Month: November 2016

Paris Review – The Art of Criticism No. 2, George Steiner

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Paris Review – The Art of Criticism No. 2, George Steiner.

A fascinating interview

Quote:For me the personal turning point was Pol Pot. Very few knew at the time about Auschwitz. Yes, there were bastards who knew, there were sons of bitches who knew and who didn’t believe it, but they were a tiny number. Nazi secrecy on this was fantastically efficient. The killing fields were on radio and television while they were going on, and we were told that Pol Pot was burying alive one hundred thousand men, women and children. Now I cannot attach honest meaning to the phrase “to bury alive one man, woman or child.” One hundred thousand! I almost went out of my mind in those days with bitter impotence. I was obsessed with the hope that Russia and America would say, “We don’t know what the rights and wrongs of this incredible geopolitical mess are but forty-five years after the Holocaust or after the gulag, we can’t shave in the morning, we can’t look at ourselves, knowing a hundred thousand people are being buried alive; the razor doesn’t work on the skin. No woman can put on her makeup and think of herself as human. If you don’t stop this, we’ll come in.” I’d hoped ………….

By my bed - À cabeceira

Grief has torn my skin

I struggle in the quicksands of despair
I  want to drown my sorrows now too great
I  yearn to see the one who is not here.

Might death   itself be worse than what I fear?
I find it hard to judge my own true state
I struggle in the quicksands of despair

Grief has torn my skin, the layers bared.
Death’s  a ravenous beast, for whom I’m  bait
I long to see my man, who is not here.

With reddened eyes and wild, unruly hair
I listen for the truth my heart dictates
As I struggle in the quicksands of despair

Will death himself now take me to his lair?
As pains tear at my heart,  I can’t relate.
I long to see the one who  once was here.

If I  should sink ,I do not imitate
Man’s cruelty and his wars elaborate
I struggle in the quicksands of despair
I ‘ll never see the man who once  lived here

A very good resource for aspiring writers

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http://www.grammarbook.com/grammar/effWrite.asp

 

Rule 3. Avoid overusing there is, there are, it is, it was, etc.

Example: There is a case of meningitis that was reported in the newspaper.

Revision: A case of meningitis was reported in the newspaper.

Even better: The newspaper reported a case of meningitis. (Active voice)

Example: It is important to signal before making a left turn.

Revision:
Signaling before making a left turn is important.
OR
Signaling before a left turn is important.
OR
You should signal before making a left turn.

Example: There are some revisions that must be made.

Revision: Some revisions must be made. (Passive voice)

Even better: Please make some revisions. (Active voice)

Poetic forms

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http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/list-of-50-poetic-forms-for-poets

 

  • Rondeau. 15 lines, 3 stanzas, and a lot of rhymes.
  • Rondel. 13 lines in 3 stanzas.
  • The Roundabout. Form from Sara Diane Doyle and David Edwards.
  • Sestina. The form poets either love or hate.
  • Shadorma. Spanish 6-liner.
  • Sijo. Korean poetic form.
  • Somonka. Japanese collaborative form.
  • Sonnet. Shakespeare’s 14-line fave.
  • Tanka. Kinda like a haiku plus a couplet.
  • Triolet. 8-line French form.
  • Triversen. William Carlos Williams invention: six tercets.
  • Villanelle. Five tercets a

And state their surreal reasons with a smile

I  went and got a few, new .small size dishes

The old ones are too big for  only me

I weep as in the bowl I  gently wash

The ones we used  to use when we had tea.

Here’s a terracotta  Spanish pan.

We  filled to entertain our  dearest friends.

Y0ur dish of  onions,garlic,and  spring lamb;

Bright tomatoes added to the blend.

Here’s a souffle dish  for  six  or eight .

Cheese or lemon,  you enjoyed them both.

And here are all the larger dinner plates.

To separate from these, I’m   feeling loth.

I don’t know if I’ll cook for friends again

They’ve not cooked  Jane Grigson in  a while

Are they afraid I’ll steal their  husband man?

And  state their  surreal reasons with a smile

In the guide for  losers I was told

Prepare to lose some friends and then some more.

I don’t want their men so  mild, unbold

I’ve closed   the windows and   I’ve locked the doors

I feel they compliment me as they think

I’m so  alluring  I can pull again.

But I have  had enough of  loveless links.

I don’t want any  cast off ,needy  men.

I dry the steel,  the glass, and the old copper.

I dry the lids  of each ;I muse on  colour

What shall I conjure up for my last  supper?

What  gruesome  healthy diet shall I follow?

I  want to be with you one lost hour.

A   cup of Earl Grey  tea, a chance to talk.

But I accept that will be nevermore,

Like my hand in yours on our  long walks

I didn’t know that you were dying

The doctors are afraid of saying.

I wish I were in your arms, just lying.

I’ve tired of churches and of praying.

I felt that tendon in your  long left hand

You turned  around and smiled so brightly.

Then the curtains of  your death descend.

You slipped away so  gently ; love you quietly.

Do we set the table with tectonic plates?

plates

http://pubs.usgs.gov/gip/dynamic/tectonic.html

Were the Ammonites a people or a stone?
Was the government of fossils on the roam?
Were the rocks and mountains rumbling
As the government were stumbling?
I’ve sent my resignation on a bone.

xi3hlkpuxjn9wtzpsxd0

Was the Earthquake sent by demons  or mischance?
Were the stolen dinners appetising once?
Were the plates of this old earth
Asking what is human worth?
Was it  you who sold my poems by mischance?

Do we set the table with tectonic plates?
In New Zealand, do men call each other, mate?
Did we eat with silver cutlery
To show the world our subtlety?
I   bear in mind that I could  navigate.

We’ll be sitting down to  dinner with  the men.
We’ll be grateful as a sinner  is,Amen.
We’ll gladly serve our sentences
And weep to show repentance.
Then we’ll set off  nuclear dynamite again

Books recommended by Oxford University continued learning school

Oxford City UK
Strand, Mark, and Eavan Boland, The Making of a Poem: A Norton Anthology of Poetic Forms, New York: W. W. Norton & Co. Ltd, 2001.

Hollander, John, Rhymes Reason: A Guide to English Verse, New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001.

History tells us

 

 

 

rumoursofwarhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/tobias-stone/history-tells-us-what-will-brexit-trump_b_11179774.html?

Quote:

At a local level in time, people think things are fine — then things rapidly spiral out of control until they become unstoppable, and we wreak massive destruction on ourselves. For the people living in the midst of this, it is hard to see happening and hard to understand. To historians later, it all makes sense and we see clearly how one thing led to another. During the Centenary of the Battle of the Somme I was struck that it was a direct outcome of the assassination of an Austrian Arch Duke in Bosnia. I very much doubt anyone at the time thought the killing of a minor European royal would lead to the death of 17 million people.

My point is that this is a cycle. It happens again and again, but as most people only have a 50-100 year historical perspective they don’t see that it’s happening again. As the events that led to the First World War unfolded, there were a few brilliant minds who started to warn that something big was wrong, that the web of treaties across Europe could lead to a war, but they were dismissed as hysterical, mad, or fools, as is always the way, and as people who worry about Putin, Brexit and Trump are dismissed now.

A little thing leads to an unstoppable destruction that could have been prevented if you’d listened and thought a bit.

Then after the War to end all Wars, we went and had another one. Again, for a historian it was quite predictable. Lead people to feel they have lost control of their country and destiny, people look for scapegoats, a charismatic leader captures the popular mood, and singles out that scapegoat. He talks in rhetoric that has no detail, and drums up anger and hatred. Soon the masses start to move as one, without any logic driving their actions, and the whole becomes unstoppable………..

 

 

leonard-cohen-1970s-large_transqvzuuqpflyliwib6ntmjwfsvwez_ven7c6bhu2jjnt8

We need to find a way to bridge from our closed groups to other closed groups, try to cross the ever widening social divides.

Why not follow me?

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

 

Stan was standing on a small step ladder washing his windows yet again with a clean blue microfibre and elastane cloth and some windolene he had bought in Tesco’s
I don’t know why I bother,he whispered to Emile, who as usual was watching from the back of the sofa,which he was “milking” gently with his paws.
With all the rain,the outside of the windows was besmirched by leaves and bits of mud.A  wiser man  might have left it alone but Stan had O.C.D which made him very nervous if he failed to carry out certain tasks… so he made use of it in house chores and baking perfect cakes and buns..and in taking  photos of frogs,birds and flowers.Neurosis can be useful sometimes.
All of a sudden he heard clattering footsteps…
Up the garden path walked two women dressed in the latest style of 3/4 length silk cargo trousers with matching blouses, all in a subtle shade of violet.Except for their faces,of course,which were both a light shade of beige and they had Revlon peach blusher on their cheeks with Chanel scarlet lipstick…on their lips.They also wore dark blue nail varnish from Rimmel
“Good morning,Stan!” called one of them.”We are Annie’s ‘s cousins from Pittsburgh.She told us to call on you today.”
“Well,I never knew wearing expensive makeup ran in the genes… can there be any other explanation?”Stan asked stupidly.
“Annie told us we must wear it all the time in the UK.” she responded,”even in bed.”
“You seem a bit fast,” he answered,
“I’m not sure I want to go to bed and as you seem like identical twins,which of you should I bed?”
They burst out laughing….oh,what a strange  noise that seemed to this sweet old man
“I was just saying what she told us,not meaning that you need to go to bed with us.In fact, we sleep together at night.”
“As children that would be normal,but don’t you think you should separate now?People might think you are gay!”
“We never worry about stuff like that… and by the way,this is Ruby and I am Rosie.”
“I’ll put on the kettle and make you some coffee,” the dear and anxious  man said in a kind tone of voice,before he went into the kitchen and swallowed a handful of red and green striped valium tablets.
“I wish the psychiatrist would give me some therapy.I don’t like taking valium but I seem to be having visions again… and I don’t want to get worse..I never heard Annie mention cousins in the USA. I wonder if CBT would help me?” he said to Emile.
“I see visions all the time,” the cat replied in a matter of fact and calm way.
“Do they not make you feel anxious?”Stan called.
“No,I just watch them drift by,” purred Emile.”I enjoy them.”
“I wish these two women would drift off.”responded the weary yet charming  Stan.

Ruby and Rosie came inside and admired the kitchen where colanders in many colours hung from the wall into which someone had knocked a few dozen nails.
“”Why do you have sixteen colanders?”asked Rosie.
“Why do you think everything has a reason?”Stan replied.
“I can see you studied philosophy,” Ruby cried disconsolately as she loved an argument
“No,I have just read Ray Monk’s Life of Wittgenstein eight times,” he quipped merrily.
“Wow,is it not boring?” they murmured softly like two doves in spring time
“No.it’s so good it put me off reading lesser books.And I love to understand things,”
Just then Stan tripped on the rug and fell over. unconscious.
.Emile picked up his mobile with its full Qwerty key pad and texted 999.
“Why are you texting?”asked Ruby.
“Well,it difficult to mioaw down a phone and now I have this Blackberry it’s so easy…. why even a mouse could do it.”
“Do you know many mice,Emile?” enquired Ruby wistfully as she felt very lonely at times
Rosie slowly made some instant coffee, walking around poor Stan ,unconscious on the floor…and she and her twin sat down on some white Swedish chairs at the old oak table and drank it,gazing shyly at the huge weigelia blooming outside in the shed.
The front door opened and in ran Dave,the bisexual paramedic.
“Is it you,Emile.Have you lost your hankie again.Are you sad?” he moaned nervously.
“No,it’s Stan… but at least he’s not broken the chair”
Stan came too and looked up. at Dave.
“Oh, lovely,I feel much better for that nap” he said brightly as he was such a positive person.
“Don’t you have a bed to sleep in?” said Ruby querulously.”I like your mean expression,my dear man.”
“Now,look here said Stan,”I’m too old for any monkey business. Besides,I don’t know if you are real.”
“We just wondered why you slept on the floor.”
“A man has to do what a man has to do,” came the mystifying response.
“Now that Dave is here,he can take one of you and I’ll take the other.”
“Where will you take us”the twins asked delightedly.
“Do you fancy the cinema… they are showing Monsieur Hulot’s Holiday”
“Don’t tell me he’s still on his summer holiday!” riposted Ruby
“Let’s go in the ambulance.I’ll lie on the stretcher” offered Rosie generously..
“I’ll lie by you,”said Dave.” and Emile can drive.Stan and Ruby can lie on the floor.”
Sometimes life seems so simple,it’s rather like a dream controlled..
Controlled by what,asked Emile,clutching his Blackberry.
But answer came there none…
And that was very odd because.. they’d vanished every one…
To read more,why not take out a subscription?At just £100 a day,it’s value for money…as money no longer has any value!

My trousers fell off, as I swerved

cats-five

 

I have bought a chair in colours complementary
My life’s becoming  studious and sedentary
It’s soft and warm
with    silky  charm
And yet I would
prefer your arms.
Eccentrically.

I bought a belt which disappeared
My trousers fell off, as I feared
Why not wear a dress,
When pants cause stress?
Why  frocks are best!
Till the police arrest
Argumentatively.

There is a reason for a  skirt
We   find it easier   to flirt
Why wear much else?
I feel your pulse-
It makes me sense
I feel less tense.
Concentrically.

I looked all round for that new belt
I never noticed or even felt
It wasn’t there
Nor on that chair
My ass was bare
In frosty air.
Halleluliah!

 

 

Slant rhymes

2012-05-12 10.36.40-5

http://literarydevices.net/half-rhyme/

Example #3

That is no country for old men. The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees
– Those dying generations – at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
(W. B. Yeats, “Sailing to Byzantium”)

I have tried in my way not to flee

https://youtu.be/BmPUu-rMpWA
Grey Tube Shelter 1940 by Henry Moore OM, CH 1898-1986
Grey Tube Shelter 1940 Henry Moore OM, CH 1898-1986 Presented by the War Artists Advisory Committee 1946 http://www.tate.org.uk/art/work/N05706

Like the words of a liar
Like the  demons in a midnight sewer
We’ve  all tried ,in our way, not to be.
Like the girls  who despair
Like  wet wood in a midnight fire
We have tried many ways not to see
Like the twists of all  liars
Like a hank of midnights dire
We have tried and have failed to set free.
Like St Joan in the fire
Like an old lag in  a prison cure
I have tried, in my way, not to flee

Like the words of a liar.

 

Like the words of a liar
Like a  drunk in a midnight sewer
We have tried ,in our way. not to be.
The USA have  opted out of  respiration.
For too long, they worried on
Don’t breathe for them,Carolina
“Enhance”  truth to the ends  above
A hard pain’s gonna wail.
[The  hard pane’s  writ in braille.]
Life is what happens when reason’s making other demands.
My sweet bard.Realty wanna owe you.
Wednesday mourning.
Plenty pain  is in my tears from out my eyes.
Lover,lover ,who to bother?
Kyrie Eleison,Greek won’t save the Union.
Did Jesus have a rabid twister?
Beware of Jung’s pearls
A Freudian slip brings up lingerie profit.Thanks, Mark
Facebook helped The Knave in and out

Hineni, Hineni

Leonard Cohen died
Ronald  Trump rose
Leonard Cohen mused
Ronald Trump lied
They’ll be singing in heaven
They’ll be singing in hell.
Hineni, Hineni
Sing for your soul

Oh, Jesus Christ died
And he rose as well.
That story’s  better
An idiot can tell.

Were we misled
And the devils all yelled
Gotchya all,babies.
The whole world is hell.

Well,does it get better
Does it get worse?
Europe is shattered
By a serial curse.

30 million people
Killed by the King
Hitler and Stalin
How can we sing?

Russia is moving
America’s bust.
Keep hold of your spirits
Let the children  out first.

The instinct for death
The instinct for life
Keep your card handy
You can’t use it twice.

Dignity’s own dance

 
What did she convey when she moved thus
A branch of willow bending to the lake?
So eloquent the gesture,with no fuss;
So brief , yet   there,  an image I could take.
We dance with gestures, often seen and shared;
With awkwardness as  over desks we’ve bowed.
Yet in these movements , our deep self is bared
And  given dignity when  none’s allowed
For as there is no name for this, our form;
No vigilante’s listed it as sin
And so our human dance goes on and on
From what is now and what  once might have been.
We are all partner’s in the earthly dance,
From serendip to  glorious happenstance