griff is trying too hard to make constructive criticism, where there's a danger of ruining the poem by losing it's "normalcy": please don't change anything to 'promenade'. Author's Reply: britgrrl on 2003-07-14 22:45:11 Re: Here I very much liked the alliteration and evocative images of 'silence stalks a weary street' and 'the pale rain whispers slyly'. Had trouble with the inconsistency of others that play on the quality of the dawning light: it is first a sky of lead, is grey and throwing down rain, then there is sun dancing across the room. And I can understand why the speaker prefers night to the reminder of loss which morning brings, but I was confused by not needing memories at night or 'even now.' Author's Reply: britgrrl on 2003-07-14 22:49:12 Re: Here I very much liked the alliteration and evocative images of 'silence stalks a weary street' and 'the pale rain whispers slyly'. Had trouble with the inconsistency of others that play on the quality of the dawning light: it is first a sky of lead, is grey and throwing down rain, then there is sun dancing across the room. And I can understand why the speaker prefers night to the reminder of loss which morning brings, but I was confused by not needing memories at night or 'even now.' Author's Reply: britgrrl on 2003-07-14 22:53:04 Re: Here Oops! Apologies, dylan. I didn't think it took the first go-around!~Shelagh Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-07-15 12:42:00 Re: Here Ok in defence of my "little poem" as regard the quality of dawning light-in chronological order 1) "Dawn breaks in a sky of lead"-(not a cliche in my view)-dawn breaks through a heavy rain leaden sky 2)"Sunlight dances across the room"-The narrator awakes and sees sunlight. 3)"The pale rain whispers slyly"-sunlight has given way to rain. Is this confusing?-The words "the street" are repeated to emphasise where the narrator is at that point in the poem-(title is "Here") The lines "and in these soiled hands" refer to why he "waits for night".-ie memories are painful. Author's Reply: britgrrl on 2003-07-15 12:58:04 Re: Here Dylan, please don't think I'm doing anything but givng you impressions straight from the heart. It's your poem, and you may take or leave anything I say. What I try to do is reflect on what others tell me, and if something they say resonates - if I can see what is confusing or bothering them - I'll work on making changes. If not, I let their remarks go. I mean only to offer genuine and hopefully helpful feedback, not to slash and burn. Believe me. ~ Shelagh Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-07-15 13:19:31 Re: Here I understand that and thank you for taking the time to comment. However, in your criticism of the weather metaphors you state"First it is a sky of lead, then throwing down rain, then there is sun dancing across the room"-this isn`t the case, as I have pointed out. I have no problem with constructive criticism, but would ask that the poem is read (and quoted) correctly. Author's Reply: laura_h on 2003-07-15 14:06:35 Re: Here liked it, enjoyed it, been there, got the t-shirt. sob Author's Reply: Domino on 2003-07-15 17:07:49 Re: Here Been there. Still wearing the so-called T shirt. Crying alout, but I suppose as far as crit feedback is concenerned that is no bad thing. Moved me. Moved me a great deal. 🙠DOmino Author's Reply: richa on 2003-07-15 22:25:53 Re: Here can relate to it. enjoyed reading the poem. Author's Reply: Pioden on 2003-07-16 03:05:45 Re: Here Is that why my tee smells so much - its been worn by some many people before me I love this - I could see those "skies of lead" quite clearly and had no problem with the recuring 'street' either would love to hear this - like other pieces of your work - read aloud - it has that kind of quality that makes you want to hear it said and not just read only my point of view by the way - we're allowed to disagree you know Author's Reply: e-griff on 2003-07-16 06:25:21 Re: Here hey, I only speak as I find, I'm not 'trying' to do anything. When i read it that repetition jarred me - fact! yes, it could be just me.... It's for Dylan to decide what notice he takes. my opinion only, but genuine and valid, please? 🙂 Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-07-16 16:00:30 Re: Here Thanks for your comments Pi.(Also Griff,dgl Domino ,Richa and Laura) -I know, I am getting old and grouchy-I have apologised to Britgrrl for my grumpy reply.Glad you liked it. Author's Reply: jim on 2003-07-21 17:11:30 Re: Here I really liked this. Had no problem with the repetition (and neither did Eliot.). If it was set in Birmingham you'd have a nice hard rhyme at the end too. 'Not even now/....without yow'. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-07-22 04:12:47 Re: Here Thanks for the comment, Jim. Could have been " A blowke across the rowde- is there even nowe-without yowe". Or something like that. You are the only person so far who has picked up on the Eliot reference-he is my hero(apart from Bob D, Dylan T, George Best etc, etc). Thanks again Author's Reply: jim on 2003-07-22 05:26:36 Re: Here Eliot was the greatest poet of all time. He may have been a wanker, but he wrote the Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock and I have never got bored of reading it and never read anything that came close. And that includes Dylan, I'm afraid. I know you're a fan. If I could write one line as good as this: I could have been a pair of claws scuttling across the floors of silent seas ...I'd give up sex, food, drugs - everything. For a weekend at least. "A blowke across the rowde- is there even nowe" Sounds like the Cantebury Tales. Which goes nicely back to Eliot: "April is the cruellest month. . ." Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-07-22 06:25:19 Re: Here Yep, no argument from me.His Bobness, DT, Larkin,Hughes etc are all good, but no-one comes close to Eliot.How about 'In a minute there is time for decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse" from Prufrock? Bloody Hell! Makes me want to give up writing... Author's Reply: jim on 2003-07-22 08:05:13 Re: Here Or life altogether. It's the saddest thing I've ever read - and it feels like he's not even trying. Author's Reply: jim on 2003-07-22 08:10:47 Re: Here Meant to add: He also wrote a lot of wank though. I hate a lot of Four Quartets - trite and pretentious. And you should see the original version of the Waste Land - Ezra Pound was a very, very good editor. Author's Reply: richardwatt on 2003-07-26 08:34:40 Re: Here -and the Hollow Men. I noticed the Eliot reference, D which was quite hard considering you cajole me into noticing by its suggestion. I wouldn't pass comment on Eliocentrism because this would be doing the resulting poem a disservice. In my poetic fantasy-league, out of my complete works of Eliot i would pick only a handful of pages, probably as full-backs. Check out Spleen if you are only beginning to try your hand at poetry: this poem continually heartens me. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-07-26 09:02:59 Re: Here Thanks for the comments, mon ami. Unfortunately, have been writing (and reading) pomes for good few years now.(Too late to change, I fear).Although I am a big Eliot fan, I would say his early work(up to and including The Waste Land) is easily his best. Mine other heroes are DT, Larkin,Hughes,Plath and have just discovered Bukowski. I admire a lot of the Romantics too,-Wordsworth,Byron and particularly Shelley.(Nothing if not eclectic).Love Hens stuff on here. Author's Reply: richardwatt on 2003-07-26 10:04:28 Re: Here Sorry old boy, I meant to refer to Spleen as something to look at for anyone new to this (o most prostitute) biz, not necessarily yerself: I would agree with you on E's stuff, from Prufrock up to but not including his Anglican-infected oeuvre. I would espouse the now-unpopular view that these comprise different Eliot canons, before spellchecking what i've just written. Author's Reply: |
| Desire (posted on: 04-07-03) Yup, definitely Desire. In a hollow skull as raw heat screams of death and hell a phone softly sings. I am not cruel and speak only truth in this paradise of barren bones. Here are pale shadows still full of the night who drift pass slowly in a perfume trail. And too-thin fingers lend tiny caresses to dishonest men with sad bloodshot eyes. They search for gifts from too long ago as the phone sings in praise of you. And turning to go I am a stranger.... Archived comments for Desire Domino on 2003-07-06 17:00:59 Re: Desire Dylan For me this is darker than anyuthing I have read and enjoyed from you thus far. I still maintain that what I read should allow to me to conjure my own images, provoke emotions based on how I see it and leave me with a final picture. This poem, although pulsating in its rhythm did none of the above for me. You normally give me a vast canvas on which to paint my bizarre images derived from each line of your poems. This one had me struggling to acquaint one line with the next. First of all I am teased with the prospect of a sallow, nefarious character only to hear his phone ring with the hope that he can be plucked from that. You then go on to paint the scene as an almost post apocalyptic graveyard which could be mother earth in the aftermath of a significant storm. Bones, skulls, paradise afforded to the reader only through what may have existed in those bones. "Barren bones" ... Now that to me is poetic licence. Lovely and startling though it may be but I have the feeling (my opinion only) that barren was a word that came to you in an instant and you felt it fitted well. "In a perfume trail". That is marvellous. I love it. Can almost smell it. In this ghastly scene that I am picturing in my minds eye I suddenly have the opportunity, in the shadows to confront one of my past characters. The guy who was so nonchalant that he couldn't recognise love if it fell out of the sky naked and landed on his face. caresses, dishonest men. The more I read this the more I question your meaning yet at the same time am compelled by it as it is almost biographical. I guess I know what I mean by this. The character to me seems to be full of remorse and regret and seems to hate himself, choosing to distance himself. Not giving a good God damn or mouse fart if he is ever spoken to again or indeed speaks, .... yet I also believe this is a cry for attention. Not on your part, hopefully but in the story. Perhaps I am way off the mark but each time I read this I take different meanings and explanations from what it written. I hope that is your intention when you wrtite, Dylan. I look forward to reading more submissions from you. You have rekindled my love of poetry. I'm glad and eternally grateful that, through mediums such as this I can grow and develop as a writer. To anyone reading this can I please ask the favour that you offer critique not only for Dylan's sake but for mine too? Am I one of a very few who takes the time to follow the progress of this guy? (Dylan). Luk Luv DOmino Author's Reply: shadow on 2003-07-06 17:20:07 Re: Desire Not sure how one can follow that. Anyway, I liked it too, but I tend to respond to poetry at a non-verbal level ... Author's Reply: Domino on 2003-07-06 17:37:48 Re: Desire Shadow I tend not to respond with crit as such as I don't profess to know the mechanics of poetry. Occasionally though I am moved enough to lend comment. Based on your last comment, how about a brief critique of this poem (or "pome" as Dylan would say) to see if we are on the same page, so to speak? I like this stuff. Anything that makes me want to read over and over again is A-OK in my book. Thoughts? .......... Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-07-07 13:56:32 Re: Desire Domino (and Shad)-Thank you very kindly for the comments.Like a lot of my stuff, the poem is a narrative presented in a series of cryptic images. I have always felt that poetry should challenge the reader to make their own interpretation.I hope this doesn`t sound too pretentious, but I do take it seriously.Basically, this one deals with a crisis of conscience, brought about by (you guessed it) desire. It seems that most of my recent submissions haven`t been suitable for UKA-feedback,even a negative response, is welcome. Thanks again. Author's Reply: Safron on 2004-10-07 06:17:18 Re: Desire Flowing mixture of sweet darkness to beauty. This poem evolved so well. Safron Author's Reply: tai on 2004-10-07 08:29:46 Re: Desire Hi Dylan, Yes, desire rises!...eventually! Did do with me and it came in the form of a dream. I really enjoyed your poem and the angle from which it comes! lovely work Tai Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-10-07 16:17:31 Re: Desire Mon Dieu, going back a bit with this one! Tanx to you both Tai and Safron for the comments. To be honest, I had almost forgotten this one and so came to read it almost as a new piece. Reads not bad. Wish I could remember what it was about! Thanks again, XXX D. Author's Reply: |
| Wolf (posted on: 30-06-03) Early morning ... A crescent moon has died shrunk to a pale promise of early mist and cabs. Children of the near-night the new restless undead hold grief in their arms and gather their raw wounds. And I am powerless as the grey neon signs in the forest of streets. On a cold calling wind his eyes are amber beads which speak staring death and the wild scent of blood sings in the morning air. Archived comments for Wolf bluepootle on 2003-10-23 17:00:08 Re: Wolf good imagery, and i liked the first three lines in particular. I did feel that the middle section was a little difficult to follow, for me, and I felt it could have been the beginning of something longer, of a story rather than a snapshot, maybe? Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-10-23 17:35:45 Re: Wolf Pour moi-frajabolous , frajumpitious day! Someone has commented on this pome! Mon bon cherie, you are hereby elected to lifetime membership of OPJ-(of which more later). Anyway, I posted this in a few other sites-some appreciative, some not.One person told me I should concentrate on a natural descripition of the wolf.I mean, does it require too much imagination to see that the wolf is a metaphor?-City cabs,etc are indicative of where the pome is situated. Mon Bon Cherie, it is so kind of you to comment on this.I thank you again. Author's Reply: |
| Letz Zep (posted on: 20-06-03) Review of the new Led Zeppelin double DVD set..(Well, you will encourage me...) Having had time to assimilate the Led Zeppelin double DVD set, I have completed a review for all true believers. Non Zep fans are advised to look away from this point.(No peeking.I know who you are). I should point out that this is not intended to be an exhaustive critique,(It is 5 hours long!) but rather a general guide to the highs and lows of the set. OK, DVD one was recorded in 1970 live at the Albert Hall and is, for me, the best performance on these discs. At this point Led Zeppelin 2 had just been released and the young, hungry band go for the jugular from the off. Starting with "We`re gonna groove"( Which to my knowledge has never appeared on any previous album), the energy build and builds, culminating in shit-hot versions of "Dazed and Confused" "Whole Lotta Love " and "Communication Breakdown".in fact there are actually 3 versions of "Breakdown" on the disc, as a TV promo and a radio session are also included. Predictably, Pages guitar dominates. Perhaps the only minor criticism I could offer is that the lengthy guitar solos which were a prerequisite of heavy metal bands in the early 70`s now sound very slightly boring.This is not to detract from the quality of Page`s playing.Times change.(Not always for de betta).The violin-bow guitar routine known and loved by Zep fans throughout the years is used to great effect here.Special mention too, to Bonzo for the awesome "Moby Dick". The Albert Hall session is timed at 102 minutes. Also included on this disc is the afore mentioned radio session for Danmark Radio and a TV appearance for a French show. DVD 2 gets off to a scintillating start with "The Immigrant Song". The footage was apparently shot at Sydney Australia, with the music for this song recorded in LA. Believe me, it matters not a jot. His Percyness screams like a demented banshee over the sledgehammer riff and frenetic soloing from Pagey make this the best version I have heard. Next up is Madison Square Garden in 1973 and for the first (and only) time, the performance sags. I believe that Jimmy Page and Bonzo were highly interested in chemicals at this point, which may account for it. Perhaps it is just me. "Black Dog" "Misty Mountain Hop" and "The Ocean" aint my favourite Zep tracks and I have heard better versions of the wonderful "Since I`ve been Loving You". By this time, Plant is also fully into his LA hippy persona. Anyway, onwards and upwards to Earls Court in 1975. The opening acoustic session is superb, especially "Going to California", which features some great mandolin picking from-John Paul Jones (Thought I was gonna say Pagey, didn`tcha?).An absolutely wonderous, spine-tingling performance of "Trampled Underfoot" follows. Sounds as if you could almost dance to it-hang on.(Gets up from PC and sayshas across the room, much to wifes` disgust). Yup, you can dance to it.This section is closed by the ubiquitous "Stairway to Heaven". Percy`s voice is faultless. I just wish he had spent some time on the lyrics. The last live action is from Zeps` final British performance at Knebwoth in 1979. Most of the material here is from "In through the Out Door", apart from a storming opening "Rock and Roll" with the audience singing the choruses and a closing funky(?) "Whole Lotta Love". Standouts here are "Achilles Last Stand" and "Kashmir". As ever Page is the star, with Bonzos` steamhammer drumming running him close. Extras on this one include our Bonzo being interviewed by Germaine Greer (Mind-boggling!) and a promo of "Travelling Riverside Blues".And there you have it. Selection criticisms? Not a lot. Some of my own personal favourites weren`t included-ie "The Lemon Song" "Tangerine" "Gallows Pole" to name a few, but this is probably more to do withthe material available than any conscious decision. Zeps` work seems to have undergone a re-evaluation in recent years, following the scorn poured on them during the post-punk era. ( I must admit to feeling slightly gratified at the sight of John Lydon fruitlessly flogging the Pistols` "Golden Jubilee" reunion. Talent will out, eh Johnny?) Hang on I hear you cry, wasn`t the Led Zeppelin live in concert experience covered by "the Song Remains the Same"? Well, Percy was interviewed recently and described "The Song" film as "A load of old bollocks"and I agree. If you are,or have ever been a Led Zeppelin fan, then buy this DVD. It is a fitting tribute to the archetypal Heavy Metal band. Throughout, they perform with power, pace and energy. We will not see their likes again.(Walks off into sunset with head held high..."You need schoolin`") Archived comments for Letz Zep No comments archives found! |
| Visions (posted on: 16-06-03) "I have looked over the mountain, I have seen the promised land" -Martin Luther King After the exile In the dark depths of these stony lands, in the passing of these stormy days, In nights flickering pillars of fire where pale serpents stalk the sands with their poisoned tongues flashing and their brazen idols dully gleaming the stained silver swifly changes hands. As tablets are crushed and broken, the naked need now strikes and calls to a new longing, a new demand and a new verse, an ancient rhyme as the wind caresses a neon light and blows chill on a long-dead land My heart aches Oh my people... Archived comments for Visions e-griff on 2003-06-17 05:40:32 Re: Visions Hmmmmm.............................................. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-06-17 12:18:45 Re: Visions Bloody Hell! That is what I call a non-commital comment! (Think I prefer The Griffmeisters disapproving silence). To be honest, I`m surprised this work received any comments at all. It`s certainly not the most accessible piece I have ever written. It was inspired by an Eliot pome called "The Journey of The Magi"-also the psalms of David. Strange I know, but I quite like it. Any feedback would be very welcome. Author's Reply: Jack_Cade on 2003-06-17 12:59:36 Re: Visions I like the serpents! And it's certainly atmospheric - the sort of thing that would work well as the opening to a collection, as a kind of mood lighting for other poems perhaps? It also has an introductory feel to it. One interpretation might be that the poem is a comment on 21st century Britain! Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-06-18 02:09:53 Re: Visions Thanks for the feedback Hen.Any comments/advice from a wordsmith like yourself are much appreciated. You are actually spot- on with your interpretation of the pome.I know it is a bit pretentious, but what the hell! Author's Reply: Romany on 2003-06-18 13:28:23 Re: Visions This reminded me of Sodom and Gomorrah, when the world was faced with doom because of the actions of its people, and those who were good despaired. I can envisage the 'pale serpents' as The Bad Guys of the world. 'Brazen idols dully gleaming' = flash expensive cars for me. It reminds of the Old Testament a bit (I suppose I'm saying its got a biblical feel to it) right up to the line "as the wind caresses a neon light" - that's the line that makes me think of the old world compared to the modern one, and seemingly, we are just as doomed. We mortals! We never learn! I don't mean to get 'deep', but that's what this poem makes me think of! And at the end 'Oh, my people' - is that you (?) loving and despairing for your fellow man? Does this make some sense? I hope so! This poem made me think, and that's got to be good ... Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-06-19 02:14:51 Re: Visions Romany-I thank you kindly for the comments.The pome has been much better received than I thought it would. The TS Eliot pome I mentioned, "Journey of the Magi" was written at around the same time as "The Waste Land" and deals with similar issues-ie corruption in the modern world, loss of traditional values, etc etc. Basically, I tried to adapt the style of the Psalms of David to a modern form.-Probably failed miserably, but did try!-Thanks again. Author's Reply: sirat on 2003-06-22 01:04:46 Re: Visions I found both the poem and the comments very interesting. I thought the meaning was quite clear until I read other people's thoughts. For me it evoked a depressing modern urban scene, a dirty little alley perhaps where "stained silver" was exchanged for narcotics "tablets crushed and broken" to answer the "naked need". I understood the double meaning, the tablets of Moses, and the idea of the city as the desert in which the lost tribe of present-day youth is preyed upon by the serpents with their "brazen idols dully gleaming" (jewellery, flash cars, flash lifestyles). Unlike either Moses or Martin Luther King they have not yet looked over the mountain and seen the promised land, they have no vision, no purpose, nothing to inspire them - all is ugliness, summed-up in the windblown neon light. A lost people, condemned to wander the urban desert forever. I thought the poem encapsulated an enormous amount in a very few words. Although I don't normally go for this sort of thing I found this one very impressive. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-06-22 11:39:39 Re: Visions Thanks for the comments David.Your interpretation of the pome is spot-on(as Hens` was). In any work with an element of morality, there is always a tendency to lecture-"wag the index finger" as Billy Connolly puts it. I tried to avoid it here. I have been involved in voluntary youth work for some years and have witnessed some tragic cases first-hand. Solutions? I wish I knew... Author's Reply: |
| Cry of Love (posted on: 09-06-03) Dark, short, hopeful. As ever,all comments welcome The night is a stranger slowly unfolding grief. Cruel and precise as need it breaks on this wasteland where no sun shines and barren rivers have run dry. In jagged shards of memory the deep night softly whispers I have seen Christ crucified Buddah dying in a gutter I have held humanity, I have heard her utter Weep now,my Son of Man Eloi Lama Sabachtani. The darkness aches. Somewhere far from here a cry of love escapes... Archived comments for Cry of Love Domino on 2003-06-10 08:48:21 Re: Cry of Love Dylan Quite seriously I actually had to catch my breath suddenly when I read this. Could only speed-read at work but already have some very powerful images in my head to ponder over. I shall look forward to reading it tonight at home. I'm not a poetry expert, of course, but I think I follow the meaning of this. It's actually quite terrifying that love is stifled by all the forces in our world which contrive to halt its progress. The imagery though. Even the very notion of the crucifixion, that beautiful yet horrible vision fills me with immense sorrow. "I have seen Christ crucified." WOW. A cry of love escaping in a world that refuses to hear it's voice. Maybe it was a treasure of escape then. Hopefully somewhere after it's escape it will be heard, but of course you and I know that will probably not be the case. This is my take on it. It's wonderful. I say that because I believe that my reading material should always provoke a change in my mood and emotions. With this I was sad, shocked and unashamedly entertained. Thanks D DOmino Author's Reply: Domino on 2003-06-10 13:25:00 Re: Cry of Love I can almost feel the veil of the temple rip when I read this. It's also giving me visions of armageddon. Not so much the act of armageddon but a post-armageddon. Almost as if the last time love will cry out its cry is defeatist as it falls on deaf ears. I've read this now about twenty times and each time I see different things. Usually a dark landscape which has just suffered the battering of a storm. There's lighting flashes. Then there's nothing. Nothing. It's told in the first person however and the only thing for me that is missing is any physical emotion manifesting from the central character. You tell us what he sees and has seen but not how he feels about it. It's also a slightly confusing mixture of present then past then present tense. Perhaps telling you this would be more appropriate had the piece been a short story but to me, even as a poem it leaves me wondering. Is it acceptance on his part? Is it simply so commonplace that there is apathy until that last cry of love? At that point our character is never heard of again. "Eloi Lama Sabachtani." ... Now with that I actually found myself crying. I love this Dylan. Don't mind telling you it really touched me. Terrified the bejesus out of me but touched me all the same. Thank you for this. DOmino Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-06-10 13:59:31 Re: Cry of Love Thank you mon ami.With pomes, I think it is important that the reader decides what the actual meaning (if any) is.Without actually explaining it,(fatal for a poet) this could be construed as a personal crisis of faith, which is averted with the realisation that corruption in modern society is not total. Either that or I am a pretentious old git... Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-06-13 12:29:32 Re: Cry of Love Domino,(Mah Man)-I thank you again for the kind comments on this page and in your message.As it stands,the pome is deliberately ambiguous.I have been criticised in the past(not on this site) for being deliberately obscure, but I feel to clarify this would weaken it. In my opinion, it works best as a collection of images which hint at a meaning.You expect me to know what I am talking about?? Come on.. Thanks again. Author's Reply: |
| The Sign (posted on: 02-06-03) Again I dabble in prose...an attempt at a "Traditional" horror-First draft,please be gentle. Cardinal Thomas was a friend of mine; No stop, I will rephrase that last sentence. A friend implies mutual respect and admiration, perhaps affection. On his part at least there existed none of these. Cardinal Thomas was an acquaintance of mine. Since his death, I have heard the opinion expressed that the Cardinal was an " unworldly" man, who was unversed in the ways of the world and was concerned with spiritual development. I was his doctor for many years and while it may sound harsh, in my opinion he was the coldest, most unfeeling human being I have ever met. I realise this sounds uncharitable, but I wish my record of events to be above all, honest. On the diagnosis of the inoperable brain tumour, the Cardinal remained outwardly unperturbed. "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away" was all he ever said on the subject. I attended him frequently at this time, as he had retired from public office. I became aware of his deep interest in obscure esoteric Middle-Eastern religions, such as Manicheanism. None of these had anything in common with orthodox Roman Catholicism. By now, he was almost entirely bed-ridden. My job was to monitor the progress of the disease and administer the all-important morphine... That particular day, Cardinal Thomas was uncharacteristically talkative. I remember noting that he actually wished me "Good Morning" as I entered the room. After the necessary examinations, I lingered by his bedside, sensing something unusual in his manner. He lay at first with closed eyes, his long thin nose and ravaged features giving a corpse-like impression. This was further heightened by the heavy atmosphere which hung in the room like incense. At length he spoke in a low monotone, which was barely audible- " A source of conviction in the existence of God, connected with reason and not with feelings, is the extreme difficulty or rather impossibility of conceiving this immense and wonderful universe as the result of blind chance or necessity ." He opened his eyes, squinting in the sunlight which streamed through the window." Who wrote that, doctor?" he demanded. I sensed the question was largely rhetorical." I have no idea, Cardinal" I answered. " Charles Darwin in The Origin of Species." I said nothing. He knew I was a devout agnostic. " You disagree" he observed. "What would your conclusion be, if for example, a relatively simple device such as an electric light bulb was found on Mars? You would conclude that someone had been there before." I nodded, wondering where this was leading. " You would not speculate that this particular, this specific shape had been achieved by environmental conditions, volcanic eruptions or meteor bombardment? " Again I nodded, unsure of what to say. He continued " In the human eye alone, there are tens of millions of electrical connections. A computer which could duplicate the brains functions would cover the surface of the earth. Blood cells line up singly when faced with the construction of a tiny vein." "And your conclusion, Cardinal?" I asked, knowing it was expected of me. His face was pale and grave. " A creator is at work " he said simply. Another question snapped out. "Are you aware what the name Lucifer means, doctor?" "Light Bearer, I believe" " And what is the universe largely composed of" "Energy?" I ventured. Something like a smile crossed the pallid features. "The commonest form of energy is light". As I wondered where this strange conversation was leading, he abruptly changed subjects." Are you familiar with the works of Paracelsis?" I considered the name. "I believe he was an alchemist." " And the nature of alchemy?" I shifted uncomfortably, wilting in the face of these eccentric speculations. "As far as I am aware, the alchemists considered it possible to transmute base metals to gold -" "No!" His eyes gleamed with the fire of fanaticism. "No. The alchemists were concerned with the perfection of the soul. The means by which mortal man may become divine. Divine!" I stared at him aghast. Was he becoming delusional? Had the disease affected his mind? Previously he had been completely lucid. He composed himself. "Doctor, I cannot explain all of this to you. I believe that evolution of the soul exists. The alchemists tried to find a way to accomplish this. Very simply, we die are reborn and eventually.." He paused as if gasping for breath. "Perfection. Divinity". I started to speak, but he held up his hand. "Soon, very soon, I shall die. I believe it is my destiny to become one with God. I will send a sign to you-it will be this-" He traced a circle with a dissecting line in the air. "Watch for it.. you must watch..". I had heard enough. I managed to calm him with the aid of a strong sedative and after making him comfortable and speaking to his nurse regarding his mental state, I left him for the last time. Cardinal Thomas died shortly after this strange little incident. I have mentioned it to no-one, believing as I do, that a combination of pain relieving drugs and his illness had caused him to become delusional. It is common enough in these cases. I sit here in my garden, some six months later and think of a great mind reduced to bizarre fantasies of divinity. The summer nights are lengthy and bring with them the usual profusion of garden slugs. As the sun begins to set in a blood red glow, I stare unbelievingly at the sticky trail left by one. It resembles nothing so much as a circle with a dissecting line... Archived comments for The Sign shadow on 2003-06-02 04:23:49 Re: The Sign Pure coincidence, of course. Unless your Cardinal was reincarnated as a slug? (You did say he was cold-blooded ... ) I liked this, it had rather an M R James feel to it. Though it wasn't particularly horrific. Perhaps we need a category for stories with a supernatural element which don't quite fit into Horror or Fantasy. Author's Reply: sirat on 2003-06-02 05:26:00 Re: The Sign I am a great fan of "The Origin of Species", probably the best bit of scientific writing in the language, and have been rereading it lately because Jean and I are planning a trip to the Galapagos Islands, and I can not recall that passage, nor was I able to find it in the "searchable" on-line edition at: http://www.talkorigins.org/faqs/origin.html I wonder if it's in the introduction to one of the editions, or (which is what I suspect) it's in some piece of writing about Darwin rather than by Darwin? If he did say it he was probably stating a fact about people's feelings and convictions, not about his own views. The ancient theological "argument from design" was overthrown completely by Darwin's work, in most people's estimation. The best modern treatment of this debate is probably Richard Dawkins' "The Blind Watchmaker". I would also want to take issue with the statement that "A computer which could duplicate the brains functions would cover the surface of the earth". But I digress. I think this story suffers from the same problem as your last one, a certain lack of craft in the telling. It meanders a bit at the beginning, and although it's now a fellow cleric doing the telling rather than the narrator it's still very much told and not "shown". I think it would have worked better as a description of the old dying cardinal's last conversation with his secretary (or whoever the storyteller is) followed by a single paragraph in which he sees the "sign". I think it could be strengthened further if the secretary encountered the sign without recognizing it, while we the readers do. Just a couple of suggestions. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-06-02 11:24:19 Re: The Sign Tanks mon amis for the comments.As I have said before, I only dabble in prose(Thank God I hear you cry).The Darwin quotation is actually from the autobiography of Darwin, not "Origin of Species".I misremembered this.It can be found by Googling the quote. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-06-03 02:05:21 Re: The Sign Should also have mentioned, David it was not my intention to present a coherent argument for traditional Creationists.It merely suited the purposes of the story.The "Computer covering the face of the earth"part was indeed true in the Eighties-may not be now.(Give me some poetic licence,godammit).I did conceive this as a narrative, but your suggestions would probably improvr the story.Thanks again. Author's Reply: Lulu on 2003-06-08 18:18:06 Re: The Sign Very easy to read, Dylan. Maybe the suggestions made before about the way to narrate the story could help you to improve it. It doesn’t need all that work! I didn’t care much for the computer/brain bit. As you mentioned, we should allow some poetry in literature! Not only that, I don’t understand much about it; and would have thought the comment quite correct, till we get to use quantum technology in computers anyway ... Excellent first draft. Don’t surrender with prose! xxx Lulu Author's Reply: |
| Beginnings (posted on: 30-05-03)
Short and v. soppy Especially when wild bluebells dance in perfect time and hold green fingers to the sun in brittle ghosts of grass they beg an azure sky for rain As a cold-eyed morning wakes in crimson clouds and crystal air the silence lasts forever. On flames of green as ravens cry I take your hands they yield like flowers in spring... Archived comments for Beginnings silentmemories on 2003-05-30 06:34:32 Re: Beginnings Perfect Author's Reply: JeffDray on 2003-05-30 08:18:20 Re: Beginnings Brings back memories of youth and sunshine, I would rate it but I know nothing about poetry Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-05-30 16:38:22 Re: Beginnings Thanks for kind comments chaps.Very much appreciated. Author's Reply: Domino on 2003-06-01 15:07:54 Re: Beginnings Flames of green and ravens crying. Very powerful imagery. I may be wrong in my interpretation of it though. Well done Dylan (mah man). Look forward to reading more of your stuff. DOmino Author's Reply: Pioden on 2003-06-03 11:07:33 Re: Beginnings You know there are so many poems I love to read and this is one - I've just had to print it off to add to my collection of specials - so that I read it again and again till I know it by heart Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-06-04 02:06:20 Re: Beginnings Thank you very much,young Pi.Your kind words are very much appreciated. Author's Reply: Pioden on 2003-06-04 03:32:08 Re: Beginnings who said I was being kind - I just know a place that this poem takes me to - it is no kindness but a very very fond and cherished memory of a very special moment in my life - your poem just rekindles that for me everytime I read it - plain and simple Author's Reply: Ionicus on 2003-06-04 14:12:20 Re: Beginnings What can I say, Dylan? I have chosen this as a Hot Story. Do me a favour though. Don't do yourself down. Delete the intro: "Short and very soppy." It isn't. Author's Reply: |
| Siren Song (posted on: 19-05-03) All this talk of gettin` old.... Love has become in time a clean shirt a habit, like saccharine. It is painted white upon each ceiling on countless lawns mowed with feeling. As toasters smile as saucepans hiss, I am welcomed by an ovens kiss. Is there still time for yesterday? With ties that cling and strings that bind is there still time ? The unforgiving days lean on me I am buried deep in laundry.. The past has cast these lives in stone and as we watch the daylight wane and sing in chains in silent voices we bear the vows for as long as tomorrow is Archived comments for Siren Song e-griff on 2003-05-19 03:42:41 Re: Siren Song this is the second poem in succession where you have omitted an apostrophe somewhere near the middle - are you communicating with the lizards? (come back David Eyke) (--- oven's kiss ------) a phrase I very much admire, I have to say! you may answer when you return from your football match. 🙂 Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-05-19 09:25:11 Re: Siren Song Aint gone yet, Griffy-tomorrow a.m. I leave.Apologies for the oversight -` there you go! Did you like the pome btw? Author's Reply: Jack_Cade on 2003-05-28 11:22:42 Re: Siren Song I like it! Especially all the domestic imagery - you reanimate the dead house as a series of ghostly characters! Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-05-28 12:13:32 Re: Siren Song Hen-Thanks again for your kind comments-they really are appreciated. Author's Reply: |
| Blind (posted on: 16-05-03)
Have been reading a lot of Yeats recently.This is v. short and simplistic.Please let me know what you think. I thought I saw you just a glimpse away from yesterday with the wind in your hair as the sun danced in empty streets no-one was there. I thought I saw you a heartbeats flight from the night with the moon in your hair as darkness fell on starless roofs no-one was there. Time itself will pass away before we meet again. Here there is the dead of night and the echo of the rain.. Archived comments for Blind woodbine on 2003-05-17 21:41:41 Re: Blind I like it. Good stuff. Very evocative of a lost love and rythmic too. In the last line I would be inclined to delete the second 'the' before 'rain' as to my ear it sounds redundant. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-05-18 05:43:29 Re: Blind Thank`ee kindly young sir.Have been trying different things in pomes. I`m always unsure of how they turn out . Thanks again. Author's Reply: Lulu on 2003-05-18 06:12:15 Re: Blind beautiful Dylan, very sweet,and melodic. makes me remember those days when falling in love was a possibility! (I must be getting old!) xxx LuLu Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-05-18 07:20:09 Re: Blind Thank you mon petit jonquille(officially). This pome is really unlike the usual stuff wot I write.Tried something in the Yeats style.You are never too old for lurve.Well, I probably am ...and Griff and Sirat.But not you Author's Reply: sirat on 2003-05-18 08:13:13 Re: Blind I would have you know that I have no difficulty whatever falling in love. It's women who seem to have difficulty falling in love back. Liked the poem by the way. Could almost understand it. Author's Reply: e-griff on 2003-05-18 12:35:04 Re: Blind you prune! I fall in love by the minute, lustful or winsome, they all tug my heart! When do you think men change? they are 15 for ever, haven't you realised yet? (oh yes, I did go through a period like that in my 20's and 30's, but I soon grew out of it) or is this just a ploy? (I'm talking 'Top Stories' here!) Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-05-18 12:43:03 Re: Blind I am not so devious,mon Griffmeister.Bloody hell,such controversy over a simple pome! I absolve you and Sirat of the charge of growing old.I am the only old git on site.....(limps into distance with walking stick...) Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-12-15 17:17:08 Re: Blind Well if this didn't get you some love action there's no hope. Love the opening three lines. Love the last three lines. Pretty much like the lines in-between too. Is this the dumbest comment yet? Please do not reply. s u n k e n Author's Reply: |
| Harlequin (posted on: 12-05-03) In legend,the Harlequin is unlike all other clowns... There is time for one last cigarette to admire the view take in the night and time just to pause and say I`d rather be.. and enter the fray. In a bull-ring full of serviettes spinsters play so hard to get and long established bachelors rest and keep their hands close to their chest and hostesses cheer and smile beneath the chandeliers with milk-white teeth and talk of golf and sporting cars, exotic meals in tropic bars. Questions, questions and who are you? And who am I? And tell me now... as desperation fills the air with wine on the table falling to my chair, I raise a glass to an absent friend and will it end? And will it end? A piano plays at 3am... Archived comments for Harlequin e-griff on 2003-05-12 04:02:14 Re: Harlequin I had great hopes for this. the first half had me smiling, halfway, I went off a bit, and frankly the end let me down. hope you don't mind me saying this! i think its the mood - you start off a little bit surreal and special, and end up with '..friend, and pray that soon the circus will end' this is weak, in my view, sorry. Author's Reply: Jack_Cade on 2003-05-12 12:05:41 Re: Harlequin As with E-Griff the strongest part for me is the beginning - just the fact that it's called Harlequin followed by "There is a time for one last cigarette" sets exactly the right mood - drole, curtains down, smokey silence. The 'bull ring' line caught me again, got the carousel of images turning once more. I think the lines up to 'bull ring' should be doubled up maybe: so it reads: There is time for one last cigarette to admire the view, take in the night, and time just to pause and say 'I`d rather be...' and enter the fray. In a bull-ring full of serviettes... That's just playing to my tastes though. The first time I read it, I only picked up a couple of the rhymes, and that seemed to work fine! I don't think you should enslave the line shape to the rhyming structure. The mood is maintained nicely, and I don't think the actual lines let it down at all. The only other bit I'd change is 'milk white teeth' - again, a subjective matter, but I've seen it used often enough for it to melt into just familiar words, rather than the strong image you were going for, and that's something to be avoided with metaphors, I think. But overall, I found it powerful. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-05-12 12:50:00 Re: Harlequin Thanks,guys-Griffy,as I would mind! I appreciate anyone taking the time to read and comment on a piece.The short staccato rhyming structure is something I have used previously(Requiem on Main St) and is intended to convey a rapid succession of haphazard events.The ending,I agree could be improved.Will hot-foot it back to the drawing-board!Toodle-Pip. Author's Reply: e-griff on 2003-05-12 15:22:18 Re: Harlequin Ok, looking at first rewrite (sniggers) BETTER! I like it better, rhythm is sustained, it drives to the end. That much is better. But what is 'A piano plays at 3 am' it occurs to me that this would work if it was a reprise of an earlier line (to bring the circle round) Why not make it the first line as well! hey! then that throws 'and will it end' into a whole new context.... works for me! Lurv it! 🙂 Author's Reply: e-griff on 2003-05-12 15:24:52 Re: Harlequin OH, sorry but line 'will talk of golf'doesn't seem to have a subject/disconnects - fix that as well, eh? *Retires with brandy and ear-trumpet, good life's work done* Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-05-13 02:31:05 Re: Harlequin Thanks again for further comments,Griff.As you advised earlier,I will ignore them!(I jest,I jest).The pome as it now appears is actually the original final draft. I was then advised this was too obscure and lacked focus and meaning,so changed to the "Pray that soon the circus may end" version.I did think like you, that this weakened the ending.However, thanks again to both yourself and Hen for advice.Very much appreciated . Author's Reply: |
| Medusa (posted on: 02-05-03) She stirs slightly her feet to the stars and drowning in darkness she is gracious and austere fresh as the Annunciation It is winter here. The night is full of nothing, black accusing shadows and the sky exploding on fresh flowers, bright as wounds. I bend in sudden winds. Vague as fog in a sea of pink roses in a tidal wave of yellow cotton she speaks in mother tongues Vivante a cauchemar mon moucheron. Daylight breaks amazed, I turn to stone... Archived comments for Medusa bluepootle on 2003-10-23 17:21:51 Re: Medusa quite beautiful. I don't really understand exactly what its trying to say, but i have a real fondness for the character of Medusa anyway (call it a personal affectation!) and this seemed to touch on the way I see her. I loved, 'fresh flowers, bright as wounds' Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-10-23 17:52:36 Re: Medusa I thank you again mon cherie.It is for me, actually unbelievable to have comments on these pomes. (So long ago).This is for v. beautiful woman in France...(see also In the Church near Auxerre) Author's Reply: |
| By Summer Windows (posted on: 28-04-03) Alienation (again).All comments welcome. Sunlight flows like wine, by whispering streets as lace curtains twitch at an unstained sky. Children splash in innocence to suburbian airs of lawn mowers and radios. Dense clouds of barbeque smells choke backyard fences as faraway beaches steal the senses a dog chases sticks i n an empty park... So the day curled up and slept embraced the commonplace and sanity was kept. Surrounded by dying blue skies the couples pass holding hands caught in an instant of sunlight and showers. I watch them glow small suns in the winter that is now. Archived comments for By Summer Windows OolonColoophid on 2003-05-02 11:22:34 Re: By Summer Windows Yeah, I thought this was really good. I'm not a poet and I don't count syllables-per-line, but there are some nice 'poetic moments' in here. 'Surrounded by/dying blue skies' - excellent. However, I note that the title is 'alienation' and I didn't feel much alienation. I thought it was quite vivid - a snapshot of the mind of person who is particularly involved in the world (because they observe it so closely). Definitely worth a read though. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-05-02 12:40:19 Re: By Summer Windows Mon Ami-I thank you for your comments.The "alienation" referred to in the title is reflected in the fact that the narrator(not moi,of course) is alone while these events are taking place.He/she is not involved,only describing. Also the last lines"the winter" describes his/her feelings.All good, depressing stuff,non? Thanks again. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-12-15 16:56:33 Re: By Summer Windows Reading this in the depths of December can only be a good thing young Dylan me lad. You're too good. Pack it up, pack it in - let me begin.... sorry, lost it to Cyprus hill for a sec there (I think it was Cyprus hill?)... What was I saying... Oh, it was well nice to be transported back/forward to summer. I'm usually ok with winter, but this year it's right getting on my box. Anyway, this comment is really going down hill isn't it (Cyprus hill)? You may want to delete this piece and re-sub it. I'll promise not to comment (-; Brilliant as ever young man. Looking forward to 'Glasgow Kisses' - (That's the book, before anyone gets any funny ideas about me and Dylan) s u n k e n Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-16 13:32:02 Re: By Summer Windows Hiya Sunky, Again thanks for commenting on these oldies.(The pomes I mean, not moi.) At this point, I had been reading Dylan Thomas and tried to get somewhere near his lyricism. I failed miserably. Reading this now, I `m tempted to drastically revise it-it`s never been one, I`ve been fond of. This was accepted by "Acorn" magazine -must have been a slack month for submissions. Anyway, Your comments are greatly appreciated, Sunky. I hope you ain`t disappointed in "GK". (Am positively shitting meself, btw). Cheers, D Author's Reply: |
| UKAntics (posted on: 21-04-03) Another even dafter pome,describing the varied talents of certain UKA-ers....(oo-er,missus..) If you have a problem with a pome that wont rhyme speak to Griff he`s just the man (when he`s not drinking wine!) If you need a pilot with talent and pure charms speak to Trux he can fly (but doesn`t get sore arms!) If you need a sailor with strength and great heart speak to Jeff his boating is now a coarse art! If you need a kind heart (like me,a sad old bugger) speak to Pi she has become our very own serial hugger! If you need an editor (or someone to clean the bog) speak to Andi she is known as our leader and our clog! (Laughs manically and runs for cover!) Archived comments for UKAntics JeffDray on 2003-04-21 04:04:16 Re: UKAntics Oooer, I wouldn't be home when Andrea gets up! An interesting read and very appropriate for Daft Monday Author's Reply: Pioden on 2003-04-21 04:32:06 Re: UKAntics words defeat me - this is ..... well Wants to suffocate dylan in hugs - lol oh me sides are hurting from laughing so much *steals griffs wine - flutters wings at trux - becomes sea sick just for jeff - dons pretty yellow household rubber gloves * you want me to deal with him Andrea? Author's Reply: sirat on 2003-04-21 06:45:16 Re: UKAntics I demand to know why I am not in this poem! No, on asecond thoughts I'll write myself in. If you want advice Or even if you don't, On stories that work and stories that won't, Sirat, self-appointed sage Dissects all writing, page by page. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-04-21 06:54:02 Re: UKAntics I did have a verse written for you David, but thought it sounded too syncophantic- If you need a writer who`s not often cross or rude speak to Dave the only snag is HE`S TOO BLOODY GOOD! Author's Reply: Andrea on 2003-04-21 12:40:08 Re: UKAntics Clean the bog? Bloody hell - you wait 'til I get me hands on you... Author's Reply: Pioden on 2003-04-21 13:28:59 Re: UKAntics Andrea - make sure you do it after you cleaned the bog or use the loo brush to give him a new hair do ! Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-04-21 15:30:19 Re: UKAntics Mon petit cheries (Andrea and Pi)-you know I speak in jest.I would never let either of you clean the bog.I would get mon ami Shad to do it.(she wont read this, cause her names not in it-couldnt find a rhyme for Shadow-he,he,he.) Author's Reply: |
| The girls behind I left (posted on: 18-04-03) With a twang of sweet pedal steel gee-tar,corn bread on the stove and a Yankee cookin`in the oven.Uncle Dylan tells it like it is...(and it rhymes,.. well almost ) I just cant`t get over her I know I should write or phone What would she say? She may turn me away but I can`t leave her behind alone. Now the sun will help me cry and the moon will softly moan in the night so deep There`ll be no sleep Cause I can`t leave her behind alone She was the cat in my whiskers I was the dog in her bone But now theres no Bow-wow or meow and I can`t leave her behind alone And I guess I just had it all and now I`m here all alone and I`ll chase the wind from my own be-hind Cause I cant leave her behind alone Archived comments for The girls behind I left e-griff on 2003-04-18 04:37:12 Re: The girls behind I left Catchy! *strums banjo, stomps foot on porch deck, shakes ol' rockin' chair* (you think I'm making this up - I'd send a pic if the bloody thing worked!) One flaw let this down, although it is on my list, with so many animals, should the last lines have been I can't leave her donkey alone? - or maybe an ass? kindly, G 😉 Author's Reply: sirat on 2003-04-19 03:02:24 Re: The girls behind I left A superb piece, in the high tradition of Country and Western pap. Allow me to direct you to another, equally good. This one is called "Since You've Been Gone", authorship lost in the mists of time: Since You've Been Gone Well, I feel like I've been chewing on tinfoil Since you've been gone Oh well, I'm feelin' like I stuck my hand Inside a blender and turned it on You know...I've been in a buttload of pain Since you've been gone Since you've been gone I couldn't feel any worse if you dropped A two-ton bowling bowl on my toes Since you've been gone It couldn't hurt any more if you shoved A red-hot cactus up my nose Since you've been gone Well, it feels like I'm getting tetanus shots every day Since you've been gone It feels like I've got an ice cream headache that won't go away Ever since the day you left me I've been so miserable, my dear I feel almost as bad as I did When you were still here Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-04-19 05:20:01 Re: The girls behind I left Thanks chaps.I got the idea from this from an American poetry website.One of the pomes was called "I`ll chase the wind", which I thought was hilarious,but unfortunately it wasn`t intended to be.Probably the same author wrote "Since you`ve been gone"... Author's Reply: shadow on 2003-04-20 06:36:19 Re: The girls behind I left A definitive work, encapsulating the quintessential human experience (sorry, think I overdosed on Guardian Review). It made me laff anyway. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-04-20 06:41:23 Re: The girls behind I left Ta,Shad.It is, of course influenced greatly by the existentialists and describes the ultimate futilty of the human condition.That and a bit of Yee-Haw!!! Author's Reply: shadow on 2003-04-20 06:44:48 Re: The girls behind I left Yes, that's what I thought. Author's Reply: nibs on 2003-04-24 14:30:58 Re: The girls behind I left Ah doo declare yooz a dogone cheeky crittur. I ouda tan yoor hide for yer, yer varmint. Author's Reply: Skytrucker on 2003-05-03 13:12:01 Re: The girls behind I left Those familiar with Trux will be aware of the fact that I neither write nor comprehend poetry. However, on this occasion, I found that I could not only read it all the way through without stopping but also found it very funny. Maybe it has somethging to do with the fact that I was a semi-pro musician and played in several Country bands. Yes, Griff, I DO play banjo as well as guitar and keyboards! Excellent piece of work Dyl. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-05-03 15:22:56 Re: The girls behind I left Thank you,mon ami.If we ever manage to arrange a get-together,I look forward to hearing a version of this by The Griffmeister and yourself.Also Sirats Gilbert and Sullivan pome,which I cant stop singing. Author's Reply: |
| Iscariot (posted on: 31-03-03) As ever,all comments welcome. You do not deceive me I have known you several lifetimes I know the tricks and lies you perform with such ease. I have seen the cheats and the jealousies, the losses and infidelities swept under certain carpets. I know the depths of your shallows, worthless achievements gathered like crows And I smile all the while knowing the emptiness of your declarations of regrets and repentances... and self flagellations will ease nothing... Archived comments for Iscariot Ionicus on 2003-04-01 11:39:08 Re: Iscariot I have enjoyed most of your poetry, but this one is not up to your usually high standard and left me unmoved. Sorry. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-04-01 12:35:03 Re: Iscariot Sorry you didnt like this one.I did try to depart from my usual style, as I feel it is becoming "formulaic". Back to the drawing board. Author's Reply: |
| On Bothwell Street (posted on: 24-03-03) The wind hurried through the office blocks the wind scurried through the office blocks stretched itself across the sky and settled down to watch the streets flow in a midnight trance. Past cooking smells in corner shops incessant,moaning whining cars and soulless songs in sawdust bars. Here in the vagabond night carved in flickering moonlight driven to mocking alleyways you stop by a clock who says your time is short use well the days. Here she is alone framed by neon circumstance with watching eyes which slyly glance in shadows as a door slams, the street grins, the street spins, the street begins to dance. Women move like planets in the void.. Archived comments for On Bothwell Street margot on 2004-11-13 07:13:11 Re: On Bothwell Street some beautiful phrasing. the whole piece paints the picture so well ... i wonder to myself why this has not attracted more attention???? Author's Reply: Bradene on 2004-11-13 07:30:25 Re: On Bothwell Street Another superb piece Dylan.. I love the layout and the dearth of punctuation it gives it a hurrying feel to it, like the wind scurrying through the streets. Great. Love Val x Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-11-13 14:17:39 Re: On Bothwell Street Margot, Val, Thank you both for taking the time to comment. I personally always quite liked this one, but at the time of posting, I don`t think there was anything like the number who regularly read and comment on poetry on the site. Although, like a lot of my early stuff, it`s quite derivative (Eliot, in this case), I think it ain`t bad and included a version in the UKA published collection, "Glasgow Kisses". (Now there`s a cheap plug if ever I saw one!) Thanks again, D Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-12-05 14:35:42 Re: On Bothwell Street Still amazed at the lack of attention your early work got. Every piece blows me away, I love how this races along. Just full of great imagery Dylan. Loved this bit especially - Here she is alone framed by neon circumstance Really enjoying going through your work my man. I should have done it ages ago. s u n k e n Author's Reply: |
| Joshs`Demon (posted on: 24-03-03)
With so many good prose writers,I hesitate to submit this.Anyway(eyes closed),please be gentle! It wasn't long after old Josh moved into Elmoor Road that he first noticed the Demon. It was staring at him from the full length mirror which hung in his bedroom. He was frightened that first time,as the Demon leered and snarled at him. He tried ignoring it for a time, but it began to howl and shake the mirror. Eventually Josh lost his temper and hurled a boot at the mirror,smashing it to pieces. "Damn crazy Demon" he muttered to himself as he swept up the fragments of glass." Had no business being here.Hidin'in a mirror for Godsakes." When he entered the living room, the Demon was sitting in HIS chair,smoking one of HIS best cigars. It had decided to stay. Josh tried all sorts of exorcisms to rid himself of it,but the Demon stayed put. He thought about moving house,but at his age the upheaval left him exhausted for months.Anyway, the Demon would probably follow him. He even called in the local priest, who sprayed water and shook incense all over the house. He left in quite a hurry ,however, as the Demon had set fire to the seat of his pants. The Demon began to develop a taste for Josh's whisky, too. No matter where he hid it , the creature could find it.When the Demon got drunk, it began to sing. It was only slightly worse than the howling. There were other drawbacks apart from this. If Josh had been arguing with the Demon,it would emit a frightful odour which clung to the house for days.This was especially awkward when someone came to call,because they always blamed Josh for the smell. After he has got used to it, Josh found that the Demon wasn`t so bad, as Demons go. When he thought about it , he had been quite fortunate to get a reasonably decent one and it was company in his old age. They took to playing cards together,sitting up to all hours of the morning. The Demon invariably won, but Josh was sure this was because it cheated better than he did himself."Goddam you Demon" he would yell." You been palmin` them cards". The Demon would get quite huffy and disappear for days,until Josh thought it had gone for good. But it always came back. They used to have long conversations too. The Demon would tell Josh about the women back at his home and the great parties they had together. The old man was quite enthralled by this talk. He didn`t know Demons had parties. It was a long , long time since Josh had been to one. It was even longer since he had been with a woman,but he didn`t tell the demon that. "No kiddin` he said." You Demons sure have an easy life.Just sittin` around all day plaguing humans." The Demon only laughed. Josh told his best friend Barney about the Demon and the good times it seemed to have. "Its temptin` you boy".said Barney." Thats their way. He wants to steal your soul". "Hell, he aint so bad " replied Josh . Secretly he thought old Barney was jealous. He didn't have no Demon wanting to steal his soul!. He refused to enter Josh's` house because the Demon was there. Josh found he was rather glad of this,good friend though Barney was.As he got older, his temper had steadily grown shorter. He was a regular church-goer and a non-drinker. Josh suspected that was the reason. One day Joshs`only son Archie came to visit him. This in itself was unusual, but the fact that he hadn't come to borrow money was downright extraordinary. He had come,so he said, to visit Joshs` new home. He was sorry, of course, that he hadn't visited in so long but,well you-know how it is. He was busy. Josh showed him around the house, noticing how Archies tight little eyes light up as he inspected each room of the trim little bungalow. The old man sighed inwardly. So that was it. He had decided to inspected his property. His future property when Josh died. Josh told him about the Demon.Archie laughed."A Demon ? Oh come on dad,you kiddin`? Aint no such thing as a Demon." They were in Josh's` bedroom at this time. Josh looked around and saw the Demon perched on top of a wardrobe. Archie couldn't see it; It was invisible to everyone except Josh, it seemed. When Archie started to laugh, the Demon got hold of an old suitcase and made to throw it. Josh saw him just in time. "Put that down, you crazy varmit"he roared." Put it down, I say. This here`s a visitor." Archie, who had seen nothing, looked sideways at the old man. My God, he thought, he's nutward material. After Josh had shouted at the Demon it put the suitcase down and vanished in a huff. Josh knew what to expect. At first Archie tried to ignore the smell, but inside ten minutes he was forced to leave. He would come back and visit soon , he said and bring his wife and kids. Josh bade him goodbye. When he thought of Archies fat,ever-talkative wife and his two pesky brats, he suddenly felt grateful to the Demon. Soon after this, old Josh fell ill. He was laid up for weeks and each day he got weaker. The Demon tried in its own fashion to look after him ,but its culinary skills only made him feel worse. Barney,forsaking his rule about not entering Joshs`house, went round to visit him regularly, suitably girded in garlic leaves and crucifixes, to tell the truth, the Demon hadn't the slightest interest in Barney, but it took the garlic as an insult. The first time Barney visited, the Demon flushed the garlic down the toilet along with his hat. This would have resulted in open war between the two if Josh hadn't taken a hand. He told Barney that the garlic made him feel bad, never mind the Demon. Then he asked the Demon politely to vanish for a while when old Barney called. This way they reached a compromise, although Josh sometimes heard the Demon snarling quietly when Barney was present. Josh got steadily worse and it soon became clear he was dying. He didn't mind this so much, but he wished the Demon would stop howling. Ever since he had worsened it had howled incessantly. "Demon,Goddam it. Keep that noise down, can't you? If I gotta go, lemme go quietly." The Demon took no notice. At length Barney decided it was time to call Archie, the old man was so far gone. Archies`first thoughts were of his fathers will. He made the drive in record time. Too late as it turned out. Josh had died before he got there. After old Joshs` burial ,Archie went eagerly to the reading of his fathers will. To his delight he found he was to inherit all of his fathers possessions,-with one exception. According to a late alteration to the will, the house at Elmoor Road was to be left empty for as long as it stood.Archie was outraged. He contested the will fiercely. His father had been mentally unstable when he had that clause inserted, he insisted. Perhaps not surprisingly,the court agreed.Archie inherited the house along with everything else. The same night he heard the good news about the courts decision, Archie decided to visit his new property. He walked up the driveway, admiring the place as he went. Yessir, the old man sure had good taste. Pity about him cracking up like that just before the end. Still he had had s full long life and now-Archie stopped suddenly as he turned the key in the lock. What was that noise? Like music, only awfully bad music. Nerves ,he told himself. I'm still upset about Joshs `death.Yes, he had been upset. For all of five minutes, he had been inconsolable. Until he thought of the will.Grinning to himself he pressed on. The lobby was dark, but up ahead he could see light. Squatters? he thought. Squatters, drunks, both maybe. Anyway I`ll soon have them out. He walked to the living-room, righteousness in his step. Then his jaw sagged. In the middle of the room was a poker table. At either side was a card player, each with a woman seated in his lap and a bottle between them. They were singing. Then they noticed him. Old Josh and his Demon started to laugh............ Archived comments for Joshs`Demon e-griff on 2003-03-24 02:57:32 Re: Joshs`Demon Oh, so its the old 'demon' story again? - No, only joking. Very nice one, boy! smooth, entertaining. in my opinion an 8. Author's Reply: myos on 2003-03-24 03:16:09 Re: Joshs`Demon I liked the story a lot, though perhaps the layout could be improved by checking on the spacing between words, but that's only nit picking! Author's Reply: shadow on 2003-03-24 03:56:28 Re: Joshs`Demon Funny and well written - that's what I call a really useful Demon, everyone should have one. Just one nit to pick - apostrophes. Should be Josh's not Joshs'. Author's Reply: CLJ on 2003-03-24 09:03:32 Re: Joshs`Demon Nice story, and although generally the ending was predictable, the final card playing scene was great. A couple of tense slips here and there, but nice story. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-03-24 13:32:34 Re: Joshs`Demon Thanks,everyone for the kind comments.Apologies for the errors in grammar and layout.The original draft was actually typed by my youngest son!(Absolutely true). I feel the story only shows that as a prose writer, I`m not a bad poet! Thanks again. Author's Reply: shadow on 2003-03-25 03:48:43 Re: Joshs`Demon Don't go putting yourself down! This is a good story. Author's Reply: Kazzmoss on 2003-03-25 13:12:06 Re: Joshs`Demon The story was okay, the layout put me off a little, made it harder to read. I didn't understand the ending but it seems everyone else did. Seven lines up he thought of Josh instead of Dad. Author's Reply: sirat on 2003-03-26 02:03:02 Re: Joshs`Demon Overall this is a terrific story. Holds the reader's attention from start to finish, with an ending that doesn't disappoint, even if it's a little predictable. It needs proof-reading as most people have said, but that would be easy to do. The character of old Josh, the Demon and Archie come over well, considering how short the piece is. My only slight reservation was with the voice of the narrator, which at times seems to get mixed-up with the voices of the characters, particularly that of Josh. I think you need to plump for either "omniscient author" relating the facts in a fairly neutral and unobtrusive way with the comedy coming from the events themselves and the characters, or "old man in pub" telling it in his own way, adding his own jokes and asides, becoming a character in the story himself. Either would work but this tends to fall half way between the two. An excellent story though. Author's Reply: Ionicus on 2003-04-01 11:52:41 Re: Joshs`Demon Just to show you that I don't always give negative feed back, this is to let you know that I have enjoyed this story very much. The only criticism (very minor) is the one that other people pointed out; tidy up the punctuation. Author's Reply: |
| In the church near Auxerre (posted on: 17-03-03) As it happened... The ghosts of early morning surge and green fields unfold as autumn flickers brown and gold while grey white-washed walls emerge frowning in the dampened air and she stands on the topmost stair of that early emptiness with flowers held to her breast and September woven in her hair. And silence blossoms in these musty rooms of repentant sinners and prodigal sons -Deep silence dark and bare. So I will turn and leave in a morning full of showers and will think of her for many days, many hours. Always on the topmost stair with September woven in her hair. So still.Her arms still full of flowers.. Archived comments for In the church near Auxerre shadow on 2003-03-19 11:05:14 Re: In the church near Auxerre I liked this - usually I hate poems which mix rhymed and unrhymed lines (keep trying to work out pattern and and getting frustrated when can't find one) but this seems to work. It gets better on rereading. Use of word 'rooms' threw me a little - seemed rather too domestic to refer to a church. Liked the way in captures one precise moment. (Only get rid of typo in next to last line.) Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-03-19 13:24:46 Re: In the church near Auxerre Thank you for your kind words,mon cherie.Irregular rhyming is something I use frequently(have been told it is "undisciplined",but still like it.)The use of "rooms" is a phonetic half-rhyme"blossoms,rooms sons"-felt it helped the flow.Will omit typo when rewriting-thanks again. Author's Reply: richardwatt on 2003-03-20 14:13:22 Re: In the church near Auxerre this is the first thing i have read on this most occasional check-in at uka and i'm very impressed. i had reservations on scansion but after a couple of reads i realised this would fit best breathed into the ear of yr lover around ten thirty. three and a half tongues in yer ear out of five, if you will. Author's Reply: |
| Beggar and Thief (posted on: 10-03-03) Unsure of this one-basically the first draft.All comments welcome Although she wears a coat of gold and smiles in her entrance of easy harmony I do not forget who she is I do not regret the past -Grey days of safe monotony and then- She smiles like a knife and does not see just what has been taken from me "You are so kind" is offered again "You do not look your age" and then the pouring of the tea "You remind me of someone I know -the name escapes me , so long ago ." -A pause the sound of sharpening claws "Thank you for coming" I lie pleasantly and knowing my time is up smile at my enemy and slowly drink my bitter cup Archived comments for Beggar and Thief davver on 2003-03-11 13:10:49 Re: Beggar and Thief Intriguing piece: Stacatto and resigned in style. Conveys an image and mood well. Author's Reply: |
| Later (posted on: 03-03-03) She turns for home in twilit streets which fade between grey tower blocks where workers meet their empty rooms in rituals of their six o clock. And after the sympathy after the pity after tears and goodbyes and the journey to the razors edge of this dusty day as keys turn in dusty doorways and shadows stalk a violet room and darkened shades of life resume Here is the silence you avoid Here is the solitude you shun in undone breakfast plates untidy sofa cushions. As tangled emotions in subtle dress cross across subconsciousness, she places a casket softly on a shelf slowly peels off layers unfolds, becomes herself....... Archived comments for Later e-griff on 2003-03-03 04:03:03 Re: Later An excellent poem. Simple - works. I do tend to like things like your seaside one, which has much more imaginative imagery and a touch of magic, which this lacks. But it wouldn't suit this subject, of course. this is merely excellent. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-03-03 13:14:03 Re: Later Thanks as ever,Griff. I did try a few things differently with this one.After being told by an editor my stuff was "deliberately obscure", I tried to simplify things.Cant please everyone!-Appreciate your coments. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-12-02 11:50:45 Re: Later Give us a chance would ya Dylan. Can't express how envious I am right now of your back catalogue. Very, very impressive. s u n k e n Author's Reply: Mikeverdi on 21-08-2014 Later This one just popped up, your writing is seemingly effortless; and so well done. I can only agree with the others. Mike Author's Reply: Hi Mike, nice to hear from you.God, this is an oldie-one from my "Eliot" phase. Spent years trying to rewrite T.S. Eliot, before finally giving up. Glad you liked it and thanks again for the encouraging comment. Orrabest, D. |
| Suburbia in Excelsis (posted on: 21-02-03) This was written some time ago. Seems a bit naive now.All comments welcome. In suburbia, that fabled land where bungalows grow and hedgerows grand are never tarnished by a working-class hand In suburbia excelsis. Where herbaceous borders grow like rashes, the Holy Grail of the middle classes and excitements always served in glasses In suburbia excelsis. Where respectable sisters of respectable families will entertain ministers not only on Sundays, nothing is sinister except his homilies In suburbia excelsis. The last resting places of aged bank managers and well-known faces and assorted villains who remove all traces of life outside suburbia in excelsis. Archived comments for Suburbia in Excelsis e-griff on 2003-02-21 05:22:24 Re: Suburbia in Excelsis An excellent, competent and enjoyable poem. Not a lot of 'magic' in it, I think it is you are not using imagery the same way you did with the last one. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-12-02 11:22:21 Re: Suburbia in Excelsis Just perfect Dylan. Maybe I'm naive then? It's hard to believe that people were so slow to pick up on your work. Not sure if I was around here when you posted this. I wish I had been. Another 10 for me. s u n k e n Author's Reply: |
| Ships (posted on: 17-02-03)
Not sure about this one-I would welcome any (constructive)comments/advice Arrange the scene of a seaside town with onion air where narrow streets of sea-shell shades and fish-shops bulge with staring eyes and sea-gulls scream obscenities and sawdust restaurants stretch on and on To the chaos of a fair the shouts and screams and two-for-a -pound and unbearable shapeless music everywhere And reach the beach at last,where the sun slowly bakes the sand and where he slowly takes her hand to journey to this end, and now is as it should be. through browning bathers the afternoon sleeps peacefully past cunning sand-castles where sky and sea and Fife are one and gradually they become Something new.. Someone else... Archived comments for Ships e-griff on 2003-02-17 06:28:28 Re: Ships When you first appered, I was bowled over by one of your poems. subsequent ones were the same style, but lacked the magic. I wondered 'did I imagine it, was I made kind by wine and good feelings? Then I read this. Wow! You have something mate!Talent. I loved this, it was Dylan, and more. The images held me. Nicely played, not over the top. At first I thought the repetition of 'where' was wrong, but second time, I read aloud, and it's right! The only thing I would suggest is, the end is a bit nebulous, like you could not think of how to end it. Why not just end it at 'where sky and sea and Fife are one.' (which I think is an excellent line and a natural stopping point). Author's Reply: e-griff on 2003-02-21 12:39:09 Re: Ships mind you, it could have been Whitsun Weddings by Philip Larkin "Where sky and sea and Lincolnshire meet" but I'll forgive you. (knew I'd heard it before) Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-02-21 14:29:08 Re: Ships WHO? Never heard of the bloke!-(Hurriedly hides copies of "North Ship" "Less Deceived" and "Whitsun Weddings") Seriously,as I have said before-thank you. Author's Reply: |
| After the Fall (posted on: 10-02-03) Cold air stirs an undone shade and ricochets around the room as morning groans and day resumes in subtle traces of perfume, memory fills an empty shell and echoes of conversations of radical views and casual flirtations fall softly among the ruins the congealed ashtrays, the souvenirs of empty glasses with lipstick smears am aimless smile hovers in the room and disappears. And desire is cruel with no remorse and laughs out loud at love.Of course, the young are brave and have no fear of confrontation and despair -I shiver in the morning air Archived comments for After the Fall shadow on 2003-02-13 13:50:26 Re: After the Fall The distilled essence of morning after. I like it. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-12-01 17:55:02 Re: After the Fall This is poetical sex. I should have worked through your pieces long before you got the wotm Dylan. I'm now thinking that this is my current fav. Its all there, that stark somewhat depressing morning after feeling. Brilliant, I love it. s u n k e n Author's Reply: |
| My Pet Brother (posted on: 10-02-03) A very short story (first one I`ve submitted,so be gentle!) There was something eerily beautiful about the moon in winter. The way it would sneak in between the trees at 5 o'clock in the afternoon.This time of night though, there were no such distractions as passing cars or people walking their dogs. At this time of night it was the perfect cover for me to take my pet for a walk. My pet is rather unusual. In fact, its quite different from most other boys. You see, my brother is a werewolf. Most of the time he is a perfectly normal(if rather ugly) brother. During the full moon period he becomes a hairy, ravenous slavering monster. Come to think of it, its quite difficult to tell the difference.I have the unhappy responsibility of looking after him. When he becomes a werewolf, he isn't supposed to eat anything except beautiful young maidens. As it's extremely difficult to find beautiful young maidens around my neighborhood, he has to make do with dog food. I have to buy this by the crateful at the local supermarket. I don't mind this too much, but it`s horrible stuff to prepare, consisting of dead animals, jelly and other nameless ingredients. Still, I suppose it`s better than trying to find young maidens, beautiful or otherwise. He'd probably starve, anyway. Taking my werewolf for a walk can be rather embarrassing, as he insists on chasing dogs, cats, cars, passers-by and anything else he happens to see. Once he pounced into the duck-pond pursuing a vicious, red-eyed monster. It was only after about ten minutes that he realized it was his own reflection. Werewolves aren`t too bright really. I suppose it`s something to do with all that dog food he eats. Werewolves don`t require all that much attention. Apart from feeding him and taking him for walks, the only other thing I have to do is let him out to howl at the moon. He does that for about three hours every night. Most of our neighbours think their car alarm is faulty. They`re always saying things like "That bloody alarm kept me awake all night. I`ll have to get it mended." I bet my brother keeps the local garage in business. Once I tried to give my werewolf a bath. It took simply ages to get him into it, then he almost choked himself by eating all the bubbles. He had terrible stomach ache after that and howled more than ever. I couldn't really see much difference after the bath, so I decided not to try it again. He`s not bad-looking for a werewolf though. We happened to be passing a dog show once and they gave him second prize.But he wasn`t too pleased when he found out a poodle had won and chased it for about an hour. He only gave up when one of the judges threatened to disqualify him. They`re funny things really, werewolves. When I grow up, I`m going to have a really boring pet, like a goldfish. I`m sure they are much less trouble. Archived comments for My Pet Brother shadow on 2003-02-10 05:46:33 Re: My Pet Brother I do like the idea of 'my brother the werewolf' - I think you could develop this further. A kid's novel, perhaps? Author's Reply: JeffDray on 2003-02-13 01:33:25 Re: My Pet Brother I've got a brother like that too. great read, well done. Author's Reply: Sooz on 2003-02-16 16:59:56 Re: My Pet Brother "Once he pounced into the duck-pond pursuing a vicious, red-eyed monster. It was only after about ten minutes that he realized it was his own reflection." aww cute. I like this and agree it would make a great kids story. Author's Reply: |
| The Struggle (posted on: 03-02-03) It has been pointed out to me(by my missus actually) that every submission I have made so far has been full of doom,gloom and disaster.Here`s a lighter look at the nature of the human condition,the meaning of life and the eternal struggle between good and evil.Incidentally,thanks to everyone concerned for the kind comments on my other stuff. I wish I could grow a moustache its only a few strands of hair but try as I may,day after day my upper lip still remains bare I wish I could grow a moustache to help me look moody and sinister be successful in bed,but my wife said I`d look more like a right little Hitler I wish I could grow a moustache I try,but it simply wont lengthen its a delicate skill,but everyone will just laugh and say "Oh whats this then" Its not as if it was a beard its only a little moustache a few stray wisps above the lips is not too much to ask I wish I could grow a moustache but my efforts have been poor I look with disgust, a demented walrus I`ll have to resort to manure ! Archived comments for The Struggle davver on 2003-02-03 14:20:03 Re: The Struggle Some of the rhyming is a little painful. A pleasant light piece - but I wouldn't encourage anyone to grow a moustache :). Author's Reply: |
| Napoleon in Rags (posted on: 03-02-03) Music dances in the polished aisles of a Sunday morning and stained glass dapples yawning, stretching in stenciled sunlight bells ring their song in echo of bells long ago and snatched words in snatched conversations breath cigarette smoke tales of causes and preventions a coffin lid slams behind me as rows of respectability raise their voice in harmony I bow my head I have known those eyes before I have known them all they stare and tear and pin me wriggling to the floor left for dead I have danced in moonlit recklessness Now in his domain he stands a well respected man, so assured of certainties and consequences I shall never know A coffin lid slams...... Archived comments for Napoleon in Rags e-griff on 2003-02-03 03:31:42 Re: Napoleon in Rags so - you are THAT Dylan? Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-02-03 12:37:33 Re: Napoleon in Rags Nah,mate.I am the rabbit from "The Magic Roundabout". The line just seemed to be apt. Surely the illustrious Mr Zimmerman wont mind me nicking it... Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-02-03 13:27:32 Re: Napoleon in Rags Nah,mate.I am the rabbit from "The Magic Roundabout".Hopefully the illustrious Mr Zimmerman wont mind me nicking a line or two. Author's Reply: |
| Amber (posted on: 31-01-03) She passes through the years like smoke Crouched in moments of perfume or setting suns Rain on a window whispers softly She will walk in dreams at midnight when the night is cold and black And the day turns to memory And time dances to the sound of goodbye Archived comments for Amber e-griff on 2003-01-31 05:41:26 Re: Amber nice imagery. Insubstantial poem. (well, I guess it would be?) Author's Reply: |
| Ulysses (posted on: 31-01-03) For P.M. In the dim half light of a winter afternoon at the turning point of an opaque day He stood among the labyrinth ways defying the gathered silence of an empty room . The unanswered questions still unanswered ;and soon evening settles down with a smoke filled air. You watch the lighting of lamps in the smoky streets You watch the drawn shades You hear returning feet and rising,prepare a mask for the shadows you will meet. In that twilit place, In the ruins of the day past and present met again pausing in infinity and all that had gone before was forever history. And bloodied, yet unbowed Ulysses stood once more....... Archived comments for Ulysses Rodeiniol on 2003-01-31 03:44:22 Re: Ulysses I keep reading it over and over, finding not just allusions but hints. Literature's most ancient homecoming then past and present meet again. Labyrinth ways (Knossos) lead to a reunification in the ruins of a day - today. Of course there's always a danger that a good poet says too much about himself. He'd probably answer 'but it's not too much'. Words fail me: that's why I couldn't write this. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-12-01 16:29:11 Re: Ulysses Most of your early work deserves re-airing Dylan. It seems, as with most of us, that a lot of your early work got overlooked. Unlike a lot of us, your early stuff is as good and more often better than our present. It's very strange to see work like this followed by an almost silent comment box. There's no justice, another top notcher for me. s u n k e n Author's Reply: |
| Here,There be Dragons (posted on: 27-01-03) Night threw its cloak around the bed covered the lurking demons and said; "Time to sleep,if you may forget the guilt". Three o clock the silence spoke "What is that shadow by the door" "Why does it lurk in the dark?" "Who is is for?" The clock struck four Time to sleep,if you can forget the guilt The silence sadly shook its head The silence said; "You persist in resisting being yourself" "Who are you?" I thought of a crow on a fence,once. An old black crow still bright of eye who winked at strangers as they passed by. The clock never reached five Damp sunlight stretched itself around the room flicked fingers into corners embraced the brittle borders and said it was noon. Two strangers met again....... Archived comments for Here,There be Dragons shadow on 2003-01-29 17:05:18 Re: Here,There be Dragons This had the feel of a very long night. Bit scary. Liked it though. Author's Reply: Rodeiniol on 2003-01-30 04:54:07 Re: Here,There be Dragons I like ambiguity in a poem: a choice of readings, alternative interpretations. I think a lot of us confuse ambiguity with wilful obscurity, spontaneously scribbled meaninglessness, leaving us feeling pleased with the four feet of glutinous mud that covers the foundations of out 'poem'. "It slouched into my head and the meaning's obscure so it must be poetry". (So did last night's lottery numbers, and you know what happened to them) None of that here, folks, this poem was constructed with care! And then revised. But the old crow intrigues me. The allusion is more than Poe, he comes from somewhere further back: somewhere else certainly. Teach me please: okay, I know you ain't got time. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-01-30 15:01:39 Re: Here,There be Dragons First of all, thanks for the kind comments.It does make a difference to know I`m not banging my head against a wall(metaphorically speaking of course).Re this poem,it is as you say,deliberately ambiguous;the allusion to the crow depends very much on how you interprete the context.It could be seen as a symbol of evil,an alter-ego or an image of the authors own self loathing.The reader decides-depends on what you read into it.Incidentally Rodeineol,I have read most of your submissions and almost without exception,they are excellent.Apologies for not commenting on any of them(Busy man,you know-usual excuses) -Thanks again. Author's Reply: dylan on 2003-01-30 15:03:24 Re: Here,There be Dragons First of all, thanks for the kind comments.It does make a difference to know I`m not banging my head against a wall(metaphorically speaking of course).Re this poem,it is as you say,deliberately ambiguous;the allusion to the crow depends very much on how you interprete the context.It could be seen as a symbol of evil,an alter-ego or an image of the authors own self loathing.The reader decides-depends on what you read into it.Incidentally Rodeineol,I have read most of your submissions and almost without exception,they are excellent.Apologies for not commenting on any of them(Busy man,you know-usual excuses) -Thanks again. Author's Reply: |
| The End of Days at 3am (posted on: 27-01-03) The clock ticks my life away,as November yawns and drizzles on indifferently,in the fog which slyly chokes the streets which drifts and fades in alleyways where lovers meet. And stops at grinning windows, where a post-box stalks unwary souls. And winds past the bones of a graveyard, pauses there and listens hard for sounds of the approaching dawn. And seeing soon there are none, gathers itself and carries on. Somewhere deep in this infinity you begin again. Without me. There is a stillness in this room filling my senses full of your absence Archived comments for The End of Days at 3am Rodeiniol on 2003-01-29 05:21:00 Re: The End of Days at 3am I'm combing through. I notice Dylan. Watch this space for content, structure, flow, thythm flavoured with grief, I'm afraid. Still, what sort of poet is happy all the time? Good stuff (can't format Good in Bold/Italic on this space) Author's Reply: Ems on 2003-01-29 16:08:01 Re: The End of Days at 3am Severely depressing but exceptional imagery. I was dead impressed. I've read a lot of poetry all over the net, some which is totally cringeworthy but the poetry on this particular site is generally very good. I thought this was perfect. Author's Reply: Rodeiniol on 2003-01-30 04:59:01 Re: The End of Days at 3am To hell with it! I'm running out of nice things to say about your stuff. Reader, please refer to my other comments on dylan's stuff. My next comment will just read "ditto"! Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-12-01 16:04:39 Re: The End of Days at 3am I keep changing my mind on which piece of yours is my fav Dylan. 'The End of Days at 3am' has thrown another spanner in to the works! Don't worry about replying to these comments by the way. As you're wotm I'm working my way through them. You'll get well pissed off if you answer them all. Just be aware young Dylan that I rate you big time. No bullshitting, your work is outstanding. I have no qualifications to substantiate this however )-: I just know what I like and none of your subs have let me down so far. It is true, you make me very sick indeed. s u n k e n Author's Reply: |
| Oceans Apart (posted on: 24-01-03) A box of dust-lidded memories throws a sliver of the past into my unsuspecting gaze. And suddenly yesterday shelters in a rainy cafe built for two. Steam breathed windows cloud in our laughter as Glasgow drowns and a white-lined waitress drifts by. After the shower with our souls scorched, invulnerable I breath in the depths of you. A shapeless form on the floor of silent seas. And I see you so clearly through the years and the legends of memory. I am suddenly old it is now and here in a crumpled piece of cardboard time is an ocean frozen rigid in black and white Archived comments for Oceans Apart bluepootle on 2003-09-30 13:19:21 Re: Oceans Apart Very evocative. Loved the starting point - the middle of a thought, almost. Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-12-01 02:18:16 Re: Oceans Apart Out of interest I went to your oldest sub Dylan (at least I think I did.) I wasn't disappointed. There's a great ambiance to this. From the 'shelters in a rainy cafe built for two'. The last stanza/verse pulls it all together. 'I am suddenly old'. Says it all. Brilliant. s u n k e n Author's Reply: Apolloneia on 16-10-2005 Oceans Apart I wasn't disappointed, either. What a coincidence, just like Sunken out of interest I decided to read your oldest sub tonight! Will probably do the same thing with other old members of UKA. The penultimate stanza is my favourite. Cheers! Nicoletta Author's Reply: Nic(and Sunky) thank you both for the kind comments. I actually submitted 3 poems at the same time-"Requiem on Main St." "1916 revisited" and this one. Versions of "Requiem" and "Oceans" both found their way into the "Glasgow Kisses" collection. God, was it really almost 2 years ago? Am definitely getting old... XXX, D. Mikeverdi on 08-08-2015 Oceans Apart Even then, and its a while ago...I guess you've always been good 🙂 Author's Reply: |
| 1916 revisited (posted on: 24-01-03) Hate spills from a concrete bowl. Battle hymns fill the frozen air with fear. Clear as crystal, sharp as knives. And neon sunlight offers cold comfort to a brittle Glasgow night. Once more, then the good fight... and to the enemy we are scum they are bigots in our eyes. As a sphere hits a net I become everything I have despised. And the thousands are changed in their turn, then transformed utterly. When blue and green are worn in this tragic comedy a terrible beauty`s reborn. Once more the good fight and Monsters stalk the great divide.... Archived comments for 1916 revisited e-griff on 2003-01-24 14:33:36 Re: 1916 revisited Requiem on... has magic for me. Author's Reply: Rodeiniol on 2003-01-29 04:48:16 Re: 1916 revisited Such a profound mystery, that business of tribal bloody football. Worse still, the mystery of religious tribal bloody football. You got rhythm: that's good and makes me like your stuff a lot. Author's Reply: |
| Requiem on Main Street (posted on: 24-01-03) The headlights did their best to pierce the gloom which ebbed and flowed and choked the streets. And the room was all unmade-a jigsaw. Where pieces of the past had been mislaid. And life now moved to a jerky 20s beat as the rain danced softly in the street. And pale blank faces will look up emerge from a coffee cup and listen to some anecdote before reaching for a coat and standing on a doorstep, fumble for words to fit,finally mumble "Goodye" and turn and leave a silence fit for any grave. But not an end just a change at the most say boy to man say girl to woman say Father and Son and Holy Ghost and admit defeat. The wind crept slowly down the street and still the rain sighed. Out of the depths, O Lord I have cried.... Archived comments for Requiem on Main Street e-griff on 2003-01-24 14:32:03 Re: Requiem on Main Street Wow! I don't know what to make of it, but this is good. Damn! another bloody good writer on the site! What hope is there, for me? bugger! Author's Reply: Rodeiniol on 2003-01-29 05:10:30 Re: Requiem on Main Street Really great stuff. Deep layers of meaning, with (for me ) grief, separation, existentialism,the inadequacy of human compassion even when it's most needed, even the futility of 'the comforts of religion'and a strong hint of despair in the final psalmic allusion (De profundis clamabo ad te, Domine...). This is a strong sturdy poem with real rhythms and a tumbling flow from image to image. Reader, please read it aloud to yourself and find out why it works. I like this a lot! Author's Reply: Sunken on 2004-12-01 02:29:45 Re: Requiem on Main Street Strange isn't it how these early pieces are overlooked, and yeah, I'm guilty. This section is the best I've read recently - And the room was all unmade-a jigsaw. Where pieces of the past had been mislaid. It's hard for me to critique as I don't know what I'm on about. I'll make like the dunce I am and just say that I thought it was fuckin brilliant. s u n k e n Author's Reply: dylan on 2004-12-01 15:27:22 Re: Requiem on Main Street It`s really kind of you to look up the old stuff and take the time to comment, Sunky. I do appreciate it. At the time of writing this, I was in my Eliot phase-"Prufrock", all his early stuff. It was also written in the aftermath of my mother`s death and basically, that is the subject matter of the poem. I remember I posted this on an American site too and despite the fact that "Requiem" is in the title, various allusions to death scattered throughout the poem and it ends with the beginning of the "De Profundis" prayer, no-one picked up on the meaning. Comes with being an obscure sod, I suppose. Anyway, thanks again. D. Author's Reply: |