All 2 entries tagged English

Computers don't understand poetic form

Follow-up to First Entry from Daniel's blog

For some reason this blog doesn't seem to understand poetry. the internet is like HAL from a Space Odyssey, " I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Daniel"

But it does look pretty rad. I guess just hope you can comprehend it

: 28 Nov 2009 17:54 |  Tags: Dsutherland English Literature Poetry Writing |  Comments (0) |  Close comments |  Report a problem

First Entry

Well here we are folks. I've thrown out the diary, condemned it to the manual wastelands of pen and paper and unveiled a blog. I won't say much more than that because this is simply it. A place where periodically I will log my writing for you the reader whoever you may be. By all means remain in anonymity but if you feel you want to comment, do feel free. Any comments will be greatly appreciated. Below you will find a poem that I'm using as a trial. I discovered this form of tristina after reading Seamus Heaney's poem "Two Lorries", written in a sestina form. Having been accidentally redirected to a very strange poetry by numbers website I thought I would give this form a try.

Basically this is a poem about reaching the cusp of manhood and male inadequacy. But make of it what you will!

Tristina                                                                                                                                                                                Perhaps you've tried to see some reason                                                                                                                        Strolling down the boulevard of melancholy.                                                                                                                    The negative print of the ocean reeks 

  Perhaps you saw compassion in her cheeks,                                                                                                                You're at that age when you need a son,                                                                                                                    If only to use as a starting pistol, all he         

  Would provide is a spark, to raise you from your melancholy                                                                                        Selfish in your procreation, progress is all you seek                                                                                                      Between Autumn and Winter there lies a new season 

  Those who watch will say to you that there's your melancholic reason tied up in yourself. It reeks                                                                                                       

: 28 Nov 2009 17:52 |  Tags: Dsutherland English Literature Poetry Writing |  Comments (0) |  Close comments |  Report a problem