Open-Source Poetry #2

Dear Readers,

We’re so pleased that we took a risk and began our own little Open-Source Poetry experiment. What if we offered a space for you all to collaborate on a poem together? How would something like that play out? Well, so far it seems you’re having just as much fun as we are!

We received a staggering amount of contributions. Wow, or what! We hadn’t expected this, so we want to give our warmest thank yous for your excellent creative efforts. You have been funny, cute, thought provoking and sad. As a result, we’ve had an enormously difficult time picking the second line for this poem. You all are quite simply brilliant!

So, after some polite debate between us—although there were no fisticuffs, Tati did use a fire rake on Tony as her closing argument—we’ve chosen the line that we feel was the most unexpected and ridiculous. Without further ado, let’s thank Phoenix Risen for his contribution, and invite all of you to the next round!

And for those of you that would like a reminder of how this wonderful little experiment works…

1) We provide the next line of the poem.
2) You write the following line.
3) You submit your line via the comments section of this very post.
4) We pick the line we like most and add it to the poem.
5) We publish every line to date in a follow-up post.
6) Steps 1-5 are repeated until we have a masterpiece!

Hey guys, let’s keep the ball rolling!

Вензель

What if I said sorry for saying sorry all the time? 
Or should I just give you a baby porcupine? 
Alas, it will be one and the same outcome
Вензель_нижний

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA, TONY SINGLE & PHOENIX RISEN
© All rights reserved 2017

Open-Source Poetry #1

Dear Readers,

As those of you who have read our FAQ page will already know, we no longer collaborate with other bloggers, and haven’t done so for a long time.

(You! Yeah, you! The one with a surprised look on your face! Yes, we do have an FAQ page. Go on! Go and read it now, lazybones! Also we have many other cool pages such as About Us or Hole-in-the-wall but now’s not the time for that.)

So, anyway, we have a proposition for you. We’d like to amend this case of affairs by offering a space for you all to collaborate on a poem together instead. Let’s explain how this would work…

1) We provide the first line of the poem.
2) You write the next line.
3) You submit your line via the comments section of this very post.
4) We pick the line we like most and add it to the poem.
5) We publish the first and second lines in a follow-up post.
6) Steps 2-5 are repeated until we have a masterpiece!

Please be assured that we won’t forget to mention the names of all the contributors. This way, everyone gets the acknowledgement they deserve.

So, what do you think, Dear Readers? Would you like to have a try? It could be fun! Yes? All right then, here’s the first line…

Вензель

What if I said sorry for saying sorry all the time?Вензель_нижний

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2017

GUEST POST // The Sea is Watching by Mario Savioni (with commentary by Marta Pombo Sallés)

In some complacent nest,
I saw the open door –
The extraordinary field of innocence.

She weeps having not expected
To be a party to purity.

It is a field of fog at the end of the lake,
Where the weeds swirl.

He says, “I do not need tea.”

Again, the swirling field.

He walks alone along the edge.

Do you know the sound of water lapping?
A sun setting behind reeds?

He hears laughter not meant for him
And words:

“Death waits not on age.”
“The young sometimes die before the old.”

She loves him, this slayer of rice paper.
She races in winter to free him.

They cry on a bridge.
She is shadowed.
Young lovers.

Spring comes.
Spring is the answer.

Or is it summer?

In it, I see the weakness of men,
And a woman’s burden is to trust.

But we are not strong enough
To carry the weight of ourselves
Through this eagerness.
Laughter there is none.
A bloodied mouth, the searing wind,
As if evil came,
Then rain, a purity.

The field weak now,
Showers pouring,
A storm,
Things breaking,

And then suddenly it stops.

Who is the wiser?
So much lucky red silk –
Floating debris.

Two women wait,
While the sea is watching.

It is like Noah,
And so they sit
Looking at stars from a rooftop.

It is about men and their gentleness,
As she waves the lantern in space
And sees the shooting star.

 

by MARIO SAVIONI
© All rights reserved 2011

 

A review of Mario Savioni’s poem, “The Sea is Watching”

I was rereading Mario Savioni’s book entitled After and had a closer look at poem “The Sea is Watching”:

I like it very much as a poem having found inspiration in the Japanese movie with the same title.

The whole poem sounds very musical, especially when I read the words from the book and, at the same time, listen to its author, reading it aloud on youtube.

This is how I interpreted the poem at first sight:

The “complacent nest” could be a euphemism for the word brothel. The “field of innocence” is something I associate with Oshin. She is an innocent prostitute because she still believes in love although she is a sex worker. She falls in love twice. She weeps because the promise of marriage with Fusanosuke has not been fulfilled. She is not “a party to purity.”

There seems to be a he, not wanting tea and walking along the edge, either Fusanosuke or maybe it is the second chance she gets when she falls in love again with Ryosuke. The word “edge” suggests risk. Could they be the “young lovers”? There is death, someone younger dying that could refer to Ryosuke killing Kikuno’s customer.

The coming of spring suggests the lovers’ season par excellence. The beginning of love. Summer would mean this love is already ripe, like fruit.

I also see the traditional men-women roles. “The weakness of men” who are supposed to be so strong but they are weak with the pleasures of the flesh as they need prostitutes and sex, often abusing women. Luckily the rain and the storm seem to come as an opportunity for purity, for the prostitutes to clean themselves and to get rid of this life. The “lucky red silk” appears to me as the symbol for the brothel, now a “floating debris”.

The two women sit and wait on the rooftop, a symbol for an anchor where they can hold on to. “The shooting star” means hope, a wish that someone will come and rescue them from the flood, maybe the second he, Oshin’s second opportunity in life, that is, Ryosuke coming by boat.

 

by MARTA POMBO SALLÉS
© All rights reserved 2016

Day 01

Damn! Quotes are such a tricky thing. Especially ones without a context. I’m always very careful with quotations. Yes, I see a question in your eyes. “Why is she whining here?” It’s easy.

I was recently invited by my friends to take part in the ‘03 days 03 quotes challenge’ party and I said, “YAY! Thank you! Of course, you can count on me!”

Prakash HegadeSheldon KleemanEthel Beckett
Thank you, my dear friends!

 

Rules:
1) Post 1 quotation a day for 3 days.
2) Nominate 3 other bloggers to participate per post.
3) Thank the blogger who nominated you.

 

But when I started to write my first post for this challenge I realized the scale of my problem. I’ve since changed my mind three times before opening my rough draft dated June 27 to write these lines.

Of course, it’s not a big deal to find some cool quotes from some cool famous guys and be happy with my own coolness. I even spent about an hour searching for them. But then I suddenly understood that hiding behind other people’s famous words isn’t something that I consider a really cool thing. That was my first thought.

My second thought was to use my own quotes from my various essays and poems. It’s not very modest but at least I could always take responsibility for this bullshit. I’m glad that I didn’t start to do this because I liked my third thought much more…

I don’t want to use famous quotes. I don’t want to use my quotes. My friends! My community! My dearest Writers and Readers! Let me use your quotes!

I was nominated three times, so I will take three quotes and their authors will be my nominees. All agree? Excellent! Let’s go!

 

Grandpa asked why
I talked to his veggies
said I didn’t know
Didn’t know
how to say
Veggies don’t hurt me

Michael Spahr, ‘Grandpa Had A Garden’

 

One day,
when it’s time for me to go,
I won’t cry.
I will look back on all these days I got to spend,
and I will smile.
I’ll be glad that I’ve had the chance,
to be alive,
and all in all,
that I’ve lived
a pretty good life.

PROSPERMIND, ‘A pretty good life’

 

Writers write for they are egomaniacs,
A fancy poem our soul’s aphrodisiac.
Spinning words, the most heinous temptation,
Desperation for eternity our only salvation.

Obsidian Visionary, ‘Writer’s Dissolution’

 

Hmmm… Yes!
The end.

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

Don’t!

Fuck… sometimes all what we can do is shout, “Don’t!”
I’m so sorry, buddy. Be strong.

PROSPERMIND

No!!
I don’t want to believe this shit!!!
What the fuck?!
Why HER?!

Please don’t!!
DON’T!!!!
… .
Just don’t take HER away from me,
she is all I’ve got!

Why?!
Oh god, why??
I don’t want to believe this shit!

Let it be me instead!
Please!!!!
Don’t take her away from me,
she’s all I’ve got!

Please, don’t!!

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