Fascinating topic, dreams – if only one could have a recording for replay! “The quickness of night” nails the rapid evaporation of most dream details – though I practice writing down what I do recall upon waking. Your poem sorta is inspiration to take a lingering nap; thanks!
You say so much by not saying. I recognize the music of your “unsaid,” and feel almost conspiratorial when I hear it, kind of like when I eavesdrop on people speaking French, and they give their secrets away to me exactly because the expression of oblivion on my face is an assurance that I could never repeat what I know, and they’re right about that, but I come away with the sense I got away with something (that same expression has won me a hand or two in poker — little did anyone know my lack of a tell was due to the fact that it takes me 5 minutes to figure out what everyone else knows instantaneously? And anyway, life isn’t poker).
Yes, this poem is very much like a dream slipping away as you wake (like the strands I’ve been grasping at for the past hour in my attempt to respond here…), in that the only thing there is to hold onto is the fact that you don’t remember, but dearly want to, but can’t… but if you could, the definition of that thing you knew would be listed in a different dictionary, which wouldn’t matter, anyway, because you wouldn’t need to look it up. It’s like realizing long after you folded, and the person with the pair of deuces raked in the chips, that you had a full house — something that’s no more true than if you’d only imagined it, which you very well might’ve…
Thank you, ma’am. I think the sentence fragments function well in this piece – those little bits that aren’t quite fully formed and remain ever elusive – to enhance the dreamlike state. It’s weird how those details work out…
The first couplet draws me into a feeling of one of the riddles from the Hans Taliesin, a means to reveal the god’s true name, but made simple, by just looking it up in a dictionary. Imagine the look on Bran’s face when someone goes, “is it this one!”
i mentioned the line “I am brahman, the straight line” in my recent essay, just came to me as more evidence on the importance of the line, but moreover, fitting, as it is as if in that line, the LINE is referring to itself through its agent, Okaji.
It’s interesting what Browning is articulating through his various metaphors which i take as variations of line-like objects or actions. He’s not an easy poet Browning, his obscurantist leanings frustrate me sometimes, but he’s worth the effort.
I recommend the lesser known, more esoteric stuff, it shows a man apart from a generation still attached to the influence of Romanticism & really pushing outside Victorian poetry to Modernism. They are challenging works the longer, dramatic poems & very original in context of form, for example, Turf & Towers borrows the conventions of journalism & also colloquy between friends for its narrative structure.
A superb poem Robert, Oh if those halls and walls of time could talk. Congratulations Robert, Ah yes a glass of red wine to celebrate tonight, Cheers..
Congratulations, Robert!
This line is a solid, beautifully written one:
“Mine is the music of metal and wood.”
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Thank you, Tre!
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You are most welcome!
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Beautiful poem 🙂
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Thanks, Tami!
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Congrats, Bob.
“The quickness of night.” Yes, especially when we look back and it’s but a moment.
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Thanks, Ken. So many nights, so many quicknesses…
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Congrats!
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Thanks, Andrew!
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You’re welcome.
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Fascinating topic, dreams – if only one could have a recording for replay! “The quickness of night” nails the rapid evaporation of most dream details – though I practice writing down what I do recall upon waking. Your poem sorta is inspiration to take a lingering nap; thanks!
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Oh, the soporific effects of my poetry! Years ago I practiced reading poetry drafts to our bulldog, who invariably fell asleep and snored. 🙂
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Trusting you took that as a compliment … your voice soothing away distractions … opening the door to canine dream wanderings …
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Ha! Yes, of course. I’m not sensitive about these things.
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Beautiful poem! Congratulations!
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Thanks very much!
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you are welcome!
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Congrats on placing this one!
You say so much by not saying. I recognize the music of your “unsaid,” and feel almost conspiratorial when I hear it, kind of like when I eavesdrop on people speaking French, and they give their secrets away to me exactly because the expression of oblivion on my face is an assurance that I could never repeat what I know, and they’re right about that, but I come away with the sense I got away with something (that same expression has won me a hand or two in poker — little did anyone know my lack of a tell was due to the fact that it takes me 5 minutes to figure out what everyone else knows instantaneously? And anyway, life isn’t poker).
Yes, this poem is very much like a dream slipping away as you wake (like the strands I’ve been grasping at for the past hour in my attempt to respond here…), in that the only thing there is to hold onto is the fact that you don’t remember, but dearly want to, but can’t… but if you could, the definition of that thing you knew would be listed in a different dictionary, which wouldn’t matter, anyway, because you wouldn’t need to look it up. It’s like realizing long after you folded, and the person with the pair of deuces raked in the chips, that you had a full house — something that’s no more true than if you’d only imagined it, which you very well might’ve…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, ma’am. I think the sentence fragments function well in this piece – those little bits that aren’t quite fully formed and remain ever elusive – to enhance the dreamlike state. It’s weird how those details work out…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Congrats!
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It’s always uplifting! Thank you.
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The first couplet draws me into a feeling of one of the riddles from the Hans Taliesin, a means to reveal the god’s true name, but made simple, by just looking it up in a dictionary. Imagine the look on Bran’s face when someone goes, “is it this one!”
i mentioned the line “I am brahman, the straight line” in my recent essay, just came to me as more evidence on the importance of the line, but moreover, fitting, as it is as if in that line, the LINE is referring to itself through its agent, Okaji.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The line can make or break a poem, at least when writing from my perspective. It is my foundation.
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It’s interesting what Browning is articulating through his various metaphors which i take as variations of line-like objects or actions. He’s not an easy poet Browning, his obscurantist leanings frustrate me sometimes, but he’s worth the effort.
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I need to spend some time with Browning. My education is sadly lacking.
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I recommend the lesser known, more esoteric stuff, it shows a man apart from a generation still attached to the influence of Romanticism & really pushing outside Victorian poetry to Modernism. They are challenging works the longer, dramatic poems & very original in context of form, for example, Turf & Towers borrows the conventions of journalism & also colloquy between friends for its narrative structure.
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A superb poem Robert, Oh if those halls and walls of time could talk. Congratulations Robert, Ah yes a glass of red wine to celebrate tonight, Cheers..
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Thank you, Ivor. I trust it was a good, full-bodied glass.
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Congratulations on the publication of this superb, spare, piece
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Thank you, Derrick.
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Congratulations. Beautiful poem.
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Thank you!
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So many ghosts…well done (as usual)! (K)
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Thanks, Kerfe. It seems that as soon as I exorcise some, others pop up.
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