You and I [gatha]
I caught in musing
you nabbed by notions
I sound confusing?
look at your oceans!
[Inspired by Gautami Tripathy's eponymous poem.]
posted by david raphael israel at 10:30 PM
Monday, October 24, 2005
[Inspired by Gautami Tripathy's eponymous poem.]
5 Comments:
Normally, I immediately trash blog-spam when it appears in Comments. Usually, it's advertising something irrelevant. In this case, it's advertising something nominally relevant: a definition of poetry per se, attached to a couple of poems (by some else unfamiliar contemporary). The method of striving to nab blog-readerly attention -- the very desire to nab it -- suggest a painful puzzle, or a cultural curiousity, or something.
If I may be a tad afraid my prized obscurity could hazard danger of compromise by blogo-publication, such an apprehension is not, one surmises, universal. But beyond this basic thought, my speculative mind grows numb.
That I'm thanked for an "informative" blog is curious. The spidery data-crawling bug found the word "poem" and informed itself . . . but enough.
One could take small satisfaction in the grammatical error (the number disagreement between "is" and "resources"); but it's a trivial & demeaning satisfaction (if any). What I a little bit wonder is, who convinced the nice Oak Tree poem poet to buy into this mode of self-cheapening? Is poetry a competitive toothpaste, needing door-to-door campaigns?
Wisdom would merely trash the anonymous post along with this self-satisfied diatribe. Wisdom, alas, frequently exceeds my inexpert grasp.
I like tha, David..:)
Will definitely look into my oceans!
Now more than ever.........
Gautami--
ah, that's reassuring!
cheers,
d.i.
Such an interesting response to mr/ms anonymous here. Poor anonymous poetry seller. Just a little bot who escaped death by waxing poetic.
“I'm a poor poetry seller
A tiny whiny lil spammer.”
Where’s my swatter?
What’s this blather?
“I forgot my grammar
in this blogo-drama.
Is/are?
Oh no!”
A dead thing speaks poetry
d.i’s hands get jittery.
The swatter gets dithery.
Oh, this is such bribery.
Anon survives, finally.
(ahem)
River,
it's a curiousity, yep.
I "preserved" (in the blog-post directly above this one) one other such blogo-spam specimen -- since in that case it occasioned (as this instance has for you) a poem.
But I don't plan to make a habit of immortalizing such. Even if Andy Warhol might've seen sense in it.
Thanks for aheming & ahawing(?).
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