Bitterness

[ray miller]

We cannot abide another verse
that grabs us
by the thumb and swerves from curb to curb

while interchanging nouns for verbs,
so every word
deserves a double take; that sits purse lipped

and cross legged, then spits out idle stories heaped
on paper plates
too light and delicate, lacking weight,

which leave the appetite less sated than
before it ate.
Or those that host their own approach

dressed up in best dancing clothes
to preen and boast
in a style extinct when Chaucer wrote.

The portentous puffs at love and death
that rock the cot
and lullaby the marriage that’s miscarrying;

a blind man’s lecture on the art of seeing,
the public applause
for a dwarf employing heightened language.

A hundred thousand wretched letters
in imitation
of their betters, the unpatched knee, the happening,

the purveyors of white space fashion
plunging bravely
into a chasm, taking their whisky straight

after breakfast and tea. We shall not see
their like again,
for he has sheathed his sword and pen.

[1lankest]

Ouch!

[Firebird]

Stages/types of poetic delusion Ray? It's hard to believe that N has put all this bitterness away. I do like it though. A few specific comments below.

We cannot abide another verse
that grabs us
by the thumb and swerves from curb to curb

while interchanging nouns for verbs,
so every word
deserves a double take; that sits purse lipped

and cross legged, then spits out idle stories heaped
on paper plates
too light and delicate, lacking weight,

which leave the appetite less sated than
before it ate. (Is 'it' the correct referent here?)
Or those that host their own approach

dressed up in best dancing clothes
to preen and boast
in a style extinct when Chaucer wrote.

The portentous puffs at love and death (not sure I get this line)
that rock the cot
and lullaby the marriage that’s miscarrying; (not sure I really get the whole verse)

a blind man’s lecture on the art of seeing,
the public applause
for a dwarf employing heightened language. (Made me smile)

A hundred thousand wretched letters
in imitation
of their betters, the unpatched knee, the happening,

the purveyors of white space fashion
plunging bravely
into a chasm, taking their whisky straight

after breakfast and tea. We shall not see
their like again,
for he has sheathed his sword and pen. (Good ending)

Enjoy!

Cheers,

Tristan

[Lou]

Poems about writing poems are not normally my cuppa tea but this piece is exceptional. You could easily have fallen flat on your face if the writing wasn't of such exacting quality. A very smart and interesting page of work. And yes, I do sometimes turn nouns into verbs.

Best,
Lou

[David]

I really enjoyed this, while continually wondering "does he mean me?" And, on occasion, thinking "yes, that does sound like me" - a response which I think we've all felt, judging by the previous comments.

So, in that sense, it's a brilliant version of the P G Wodehouse character who found nothing more effective, by way of raising funds, than walking up to strangers and saying "I know your secret" in a meaningful manner. Ray knows our secret, everyone! Leave the money behind the cistern in the gents' at Waterloo Station. Our secret will be safe with him.

[Ros]

I thought perhaps you'd been reading recent Antiphon submissions.

I got a bit lost in this bit

A hundred thousand wretched letters
in imitation
of their betters, the unpatched knee, the happening,

the purveyors of white space fashion
plunging bravely
into a chasm,

but otherwise very enjoyable.

Ros

[1lankest]

I got lost at the same bit as Ros. It certainly needed a double take! Or perhaps this was the point? A bit of self-mockery?

L

[Richard]

Very well executed, but is this what you want people to read, I wonder? Its a bit of a rant really, isn't it??

Best

R

[Antcliff]

Ha! Made me laugh, Ray.

I also enjoyed the lay out and structure. And rhymes.

Quibbles. None really...though I did wonder quite what the "chasm" is.

A point perhaps slightly above the level of a quibble...I wonder whether "demands" rather than "deserved" would be more in the spirit of the poem?...given that it is on the whole implying that the double take would not be deserved. That would still retain the D sound that nicely pairs with "double".

I agree that straight whisky after breakfast is to be avoided. Not guilty. Although I do like the occasional bit of noun/verbing...but not to excess.

Seth

[ray miller]

Thanks all.
Tristan -
which leave the appetite less sated than
before it ate. (Is 'it' the correct referent here?) - good question, "it" refers to appetite, I suppose, but perhaps "we" or "one" is better.

The portentous puffs at love and death (not sure I get this line) - "at" should be "on", puffs as in pamphlets, tracts
that rock the cot
and lullaby the marriage that’s miscarrying; (not sure I really get the whole verse) - it's meant to be about how bad verse is sometimes camouflaged by the weightiness of its subject.

David - not about anyone in particular, apart from myself, of course.

Ros, Luke - I can't explain that section you got lost in very well, but sometimes people speak of the risks that poets take, their bravery etc. It just makes me laugh.

Richard - I don't see it as a rant at all, more of a soliloquy.

Seth - I suppose the chasm is the same as white space. For example, all the short middle lines in the poem should be centre aligned, but I don't know how to do this and if I ask someone I'll just look stupid. But now I look stupid anyway, because it's obvious the poem doesn't look right. I envy those brave poets.
Demands is better than deserves. I was prolonging a rhyme sequence longer than is necessary.

[Crayon]

Such brutish contumely! *swoon*

But (semi-)seriously, in my poetic ignorance there's much of it I don't understand; so I aspire to say 'guilty as charged'.

[ray miller]

Such brutish contumely! *swoon*

But (semi-)seriously, in my poetic ignorance there's much of it I don't understand; so I aspire to say 'guilty as charged'.

Contumely! I didn't even know what it meant. I've now discovered that Chaucer used it. You're in.

[JJWilliamson]

Very entertaining, Ray

The rhymes were ticking along very nicely, then BANG! they stopped, until the close, that is.
The slant rhymes are so well disguised they don't really show until you look. So why mention it,
I hear you say. Did you lose interest in rhyming? I know I often find myself frustrated when I can't find
that final bloody rhyme.

Were you fed up when you wrote this?

Best

JJ

[ray miller]

Very entertaining, Ray

The rhymes were ticking along very nicely, then BANG! they stopped, until the close, that is.
The slant rhymes are so well disguised they don't really show until you look. So why mention it,
I hear you say. Did you lose interest in rhyming? I know I often find myself frustrated when I can't find
that final bloody rhyme.

Were you fed up when you wrote this?

Best

JJ

Thanks, JJ. The rhymes are there all the way. At least they're supposed to be.
"Fed up" is an understatement. I felt that I'd nothing left to say, found it very difficult to write anything, or to read any poetry. This was by way of a farewell to poetry.

[Crayon]

Such brutish contumely! *swoon*

But (semi-)seriously, in my poetic ignorance there's much of it I don't understand; so I aspire to say 'guilty as charged'.

Contumely! I didn't even know what it meant. I've now discovered that Chaucer used it. You're in.

Yay, I'm in! But it's no thanks to Chaucer. I had only just learned of 'contumely' after googling your line "we shall not see their like again" (it rang a bell) and a New Statesman article from 2004 came up that includes the words: "they signed a deal on pit closures that Arthur Scargill, the NUM leader, rejected with contumely".