April 01, 2005

Public Poetry

I think I've just had my first real wander through this bizarre 'blog' world – mixed feelings. It really does feel somewhat odd to be jumping from one distinctly personal (or at least personalized) snippett of someone's life to the next. Appears you can do this with people you have never met and never will – this is undeniably bizarre. Mixed feelings because now all of a sudden there's some stupid element of pressure to produce something poetic. This impression is probably for the most part due to swede i suppose, which isn't all that surprising. The man is a poet, however much he thinks he's a scientist (ooo…that's not gonna go down well). Still, Helen's got her own sumptuously abstract musings, and Floppy's carries his own dry poignancy in a poetic kind of way. And hope other people I know aren't offended that I haven't commented on their blogs. Fact is I can't be arsed and I've said what I wanted to say. Point feels at bit rinsed now anyway. Enough arse-licking.
Wrestling with one of the 3 easter essays; different sources say contradictory things and textbooks are too simple or non-committal to be of any use.
[Got to end this now on brothers comp + late…get back to it]

- 6 comments by 1 or more people Not publicly viewable

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  1. Dry poignancy in a poetic kind of way? hmmm. I'll take it as a complement whether it was meant as one or not.

    01 Apr 2005, 10:49

  2. You do that.

    01 Apr 2005, 22:07

  3. Helen Fitton

    what the hell?if anyone is a poet it's me, chum. and as for swede…he's an old school scientist, in that he's a scientist with an understanding of (some) culture, but really…if you think that's poetry you should read more.

    hmpf.

    06 Apr 2005, 12:29

  4. J.o.h.n.n.y.

    Suppose I was just using a bit of poetic license. And yes I should read more.

    07 Apr 2005, 10:14

  5. Gemma Hopper

    Just want to express….
    A distance so far, a tear could stop in time before the floor. Softness drifting from island to island never seeing more than a face, not holding nor connecting. Always the endless soul search of uninterupted bliss that I am an isalnd but forever bitter sweet. Sand through time an age of independence this is me, a breath, a whisper, the tear before the floor.

    19 May 2005, 22:00

  6. jed

    Gemma is this your own poem? More please before the tear splash is dried on the wind.

    14 Aug 2006, 17:20


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