# Writing > Personal Poetry >  Snapshots

## PrinceMyshkin

* 
At the hotel restaurant
in Paris 
at the table next to me
a couple who've been married
since just before the invention of pain.

He looks past her shoulder
into the middle distance
as if he might find a thought there
somewhere, she
looks down, to the left of him, wondering
where the years have gone.*

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## 1n50mn14

This is the first time I've had the pleasure of reading your poetry, and I am wowed. How evocative, just in a few simple lines.

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## TheFifthElement

Jerry, this feels kind of familiar but I'm not sure why. Nice, but sad.

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## motherhubbard

how sad Jerry. You must feel melancholy after returning home. Coming and going- it’s bitter sweet.

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## PrinceMyshkin

> how sad Jerry. You must feel melancholy after returning home. Coming and going- its bitter sweet.


Yes, I guess that couple were there to provide me an outlet for my disappointment, but Sophie and I have never lacked for things to say to each other, and I doubt we ever will.

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## PrinceMyshkin

> This is the first time I've had the pleasure of reading your poetry, and I am wowed. How evocative, just in a few simple lines.


Given the deep respect I have for your literary abilities, this means a great deal to me. And may I suggest you check out 
http://www.online-literature.com/for...ad.php?t=32687 a poem of mine that I'm especially proud of.

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## PrinceMyshkin

> Jerry, this feels kind of familiar but I'm not sure why. Nice, but sad.


God forbid that the familiarity is owing to you having been in the same situation!

But if you ever recollect some other piece of writing this reminds you of, do please let me know.

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## Auriga

Very elegant poem. It's full of longing. It's sad, but thought provoking. Congradulations.

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## Sweets America

I love it, Schwee!  :Smile:  The second stanza is very strong, it makes the reader think.

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## Pendragon

You never cease to amaze me with your Snapshots in words. One can almost see the elderly couple through your eyes, as they sit at their table, seemingly each lost in memories they share but cannot seem to connect

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## AuntShecky

short and bittersweet. Lines 3-6 are the best.

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## PrinceMyshkin

> Very elegant poem. It's full of longing. It's sad, but thought provoking. Congradulations.


No one has ever described one of my poems as "elegant" before nor was I ever conscious of seeking that reaction, but I am grateful for it. And if I am correct in understanding "elegance" the way scientists sometimes apply it to a theorem - that it expresses itself in the most economical way - then yes, that is one of my ideals re writing poetry: to get to the heart of the matter in the fewest, most appropriate words.

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## Countess

Funny - what you didn't say, said the most. It is the silence of people who know each other too well - or in most cases, no longer know each other at all.

Very poignant. You make me sad. )-; 

Um, Tis better to have loved and lost, than never loved at all?

Don't you want to tell Shakespeare to go burn in the firey tempest every once in awhile?

Sorry for your pain. A melancholy heart is always suceptible to sympathy - so I give it to you. 

(PS: Great poem - but that sounds trite. By the above, you know how much I liked it)

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## PrinceMyshkin

> Funny - what you didn't say, said the most. It is the silence of people who know each other too well - or in most cases, no longer know each other at all.
> 
> Very poignant. You make me sad. )-; 
> 
> Um, Tis better to have loved and lost, than never loved at all?


Frankly I prefer the variant: _Tis better to have loved a short man than never to have loved a tall._




> Don't you want to tell Shakespeare to go burn in the firey tempest every once in awhile?


Not really, I'm much too busy grovelling at the feet of WB Yeats.




> Sorry for your pain. A melancholy heart is always suceptible to sympathy - so I give it to you.


You're my buddy. You really are.




> (PS: Great poem - but that sounds trite. By the above, you know how much I liked it)

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## _JadeRain_

It's a lovely poem. How very strange that something so sad can sould beautiful at the same time.

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## PrinceMyshkin

> It's a lovely poem. How very strange that something so sad can sould beautiful at the same time.


Many thanks, Jade, for this lovely comment...

*The city seems to be weeping today
--or is it me?
Or is it me?

Along Av. du Parc the residences
have turned their facades around
so that they're facing inwards
as if sadness were akin
to shame, to failure...*

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## PrinceMyshkin

*
Snapshots: 3

An unfamiliar SUV
passes slowly by
as I brush the overnight snow
from my car.

Behind the wheel
an attractive young woman
(but they are all attractive
when they smile)
glances into her rear-view mirror
and flashes a smile
at the passenger behind her.

My day begins.*

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## PrinceMyshkin

*A woman stops by my table to greet me,
to offer me the chance to invite her
to join me. It would take me
the better part of the day
to decode the expression on her face.

There is a note of Save me from my loneliness
and an undernote of Of course you won't.
Like all the other men you look for younger women
with bigger breasts and lax morals
and there's a side note of Figure me out if you can!
No one ever has, or will.*

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## Sweets America

That's a nice new snapshot, shou. Now maybe nice is not the appropriate word. Maybe 'nice' is not 'felicitous' (I learn that word in class today  :Tongue:  ). I like how your poem deals with the unsaid, and I also feel how the speaker is passive in front of this woman who asserts her presence. I like how this tells something about human complexity.
I also recognize your own voice here, your own poetry, my Prince.

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## Granny5

It hurts my heart, Jerry. Could it be me and Poppy someday? Naw, I never run out of things to say and he always makes up an answer hoping to shut me up.
It's beautiful and moving. And it does bring sadness to my heart.

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## Sweets America

> It hurts my heart, Jerry. Could it be me and Poppy someday? Naw, I never run out of things to say and he always makes up an answer hoping to shut me up.
> It's beautiful and moving. And it does bring sadness to my heart.


That is sad, yes. In comparison to you and Poppy, I think that the even more interesting thing in the poem is that the two characters actually don't know each other, and I love how so many things pass through glances here. 

Oh, I just understood the 5 in Granny5!  :FRlol:  I'm so stupid I had never realized it was about the number of your grandchildren!  :FRlol:

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## PrinceMyshkin

> Oh, I just understood the 5 in Granny5!  I'm so stupid I had never realized it was about the number of your grandchildren!


On the other hand, it could be a reference to the number of teeth she has left in her head!

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## PrinceMyshkin

> That's a nice new snapshot, shou. Now maybe nice is not the appropriate word. Maybe 'nice' is not 'felicitous' (I learn that word in class today  ). I like how your poem deals with the unsaid, and I also feel how the speaker is passive in front of this woman who asserts her presence. I like how this tells something about human complexity.
> I also recognize your own voice here, your own poetry, my Prince.


Thank you. Your reference to "voice" got me thinking how, by that, one usually means the distinctive manner that X or Y employs in his or her poetry, but that in fact in my characteristically conversational poems, the voice is almost indistinct from that in which I would speak to someone spontaneously.

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## Sweets America

> Thank you. Your reference to "voice" got me thinking how, by that, one usually means the distinctive manner that X or Y employs in his or her poetry, but that in fact in my characteristically conversational poems, the voice is almost indistinct from that in which I would speak to someone spontaneously.


That's true that your poems are conversational, but in the meantime I don't see them that way, not only. Of course when you read them, you see it sometimes (often?) sounds like the speaker is relating an event to the reader, but in the meantime there is something which goes beyond the purely conversational, I don't know. Maybe it's the 'general' thing that I can feel in all your poems, this things that draws kinds of conclusions or lessons from the particular event. This didactic thing. And I think your voice is more there than in the strictly conversational. 




> On the other hand, it could be a reference to the number of teeth she has left in her head!


 :FRlol:  You should be ashamed of yourself.  :Tongue:

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## PrinceMyshkin

> That's true that your poems are conversational, but in the meantime I don't see them that way, not only. Of course when you read them, you see it sometimes (often?) sounds like the speaker is relating an event to the reader, but in the meantime there is something which goes beyond the purely conversational, I don't know. Maybe it's the 'general' thing that I can feel in all your poems, this things that draws kinds of conclusions or lessons from the particular event. This didactic thing. And I think your voice is more there than in the strictly conversational.


Certainly I'm trying to purge myself of the didactic and I'd begun to worry that the conversational thing might be getting glib or even self-parodying but on the other hand there's a common ground on which conversation and poetry may be synonymous. That will happen sometimes when a speaker is passionate. He or she might lapse (or rise) into poetic cadences. It is so, too, I think, when one speaks plainly of some truth that is essential to one's being.





> You should be ashamed of yourself.


Oh, I am, deeply, deeply ashamed of myself!

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## SleepyWitch

> That's a nice new snapshot, shou. Now maybe nice is not the appropriate word. Maybe 'nice' is not 'felicitous' (I learn that word in class today  ).


Pragmatics class?

gee, I wish I was an old geezer so women would stop by at my table (I don't mean the waitress)  :Tongue:

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## Sweets America

> Pragmatics class?
> 
> gee, I wish I was an old geezer so women would stop by at my table (I don't mean the waitress)


Well, not pragmatics class, but yes, the teacher just explained us some things about pragmatics and the 'felicitous' word came up.  :Smile:  
Isn't it a beautiful word?

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## SleepyWitch

> Well, not pragmatics class, but yes, the teacher just explained us some things about pragmatics and the 'felicitous' word came up.  
> Isn't it a beautiful word?


 :Smile:  yeah, but I like Grice's "avoid unnecessary prolixity" better  :Smile:  and his "be perspicuous" .. .yeah, right, they don't sound as nice as felicitous, but they're two words with a p that you won't find in any old run-of-the-mill dictionary. takes a philosopher of language to dig up two of those and use them in a row..
(did I mention I'm no good at either, avoiding prolixity and being perspicuous? also, has anyone noted that Grice's maxims would make a great song in the style of "Class of 99" by Baz Lurman -sp?-... I mean: "Make your contribution as informative as is required for the current purposes of the exchange.".. .sounds great)....

sorry, Jer, I'll stop hijacking your thread now  :Biggrin:

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## PrinceMyshkin

> Pragmatics class?
> 
> gee, I wish I was an old geezer so women would stop by at my table (I don't mean the waitress)


It's a common enough misconception that old geezers are necessarily male and of an advanced age. Some of them may be smart-assed "chicks" who are younger than thirty!

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## SleepyWitch

> It's a common enough misconception that old geezers are necessarily male and of an advanced age. Some of them may be smart-assed "chicks" who are younger than thirty!


who you talkin bout, doooooode?  :Smile:  hehehe, you lost me there  :Smile:

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## PrinceMyshkin

Entering the café I catch sight of a guy I know from another café. I catch sight of him just in time to pretend that I haven’t seen him. As inconspicuously as I can, I slither my way to my usual spot at the counter and seat myself, my back to his profile.

Someone foisted him on me once on the grounds that he was Jewish and a writer and ever since then, whenever I was there and he arrived, he would seat himself at my table without asking if he could. But I found conversation with him so painful that eventually I stopped going there. He was one side or the other of forty but as far as I could tell, he had no job. As far as I could tell because, about his private life it was if he were the last, loyal member of a long disbanded Maoist party. 

He did refer once to the fact that he had done his MA in literature at McGill University. “What was your thesis topic?” I asked.

“Do you know anything about Henry Roth?”

Yes, I said and recited the main things I knew about him.

“It wasn’t about him,” he answered. “How about Daniel Fuchs?”

I’d heard the name but confessed that I knew nothing beyond that.

“Oh,” he said, with a pleased smile.

I’m uncomfortable sitting there, ignoring him, wondering if he’s caught sight of me after all. Eventually I become aware that he’s getting ready to leave and I watch to see in which direction he will go. He looks east, takes a step west, then alters direction and heads north. I feel as if, poor orphan of fate, he’s at the whim of the faintest of intentions.

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## Sweets America

That was good prose, Shou. I enjoy the way you write. :Smile:

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## islandclimber

[QUOTE=PrinceMyshkin;541855]Certainly I'm trying to purge myself of the didactic and I'd begun to worry that the conversational thing might be getting glib or even self-parodying but on the other hand there's a common ground on which conversation and poetry may be synonymous. That will happen sometimes when a speaker is passionate. He or she might lapse (or rise) into poetic cadences. It is so, too, I think, when one speaks plainly of some truth that is essential to one's being. QUOTE]

I really enjoyed this group of poems... I wouldn't be too worried about the conversational thing, at least not here... It's what makes these as powerful as they are... and they are so much more than just that, or at least so I find... there is the way in which interaction and passion seem to come out of even the single lines by themselves, as though there are feelings hidden there, that have so many meanings... or so I felt in reading these... 

the outward facade of conversation doesn't obscure, it only serves to heighten the feeling and emotion, and the passion lingering in firelight behind each poem... I really like them...

I also love the last line of your prose... "at the whim of the faintest of intentions"... it is just perfect...

cheers

cheers

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## miss tenderness

Oh , what a sad begining !
so deep and evocative . I like the way you expressed what happened . Few lines , full and complete image .

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## PrinceMyshkin

Island: that response of yours (#33) is of course one of the reasons I write, to be read like that, understood like that... Thank you.

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## asilef73

sadly accurate and beautifully concise.

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## PrinceMyshkin

*
Birds in adjacent cages
pondering
each other's dreams.*

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## PrinceMyshkin

> *
> Birds in adjacent cages
> pondering
> each other's dreams.*


'Scuse me for the bump, but surely this deserves a comment?

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## TheFifthElement

> 'Scuse me for the bump, but surely this deserves a comment?


Indeed it does  :Smile: 

Beautiful, thought provoking and concise. I wish _I_ had written it.

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## PrinceMyshkin

> Indeed it does 
> 
> Beautiful, thought provoking and concise. I wish _I_ had written it.


Well, what finer compliment could one wish? 

And I keep reminding myself: _Eight words! What might I have done with nine!?_

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## blp

> * 
> At the hotel restaurant
> in Paris 
> at the table next to me
> a couple who have been married
> since just before the invention of pain.
> 
> He looks past her shoulder
> into the middle distance
> ...


I like, but these spare observations need to be even more spare I think. So, I admit it's fussy, but, if I had my way, you'd trim to '...who were married / just before the invention of pain' and excise any whisper of a cliché. I know your views on this point I think, but to be particular not general about it here, I can't see that 'into the middle distance' or, worse, 'wondering / where the years have gone' are doing much.

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## PrinceMyshkin

> I like, but these spare observations need to be even more spare I think. So, I admit it's fussy, but, if I had my way, you'd trim to '...who were married / just before the invention of pain' and excise any whisper of a cliché. I know your views on this point I think, but to be particular not general about it here, I can't see that 'into the middle distance' or, worse, 'wondering / where the years have gone' are doing much.


I'm with you re the trimming but I'd sooner go with "who've been" (and will make that change). As for your other points, yes, those are not inspired choices I made but I think I'd stick to them on the ground that they're effective mimesis of the emotional tiredness of the couple.

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## SleepyWitch

> *
> Birds in adjacent cages
> pondering
> each other's dreams.*


hey I love this! it's kinda _both_ complete in itself _and_ makes you want to read more.

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## PrinceMyshkin

> hey I love this! it's kinda _both_ complete in itself _and_ makes you want to read more.


Thank you, Frau Pepperkakehaus, perhaps I could have continued it but I suspected I would just be milking the image. I wanted what you seem to have gotten: just that eye-blink. It's a _snap_-shot, after all.

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## PrinceMyshkin

*A poet scans his most recent work.
'I wrote that,' he thinks.
'God-damn! It's perfect!'
and 'God-damn, how can I do better next time?'*

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## sparr0w

Seems I always come into your threads late into the discussion, and yet here I am again... This is my favorite kind of poetry, the kind I tend to gravitate towards most often. No big statements, just a simple moment captured with elegance. Moments, simple moments, are full of oft unnoticed implications, mirror character, murder "eternity", and then pass to the next, forgotten. Only poetry accounts for them properly, breaks them down for observation. I'll bet the entire moment for which you account here lasted, what, 2 or 3 seconds? Yet when you break it down to its components, I feel I know alot about the couple, and where they feel they stand in life. Great work, sorry for my winded reply. Peace- chris

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## PrinceMyshkin

> Seems I always come into your threads late into the discussion, and yet here I am again... This is my favorite kind of poetry, the kind I tend to gravitate towards most often. No big statements, just a simple moment captured with elegance. Moments, simple moments, are full of oft unnoticed implications, mirror character, murder "eternity", and then pass to the next, forgotten. Only poetry accounts for them properly, breaks them down for observation. I'll bet the entire moment for which you account here lasted, what, 2 or 3 seconds? Yet when you break it down to its components, I feel I know alot about the couple, and where they feel they stand in life. Great work, sorry for my winded reply. Peace- chris


Yes, 2 or 3 seconds - if you measure it by quotidian time but in the pleasure one gets from finding the right 8 or 9 words, it seems to last much longer than any length of conventional, obligatory time!

One lives - as a writer, a lover or in one's commitment to a cause - for these deep immersions of the whole of one's self. Thank you for this and your usual deeply felt, deeply thought-out responses to my poems. And in response to your "peace," _shanti shanti dah_ (if I have it right): The peace that passes understanding...

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## PrinceMyshkin

*A man writing about something
he loves, but it is never the thing
he writes about as much 
as he loves the writing about it.

The magic of it, the beauty,
the precision, yes, even
the sloppiness. Look!
He completes a sentence:

one brick in what may one day
be a building, but there is
no building more beautiful
than any one of its bricks.*

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## Sweets America

Interesting, Schweetie-Shou.  :Smile:  Something about the love for composition? For the activity itself?

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## PrinceMyshkin

> Interesting, Schweetie-Shou.  Something about the love for composition? For the activity itself?


Yes, have you not felt it too - even in writing your most sad poem, some element of happiness in writing about and therefore triumphing over it?

*
Snapshot: XA woman who is so naked in her clothes,
beneath the sheen of her charcoal-grey stockings
the sheen of her milky thighs
shines out so beckoningly
that I turn away in embarrassment
then look back, again and again.

Her mid-calf length black winter coat
beneath her long, loose brunette tresses
hardly conceals the round of her shoulders,
the thrust of her breasts, the mild hummock
of her tummy and the lissome strength
of her arms, which are such that I want nothing
but to give myself to her, utterly,
utterly.*

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## Sweets America

> Yes, have you not felt it too - even in writing your most sad poem, some element of happiness in writing about and therefore triumphing over it?
> 
> *
> Snapshot: XA woman who is so naked in her clothes,
> beneath the sheen of her charcoal-grey stockings
> the sheen of her milky thighs
> shines out so beckoningly
> that I turn away in embarrassment
> then look back, again and again.
> ...


What a pervert you are...  :Tongue:  Just kidding.  :Wink:

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## CdnReader

> *
> Snapshot: XA woman who is so naked in her clothes,
> beneath the sheen of her charcoal-grey stockings
> the sheen of her milky thighs
> shines out so beckoningly
> that I turn away in embarrassment
> then look back, again and again.
> 
> Her mid-calf length black winter coat
> ...


Magnificent! I love the repeat of "sheen" in lines 2 and 3....and "utterly,/utterly."

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## PrinceMyshkin

*Pan-handler at the corner.
His usual post.
This time I take the long way around.*

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## PrinceMyshkin

*On Park Avenue a second storey balcony
sags as if yearning for the ground.
The windows of what was once a restaurant
are covered in manila paper.
The front door is wide open.
The street is still.
*

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## CdnReader

I love this, and I especially adore the photo of your grandkids. I think manila in this context is spelt with one "L", but I could be wrong. I have been before. Once, I think.

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## PrinceMyshkin

> I love this, and I especially adore the photo of your grandkids. I think manila in this context is spelt with one "L",


You're right about that, thanks.




> but I could be wrong. I have been before. Once, I think.


But not about this. Your "once" is at least the second time you're wrong!

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## Sweets America

> *On Park Avenue a second storey balcony
> sags as if yearning for the ground.
> The windows of what was once a restaurant
> are covered in manilla paper.
> The front door is wide open.
> The street is still.
> *


You know what? This one might be part of my favorites, because it tells so much! To me anyway. In it I hear the ending of something, the start of something new, the expectations and perhaps the fear of what is going to happen, you know it will strike soon but you don't know when. This emptiness is as exciting as it is frightful. Thank you.

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## PrinceMyshkin

> You know what? This one might be part of my favorites, because it tells so much! To me anyway. In it I hear the ending of something, the start of something new, the expectations and perhaps the fear of what is going to happen, you know it will strike soon but you don't know when. This emptiness is as exciting as it is frightful. Thank you.


Yes, that is very much how it felt to me. The restaurant in question is on my route back from my Cafe, a familiar part of the street scene, and disturbing to see that it has failed or suffered a catastrophe.

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## CdnReader

> Your "once" is at least the second time you're wrong!


 :FRlol:   :FRlol:

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## PrinceMyshkin

*There was a shotgun wedding 
between truth and willed belief
but, after myriad visits to marriage counsellors,
they decided to split up, dividing between them
their respective ideologies.*

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## PrinceMyshkin

*The sun blazed down today
intolerant of despair.
Therapists all over town
shuttered their windows
and went home early.*

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## kelby_lake

> * 
> At the hotel restaurant
> in Paris 
> at the table next to me
> a couple who've been married
> since just before the invention of pain.
> 
> He looks past her shoulder
> into the middle distance
> ...


Oh, I love it! It reminds me of a play I wrote. Read mine please.  :Smile: 
And I love the username :Smile:

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## PrinceMyshkin

> Oh, I love it! It reminds me of a play I wrote. Read mine please. 
> And I love the username


I've gone and read the very, very little bit of it you posted and left a comment. Should I assume you know where I got my username?

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## PrinceMyshkin

*Rolling to a stop
corner Park & Mt. Royal
I caught sight of the woman who cuts my hair.
I wound down the car window,
called out: "Hey, Zussanah,"
and got a big smile in return.*

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## kelby_lake

you should  :Smile:  i'm epileptic as well as myshkin so i really identified with him  :Smile: 

thanks for reading mine  :Smile:

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## PrinceMyshkin

*A woman was walking her smile
this afternoon on Fairmount Street,
a sort of hoppy-skippy dog
pad-pad-padding along beside her
but her smile was unleashed.*

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## firefangled

> *A woman was walking her smile
> this afternoon on Fairmount Street,
> a sort of hoppy-skippy dog
> pad-pad-padding along beside her
> but her smile was unleashed.*


This is precious. These remind me of Robert Bly's Morning Poems, but yours are usually cityscapes.

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## Sweets America

> *A woman was walking her smile
> this afternoon on Fairmount Street,
> a sort of hoppy-skippy dog
> pad-pad-padding along beside her
> but her smile was unleashed.*


Yeeeeaaaaah, that's a sweet one, Jer!  :Smile:

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## PrinceMyshkin

*For these 30 minutes, life,
I am deeply in your debt:
this rickety faux-marble table
on Van Horne outside of Le Paltoquet,
my dark, rich espresso allongé,
the flavour of which practically bites,
my croissant oozing butter,
my cigarette, the three guys
speaking Arabic at the next table,
the breeze sweeping east to west,
and Soulain with, as I told her,
the smile of an angel.
*If you don’t fall in love
for at least a few minutes every day
then someone on your path
went unappreciated.*

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## caelycate

i have had that exact moment in paris, but never could have articulated it the way that you did. there is something so powerful about a poem that can get across such a strong message in so few words. it reminds me of nouveau roman in the sense that there is more said in what isn't said. well done!

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## PrinceMyshkin

> i have had that exact moment in paris, but never could have articulated it the way that you did. there is something so powerful about a poem that can get across such a strong message in so few words. it reminds me of nouveau roman in the sense that there is more said in what isn't said. well done!


Many thanks Caelycate. Paris - San Francisco! You sure don't mess around with the dull or ugly places! My favourite sight-seeing in Paris is just to stand on any street and look up at the slate black tiled roofs or have a cafe filtre and a petit pain at an outdoor cafe.

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## blazeofglory

> * 
> At the hotel restaurant
> in Paris 
> at the table next to me
> a couple who've been married
> since just before the invention of pain.
> 
> He looks past her shoulder
> into the middle distance
> ...


This exactly happens and marriages fail and how they can not be in sync with
reality.

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## PrinceMyshkin

*Montreal, that lusty city,
renews its virginity each spring
and cries out
from every uncovered street:
Take me! Oh, Take me!
I'm as ready
as I've ever been.*

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## asilef73

> If you dont fall in love
> for at least a few minutes every day
> then someone on your path
> went unappreciated.


 :FRlol:  that's a unique perspective and i like it.

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## PrinceMyshkin

*In the warmth of the sun
I watch a dainty smoker go by
as he brings the end of his cigarette
to his lips as if it were the fingertips
of his virginal young lover.*

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## AuntShecky

I like the brevity of these little snapshots. I don't want to disagree with any of their stances, but just a quick question, if one is falling in love every couple o' minutes, that's not real "Love," is it? Perhaps an attention deficit disorder or the song from "Finian's Rainbow": "If I'm not with the one I love I love the one I'm with."

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## Sweets America

> *In the warmth of the sun
> I watch a dainty smoker go by
> as he brings the end of his cigarette
> to his lips as if it were the fingertips
> of his virginal young lover.*


I love it, Shou. You have this wonderful eye which seizes the moment.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> I like the brevity of these little snapshots. I don't want to disagree with any of their stances, but just a quick question, if one is falling in love every couple o' minutes, that's not real "Love," is it? Perhaps an attention deficit disorder or the song from "Finian's Rainbow": "If I'm not with the one I love I love the one I'm with."


Oh, God bless you for knowing and mentioning _Finian's Rainbow!_ But if that song is about male fickleness, I hope my little vignette refers to something else... I understand your point about the quantification of "real" love, and no doubt I'd have avoided the question if I'd used "infatuation," but, really, in the realm of the emotions, what is "real"?

----------


## Virgil

Oh I didn't know there was more snapshots being posted in this thread. i thought it was just the first poem, called "Sanpshots". Some of them are quite good, but I don't want to re-bring them up now. I'll have to keep checking in.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> I love it, Shou. You have this wonderful eye which seizes the moment.


Oh, thank you, croutie! And I just had a wonderful skype conversation with someone!

----------


## Sweets America

> Oh, God bless you for knowing and mentioning _Finian's Rainbow!_ But if that song is about male fickleness, I hope my little vignette refers to something else... I understand your point about the quantification of "real" love, and no doubt I'd have avoided the question if I'd used "infatuation," but, really, in the realm of the emotions, what is "real"?


I agree about this 'what is real?', this is so complicated. Of course we would be tempted to say that someone who falls in love every five minutes is not in love at all, but I am tempted to say, why not, maybe for this person this is what love is.

Oh, and this snapshot has so much in it, you struck me with this one, really. It's about rememberance, sadness, loneliness, somehow. And, it made me think of you and me, too.

Hey, Virgil! That was interesting what you said, why did you take it off? I wanted to reply that contrary to you I didn't find it unnatural, I found that the repetition emphasized something, like when you forgot to say something and you add it afterwards. And what sounds natural to someone might sound strange to someone else, I guess.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Oh, and this snapshot has so much in it, you struck me with this one, really. It's about rememberance, sadness, loneliness, somehow. And, it made me think of you and me, too.


Well, it is supposed to be a snapshot, although the analogy with the lover's fingertips is imposed on it; but you see more in it than I might have done. You hold the snapshot in your hands and in its mute, unmoving image you are free to see more than the camera did.




> Hey, Virgil! That was interesting what you said, why did you take it off? I wanted to reply that contrary to you I didn't find it unnatural, I found that the repetition emphasized something, like when you forgot to say something and you add it afterwards. And what sounds natural to someone might sound strange to someone else, I guess.


Yes, I too wanted to reply to Virgil's post which I found interesting. I'd have defended my repetition of "I catch sight of" on the grounds that the effect of the sighting struck the speaker deeply, set him back on his heels.

----------


## Virgil

> Yes, I too wanted to reply to Virgil's post which I found interesting. I'd have defended my repetition of "I catch sight of" on the grounds that the effect of the sighting struck the speaker deeply, set him back on his heels.


Yes, I did take it off. I noticed that in this case there was a subtle distinction in meaning after I re-read your elocution and my alternatives. However, the general comment still holds, but I think Prince can defend his elocution in this case. So in realizing that I didn't have the time to refine my thought, I just took it down. If you want I can try to recreate what I said.

----------


## firefangled

> *For these 30 minutes, life,
> I am deeply in your debt:
> this rickety faux-marble table
> on Van Horne outside of Le Paltoquet,
> my dark, rich espresso allongé,
> the flavour of which practically bites,
> my croissant oozing butter,
> my cigarette, the three guys
> speaking Arabic at the next table,
> ...


For me this one works maybe a little bit more than others because of the up front details. You set this up beautifully by describing someone totally in love with his surroundings and everyone present to one degree or another.

The ending is deftly apropos.

----------


## dibyendra

> In the warmth of the sun
> I watch a dainty smoker go by
> as he brings the end of his cigarette
> to his lips as if it were the fingertips
> of his virginal young lover.


Oh what a vibrant poem you've written, Prince. Lovely!

----------


## dibyendra

> For these 30 minutes, life,
> I am deeply in your debt:
> this rickety faux-marble table
> on Van Horne outside of Le Paltoquet,
> my dark, rich espresso allongé,
> the flavour of which practically bites,
> my croissant oozing butter,
> my cigarette, the three guys
> speaking Arabic at the next table,
> ...



Very beautiful poem as your poem is very vivid and always leaves me pondering. Very beautiful description of surroundings! I'm back on Litnet after a long gap and happy to see beautiful poems reflecting fleeting glimpses of life. The last line is really meaningful. Thank you for sharing these pearls!

----------


## Virgil

> *For these 30 minutes, life,
> I am deeply in your debt:
> this rickety faux-marble table
> on Van Horne outside of Le Paltoquet,
> my dark, rich espresso allongé,
> the flavour of which practically bites,
> my croissant oozing butter,
> my cigarette, the three guys
> speaking Arabic at the next table,
> ...


You guys are right. This is outstanding!!

----------


## kiz_paws

This is a thread that one can surely get lost in. I love the brevity of these poems, each capturing something different -- and of course, aptly named "Snapshots". 

Your poetry makes me smile -- it can open my eyes -- it always amazes me how well you can put to words your quiet observations in the world you tumble in, Jer.  :Smile: 

May I say that the following were my favorites: 


> Birds in adjacent cages
> pondering
> each other's dreams





> A woman was walking her smile
> this afternoon on Fairmount Street,
> a sort of hoppy-skippy dog
> pad-pad-padding along beside her
> but her smile was unleashed.


 and 



> If you dont fall in love
> for at least a few minutes every day
> then someone on your path
> went unappreciated.


I need to stay tuned to this thread!  :Thumbs Up:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

Many thanks firefangled, Virgil, Kiz Paws, Dibyendra...

I'm reminded of the following:



> In her later years, Queen Victoria became somewhat flatulent. At a reception for the various Ambassadors to the Court of King James she was engaged in conversation with the French, Italian and German ambassadors when she farted. 
> 
> Immediately the French Ambassador made an elegant bow and said, “My humble apologies, Your Majesty! I am most heartily sorry!
> 
> A moment later she farted again whereupon the Italian Ambassador made a sweeping bow and said, “Forgive one, please, Your Majesty, for this most awkward behaviour on my part.”
> 
> And once again, soon after that, she farted.
> 
> Clicking his heels smartly together the German Ambassador bowed from the waist and said, “This one and the next three are on the great German nation!”


...the next several, in other words, are in your honour!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Girls, theyre funny, but still
they have something, you know?
They might be skinny
as a stalk of stinkweed and walk with a list,
but still...

Or there might be three of them
on their way home from school
like cupcakes leaning together,
t-shirts hanging out
over regulation black shorts...

And then they grow up
to be women.*

----------


## symphony

Skinny girls have it too? GOOD!! You made my day!  :Biggrin:

----------


## blazeofglory

> *Girls, theyre funny, but still
> they have something, you know?
> They might be skinny
> as a stalk of stinkweed and walk with a list,
> but still...
> 
> Or there might be three of them
> on their way home from school
> like cupcakes leaning together,
> ...


They are exactly what you portrayed. Maybe boys to before they grow into full blown manhood. Funny and therefore interesting in their babyhood and mature and they lose the sheen of life.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A woman prowls
one of the aisles at Loblaws
crackers
rice cakes
tinned meat
tinned fish
souptreading cautiously
on the balls of her feet
lest she alert her prey*

----------


## firefangled

And don't some go about this like a hunt? I have been snorted at while an old woman paws the floor, head down for charging, over the last 3 cans of chicken broth at Thanksgiving.

I liked the aisle effect. 

Sounds like a very austere diet, though.

----------


## ampoule

:Blush:  I feel like a behind for being so behind on this thread. I am enjoying it very much! What a wonderful little book this would be bound up in a cover that looks like a small photo album.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*"I think, therefore I am."
DescartesI think, therefore I am Descartes.
Newman*

----------


## symphony

> *"I think, therefore I am."
> DescartesI think, therefore I am Descartes.
> Newman*


  :Biggrin: 


Well, the forum's against my alacritous comments!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Two bicyclists
glide by on Fairmount
as if in slow motion.
I watch them.

I continue to watch them.*

----------


## kelby_lake

strange. how strange.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> strange. how strange.


Would you elaborate, please, on what you find strange about this?

----------


## ampoule

> Would you elaborate, please, on what you find strange about this?


Maybe you should have blinked.  :Biggrin:  Sorry, I don't know what is strange either.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A woman walks by
so lightly
she carries the sound of her footsteps
away with her*

----------


## kiz_paws

> *"I think, therefore I am."
> DescartesI think, therefore I am Descartes.
> Newman*


I think
I like 
this!  :Smile: 





> *A woman walks by
> so lightly
> she carries the sound of her footsteps
> away with her*


Beautiful, I can picture her now.  :Thumbs Up:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Like a procession of pelicans
a troupe of high-school seniors
waddled efficiently down the lane ahead of me
in identical white T-shirts, black shorts,
their legs pumping
in and out of synch,
a visual symphony.*

----------


## Umbilical

> *Two bicyclists
> glide by on Fairmount
> as if in slow motion.
> I watch them.
> 
> I continue to watch them.*


It's strange 
BECAUSE
WELL I wrote a 2000 word essay on WHY
but my computer froze (f---ing idiot!)
It's strange BECAUSE
It's slow motion because of the perception of the viewer, not the movement of the bicyclists.
Or not.
Time is perception,
but if there's nothing there to perceive (the bicyclists are gone)
why is that nothing still measured by time. Is it something else?
Or are they just one...
some merging of the other person into yourself, so that you lose that person for a moment, but gain that person as your self,
so time stops because they don't cease to exist in your world -
they don't MOVE AWAY, they stay FOREVER.

heehee.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> It's strange 
> BECAUSE
> WELL I wrote a 2000 word essay on WHY
> but my computer froze (f---ing idiot!)
> It's strange BECAUSE
> It's slow motion because of the perception of the viewer, not the movement of the bicyclists.
> Or not.
> Time is perception,
> but if there's nothing there to perceive (the bicyclists are gone)
> ...


Notwithstanding your inveterate self-depreciation, you are WAY more bright than the average 18-year old! (Yeh, I know....)

----------


## Umbilical

hey BIT.CH
I'm 19.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> hey BIT.CH
> I'm 19.


Hey, smart-tukhes! Didja read the parenthetical remark at the end of my post? I'm, like, several steps ahead of you!

----------


## Umbilical

I read it after everything we'd been through...
sorry.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*I came this |~| close
to finding love this morning.
At the café a youngish woman
pecked away at her laptop.
When I looked at her
she gave me a smile
that was open on all sides.
Where did you get that smile?
I asked, one of my standard lines.
I stole it! she said.

The conversation proceeded
easily, comfortably until at last
I arrived at the question:
Do you have a boyfriend?
Yes, she answered
with a slight blush.

Later, I imagined them making love 
and wondered, Does she give him
anywhere near as much pleasure
as she gave me those few minutes we chatted,
smiling.*

----------


## Virgil

I haven't kept up with them all Prince, but this last one is very elegantly done. Really captures a moment.

----------


## tractatus

Nice idea PrinceMyshkin.

----------


## Umbilical

You're making me want shhhheeexxxx
is it your intention?
"...she gave me a smile
that was open on all sides..."
I wonder what association that has.

I enjoyed it very much!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> You're making me want shhhheeexxxx
> is it your intention?
> "...she gave me a smile
> that was open on all sides..."
> I wonder what association that has.
> 
> I enjoyed it very much!


Assuming I understand correctly what "shhhheeexxxx" is, yeah, that was exactly my intention. And from now on, anytime I mention eggplant or sauerkraut or a whole lot of other things, you will think of "shhhheeexxxx," as in this well-known song:




> Shhhheeexxxx is bustin' out all over!
> The saplin's are bustin' out with sap!
> Love hes found my brother, Junior,
> And my sister's even loonier!
> And my Ma is gettin' kittenish with Pap!
> Sheeexxx in bustin' out all over
> 
> Because it's Shhhheeexxxx... Shhhheeexxxx, Shhhheeexxxx, Shhhheeexxxx
> Just because it's Shhhheeexxxx, Shhhheeexxxx, Shhhheeexxxx!
> ...

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

Breakfast at "Beauty's"

A mother and her two young adult daughters
visiting from New Brunswick,
the young women _oooh!_ and _ahhh!_
at everything in this historic ‘luncheonette.’

*“Bagels!”* Sesame-seed bagels
among bona-fide Montrealers
on rue Mont-Royal corner avenue du St. Urbain!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Marie
She might have been a young-looking 35.
Id have preferred that
although, even at that age...
And there was something so quiet about her face
I almost found it forbidding.

Still, when she went outside for a cigarette
I followed her with my American Spirits
and asked if I might join her
for the length of a smoke.

She made place for me
on the concrete step
of the building next to the café
and I sat down and lit up.

We exchanged little pellets of conversation,
the sort that might have been the prelude
to anything
or nothing
then she re-entered the café to finish her lunch
and I moved over to one of the outdoor tables.

Soon after that she emerged,
nodded at the other chair and asked
if she might join me.
Of course, I said, hoping for no more 
than a few minutes more pleasant conversation
or love at last.

When she left to go back to work
we embraced and, Quebec-style,
kissed each other on each cheek
and promised to look for each other there
some other time.*

----------


## Pendragon

> *Marie
> She might have been a young-looking 35.
> Id have preferred that
> although, even at that age...
> And there was something so quiet about her face
> I almost found it forbidding.
> 
> Still, when she went outside for a cigarette
> I followed her with my American Spirits
> ...


Encore! Encore!

----------


## firefangled

Two moments in time and you manage to make a movie I will have in my head all day if not longer.

And this...




> Of course, I said, hoping for no more 
> than a few minutes more pleasant conversation
> or love at last.


is the width and depth of it all.

----------


## CdnReader

I loved all of this, every line, every word. I was right there in the cafe and on the step, watching it all unfold, but especially this....




> *
> Of course, I said, hoping for no more 
> than a few minutes more pleasant conversation
> or love at last.
> *



....which nudged me (quietly) off my chair with its open, naked honesty, and made me want to weep (quietly) for more. More poetry, and more than conversation.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> I loved all of this, every line, every word.


Um, what about the line breaks? the punctuation? the spelling?

Reminds me of Mary McCarthy's remark re Lillian Hellman's autobiography, that _every word in it was a lie, including "the" and "a"._

----------


## Umbilical

oh and it all starts with your self-disgust.

doesn't it?

I wonder if you could write a story about Marie without ever meeting her,
as if you have this little game in your end/head,
where you end up the SAME
EVERY (Fu.cking) time.

You know what I mean, Jer, you do... and it makes you so sad,
you could have pretty little conversations looking for love with yourself.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Two moments in time and you manage to make a movie I will have in my head all day if not longer.
> 
> And this...
> 
> 
> 
> is the width and depth of it all.


That means a very great deal to me, and how to say this next part without being vainglorious (except, of course, that one loves the chance to use that word) but this poem and many of the snapshots seem to come to me in a state of grace, inasmuch as I don't strive for effects but stay as plain to the truth of what I see and feel.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> oh and it all starts with your self-disgust.
> 
> doesn't it?


If you only knew how passionately I hope that is untrue!




> I wonder if you could write a story about Marie without ever meeting her,
> as if you have this little game in your end/head,
> where you end up the SAME
> EVERY (Fu.cking) time.
> 
> You know what I mean, Jer, you do... and it makes you so sad,
> you could have pretty little conversations looking for love with yourself.


Let me say this for all to see: *I love you!* Not in a lascivious way, but bloody close to that.

Some would say that these are all stories without Marie or X or Y or Z... True, there really was a "Marie,' 5'7"ish, long brown hair, startlingly blue eyes, ample mouth and being of French origin with a way of pronouncing her English syllables as if they were little bite-sized things without the heft and chewiness of French...

PS There will be a second chapter, if I can put it together.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Encore! Encore!


Many thanks, Bro!

----------


## Umbilical

I'm glad you've said that for all to see,
because apparently my poetry disgusts poetry.



...and I secretly love it.


lascivious, haha.

----------


## dibyendra

> *Marie
> She might have been a young-looking 35.
> Id have preferred that
> although, even at that age...
> And there was something so quiet about her face
> I almost found it forbidding.
> 
> Still, when she went outside for a cigarette
> I followed her with my American Spirits
> ...


Lovely poem!  :Thumbs Up:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Lovely poem!


Thanks, Dibyendra.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

* Marie Part 2

I sat at an outdoor table at the café
waiting for Marie to come.
If she came it would have to mean
she had felt about our encounter
as I did. And that wed have begun
something that each of us
had been waiting to begin.
While I waited
the temperature of the earth
continued to rise,
another glacier slipped into the sea
but she did not come.

I raised my eyes every time
I heard footsteps approach
and for a split second imagined
that every one who came into view
was her: an Oriental young woman
with a pony-tail, shoulders hunched,
wearing a close fitting summer coat,
a scarf pulled tight around her neck;

an older man, probably toothless,
his upper lip in close proximity with his chin,
face the colour and texture 
of a tired rubber eraser;

a casually sloppy Greek guy
with close-cropped hair and a laughing
female companion, but none of them
was her, not actually her.

An entire species went out of existence,
a future poet was born,
a murderer, a saint,
but still she did not come.

There could have been 110 reasons
why she didnt come, or just one:
that she saw no reason to...*

----------


## Umbilical

=( so so sad...
I'm empathizing with you at the moment.
The difference is beginning and waiting to begin...
and her never beginning is her always waiting to begin,
in your mind and your hope.

Please get sad enough to write part 3 before the day ends.
And you should write a poem about me  :Smile: ...
so long as you're not a sleazy old bastard (jokes).

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> =( so so sad...
> I'm empathizing with you at the moment.
> The difference is beginning and waiting to begin...
> and her never beginning is her always waiting to begin,
> in your mind and your hope.
> 
> Please get sad enough to write part 3 before the day ends.
> And you should write a poem about me ...
> so long as you're not a sleazy old bastard (jokes).


Some of this is wise, all of it is interesting but as for me being "a sleazy old bastard," I'm working on it, Dudelette!

----------


## Umbilical

When you work on it,
and 
realize
that
sleaziness
is just loneliness
so long as you can't fondle the edge of a skirt
or the circumference of
a malformed prick
or the penumbra, of a flower that will never bud
but is displaced
nipple to the bottom of your love-
thought---
you'll realize,
Mr. Poet man,
that so long as you can NEVER GET NEAR ME OR my
soiled panties,
your loneliness and
the amount of messages in your box (your box you don't have but the messages you do, my fault)
is all you need to be sleazy,
fukkin SLEAAZE! !636

hi.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> When you work on it,
> and 
> realize
> that
> sleaziness
> is just loneliness
> so long as you can't fondle the edge of a skirt
> or the circumference of
> a malformed prick
> ...


Off your meds again, hon? And though you think nothing of giving everybody here a totally false notion of our connection as in



> so long as you can NEVER GET NEAR ME OR my
> soiled panties,


let it be known that I never had nor ever will have any desire to get anywhere near you "OR [your] soiled panties," nor your every now and then compulsively soiled sense of 'humour'!

What was the meaning of that "636"?

----------


## Umbilical

I didn't know until I realized that I'm a maths genius, and
6
6+3 = 9
=
69.
But I swear it was a massive mistake,
the condom broke and I came to it like Doc did in 'Back to the Future' <3

SOILED SENSE OF HUMOR --
I love it.
I thank you for this statement...
because tiz true.

636 is the number of [potential] marie's out there.

I appreciate your use of '[]'

!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Marie: Part 2 ½
This morning, 
while waiting for Marie,
I met Nancy.*

Make a movie out of _that,_ firefangled! We could call it "Planet of the Aches".

----------


## Umbilical

That last one is the best,
size doesn't matter.
2.5 is rounded up to 3, even when you're straight down the line.

well dun.

----------


## firefangled

> *Marie: Part 2 ½
> This morning, 
> while waiting for Marie,
> I met Nancy.*
> 
> Make a movie out of _that,_ firefangled! We could call it "Planet of the Aches".


It's too bad Fellini is dead.

----------


## ampoule

And me, miss priss, 
egomaniac
who cannot stand to look at herself in the mirror
steps out into the day with a swish and a flourish
lusting for a part in one of your poems
or at the very least, 
to be that one you never noticed till now,
the one in the background,
looking off somewhere,
holding her hot cup with both hands,
and you go back
and set up your camera
and wait.

Keep snapping.
Plenty of pages left in this photo album.  :Biggrin:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> And me....
> holding her hot cup with both hands,


Please! This is a family oriented site!!!

----------


## dibyendra

> * Marie Part 2
> 
> I sat at an outdoor table at the café
> waiting for Marie to come.
> If she came it would have to mean
> she had felt about our encounter
> as I did. And that we’d have begun
> something that each of us
> had been waiting to begin.
> ...


I loved your intense poetic expressions here in your poem Jerry. It's such a lovely piece which I've perceived deeply. It's a vibrant poem! Wow!




> While I waited
> the temperature of the earth
> continued to rise,
> another glacier slipped into the sea
> but she did not come.





> An entire species went out of existence,
> a future poet was born,
> a murderer, a saint,
> but still she did not come.


The above lines are really great. I loved it! 
I really appreciate your poems as they are so intriguing and vibrant. Keep up your great works. :Thumbs Up:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*An accident
might be the product
of 2-3 seconds of inattention,
like falling in love.*

----------


## CdnReader

> *An accident
> might be the product
> of 2-3 seconds of inattention,
> like falling in love.*


*But it can take
what seems a lifetime of carefully designed intentions,
guarding against every slip of the tongue,
never allowing one's guard down for a moment,
to make up for one inattentive lapse
that led to two or three seconds
of loving.

*

----------


## AuntShecky

Number xxxi, Marie Part 2 is very good. It's much like Waiting for Godot, writ small. The section referring to global warming is great, and it reminded me about something the late film critic Gene Siskel once said about
using world events as a backdrop in a good movie script:
the world whirring round outside as it's interpreted by individual characters.
One nit-pick: in line five of the second stanza "was her" should be "was she." Linking verbs, in this case the past tense of the verb "to be," takes the nominative case.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Number xxxi...
> One nit-pick: in line five of the second stanza "was her" should be "was she." Linking verbs, in this case the past tense of the verb "to be," takes the nominative case.


You're absolutely right of course, grammatically, but not I think aesthetically inasmuch as this is someone thinking out loud and colloquially, I believe, most of us would use the accusative here.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

Shaped like the shepherds crook
in his hand,
a bent old man
shambles across the street.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A street familiar
returns my nod
but saves his smile
for when he might actually need it.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Highway 40: Kingston - Montreal

A chubby critter
hugs the asphalt
as tight as it can,
dried blood outlining
the remains of its head.*

----------


## Sweets America

> *Highway 40: Kingston - Montreal
> 
> A chubby critter
> hugs the asphalt
> as tight as it can,
> dried blood outlining
> the remains of its head.*


This is GRAND. "Hugs the asphalt", this is grand.

----------


## kiz_paws

> *Highway 40: Kingston - Montreal
> 
> A chubby critter
> hugs the asphalt
> as tight as it can,
> dried blood outlining
> the remains of its head.*


A picture could not paint this scene any better. Awesome work.  :Thumbs Up:

----------


## dibyendra

> *Highway 40: Kingston - Montreal
> 
> A chubby critter
> hugs the asphalt
> as tight as it can,
> dried blood outlining
> the remains of its head.*


It's great Jerry!  :Thumbs Up:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Highway 40: Kingston - Montreal: 2

Two crows
stand beak to beak
over a split bag
of blood and guts
on the shoulder of the road.*

----------


## Sweets America

> *Highway 40: Kingston - Montreal: 2
> 
> Two crows
> stand beak to beak
> over a split bag
> of blood and guts
> on the shoulder of the road.*


Hmm, you're in a gory phase of your writing?  :Tongue:  
I like it, Shoutie, not as much as the other one, but still.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*An elderly couple,
done ripening in each others direction,
shuffle contrapuntally
along the street.
They sway toward each other, then apart,
toward each other, then apart,
toward each other...*

----------


## Sweets America

> *An elderly couple,
> done ripening in each others direction,
> shuffle contrapuntally
> along the street.
> They sway toward each other, then apart,
> toward each other, then apart,
> toward each other...*


Excellent!! I love it, how you can see patterns everywhere, it's like every little thing or gesture is a representation of something more general, that's just great. Damn that's just GREAT!!

----------


## Umbilical

> *Highway 40: Kingston - Montreal: 2
> 
> Two crows
> stand beak to beak
> over a split bag
> of blood and guts
> on the shoulder of the road.*


This one's fabulous.
Funny how no matter what, people will manage to make love,
over a desecration of it.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> This one's fabulous.
> Funny how no matter what, people will manage to make love,
> over a desecration of it.


Interesting reading, butter-cup, and as valid as any other since I tried to present what I'd seen as objectively as I could. My own take insofar as I had one is that each was watching out that the other didn't get to pick at the carrion first. More fancifully, I saw them as Hillary and Barack, standing over the corpse of the Democratic Party.

----------


## Umbilical

The shoulder of the road is when it turns into another arm (of the law)?

"eat crow".

----------


## Pendragon

> *An elderly couple,
> done ripening in each others direction,
> shuffle contrapuntally
> along the street.
> They sway toward each other, then apart,
> toward each other, then apart,
> toward each other...*


Love this one, Jerry!  :Thumbs Up:  Encore! Encore!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A woman with a face
as mean as a 3-cornered nickel
stands beside her car
aiming her displeasure
at random passers-by*

----------


## Pendragon

"A woman with a face
as mean as a 3-cornered nickel..."

This line makes me glad I didn't see her!  :Wink:   :Smile:  Bravo!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A sickly-complexioned woman,
thin, hunched as if to contain
her bodys ache, slowly unwinds
her dogs leash from a tree
outside the café
and, clutching a cardboard cup of coffee,
slowly, slowly walks away.*

----------


## CdnReader

> *An elderly couple,
> done ripening in each others direction,
> shuffle contrapuntally
> along the street.
> They sway toward each other, then apart,
> toward each other, then apart,
> toward each other...*


Ahhh..... the way of life.... I love it, Jer.

----------


## CdnReader

> *thin, hunched as if to contain
> her bodys ache,*


This speaks to me of an entire lifetime of pain. Well said, my friend.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Junkin at the supermarket
I go right by the section of fresh fruits
and produce, my cart clattering happily
on the tiled floor, Im headed 
for those gorgeous packages
made of plasticized cardboard,
cellophane, styrofoam
with something inside, like
-remember those packages
of Cracker-Jack we bought as kids
that contained a free prize inside?

Remember the heady expectation 
of fishing through the sticky goop
to find that prize! Oh no, not a-
nother pressed-tin piece of crap!
Oh well, there would surely be something better
next time. (Next time, come to think of it,
was the tense they forgot to teach us
in elementary school.)

I manage to collect a cart
full of foodish stuff
and head for the cash
to flirt amiably while I hand over
my hard-earned money.	*

----------


## Sweets America

> *A sickly-complexioned woman,
> thin, hunched as if to contain
> her bodys ache, slowly unwinds
> her dogs leash from a tree
> outside the café
> and, clutching a cardboard cup of coffee,
> slowly, slowly walks away.*


God damnit, Jerry, you are a real genius!!! You have such talent!!! You make me want to cry!




> Junkin at the supermarket
> I go right by the section of fresh fruits
> and produce, my cart clattering happily
> on the tiled floor, Im headed 
> for those gorgeous packages
> made of plasticized cardboard,
> cellophane, styrofoam
> with something inside, like
> -remember those packages
> ...


You are wonderful, this is so great. You really are a poet, for me. Your poems have this Jerry-thing, it's really you, I love it.

----------


## amanda_isabel

first time to post on this thread, but have been reading, and I love it Uncle Jer  :Biggrin: !

----------


## kiz_paws

> *A sickly-complexioned woman,
> thin, hunched as if to contain
> her bodys ache, slowly unwinds
> her dogs leash from a tree
> outside the café
> and, clutching a cardboard cup of coffee,
> slowly, slowly walks away.*


I have seen this thanks to your precision. Beautiful, PrinceM!  :Smile:

----------


## dibyendra

> *A sickly-complexioned woman,
> thin, hunched as if to contain
> her bodys ache, slowly unwinds
> her dogs leash from a tree
> outside the café
> and, clutching a cardboard cup of coffee,
> slowly, slowly walks away.*


I admire the way you capture the moments and sculpt them in the form of poetry. It's fabulous! Like Pen, I would like to say, "Encore!"

----------


## Smoogles

Your imagery is like a motion-picture put into words playing through my mind. Very good job.

----------


## dibyendra

> *Junkin at the supermarket
> I go right by the section of fresh fruits
> and produce, my cart clattering happily
> on the tiled floor, Im headed 
> for those gorgeous packages
> made of plasticized cardboard,
> cellophane, styrofoam
> with something inside, like
> -remember those packages
> ...


Jer, it's interesting one! Loved it!  :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*From above his long, grey,
straggley beard, a Khassid,
sunk deep in his wheel-chair,
glares at me as if to ask,
What right have you?
What right have you?
*

----------


## Sweets America

> *From above his long, grey,
> straggley beard, a Khassid,
> sunk deep in his wheel-chair,
> glares at me as if to ask,
> What right have you?
> What right have you?
> *


This is very powerful, Jer, even though I'm not sure how to interpret it, but I have my own feeling about it. Love it.

----------


## ampoule

Sometimes people cannot see just how vacant our looks really are, that perhaps we aren't really looking at them at all.
Wonderful snapshot Prince. I would like to sketch this one.

----------


## dibyendra

> *From above his long, grey,
> straggley beard, a Khassid,
> sunk deep in his wheel-chair,
> glares at me as if to ask,
> What right have you?
> What right have you?
> *


Never heard the word "Khassid" before, but the description of the man is quite interesting. And what does the underline at the last line signifies?

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Never heard the word "Khassid" before, but the description of the man is quite interesting. And what does the underline at the last line signifies?


"Khassid" is my attempt to approximate the Hebrew sound of the name of a member of the "Hassisim," a group of ultra-orthodox Jews, the males recognizable by their long, often curled sideburns, beards, skullcaps or round fur-trimmed caps, long black coats and white cotton stockings. The women wear wigs, orthopedic-looking stockings and dowdy clothes.

*A rugged-looking guy
walks by, a tiny parcel
of a baby in the crook
of his left elbow.
The baby’s pink,
bare legs hang free,
scissoring the wind.*

----------


## Sweets America

> "Khassid" is my attempt to approximate the Hebrew sound of the name of a member of the "Hassisim," a group of ultra-orthodox Jews, the males recognizable by their long, often curled sideburns, beards, skullcaps or round fur-trimmed caps, long black coats and white cotton stockings. The women wear wigs, orthopedic-looking stockings and dowdy clothes.
> 
> *A rugged-looking guy
> walks by, a tiny parcel
> of a baby in the crook
> of his left elbow.
> The babys pink,
> bare legs hang free,
> scissoring the wind.*


Interesting mix between roughness, sharpness on one side, and innocence and sweetness on the other. (I mean, innocence and sweetness as they usually are associated to babies by people...). Very nice poem. You are so talented, you really have the mind of a poet. I admire you so much, you are wonderful.

I had not heard the word Khassid before either, but searched and found 'Hassid' and I thought your Khassid reflected the way it was prononced by Jewish people. So I was right, eh?

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> I had not heard the word Khassid before either, but searched and found 'Hassid' and I thought your Khassid reflected the way it was pronounced by Jewish people. So I was right, eh?


You are ALWAYS right - sometimes more so than others. "Kh" is I think an accepted way to approximate the Hebrew guttural "ch" which is represented in the Semitic alphabet by either one of two letters, the "khet" and the "khaf" *ח כ*

----------


## Sweets America

> You are ALWAYS right - sometimes more so than others. "Kh" is I think an accepted way to approximate the Hebrew guttural "ch" which is represented in the Semitic alphabet by either one of two letters, the "khet" and the "khaf" *ח כ*


Thanks, teacher!  :Wink:  Yes, the Hebrew sound 'ch' like in _Ich_ or _dich_ (or is it Yiddish?). Actually we write 'ch' here, not 'kh', but I think that 'kh' looks good at the beginning of words. Anyway.

----------


## ampoule

So, Prince, if you don't mind my asking, where were you this morning? You don't have to actually tell me WHERE you were but why weren't you here. You don't have to actually tell me WHY you weren't here. I guess what I'm trying to say is this. If I don't see a post from Prince early in the morning I get all worked up.  :Biggrin:  Anyway, I'm glad you're here.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> So, Prince, if you don't mind my asking, where were you this morning? You don't have to actually tell me WHERE you were but why weren't you here. You don't have to actually tell me WHY you weren't here. I guess what I'm trying to say is this. If I don't see a post from Prince early in the morning I get all worked up.  Anyway, I'm glad you're here.


Wow! Many thanks, and in apology may I offer this:

*Sometimes we dance
with others, a tango, a fox-trot
or the slow tantalizing steps of romance
but sometimes, unseen, alone,
we dance with our dreams,
and that might be
the best dance of all.

We set the scene, a magnificent ball-
room or a forest glade under a canopy
of stars, winking at us
from light-years ago
as if to promise that our light
will continue to shine long after
our mortal bodies no longer
emit light or warmth or hope
or love. We are love!

Arms, legs, hearts
that burn for love, for sex,
for forever, but above all,
We are love!

Take us sweetly and softly.
Take us with hands
that could bend steel
but that would not bruise
the wings of a butterfly.

The fear of loving
has bruised the heart
of many an angel
and left it broken
by the side of the road.
*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*On Bagg Street a man sits
in the lawn chair
he appears to have grown from:
whiskers, unruly hair,
paunch, and softly spreading derriere.*

----------


## ampoule

> Wow! Many thanks, and in apology may I offer this:
> 
> *Sometimes we dance
> with others, a tango, a fox-trot
> or the slow tantalizing steps of romance
> but sometimes, unseen, alone,
> we dance with our dreams,
> and that might be
> the best dance of all.
> ...


Wow! Apology accepted! You're setting the bar pretty high or is that you're sitting high at the bar?  :Biggrin:  Truly, that is a lovely, lovely poem.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A young middle-aged woman
strides purposefully by
in shorts, middle-aged knees,
cellulite thighs. She notices
me noticing her.
Doesn't like it.*

----------


## Umbilical

Haha,
that's funny...
How you notice her 'down-falls' and her fall-downs and her-knees falling DOWN and yet you still? look at her with adoring eyes because you're hiding your
downfalls, and she's not?
OR - Alternate and yet still fu.cked up reading:
The paradox of the woman being "young" and yet "middle ages", and two of both, and both... at the same time
"striding purposefully by" connotes an unrelenting confidence not wavered by the looks of others who project fear of their age and death onto her for they're jealous of her youth but simultaneously worshipping it. 
You could be writing it from her own self-castigation, but that would be your egotistic presupposition that you can see into her mind and thus see yourself as a woman, through a woman's eyes.
Or you could be seeing her as yourself, and therefore you're either blind to her faults or she doesn't like you looking at her because you don't think that you're 'beautiful' (haha silly word) enough to lot at her, or you assume your imminent rejection...
which comes,
but yet maybe it doesn't come because you're only reading into her 'LOOK' from your own self-judgment.

I APOLOGIZE (not really) if that was ALL OVER THE PLACE,
I'm doing a massive assignment at the moment and am in the process of drinking V and wont hide my fear of my stupidity.

Jodi

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Haha,
> that's funny...
> How you notice her 'down-falls' and her fall-downs and her-knees falling DOWN and yet you still? look at her with adoring eyes because you're hiding your
> downfalls, and she's not?
> OR - Alternate and yet still fu.cked up reading:
> The paradox of the woman being "young" and yet "middle ages", and two of both, and both... at the same time
> "striding purposefully by" connotes an unrelenting confidence not wavered by the looks of others who project fear of their age and death onto her for they're jealous of her youth but simultaneously worshipping it. 
> You could be writing it from her own self-castigation, but that would be your egotistic presupposition that you can see into her mind and thus see yourself as a woman, through a woman's eyes.
> Or you could be seeing her as yourself, and therefore you're either blind to her faults or she doesn't like you looking at her because you don't think that you're 'beautiful' (haha silly word) enough to lot at her, or you assume your imminent rejection...
> ...


Yes, you could be right about any or all of that or, on the other hand, she might have been a young middle-aged woman who strode purposefully by
in shorts, middle-aged knees, cellulite thighs, who noticed me noticing her and didn't like it.

----------


## Umbilical

Haha, yes, that is true.  :Smile: 

Sorry I got a bit carried away having too much fun there...

----------


## Tuninks

> *A young middle-aged woman
> strides purposefully by
> in shorts, middle-aged knees,
> cellulite thighs. She notices
> me noticing her.
> Doesn't like it.*


Wow Prince, this one is both amazing and funny, good job, just a few nit picks but nothing serious.

----------


## Sweets America

> So, Prince, if you don't mind my asking, where were you this morning? You don't have to actually tell me WHERE you were but why weren't you here. You don't have to actually tell me WHY you weren't here. I guess what I'm trying to say is this. If I don't see a post from Prince early in the morning I get all worked up.  Anyway, I'm glad you're here.


Ah, here's one girl who understands how I feel! I ditto everything you said!  :Tongue:  

Shou! Your poem 'sometimes we dance' grows more wonderful with each stanza! The last one is just marvelous! That's YOU! That's my Shou!  :Smile:   :Banana:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*On downscale, somewhat dilapidated
Fairmount a young woman gets out
of the passenger side of a Bentley convertible 
next to the Greek depanneur,
and gets into her gleaming
Lexus C350 coupe. 

Must be fun to drive that,
I say with an edge of envy in my voice.
Not bad, she replies with a laugh 
and, pointing a manicured finger
after the departing behemoth,
but not as nice as that!
*

----------


## Virgil

> *On downscale, somewhat dilapidated
> Fairmount a young woman gets out
> of the passenger side of a Bentley convertible 
> next to the Greek depanneur,
> and gets into her gleaming
> Lexus C350 coupe. 
> 
> Must be fun to drive that,
> I say with an edge of envy in my voice.
> ...


Oooh I love that "pointing manicured finger." Very strong image. I think you really captured something with this snapshot Prince. I like it!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Fiftyish guy goes by, tipped forward
like the brim of his safari hat,
tan cotton shirt, vest 
and trousers, moustache
like a rhinoceros.*

----------


## Pendragon

> *Fiftyish guy goes by, tipped forward
> like the brim of his safari hat,
> tan cotton shirt, vest 
> and trousers, moustache
> like a rhinoceros.*


You get these to where I can see the people! Nicely done, my friend! Bravo!  :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> You get these to where I can see the people! Nicely done, my friend! Bravo!


Thanks and think of this as a test more for my benefit than yours: How do you imagine the man's body, the size or shape of it? I thought of specifying that but try not to overload these snapshots.

----------


## firefangled

> Thanks and think of this as a test more for my benefit than yours: How do you imagine the man's body, the size or shape of it? I thought of specifying that but try not to overload these snapshots.


He has no camera, this poet,
day after day, like a bee
gathering the pollen of humanity
at the café, his window seat,
occasionally engaging you
or you in his dance, which is to say,
uncommon flowers make nectar sweet.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> He has no camera, this poet,
> day after day, like a bee
> gathering the pollen of humanity
> at the café, his window seat,
> occasionally engaging you
> or you in his dance, which is to say,
> uncommon flowers make nectar sweet.


Thanks, bro. I can't believe I've posted 50 of these! I do worry that I might one day son run out of film, though never of subjects.

----------


## amanda_isabel

so far, still so strong..  :Biggrin: 

I loved the rhinoceros crack! Such a vivid image...

mornin', Uncle Jer! (er, I have no idea what time it over there...)

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> so far, still so strong.. 
> 
> I loved the rhinoceros crack! Such a vivid image...
> 
> mornin', Uncle Jer! (er, I have no idea what time it over there...)


5 pm, 13 hours earlier than in Manila...

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Five white, black wing-tipped seagulls
swoop down in formation 
on a scrap of food in the gutter.

They peck at it like attention-hungry politicians
then rise separately, circle and glide
in the air, landing briefly

on suspended electric cables
and the roof of the huge
former synagogue across the street.*

----------


## Pendragon

> Thanks and think of this as a test more for my benefit than yours: How do you imagine the man's body, the size or shape of it? I thought of specifying that but try not to overload these snapshots.


Body bent by time,
Whipcord thin, slightly emaciated,
He looks in need of a good meal,
Light playing off the thick glasses,
His cane taps the pavement
As if checking for hollows
Slow walking, but walking...

He was probably just the opposite, but my view!  :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Body bent by time,
> Whipcord thin, slightly emaciated,
> He looks in need of a good meal,
> Light playing off the thick glasses,
> His cane taps the pavement
> As if checking for hollows
> Slow walking, but walking...
> 
> He was probably just the opposite, but my view!


Fine poem of your own and you're undoubtedly right one way or the other! In fact he was pretty stocky which was so much a feature of what my eye took in that I imagined it would convey itself but other than the reference to the rhino, I couldn't see how to cue the reader

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Sitting alone at a table
outside The Arts Café
I run over the names of the women
Ive recently hungered for:

Marie1, Nancy, Margaret,
Marie2, Shen Li, Gita,
Gita, Gita!

Rosary beads in a string
that stretches from here
to the Goddess of Unfulfilled Desires.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Good-looking Eric
and mannish Kate
walk by each week-day morning
with their two young, fair-haired,
sweet-berry sons,
Samuel on Erics shoulders,
Henri hand-in-hand with Kate.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*These two are the best of buddies,
teachers at the College Français
across the way: the chubby,
balding, wise-cracking Quebecker
and the handsome, soft-looking
transplanted Egyptian.*

----------


## Umbilical

Write a lesbian poem please Prince.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Write a lesbian poem please Prince.


*These two are the best of buddies,
teachers at the College Français
across the way: the slinky,
dark-stockinged Quebecker
and the demure, bi,
honey-bunch from Australia.*

----------


## Umbilical

You sure do know how to 'pervert' a poem into something gay. Thank you.  :Smile:

----------


## ampoule

> *Sitting alone at a table
> outside The Arts Café
> I run over the names of the women
> Ive recently hungered for:
> 
> Marie1, Nancy, Margaret,
> Marie2, Shen Li, Gita,
> Gita, Gita!
> 
> ...


Oh me, oh my. I love this. Women you have lusted for and rosary beads.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Oh me, oh my. I love this. Women you have lusted for and rosary beads.


Thanks, Amp, but it's not the beads,
you know, the beads
are all equally round and smooth
and pleasing,
it's the way the fingers caress them
hoping to bring out 
the singular essence of each.
*
Snapshot:
*Grey-faced Greeks
on the balcony of a restaurant
on Av. Du Parc
address their cigarettes
like the toughest of questions 
directed at each of them
by Socrates in the ancient Agora.*

----------


## ampoule

> Snapshot:
> *Grey-faced Greeks
> on the balcony of a restaurant
> on Av. Du Parc
> address their cigarettes
> like the toughest of questions 
> directed at each of them
> by Socrates in the ancient Agora.*



And I smile and yell up to them,
Kalimera!
It does not matter,
About anything,
I raise my hands and dance
down the street like Zorba.
Oupa! Oupa!

----------


## Virgil

> *Grey-faced Greeks
> on the balcony of a restaurant
> on Av. Du Parc
> address their cigarettes
> like the toughest of questions 
> directed at each of them
> by Socrates in the ancient Agora.*


Good one! Love the image.




> *Sitting alone at a table
> outside The Arts Café
> I run over the names of the women
> I’ve recently hungered for:
> 
> Marie1, Nancy, Margaret,
> Marie2, Shen Li, Gita,
> Gita, Gita!
> 
> ...


Even better one. Love the association to a religious ritual.  :Wink:  Great metephor.




> *Five white, black wing-tipped seagulls
> swoop down in formation 
> on a scrap of food in the gutter.
> 
> They peck at it like attention-hungry politicians
> then rise separately, circle and glide
> in the air, landing briefly
> 
> on suspended electric cables
> ...


Perhaps the best of the three. Very strong simile, and while I can't put my finger why, the synagogue adds power to this.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> while I can't put my finger why, the synagogue adds power to this.


Nor can I say exactly why I included it. It is there, indeed: a great hulk of a building, uncommonly assertive for a N. American synagogue, and the birds _did_ several times land on it, but there were any number of other details I might have cited from the scene in front of me and yet I didn't. 

One of the pleasures for me in writing poetry is the experience of living in suspension for a time between one's conscious mind and one's subconscious, how the former sometimes humbly makes way for the latter.

----------


## Umbilical

I dig that.
But can something that's not humble, ever humbly make way?
Or does it make way in another way?

Just wondering.  :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

Kalimera, Ampoule, evcharisto, te kanis?

*A young woman jounces along the street
with such energy 
that her young, underdeveloped breasts
seem, at ever step, 
about to leap free of her chest.
*

----------


## Sweets America

> Kalimera, Ampoule, evcharisto, te kanis?
> 
> *A young woman jounces along the street
> with such energy 
> that her young, underdeveloped breasts
> seem, at ever step, 
> about to leap free of her body.
> *


Very good!

----------


## dibyendra

> Kalimera, Ampoule, evcharisto, te kanis?
> 
> *A young woman jounces along the street
> with such energy 
> that her young, underdeveloped breasts
> seem, at ever step, 
> about to leap free of her chest.
> *


Interesting!  :Smile:

----------


## Swamidragon

Snapshot:
Hanging in the air,
Just a foot from the earth,
Waiting for impact.
God! I hope it won't hurt.

----------


## Umbilical

> Kalimera, Ampoule, evcharisto, te kanis?
> 
> *A young woman jounces along the street
> with such energy 
> that her young, underdeveloped breasts
> seem, at ever step, 
> about to leap free of her chest.
> *


This is how I feel but my breasts are
developed.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Ellen and Jean-François,
though they may not know it,
are having a love affair
on my behalf!

He with his young, young
clean-cut French-Canadian face,
smiling eyes and sketch
of a beard that appears on
and disappears from his chin

and she, with her Oregonian innocence,
puppy fat and voice
unsullied by a cigarette
or, I assume, a single off-colour word.*

----------


## ampoule

The photographer handed the camera to his assistant. "Perfect," she said, "I can see them perfectly."

----------


## Sweets America

> *Ellen and Jean-François,
> though they may not know it,
> are having a love affair
> on my behalf!
> 
> He with his young, young
> clean-cut French-Canadian face,
> smiling eyes and sketch
> of a beard that appears on
> ...


Oh. Nice portraits.

*Umbilical said:*



> This is how I feel but my breasts are
> developed.


Mine are not. And so what?  :Smile:

----------


## Umbilical

What so?
I don't have a problem.
I'm not judging breast size.

----------


## Sweets America

> What so?
> I don't have a problem.
> I'm not judging breast size.


I was joking!  :Tongue:

----------


## Umbilical

:P

Oh, sorry. 

 :Biggrin: 

Well, I must have been judging size then
as a measure of development
not desire. but I desire, so...

I have to be careful.
Seeing myself as an innocent breast-less youth is only setting me up
to be destroyed for my own pleasure by older evil.

Have a good day  :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Shen Li
I met a woman the other day.
The encounter was such
that I knew I would never want to impress her.
I thought that she saw me
as an extension of her field of freedom.

She had questions for me.
Some of them were things I needed answers to
myself. I had just the one or two questions
for her, such as Who are you? And
For how long will I be privileged to know you?*

----------


## CdnReader

> *Shen Li
> I met a woman the other day.
> The encounter was such
> that I knew I would never want to impress her.
> I thought that she saw me
> as an extension of her field of freedom.
> 
> She had questions for me.
> Some of them were things I needed answers to
> ...


I like this very much indeed.  :Smile:

----------


## Pendragon

> *Shen Li
> I met a woman the other day.
> The encounter was such
> that I knew I would never want to impress her.
> I thought that she saw me
> as an extension of her field of freedom.
> 
> She had questions for me.
> Some of them were things I needed answers to
> ...


Nice one!  :Smile:

----------


## Sweets America

You're a sweetheart, Shou.  :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

Waiting for Shen Li

After Shen Li and I chatted the other day she discovered that the Café was currently unable to accept credit cards. Since she had too little or no money on her she would have to go and get some which might make her late for work, I offered to pay for her. She hesitated, wondering as any woman might what Id be expecting in return. There were no strings attached, I assured her sincerely. She questioned me about when I would be there again, thanked me and left...

*Because she is Chinese
I assume she will be eager
to discharge her indebtedness.
But if only there were some other reason
why she might return.

I wait in my sandals, Bermudas
and wind-breaker. Its a damp,
somewhat chilly day
and Ive never been good at waiting
for a bus, a plane, the mail
or love. (Especially not for love!)

But if youve been waiting as long as I have,
whats another ten, fifteen,
fifteen and a half, fifteen
minutes and forty-five, forty-six 
forty-seven seconds...*

----------


## Umbilical

Haha aaaow I like it...

What's another 15, 15.5 YEARS... we were meant to think,
until we saw that you said MINUTES
a new line LONGER...
and then we all laughed, thinking... he's lying, he's been and will be waiting longer, waiting for the repetition of your numbers.

84, 56, 694...

I'm so shi.t at waiting for a bus.

What's another 10 seconds,
VERY LONG if you're counting each second - you're extending each second,
and yourself, with no-one to meet you in each direction.

Sometimes waiting for my TV to START is painful enough...
I haven't yet counted how many kilometers I am away from my non-Lover in another country.

Jeezus Christ, this is fun.

<3 enjoy ya day

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*The city hums today, 
but off-key, somewhat distracted,
as if one of its most closely-guarded secrets
were about to leak out.*

----------


## Sweets America

> *The city hums today, 
> but off-key, somewhat distracted,
> as if one of its most closely-guarded secrets
> were about to leak out.*


Love it!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Two kids
arm in arm
sipping kisses
from each others lips.*

----------


## Pendragon

> *Two kids
> arm in arm
> sipping kisses
> from each others lips.*


Beautiful! Just simple poetry capturing a moment as a camera does!  :Thumbs Up:

----------


## CdnReader

> *Two kids
> arm in arm
> sipping kisses
> from each others lips.*


Delightful!  :Biggrin:

----------


## ampoule

Mmmm....sipping kisses. Cdn says it all...delightful.  :Biggrin:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Beautiful! Just simple poetry capturing a moment as a camera does!


God bless your front window! (And ALL your windows!) Perhaps you sensed what a struggle it was not to add another word or two of interpretation or commentary.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Mmmm....sipping kisses. Cdn says it all...delightful.


She DOES have a way with words, that Cdnreader, doesn't she? And her phrasing!!

----------


## ampoule

> She DOES have a way with words, that Cdnreader, doesn't she? And her phrasing!!


Yes, she does, but it was YOUR 'sipping kisses' that really got to me. And I am taking 'kids' to mean young adults??

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Yes, she does, but it was YOUR 'sipping kisses' that really got to me. And I am taking 'kids' to mean young adults??


Hardly adults, I would say. I judge them to have been, tops, about 16.

----------


## Umbilical

16 on a good day!!

Like me.  :Biggrin:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A late-twentyish woman walks by
on bare shapely legs
the length of many an entire
smaller woman, and before
Ive had my fill of looking at her,
shes two blocks over and gone!*

----------


## ampoule

> *A late-twentyish woman walks by
> on bare shapely legs
> the length of many an entire
> smaller woman, and before
> Ive had my fill of looking at her,
> shes two blocks over and gone!*


Wonderful! Perfect lighting on this one.

----------


## Sweets America

> *A late-twentyish woman walks by
> on bare shapely legs
> the length of many an entire
> smaller woman, and before
> Ive had my fill of looking at her,
> shes two blocks over and gone!*


This is great!! Very vivid!
Hey Shou, have you noticed all these women who post here that they love your poetry??  :Tongue:  We love you, Shou!  :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A man with a scowl
as hefty as the 300-odd pounds
he carries around with him, bullet head
and dark, dark beard, 
heaves his way up
the three concrete steps
into the café*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A young guy approaches the cash,
his lower lip 
underslung by a tuft of hair
as wispy as a butterflys fart*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Deborah at the café
turns out to speak Hebrew,
broke up with her lover
that morning.

After weve exchanged
the basics of our lives, she tells me:
Ive travelled half the world.
That was easier 
than what I went through this morning.
*

----------


## Sweets America

> *Deborah at the café
> turns out to speak Hebrew,
> broke up with her lover
> that morning.
> 
> After weve exchanged
> the basics of our lives, she tells me:
> Ive travelled half the world.
> That was easier 
> ...


I like this one. I understand this feeling of overwhelming sadness, which is very well expressed here.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*I take a seat at an outdoor table
next to Joseph, a fellow Jew,
and we launch into a discussion
bemoaning Israeli treatment
of the Palestinians and of
Jewish chauvinism.

Just beyond us a light wind
trembles the leaves of the trees.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A young girl, thin as a twig,
clack-clack-clacks her way
on stiletto heels
at the end of her even thinner legs*

----------


## ampoule

> *I take a seat at an outdoor table
> next to Joseph, a fellow Jew,
> and we launch into a discussion
> bemoaning Israeli treatment
> of the Palestinians and of
> Jewish chauvinism.
> 
> Just beyond us a light wind
> trembles the leaves of the trees.*


It used to be that when things moved the picture blurred. Amazing what these new cameras can do. Those last two lines made *me* tremble.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> It used to be that when things moved the picture blurred. Amazing what these new cameras can do. Those last two lines made *me* tremble.


Thank you, P. There's a saying in Yiddish I mostly deplore: "It's hard to be a Jew!" 

Truth is, for some of us, _It's hard to not be a Jew!_ I do try to take a holiday from it from time to time.

----------


## Pendragon

> *A young girl, thin as a twig,
> clack-clack-clacks her way
> on stiletto heels
> at the end of her even thinner legs*


Love this one! It could be a description of my niece. Lord that girl is thin and all legs! Getting married next month at 21.  :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*For a moment or two
this St John the Baptist holiday
there is no one and nothing outside the café
but the sun that picks out every detail of the street,
the low and sometimes impatient
susurrus of the passing cars,
the voices of Nathalie
and a couple of customers
through the wide-open windows
and the leaves that may be murmuring
their quiet, matutinal prayers*

----------


## ampoule

I would not be able to frame this picture because it moves. I love the way it comes to life, the way mornings do.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*An almost alarmingly pregnant woman
goes by, her abdomen
like Kilimanjaro on the horizontal*

----------


## _Shannon_

As someone who has been pregnant every other year for the past decade and a half.... I *LOVE* this one! Belly like Kilimanjaro, indeed!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> As someone who has been pregnant every other year for the past decade and a half.... I *LOVE* this one! Belly like Kilimanjaro, indeed!


Count yourself fortunate that it didn't resemble Everest and that neither Hillary nor Sherpa Tenzing were in the vicinity!

----------


## Sweets America

> *An almost alarmingly pregnant woman
> goes by, her abdomen
> like Kilimanjaro on the horizontal*


 :FRlol:  That's so you!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A woman comes into view,
like a cross between Mother Goose
and the lead locomotive,
her height accentuated
by the train
of parti-coloured
goslings trailing after her.

Bonjours, les bébittes,"(bugs)
I call out to them.
Some wave at me, some smile, some
look puzzled. Nous ne sommes pas
des bébittes," one blonde, curly-headed kid
calls out to me.

Non? I say, astonished.
Non, he continues, nous sommes
des humains, des enfants!

Come to find out!*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A turbanned black woman
in a brilliant floral print dress
teeters on chicken legs
across an incurious street*

----------


## Sweets America

> *A woman comes into view,
> like a cross between Mother Goose
> and the lead locomotive,
> her height accentuated
> by the train
> of parti-coloured
> goslings trailing after her.
> 
> Bonjours, les bébittes,"(bugs)
> ...


I understand now! It was "les bébêtes"! Nothing to do with les bibites!  :FRlol:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> I understand now! It was "les bébêtes"! Nothing to do with les bibites!


You Franch! You speak a language all your hown, eh?

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A child the size of a sweet
jelly bean
rides on the shoulders 
of her massive papa
bouncing up and down
with every step he takes.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A tiny, ancient Chinese woman,
whose footsteps are like small,
cautious bites of an over-rich food,
pauses to sneeze
and I watch in concern
lest the force of it
take her straight up into the air.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A young Khassidic woman,
wearing the sort of coarse cotton stockings
meant to make her legs
unappealing to strangers, 
hurries up to the school-bus
that has stopped for her, and I note,
with pleasure in equal parts
lascivious and anti-religious,

how shapely are her legs!*

----------


## ampoule

Oh Prince! Sweet jellybean child, small footsteps, cautious bites, such images I love. I just hate to keep saying it over and over, that thing about being amazing.
And lxxiv, I'm reminded of a woman jazz singer in a smokey bar playing the piano and watching the antics of Rock Hudson with Doris Day and she adds to her lyrics, "You dawg you."  :Wink:   :Biggrin:

----------


## firefangled

This is such a beautiful and well wrought image.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> "You dawg you."


Wonderful! You're in GREAT company! The last time somebody called me that - maybe 6 years ago - it was Pat S. who was at the time a prominent official at FBI headquarters, and because of her androgynous first name I had initially assumed she was male.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*
A young man sits at one of the outdoor tables
with an older male friend.
A young woman appears 
from around the corner
and he leaps up 
and the two of them move into a kiss, 
pull back maybe all of an inch
then move in for another one.

From this angle I can see
the dimple deep in his cheek
and the way her eye crinkles
with the whole of her love*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*An elderly man in three-piece suit,
open-necked dress shirt,
carrying a furled umbrella
like a jaunty walking stick,

pauses at the trash bin
outside the restaurant,
looks expertly in,
retrieves a half-eaten bun

and carries on along his way.*

----------


## Pendragon

> *An elderly man in three-piece suit,
> open-necked dress shirt,
> carrying a furled umbrella
> like a jaunty walking stick,
> 
> pauses at the trash bin
> outside the restaurant,
> looks expertly in,
> retrieves a half-eaten bun
> ...


To feed the pigeons, I hope? I hope the poor guy wasn't that badly in need of food!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> To feed the pigeons, I hope? I hope the poor guy wasn't that badly in need of food!


I find this an interesting manifestation of the difference in your and my take on life! There was nothing in the scene as I recall it that could objectively _disprove_ your hypothesis but though I hope I haven't tilted the picture one way or another, what you suggest did not even come close to occuring to me!

I DID think there was something a touch furtive in the way he paused before looking into the trash bin, a slight tensing in his back or shoulders in case he was being observed, but that could easily have been my _projection_ as to how I would feel if I were in what I imagined to be his situation.

----------


## CdnReader

> *An elderly man in three-piece suit,
> open-necked dress shirt,
> carrying a furled umbrella
> like a jaunty walking stick,
> 
> pauses at the trash bin
> outside the restaurant,
> looks expertly in,
> retrieves a half-eaten bun
> ...


Gosh. You see it all in Montreal, don'cha?

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A turbanned black woman
in a brilliant floral print dress
teeters on chicken legs
across an incurious street.*

----------


## Pendragon

> *A turbanned black woman
> in a brilliant floral print dress
> teeters on chicken legs
> across an incurious street.*


You seem to like my take on your snapshots, so I'll give this one a go. Your mention of "chicken legs" brings to mind a stout figure in the dress, the legs viewd below seemingly to fragile to carry the woman, and out of proportion with the upper half. That gives the image of a chicken.  :Wave:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*a man marches by
as if impatient to encounter the enemy,
his mouth set
like a land-mine*

----------


## Sweets America

> *a man marches by
> as if impatient to encounter the enemy,
> his mouth set
> like a land-mine*


Reminds me of what you say about me sometimes!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Reminds me of what you say about me sometimes!


About your mouth, or---?

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Five old friends
around a wrought-iron table
outside La Croissanterie
and Lalu, their waitress,
19 and worthy of a black-belt
in pleasantness*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*The next table over,
this lonely moment,
a woman with jet-black hair,
sun-glasses California-style
on top of her head, 
a solitary mole on her neck,
sits immersed in her Journal de Montréal.

'Give me a word,'
Im tempted to lean over
and say to her: 'Any word...'*

----------


## ampoule

I will give you a word......Pierian Spring. Okay, so that's two.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> I will give you a word......Pierian Spring. Okay, so that's two.


That's Pope, right? "Essay on Man"? Something about drinking deep or not...? You feel my "sips" are too shallow?  :Bawling:   :Bawling:   :Bawling:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Lunch-hour at Tutto Bene,
every table is occupied ,
every conversation pitched
full-tilt against the one
social faux-pas, which is silence.

It sounds as if a single
multi-lunged voice rises,
dips occasionally, then rises	
again in quest of any corner of the room
that might not yet be filled with sound.*

----------


## ampoule

> That's Pope, right? "Essay on Man"? Something about drinking deep or not...? You feel my "sips" are too shallow?


Oh Prince, no no NO. I was taking it from the angle that it is the sacred time for the muses, a time of inspiration. Your snapshots are both inspired and inspiring. Now no more bawling. Sit up. Dry your eyes. Now get snapping!

----------


## Sweets America

> *Lunch-hour at Tutto Bene,
> every table is occupied ,
> every conversation pitched
> full-tilt against the one
> social faux-pas, which is silence.
> 
> It sounds as if a single
> multi-lunged voice rises,
> dips occasionally, then rises	
> ...


Jesus _Christ_! That's great, Jer! That second stanza is the cherry on top of your poem! My Jer's got talent!!

----------


## AimusSage

> *Lunch-hour at Tutto Bene,
> every table is occupied ,
> every conversation pitched
> full-tilt against the one
> social faux-pas, which is silence.
> 
> It sounds as if a single
> multi-lunged voice rises,
> dips occasionally, then rises	
> ...


Woohoo! woohoo! now this is awesome  :Biggrin:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Oh Prince, no no NO. I was taking it from the angle that it is the sacred time for the muses, a time of inspiration. Your snapshots are both inspired and inspiring. Now no more bawling. Sit up. Dry your eyes. Now get snapping!


*There's an empty chair
across the table from me
at my 'synagogue'
and it bears, in avance,
the imprint of your derriere!*

'Synagogue' is how I refer to the Arts Cafe, corner Fairmount and Esplanade, should any of you care to drop in for the norning service of espresso and croissant, NOT the very best croissants in Montreal, for which we'd have to go to Le Paltoguet, Van Horne near Outremont

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Jesus _Christ_! That's great, Jer! That second stanza is the cherry on top of your poem! My Jer's got talent!!


Merci, ma petite ange pas entierement peccable! I know what a hard marker you are! 

But at the risk of sounding boastful, I suggest you wait for a subsequent one written in the same place more or less at the same time, maybe not so striking as poetry but written with great, great tenderness...

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

At Tutto Bene part 2

*One arm flopped
around his neck, 
a young girl sleeps
against her fathers
chest and shoulder
as if painted there*

----------


## Umbilical

That's how I feel when I'm with a woman/

----------


## AuntShecky

Sacre bleu! It's all happening North of the border! Maybe if the Expos had read your Snapshots, they never would've moved to D.C. 

Certainly they played better in the shadow of the Laurentians rather than in the bright lights of the Potomac!

----------


## Pendragon

> At Tutto Bene part 2
> 
> *One arm flopped
> around his neck, 
> a young girl sleeps
> against her fathers
> chest and shoulder
> as if painted there*


Beautiful snapshot!

----------


## ampoule

> Beautiful snapshot!


Yes, I adore it.

----------


## Sweets America

> At Tutto Bene part 2
> 
> *One arm flopped
> around his neck, 
> a young girl sleeps
> against her fathers
> chest and shoulder
> as if painted there*


Wow!!! This is wonderful, surprising, and so sweet. And of course, very well written.  :Wink:

----------


## firefangled

Tutto Bene lxxx, poetic genius, so balanced, so many nuances in so few words. Amazing.




> *Lunch-hour at Tutto Bene,
> every table is occupied ,
> every conversation pitched
> full-tilt against the one
> social faux-pas, which is silence.
> 
> It sounds as if a single
> multi-lunged voice rises,
> dips occasionally, then rises	
> ...


Tutto Bene lxxxi, not a snapshot, but a portrait of a most exquisite composition. So beautiful.




> At Tutto Bene part 2
> 
> *One arm flopped
> around his neck, 
> a young girl sleeps
> against her fathers
> chest and shoulder
> as if painted there*


Getting to read them in one sitting - Priceless!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Tutto Bene lxxx, poetic genius, so balanced, so many nuances in so few words. Amazing.
> 
> 
> 
> Tutto Bene lxxxi, not a snapshot, but a portrait of a most exquisite composition. So beautiful.
> 
> 
> 
> Getting to read them in one sitting - Priceless!


Thank you indeed. It must be apparent how much pleasure I get writing these. Not that I always achieve this, but my two aesthetic rules are 1) Do it with the absolute minimum of words; and 2) keep the author's ego - or even the shadow of his ego - out of it.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*
A thin, white Rastifari
with one dreadlock
trailing from under his knitted cap
where, he assures me, he’s got
a whole lot more, announces his arrival
before I catch sight of him,
by talking out loud to himself,

pauses at my table, apologizes, 
introduces me to his Pit Bull, Akira,
which means “love” in Japanese, he says.

He offers three times to buy me a cup of coffee 
though there’s one on the table in front of me.
“Allen,” he says, when I ask for his name,
“but some folk call me ‘Stretch.’”*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A sort, dark-bearded khassid
waddles up Van Horne,
like not much more
than legs
attached to a broad-brimmed black hat*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*From where I sit I can hear 
the clack-clack tch-clack
of high heels on the hard pavement,
and I reflect how each of us 
has his or her own unique
clack-clack tch-clack clack-clack tch-clack
as we hobble or stride
around the universe.*

----------


## dibyendra

> *From where I sit I can hear 
> the clack-clack tch-clack
> of high heels on the hard pavement,
> and I reflect how each of us 
> has his or her own unique
> clack-clack tch-clack clack-clack tch-clack
> as we hobble or stride
> around the universe.*


I liked it very much.  :Thumbs Up:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*At the table just ahead of mine
sit a young couple, she
facing me with one of those thin,
cigar-like cigarettes in her hand,
he with his wiry, somehow purposeful 
back to me. After a moment or so
he gets up without a wasted motion,
bends his body over her seated one,
gives her a kiss without lingering
then heads briskly across the street
towards the Institute there.

I cannot see her eyes
behind her dark green sun-glasses
but her face immediately drops
a tone, seems to fill with unreleased
tears. She takes a last sip of her coffee,
stubs out her cigarette,
unwinds herself from the table
and walks off in a different direction.*

----------


## Sweets America

> *At the table just ahead of mine
> sit a young couple, she
> facing me with one of those thin,
> cigar-like cigarettes in her hand,
> he with his wiry, somehow purposeful 
> back to me. After a moment or so
> he gets up without a wasted motion,
> bends his body over her seated one,
> gives her a kiss without lingering
> ...


Beautiful emotion here. I might be repeating myself, but you have this thing to capture moments like this.

----------


## dibyendra

> *At the table just ahead of mine
> sit a young couple, she
> facing me with one of those thin,
> cigar-like cigarettes in her hand,
> he with his wiry, somehow purposeful 
> back to me. After a moment or so
> he gets up without a wasted motion,
> bends his body over her seated one,
> gives her a kiss without lingering
> ...


Ah, what an outstanding poem you've written, Jerry. I'm really carried away by your poem. Keep up your great work!  :Thumbs Up:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A man approaches the café
wearing one of those hunter/fisherman vests
with more pockets
then there are things to put in them,
pristine white sneakers,
and spends each footstep
tentatively, as if the ground
might be radio-active*

----------


## ampoule

I love it when you get home and bring me a special treat.

----------


## Sweets America

> *A man approaches the café
> wearing one of those hunter/fisherman vests
> with more pockets
> then there are things to put in them,
> pristine white sneakers,
> and spends each footstep
> tentatively, as if the ground
> might be radio-active*


Funny ending!
Hey, where are you? It feels as if you just slipped through my fingers!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*These Khassidic women and girls
in the dowdiest of clothes
and with their solemn, long-suffering faces...

Is it not some other form of vanity
to present oneself so unattractively?*

----------


## ampoule

Oh, I couldn't agree more. Makes me think that the Amish are a horse 'n buggy gang.  :Wink: 
Another good picture.

----------


## firefangled

Very good snapshot. I agree with your perception. Vanity is a human trait. It presents itself in all cultures regardless of technological proclivity. It is dangerous if it becomes more than playful pride or the other extreme of purposeful disdain for adornment, which, as you point out, is false adornment itself.

I think the cure is to have a nude barn raising.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Very good snapshot. I agree with your perception. Vanity is a human trait. It presents itself in all cultures regardless of technological proclivity. It is dangerous if it becomes more than playful pride or the other extreme of purposeful disdain for adornment, which, as you point out, is false adornment itself.
> 
> I think the cure is to have a nude barn raising.


Ah, you were prompted in this last by the estimable Dona Ampoule's reference to the Amish, which reminded you of that glorious scene in _Witness_ ?

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*At the end of the terrace
a scruffy, emaciated guy
in loose green t-shirt,
capris and flip-flops,
his bicycle nearby,
front wheel minus a tire,
tugs at the cigarette he bummed from me

and runs a monologue
either at the air
or at the young woman 
at the table between us,
one-third his age, 
twice his size,
brimming with physical good health*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*I notice N. go by without seeing me,
an older woman I once thought
had her sights on me,
now seemingly fallen in on herself,
4/5 her former height*

----------


## dibyendra

There are ample of great poems to read and you have portrayed so many captured moments here in this thread. Thanks a lot for keeping this thread alive. This will be a great poetry book after compilation. Keep up your great work!!!  :Thumbs Up:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Over lunch with Hazel 
at Maiko Sushi, I fight as hard as I can 
to resist her effort to flatten everything
-including my love-affair with Sweets
--into a cliche*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*a young woman, 
who makes me think of a jolly stuffed cabbage,
chats animatedly 
with her somewhat
dry-looking male companion*

----------


## Umbilical

> *Over lunch with Hazel 
> at Maiko Sushi, I fight as hard as I can 
> to resist her effort to flatten everything
> -including my love-affair with Sweets
> --into a cliche*


I understand that feeling (in my own way).
Sometimes I walk away from discussions feeling like they might have taken my childhood away from my excitement of adulthood, and it's not fair,
they can cry themselves to sleep - just don't take me with you.

----------


## ampoule

> *Over lunch with Hazel 
> at Maiko Sushi, I fight as hard as I can 
> to resist her effort to flatten everything
> -including my love-affair with Sweets
> --into a cliche*


Though I LOVE this one just as much, it doesn't seem to go along with the other Snapshots. I have no picture of Hazel unless it would be my own cliched version of a woman like that.
Now, that guy at the end of the terrace, now that's a picture.  :Biggrin:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Though I LOVE this one just as much, it doesn't seem to go along with the other Snapshots. I have no picture of Hazel unless it would be my own cliched version of a woman like that.
> Now, that guy at the end of the terrace, now that's a picture.


Yes, I see your point. It's more an inner snapshot than the sort I prefer to make.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> I understand that feeling (in my own way).
> Sometimes I walk away from discussions feeling like they might have taken my childhood away from my excitement of adulthood, and it's not fair,
> they can cry themselves to sleep - just don't take me with you.


You know, with some sensitive attention to the line breaks, this might make a poignant poem.

----------


## kiz_paws

Jer, you have such a beautiful way of capturing the things you view into these lovely short 'n sweet poems. 

I love the way you look at life, and I like how we can see a little of you in each snapshot -- a man with a twinkle in his eye who misses nothing. 

Keep 'em coming!

K♥zzo

----------


## firefangled

> *Over lunch with Hazel 
> at Maiko Sushi, I fight as hard as I can 
> to resist her effort to flatten everything
> -including my love-affair with Sweets
> --into a cliche*


Love the way this works, or the way I think it works with sushi. Never could figure people like that.




> *a young woman, 
> who makes me think of a jolly stuffed cabbage,
> chats animatedly 
> with her somewhat
> dry-looking male companion*



I had to laugh trying to envision an animated woman who looks like a jolly stuffed cabbage. The sounds go so well against the comparison with her companion.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Jer, you have such a beautiful way of capturing the things you view into these lovely short 'n sweet poems. 
> 
> I love the way you look at life, and I like how we can see a little of you in each snapshot -- a man with a twinkle in his eye who misses nothing. 
> 
> Keep 'em coming!
> 
> K♥zzo


Just guessing, mind you, but I think one could do a whole lot worse than to have you as a friend. Yup, _a whole lot worse!_




> Love the way this works, or the way I think it works with sushi. Never could figure people like that.


Very little I dislike more than to pass up an appreciation of my astuteness but really I had no idea that the sushi was a relevant part of the observation, other than it happened to be there. And if you're ever in these parts, here's an offer to take you to that particular place




> Though I LOVE this one just as much, it doesn't seem to go along with the other Snapshots. I have no picture of Hazel unless it would be my own cliched version of a woman like that.


Further to my other response to you, if you were to imagine Hazel as a cliche you might not be far off the mark, because she's constructed herself as a _character_ and don't most characters come from Central Casting and are therefore to some degree or other cliches?

----------


## firefangled

> Very little I dislike more than to pass up an appreciation of my astuteness but really I had no idea that the sushi was a relevant part of the observation, other than it happened to be there. And if you're ever in these parts, here's an offer to take you to that particular place


When I read it, I thought of the way sushi is often sliced into flat pieces. It worked for me.

I accept your offer I love sushi.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Early Saturday evening
The streets have rarely offered up so few passersby
The air feels like something is being withheld
The buildings are like a stage set
about to be struck
before the show goes on the road*

----------


## Virgil

> Jer, you have such a beautiful way of capturing the things you view into these lovely short 'n sweet poems. 
> 
> I love the way you look at life, and I like how we can see a little of you in each snapshot -- a man with a twinkle in his eye who misses nothing. 
> 
> Keep 'em coming!
> 
> K♥zzo


I agree with Kizzo. This thread is a gem.  :Thumbs Up:

----------


## Umbilical

> You know, with some sensitive attention to the line breaks, this might make a poignant poem.


All of my poems are fu.ck ups, all of my attempts are attempts.
I talk like this often in real life,
I have someone following me around with a pen...
only they're shoving it up their as.s and getting OFF on the
instrument
rather than on the poetry - the message, big boy.


sing it for me.


...ladeeda, I need to be with my woman in America especially when she whimpers for peace.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A young woman with a long,
loose, lazy body
exits the café
wearing a grey, brushed-cotton
panty and halter-top combination
every sashay of her hips proclaiming
I dont give a damn! I dont give a damn!
I really, really dont give a damn!*

----------


## Umbilical

you should put these pictures - snapshots, 
up on myspace.
everyone always says "you look way better on myspace than in real life."
lucky for me I look good all over the place, all over someone

----------


## Pendragon

> *A young woman with a long,
> loose, lazy body
> exits the café
> wearing a grey, brushed-cotton
> panty and halter-top combination
> every sashay of her hips proclaiming
> I dont give a damn! I dont give a damn!
> I really, really dont give a damn!*


Reminds me of a gal I used to work with. We called her "The Washing Machine" because of the way she walked!  :FRlol:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Ahead of me at the frozen desserts
a man with a disfigured face,
the whole of the right side of it
seemingly caved in.

I struggle not to look*

----------


## Sweets America

> *Ahead of me at the frozen desserts
> a man with a disfigured face,
> the whole of the right side of it,
> seemingly caved in.
> I struggle not to look*


Striking! I like the ambiguity of it, the "not to look" and how it contrasts with the fact that the speaker _must_ have looked in order to say this about that man's face. The reference to the frozen desserts perfectly fits too, thanks to the contrast between the ideas behind both words. There is so much in this poem, Shoutie!

----------


## Virgil

> *Early Saturday evening
> The streets have rarely offered up so few passersby
> The air feels like something is being withheld
> The buildings are like a stage set
> about to be struck
> before the show goes on the road*


This one was particularly poignant for me: "The buildings are like a stage set/about to be struck." Given that I'm from New York and lived through 9/11 those lines resonate for me. I don't know if you had that on your mind Prince.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> This one was particularly poignant for me: "The buildings are like a stage set/about to be struck." Given that I'm from New York and lived through 9/11 those lines resonate for me. I don't know if you had that on your mind Prince.


I did not. But your mention of it reminded me how none of us who live elsewhere can imagine, perhaps, what a profound shock it must have been to the US nervous system when the WTC & the Pentagon were attacked and the White House might have been...

----------


## simplyme

> *Ahead of me at the frozen desserts
> a man with a disfigured face,
> the whole of the right side of it
> seemingly caved in.
> 
> I struggle not to look*


_Jer asked me to post this in response to his._

He stood at the dessert counter,
his first time in public since it happened.
Months had gone by with out knowing if he would meet with disapproval
as even he feared the mirror's image,
covering each with cloths so he wouldn't see. 
AND *glass*! He had to look the other way, for glimpses were horrific to him.
But they said he had to go out in the world
to meet whatever waited for him.
So, he decided to treat himself to dessert.
But the way others looked away and never met his glances
told him what he thought was true.
He left the dessert and walked home,
closed the door
and stayed.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> _Jer asked me to post this in response to his._
> 
> He stood at the dessert counter,
> his first time in public since it happened.
> Months had gone by with out knowing if he would meet with disapproval
> as even he feared the mirror's image,
> covering each with cloths so he wouldn't see. 
> AND *glass*! He had to look the other way, for glimpses were horrific to him.
> But they said he had to go out in the world
> ...


Hey Gang? Will you please join me in extending a hearty welcome to this friend of mine! And let me personally welcome you, my friend!

----------


## kiz_paws

Both poems say so much ... I enjoyed them both immensely.

And yes, a very warm welcome to you, *simplyme*.  :Smile: 

I thought of you today, Jer, and how adept you are at capturing so much into a wee little snapshot -- a young girl was sporting a pair of very glamorous high heeled shoes, but I fear that the heel was too high and too skinny. Anyhow, it reminded me of a new-born horse that was getting up for the first time, and the way that they wobble ...

Well anyhow, I thought that you'd have said it better poetically, and yeah, thats what I wanted to share...  :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Both poems say so much ... I enjoyed them both immensely.
> 
> And yes, a very warm welcome to you, *simplyme*. 
> 
> I thought of you today, Jer, and how adept you are at capturing so much into a wee little snapshot -- a young girl was sporting a pair of very glamorous high heeled shoes, but I fear that the heel was too high and too skinny. Anyhow, it reminded me of a new-born horse that was getting up for the first time, and the way that they wobble ...
> 
> Well anyhow, I thought that you'd have said it better poetically, and yeah, thats what I wanted to share...


Oh, Kizzeroni! We all share what we can - in your case a most spontaneous, friendly warmth!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Michel, the owner of the café,
strikes me as a perfectly self-contained man.
He tells me of how he came out,
first to his gay older sister,
then to his very Catholic Maman.

He tells me of how, at age 15,
he came home once at 4 a.m.
to find his mother sitting up on the couch,
waiting for him. Maman,
he said to her: You need your sleep!
You dont have to worry about me.
Im not on drugs,
Im not an alcoholic,
I was just out having fun with my friends.
And how she never sat up again after that.

He prefers uncomplicated people,
hates drama-queens.
Talking, serving behind the counter, smoking,
he is at rest.*

----------


## CdnReader

> *Michel, the owner of the café,
> strikes me as a perfectly self-contained man.
> He tells me of how he came out,
> first to his gay older sister,
> then to his very Catholic Maman.
> 
> He tells me of how, at age 15,
> he came home once at 4 a.m.
> to find his mother sitting up on the couch,
> ...


Wonderful portrait (of the word-filled sort). Have you shared this with Michel? And how did he respond?

----------


## kiz_paws

> *Michel, the owner of the café,
> strikes me as a perfectly self-contained man.
> He tells me of how he came out,
> first to his gay older sister,
> then to his very Catholic Maman.
> 
> He tells me of how, at age 15,
> he came home once at 4 a.m.
> to find his mother sitting up on the couch,
> ...


Beautiful -- this snapshot has a soothing appeal to it, I liked the simplicity and honesty of Michel.  :Smile: 

AND _'Kizzeroni'_? Ha! I liked that too!  :FRlol:  Thanks for your kind words and for creating this lovely thread.  :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*
From my table alongside one wall of the café
I catch sight of a slender Oriental figure
hurrying by. I race after her
and call out: "Madeleine!"
a former student of mine,
now an established writer
with a growing reputation.

She turns and, recognizing me,
her eyes, as usual, disappear in the smile she gives me.
We chat animatedly, but only for a few minutes
as she needs to get to the post-office
before it closes and then
to a writer-in-residenceship
at the University in Shanghai.

"You have my phone-number," she reminds me.
Yes, but how to tell her how charmed
I have always been by her...
*

----------


## kiz_paws

> her eyes, as usual, disappear in the smile she gives me.


Loved it!

This snapshot made me happy in the knowing that someone who brushed shoulders with you became successful in this fun thing we know as WRITING.

Keep 'em coming, Jer (as if he needs encouragement)  :Wink:

----------


## Virgil

> *
> From my table alongside one wall of the café
> I catch sight of a slender Oriental figure
> hurrying by. I race after her
> and call out: "Madeleine!"
> a former student of mine,
> now an established writer
> with a growing reputation.
> 
> ...


Does every woman in the world turn you on Jer?  :FRlol:  It seems like you have a desire for all of them.  :Wink:

----------


## Sweets America

> Does every woman in the world turn you on Jer?  It seems like you have a desire for all of them.


 :Tongue:  That is Jer, he's an eternal romantic! That's a joy and a curse all at once.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Does every woman in the world turn you on Jer?  It seems like you have a desire for all of them.


There was this one I remember, corner Hastings & Main in Vancouver, didn't do a damned thing for me!

----------


## simplyme

More for Jer: The good "ending".
"He stayed hidden behind closed doors 
for what seemed like forever, 
as his life was empty of human contact.
Old friends called, 
but he avoided their invitations as he never wanted them to SEE him, 
He talked with a new friend online, who only knew him as HE really was
and he was not afraid.
In only weeks, he trusted enough and told his problem. 
He healed inside with the true friend's help,
and with new courage found what could be done.
As painful months passed, he healed, 
and though not perfect outside, he became more perfect inside.
One day his eyes opened and he noticed it was spring 
and the sun shone so brightly
The cold winter had long passed without his seeing that it was gone. 
The light shone brightly across the room and he felt like going out 
and to his joy, that was the first day he wanted to go out the door.
When he arrived at his destination again, 
he entered and smiled
and almost everyone, smiled back!
And at that time, joy replaced the pain."

----------


## simplyme

Jer wonder how to tell her? "Yes, but how to tell her how charmed
I have always been by her..."


I think you just told her---------! This isn't exactly a note passed under a desk!

----------


## Umbilical

I don't think that you have to be turned on by all women, just turned on by different things within different people. You can see a facet of someone that arouses desire, or a part of your own self-lust in another...
(in response to Virgil)
Pretty much everyone I know has turned me on at least once...

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

I like this, dear Sharon, and hope you will begin constructing stories and poems entirely of your own devising!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Driving to the café this morning
I catch sight of a young woman
fairly coiled in love
around the baby in the crook of her right arm.

I stop the car, roll down the window
and when she has caught up to me, call out:
Vous êtes en amour 
avec votre petite ange, n'est-ce-pas?

She turns toward me 
with a smile like a morning mountain lake.
Oui... 

Above her arm
I see a tiny, puzzled, brown-eyed face
and below it, dangling pink legs.

I ask the childs name
and blow her a kiss.
Luna.*

----------


## kiz_paws

> *Driving to the café this morning
> I catch sight of a young woman
> fairly coiled in love
> around the baby in the crook of her right arm.
> 
> I stop the car, roll down the window
> and when she has caught up to me, call out:
> Vous êtes en amour 
> avec votre petite ange, n'est-ce-pas?
> ...


I loved the sprinkling of French in this snapshot - what a beautiful touch.




> with a smile like a morning mountain lake.


neat comparison, I loved this.  :Nod:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Three giggling girls,
students at the nearby high-school,
go by laughing in the carefree pleasure
of the moment and of their friendship.

One of them, a young black girl,
so top-heavy I wonder
what if anything 
she knows of the rest of herself*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A man goes by whose profile
reminds me of de Gaulle,
over a flag-pole spine
his head is tilted back
so that his proud,
almost arrogant nose
sails clear above the heads
of lesser folk*

----------


## Sweets America

These two last ones are representative of your ability to see details and so many things about people and their self-awareness.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Outside le Paltoquet
two lovers stand
like facing cuckoo birds,
the mechanical sort
that bob and dip
into a bowl of water,
only these two
peck at each others lips,
kiss after kiss after kiss*

----------


## lugdunum

Oh thank you so much for this thread PrinceMyshkin.

I've been reading your snapshots for about 10 days now. And fortunately there are stil somes I still haven't read....

It feels like having a box of really good chocolates. You know they're too good to eat them all at a time and that you should try to make that box last eating one chocolate at a time, very slowly.
But then they're so good you just keep opening the box again and again. 

Bravo!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Oh thank you so much for this thread PrinceMyshkin.
> 
> I've been reading your snapshots for about 10 days now. And fortunately there are stil somes I still haven't read....
> 
> It feels like having a box of really good chocolates. You know they're too good to eat them all at a time and that you should try to make that box last eating one chocolate at a time, very slowly.
> But then they're so good you just keep opening the box again and again. 
> 
> Bravo!


I wonder if you can imagine how much this comment means to me? You know, when I composed the first of these it was for the pure pleasure of being a witness to what I imagined of someone else's life, but after I posted the first few and found that people were reading them, it became sort of a collaborative effort. I still do it for the pleasure it gives me of observing someone as clearly as I can, but I'm always to some extent aware of those who might be reading them...

----------


## ctalerico

> *Three giggling girls,
> students at the nearby high-school,
> go by laughing in the carefree pleasure
> of the moment and of their friendship.
> 
> One of them, a young black girl,
> so top-heavy I wonder
> what if anything 
> she knows of the rest of herself*


WOW!... but then, I've come to expect the exclamation point in your marvelous verse.

----------


## Sweets America

> *Outside le Paltoquet
> two lovers stand
> like facing cuckoo birds,
> the mechanical sort
> that bob and dip
> into a bowl of water,
> only these two
> peck at each others lips,
> kiss after kiss after kiss*


Excellent!! Love the image!!




> *lugdunum* said:
> It feels like having a box of really good chocolates.


So true!!  :Thumbs Up:  




> *PrinceMyshkin* said:
> for the pure pleasure of being a witness


Very Kerouacian, this thing about being an observer!  :Wink:  Couldn't help it.  :Tongue:

----------


## ctalerico

> *Michel, the owner of the café,
> strikes me as a perfectly self-contained man.*


As others have said, Prince, this snapshot is wonderful in its encapsulation of Michel. In fact, it is those things you select to describe that brings him to life as if he were standing before me. Your remarkable eye for observation is equal to your writing skills--that certainly includes your ability to carve images with control and precision. 




> *
> He prefers uncomplicated people,
> hates drama-queens.
> Talking, serving behind the counter, smoking,
> he is at rest.*





> *Early Saturday evening
> The streets have rarely offered up so few passersby
> The air feels like something is being withheld
> The buildings are like a stage set
> about to be struck
> before the show goes on the road*


Another precise construct. My favorite so far! It delights and tickles while an undercurrent reverberates with profundity. Your intellectual honesty is almost painful in its beauty.




> *a young woman, 
> who makes me think of a jolly stuffed cabbage,
> chats animatedly 
> with her somewhat
> dry-looking male companion*


How many people in the entire _world_--I wonder?--would think of a stuffed cabbage as "jolly" and infuse the notion in verse that makes one think: _Damn, that's exactly the right word!_

But then, that's what makes you so creative. _Bravo! Bravo!_




> At Tutto Bene part 2
> 
> *One arm flopped
> around his neck, 
> a young girl sleeps
> against her fathers
> chest and shoulder
> as if painted there*


Beautifully sublime or sublimely beautiful, this perfect expression creates in me an exquisite rapture each time I "view" it; for this is much more than reading your verse, Prince, it's a privileged glimpse seeing through--not your eyes--but the every being of your soul! "As if painted there" takes me there every time.

You're as poignant as Brel, as subtle as Monet.




> *For a moment or two
> this St John the Baptist holiday
> there is no one and nothing outside the café
> but the sun that picks out every detail of the street,
> the low and sometimes impatient
> susurrus of the passing cars,
> the voices of Nathalie
> and a couple of customers
> through the wide-open windows
> ...


Honestly, you are to your verse what A.S. Byatt is to the short story (e.g., _The Matisse Stories_ et al.).

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Beautifully sublime or sublimely beautiful, this perfect expression creates in me an exquisite rapture each time I "view" it; for this is much more than reading your verse, Prince, it's a privileged glimpse seeing through--not your eyes--but the every being of your soul! "As if painted there" takes me there every time.
> 
> You're as poignant as Brel, as subtle as Monet.


You've picked out one of my favourites too, in that it recalls to me that beautiful image of the unity of the two of them. And the father's composure, the depth and security of the child's sleep, were in such beautiful contrast to the very busy, noisy atmosphere I tried to capture in the snapshot just before that one.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A seemingly humourless
middle-aged couple
pause at the entrance to the café,
then she, busty, inoffensively attired,
heaves herself up the three concrete steps
and he, thin as a famished weed,
follows*

----------


## firefangled

I think what would be interesting in the book of these Snapshots (which would be a huge success, I'm sure you know) would be the occasional pencil drawing of the particularly engaging ones. Too many would detract from the how playfully and poignantly the reader's imagination leaps at each.

If my children weren't grown, I would read this each night to them for what it would teach them of how language is suppose to work.

I say all this because this one reminded me so much of the early sketchy black and white cartoons with the jazzy or swing soundtrack, but no dialog. They are priceless as are these. 

Next time I promise to think of a better word than priceless, rather than repeat myself.

----------


## CdnReader

> *c
> 
> A man goes by whose profile
> reminds me of de Gaulle,
> over a flag-pole spine
> his head is tilted back
> so that his proud,
> almost arrogant nose
> sails clear above the heads
> of lesser folk*


Congratulations on 100, my friend.  :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A thin, very tall young woman
wearing 2" wedge-heeled shoes,
pale, light-weight summer dress
and ash-grey, floppy-brimmed hat
folds herself into a chair
across the table
from her twinkling, mincing ju-jube
of a male friend*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A young couple sit at a table
with the remains of their breakfast
between them. He, half-turned away, 
immersed in a novel,
she, dabbing repeatedly at her mouth with a paper napkin,
her expression indecipherable,
the table uniting 
and dividing them*

----------


## Umbilical

That's really sad...
I'd rather be sitting with a stranger than with a lover who's a stranger.

well done. xo

----------


## lugdunum

> A young couple sit at a table
> with the remains of their breakfast
> between them. He, half-turned away,
> immersed in a novel,
> she, dabbing at her mouth with a paper napkin,
> her expression indecipherable,
> the table uniting
> and dividing them


I always feel so sad when I see couples like that. 

Good one  :Thumbs Up:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A tough-looking young woman
wearing white canvas gauntlets
gets down from a road-cleaning machine
and heads west on Fairmount,
her long, loose, blonde ringlets
at odds with her Dont nobody get in my effing way walk*

----------


## dibyendra

> *A young couple sit at a table
> with the remains of their breakfast
> between them. He, half-turned away, 
> immersed in a novel,
> she, dabbing repeatedly at her mouth with a paper napkin,
> her expression indecipherable,
> the table uniting 
> and dividing them*


Oh, Prince, you describe the glimpses so well! It's very touching. I liked it very much.  :Thumbs Up:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Oh, Prince, you describe the glimpses so well! It's very touching. I liked it very much.


Many thanks for this and your other appreciative comments but note please that I made what I consider a small but significant change to that snapshot.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*From my table outside Le Paltoquet
I catch sight of a serene, classically beautiful
Chinese womans face, incongruous
atop her taller than average body.

She looks back,
as if from her mountain temple,
at me, a lowly villager, one of those 
who are forever beseeching favours.*

----------


## MorpheusSandman

I'm very glad I found this thread today. Keep up the wonderful work Prince, for these poems have truly enriched my day.

----------


## Sweets America

> *From my table outside Le Paltoquet
> I catch sight of a serene, classically beautiful
> Chinese womans face, incongruous
> atop her taller than average body.
> 
> She looks back,
> as if from her mountain temple,
> at me, a lowly villager, one of those 
> who are forever beseeching favours.*


So good! The second stanza is the strongest.

----------


## kiz_paws

> *A young couple sit at a table
> with the remains of their breakfast
> between them. He, half-turned away, 
> immersed in a novel,
> she, dabbing repeatedly at her mouth with a paper napkin,
> her expression indecipherable,
> the table uniting 
> and dividing them*


Makes me want to scream at them -- its not too late!!

Wonderful snapshot, Jer!  :Thumbs Up:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A mid-thirtyish guy
pushes a stroller so large 
and high-tech that the baby in it
looks like a very young empress
serene and only casually aware
of her vast empire*

----------


## CdnReader

> *A mid-thirtyish guy
> pushes a stroller so large 
> and high-tech that the baby in it
> looks like a very young empress
> serene and only casually aware
> of her vast empire*


Londoners have _the most amazing_ baby strollers I've ever seen, like small cars really -- complete with umbrellas, rain covers, hooks for purses, baby bags, shopping, you name it! I didn't get close enough to find out if they also have hotplates and kettles for making tea on the run.

----------


## Pendragon

I see those high tech strollers today and wonder where they were when I used to take my small kids on a hike!  :Wink:   :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A Sunday morning club of runners
come chundling up Esplanade,
make a dog-leg at Fairmount
and continue south,
a forest of pumping 
bare, male and female legs
beneath shorts, t-shirts,
sweatshirts, windbreakers, 
floppy or stiff-peaked hats,
a fiesta of joyous colour and energy
in every conceivable colour and design*

----------


## lugdunum

> *From my table outside Le Paltoquet
> I catch sight of a serene, classically beautiful
> Chinese womans face, incongruous
> atop her taller than average body.
> 
> She looks back,
> as if from her mountain temple,
> at me, a lowly villager, one of those 
> who are forever beseeching favours.*


 :Thumbs Up:  Nice one! I think that I can actually *see* that woman! 

As someone mentioned before, if there ever was a book of these snapshots, a good artist could actually draw these people almost perfectly without seeing them, simply by reading your text!

----------


## lugdunum

> *A Sunday morning club of runners
> come chundling up Esplanade,
> make a dog-leg at Fairmount
> and continue south,
> a forest of pumping 
> bare, male and female legs
> beneath shorts, t-shirts,
> sweatshirts, windbreakers, 
> floppy or stiff-peaked hats,
> ...


Does anyone else think of butterflies after reading this one?

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Four-months old Louisa,
who reminds me somehow
of a very young Winston Churchill, 
wobbles on her daddys lap
and over his shoulder 
engages with me and I swear
I can see the intelligence
growing behind her alert, bright eyes*

----------


## Pendragon

> *Four-months old Louisa,
> who reminds me somehow
> of a very young Winston Churchill, 
> wobbles on her daddys lap
> and over his shoulder 
> engages with me and I swear
> I can see the intelligence
> growing behind her alert, bright eyes*


Babies often remind us of Churchill. Or WC Fields. Or Babe Ruth...

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A woman with sparrow legs,
pursed lips,
in a drab, lime-green cardigan,
arms folded behind her back
like the Duke of Edinburgh,
moves slowly up the street
in no apparent hurry
to get anywhere at all*

----------


## CdnReader

> *A woman with sparrow legs,
> pursed lips,
> in a drab, lime-green cardigan,
> arms folded behind her back
> like the Duke of Edinburgh,
> moves slowly up the street
> in no apparent hurry
> to get anywhere at all*


Love this one. Great visual.  :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Without meaning to, I overhear a snatch
of conversation between two regulars
at the table behind me:
"the guy who built the boat 
is sleeping with his neighbours wife"
and one or both of them snicker*

----------


## Umbilical

haha, did you laugh too?

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> haha, did you laugh too?


No, but I hungered for a few more details... Did the (poor?) husband know anything of what was going on? Was there any sort of connection between the building of the boat, and the affair? When the boat was completed, would the adulterous lovers take off on it leaving the cuckolded husband staring after them?


I have felt that my own snapshots are becoming a bit less fresh or spontaneous so I'll be taking a break from them. In the meantime I invited others to contribute snapshots of their own...

----------


## CdnReader

Facing houses
with matching empty porch swings,
rocked softly by an invisible hand,
waiting for their owners
to join them in their
contemplation.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Facing houses
> with matching empty porch swings,
> rocked softly by an invisible hand,
> waiting for their owners
> to join them in their
> contemplation.


Many thanks, D. Interesting to view things through another lens.

----------


## CdnReader

> Many thanks, D. Interesting to view things through another lens.


Let's just say...... I learned from the best.

----------


## ampoule

> *Without meaning to, I overhear a snatch
> of conversation between two regulars
> at the table behind me:
> "the guy who built the boat 
> is sleeping with his neighbours wife"
> and one or both of them snicker*


haha...think if that had been Noah...

Losing your freshness? No. Maybe you should do landscapes for awhile or a snapshot of your friends here. That might be dangerous though.  :Wink:

----------


## CdnReader

Sunshine falls
wherever it wants.
I have no qualms
about chasing it
around the
house.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A young couple arrive
pushing a stroller
with a baby in it
underneath a big, floppy red hat
(at least, I assume theres a baby under there).

Later, as he wakes up,
the father takes him on his lap, 
turns him toward me
and I sing to him in German:
"Kommt ein fogel gefloggen...*

----------


## CdnReader

A magic treehouse hovers
four feet above the ground,
bright yellow shutters thrown open 
to welcome the sun.

To the left, a wavy slide
and three green plastic swings,
dangle, forgotten,
in that breathless pause 
that is early morning.

Remembered laughter
echoes through the playscape,
now empty and still.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

Love it, D., but I could swear I posted one just before you? Gonna try and enter it again...

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*At the supermarket
I follow behind my shopping-cart
with absent-minded efficiency
wielding it up one aisle 
and down the other,
citizen consumer,
wondering what 
have I left off my list
today*

----------


## CdnReader

^^^ Love this one too!! Especially "absent-minded efficiency"....  :Smile:

----------


## CdnReader

A bank of silver and red
neighbourhood mailboxes stands tall,
-- resolute, shipshape --
arms firmly at their sides,
soldierly in their posture,
with a fixed forward gaze,
brooking no interference
to the work at hand.

Just to the left,
four bright yellow tubes
lean against each other
in a lazy, disorderly clump,
waiting for their morning feed
of the daily news,
looking more like the potato-peelers
than the regular ranks.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

What a wonderful counterpoint between the martial posture of those public mailboxes in the first stanza and the seemingly undisciplined private (?) ones in the second - and I love the humour of the second verse in general!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Waiting for D. this morning
was no different, I suppose,
than waiting for A., B., or C.
had been or than waiting 
for E. or F. will be...

Through the window of the café
I could see the mirrored reflection
of the ceiling fan,
turning, turning*

----------


## CdnReader

> *Waiting for D. this morning
> was no different, I suppose,
> than waiting for A., B., or C.
> had been or than waiting 
> for E. or F. will be...
> 
> Through the window of the café
> I could see the mirrored reflection
> of the ceiling fun,
> turning, turning*


Lovely, and torn through with the loneliness that we both experience from time to time. I love the second stanza.  :Bawling:

----------


## Sweets America

> *Waiting for D. this morning
> was no different, I suppose,
> than waiting for A., B., or C.
> had been or than waiting 
> for E. or F. will be...
> 
> Through the window of the café
> I could see the mirrored reflection
> of the ceiling fun,
> turning, turning*


Love this one. The tiresome feeling. Love the image of the second stanza, but you should replace "fun" with "fan" maybe.  :Tongue:  However, your Freudian slip might show that something positive is still on your mind.




> A magic treehouse hovers
> four feet above the ground,
> bright yellow shutters thrown open 
> to welcome the sun.
> 
> To the left, a wavy slide
> and three green plastic swings,
> dangle, forgotten,
> in that breathless pause 
> ...


Donna, that's a very nice one!

----------


## CdnReader

^^^ Thanks, Sweets.  :Smile: 

* * * * *

It's an acre or two,
maybe a bit more,
is my best guess....
Deep green pines cluster 
along the edges of the backyard.

The front lawn is vast and pristine.
The gardens lie, relaxed, 
shrubs beautifully trimmed,
carefully following the delicate shape 
of the bay window.

And on the gracefully curving,
brilliant white, concrete front drive
(no such thing, after all, as 
common _cement_ in this neighbourhood)
sits what looks like a brand-new SUV
in a shade of tan that perfectly matches
the colour of this gracious residence.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

There is something about that SUV that so perfectly completes the picture!

----------


## CdnReader

Thanks, Jer. I'm unhappy with the last line though. I may change it.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Thanks, Jer. I'm unhappy with the last line though. I may change it.


Last lines are sometimes the killers, aren't they, and sometimes they're the whole reason we wrote the preceding lines. Look at the dilemma Virgil created for me by proposing that I excise the last 3 or so lines of "That boy is still with me..."

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*The summer sun
brings out legions
of bare-armed, bare-legged
young women
with babies asleep
like amulets 
across their chests*

----------


## kiz_paws

> *The summer sun
> brings out legions
> of bare-armed, bare-legged
> young women
> with babies asleep
> like amulets 
> across their chests*


this one had me picturing the mothers with those baby-carrier-thingies and braving the heat heart-to-heart with their little one.

Sweet!  :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> this one had me picturing the mothers with those baby-carrier-thingies and braving the heat heart-to-heart with their little one.
> 
> Sweet!


Exactly! I couldn't think of the familiar name for those things but concluded that even if I could, it might make the thing too literal, too weighed-down with detail. My object is always to give as vivid a picture as possible with nothing but the most essential details. 

There's something about the seemingly effortless way those women carry their babies!

----------


## kiz_paws

> My object is always to give as vivid a picture as possible with nothing but the most essential details.


And you are doing a fine job at that, Jer.  :Nod: 




> There's something about the seemingly effortless way those women carry their babies!


Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the weight of the little one is now evenly distributed between the shoulders (with lots of padding -- ever look at one of those 'thingies'?) AS OPPOSED TO the way that they naturally carried the infant in pregnancy (just their stomach muscles supporting the weight) ... or something like that.

I want to get one for my pet Pepper, but she is so noisy that I'd be doing a silly thing in that action. I am not crazy -- I saw a special one for pets!  :Wink:

----------


## firefangled

> Exactly! I couldn't think of the familiar name for those things but concluded that even if I could, it might make the thing too literal...


I am happy you could not think of the literal name. Often this is what germinates the poetry of something, certainly in this case.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A young woman
a girl, really
perfectly shaped
in the proportions
of some smaller race,
wearing an unpretentiously elegant
brown flounce of a dress, 
gets up from the table
and walks away
on tiny feet,
like the priestess of some cult
she knows nothing about*

----------


## CdnReader

The last two lines of this one made me laugh out loud. Love it!!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A small, anonymous
Chinese woman
of a certain age
walks by at the usual hour
with her usual dog
and pauses, as usual,
to deposit something in the trash-can
before carrying on 
to her - to me, at least
- unknowable destiny*

----------


## Sweets America

> *A small, anonymous
> Chinese woman
> of a certain age
> walks by at the usual hour
> with her usual dog
> and pauses, as usual,
> to deposit something in the trash-can
> before carrying on 
> to her - to me, at least
> - unknowable destiny*


This is strange, I'm somehow sure I have already read this, as if you had already written it before. I remember the Chinese woman and the fact that she threw something in the trash-can. Hum.

----------


## kiz_paws

> *A young woman
> a girl, really
> perfectly shaped
> in the proportions
> of some smaller race,
> wearing an unpretentiously elegant
> brown flounce of a dress, 
> gets up from the table
> and walks away
> ...


I could see her! Wonderful painting, Jer!

As for the last two lines, I kind of viewed it as that she walked with the grace and elegance that were practiced by many, yet came natural to her ... 

Lovely snapshot!  :Nod:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> As for the last two lines, I kind of viewed it as that she walked with the grace and elegance that were practiced by many, yet came natural to her ...


Yes indeed. I was sure that if the sidewalk had feelings, it was nonetheless hardly aware of her footsteps.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A lazy, sunny Sunday
at the café.
A heavy-set man
urges his body up the street,
a helmeted woman cycles by
with an infant on the upper bar
of her bike, a smiling young woman
walks her dog,
two elderly women
whose comfortable companionship
is almost palpable*

----------


## paperleaves

I love your works. All of them are so beautiful and revealing, the scenes you create are incredible. Thank you for sharing  :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*The neighbourhood rag and scrap collector,
who lives as if he were homeless,
wheels his bike 
around a tightly constricted route,
its handlebars draped
with overflowing shopping bags,
his chin
tucked permanently
so deep into his chest
you can barely see 
the grime etched 
into his painfully abstracted face*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*On my way to an outdoor table,
espresso, newspaper, notebook
in hand, I catch sight 
of a sweet-looking young man
hunched over a fluorescent-green
plastic Playschool computer,
the kind, he confirms,
developed for kids in impoverished countries.

Sprechen sie Deutsch? I ask in response 
to his mild accent. Nein.
Where...? Sweden, he answers.

Welcome, I say, extending my hand
and offering my name.Simon,
he says and grips my hand
so sincerely that if I were a woman
Id be pregnant now*

----------


## paperleaves

> *
> 
> Welcome, I say, extending my hand
> and offering my name.Simon,
> he says and grips my hand
> so sincerely that if I were a woman
> Id be pregnant now*


You are absolutely amazing. I love the above part..

----------


## kiz_paws

> *A lazy, sunny Sunday
> at the café.
> A heavy-set man
> urges his body up the street,
> a helmeted woman cycles by
> with an infant on the upper bar
> of her bike, a smiling young woman
> walks her dog,
> two elderly women
> ...


This little snapshot left me feeling quite cozy indeed.  :Nod:  
It was those last three lines, Jer. Awesome, as always.  :Thumbs Up: 




> On my way to an outdoor table,
> espresso, newspaper, notebook
> in hand, I catch sight 
> of a sweet-looking young man
> hunched over a fluorescent-green
> plastic Playschool computer,
> the kind, he confirms,
> developed for kids in impoverished countries.
> 
> ...


Exquisite. No one says it like you, my friend.  :Wink:

----------


## Xillus_Xavier

I was interested in checking this poem out because of the huge number of replies it has received. I can see why it has now and I'm glad I got a chance to read this excellent, excellent poem!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A short Oriental man
in flip-flops
shuffles by my house
each morning, a child
beside him or holding his hand.

The look on the mans face
is so resolutely non-committal
I wonder at the fate
its meant to defy.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Waiting for the supermarket to open
I catch sight of two
antithetical characters:
a mousy looking woman 
whose clothes seem intended
to make her, as much as possible,
invisible, 
and a man with a scowl 
and a five-oclock shadow 
that reaches from the neck of his t-shirt
to his dark, bushy eye-brows*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Adrian invites himself
to join me at my table
along with his Modern Library Edition
of The Works of Plato
and we have a good
mind-banging discussion
of consciousness, reality
and psilocybin mushrooms
in the cold, bracing
morning air*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*At the Snowdon Deli,
at the table across the aisle from mine,
a customer receives his smoked meat,
lean, no mustard,
and a plate piled high with fries,
and immediately attacks them both
like a man on a mission*

----------


## CdnReader

^^^  :Eek:  *No mustard!!!???* For shame....

----------


## kiz_paws

> *Waiting for the supermarket to open
> I catch sight of two
> antithetical characters:
> a mousy looking woman 
> whose clothes seem intended
> to make her, as much as possible,
> invisible, 
> and a man with a scowl 
> and a five-oclock shadow 
> ...


Jer, this snapshot is brilliant -- what more can I say? These two characters came to life in how many words? Awesome.  :Thumbs Up: 




> At the Snowdon Deli,
> at the table across the aisle from mine,
> a customer receives his smoked meat,
> lean, no mustard,
> and a plate piled high with fries,
> and immediately attacks them both
> like a man on a mission


Ha ha, this made me smile. 
And wonder if he wiped his face with the side of his sleeve ...

Great stuff, as always!  :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Here at Loblaw’s
there is no agora
but the faux-tiled floor
of the fast-food area

where descendants of Plato
and Plotinus gather
to chew the fat in rapid, demotic Greek.

The stuff that they and I eat 
bears some sort of resemblance
to actual food, about as much,
I guess, as their small talk does
to The Republic*

----------


## poetman

sad and beautiful, i like.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

The short Oriental man
who slip-slops daily
past my house, pauses,
while the little girl beside him
black, black bowl-cut hair
fiddles with the catch
of her wind-breaker.
He has nothing but patience*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*$1.39,
the billboard reads:
double cheese-burger.

I walk by, wondering
how they can make it so cheap
and so nasty*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*The reciprocal smile
of a passerby
is to me a nano-second love-affair,
the whole of which
is bliss!*

----------


## Umbilical

write about about nipples, seriously.


keep up the good work  :Smile:  Hope you're well

----------


## qimissung

> *Here at Loblaws
> there is no agora
> but the faux-tiled floor
> of the fast-food area
> 
> where descendants of Plato
> and Plotinus gather
> to chew the fat in rapid, demotic Greek.
> 
> ...


Wonderful! These are brilliantly observed. I think I might be inspired to write some myself.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Wonderful! These are brilliantly observed. I think I might be inspired to write some myself.


*
I'll see you then
at some table next to mine
in this great cafe
called Le Monde!*

----------


## motherhubbard

Jerry, I haven't been in the poem section for some time, but I had a moment today to look. I think this is my favorite thread. You brought a big smile to my face that will last all day. 

These moments here were stolen from duty
But were well spent viewing 
The walk in front of my friend’s house,
The table across in his café,
And unknown lovers passing … 
I am an unrepentant thief.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Jerry, I haven't been in the poem section for some time, but I had a moment today to look. I think this is my favorite thread. You brought a big smile to my face that will last all day. 
> 
> These moments here were stolen from duty
> But were well spent viewing 
> The walk in front of my friends house,
> The table across in his café,
> And unknown lovers passing  
> I am an unrepentant thief.


*May I say to you, dear friend
(but how're you going to stop me?),
that love comes to us in many colours!
And yours - given your married state,
let's call it friendship
- is sort of a deep, deep fuschia!*

----------


## motherhubbard

I like fuscia

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*
At a pedestrian crossing
a woman smiles at me in my car
as if to ensure herself safe passage.
I motion for her to cross, and smile.
She does a double-take,
gives me another smile,
warmer, more personal*

----------


## Umbilical

This last one is beautiful: a mini-love story that means the world.
A glimmer of what we hope for...

I wonder what she's like undressed.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> This last one is beautiful: a mini-love story that means the world.
> A glimmer of what we hope for...
> 
> I wonder what she's like undressed.


Gratified by the first part of your response. As to the last part, are you saying that you're, like, GAY?

----------


## Umbilical

Just extending the poem that your poem started in my head...


But, yeah :P. I like the purple.

Post some more pedestrian crossing poetry.

----------


## amanda_isabel

hmm. after disappearing for so long i feel like it's been ages since i read any of PrinceM's snapshots.

ienjoyed it, as usual, especially the ending.  :Smile:  maybe because i keep a fairly straight face while crossing the street?

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

Umbilical, Amanda, thank you both. Relish the day that lies before you!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A school-girl walks by,
proud head held high.
Have you got any good news for me?
I wonder silently,
thinking of a good friend of mine
in Halifax, in hospital, 
gravely ill*

----------


## kiz_paws

> *
> At a pedestrian crossing
> a woman smiles at me in my car
> as if to ensure herself safe passage.
> I motion for her to cross, and smile.
> She does a double-take,
> gives me another smile,
> warmer, more personal*


I liked this one for the reaction to the unexpected courtesy you extended, and the way you so easily put your thoughts into poetry. It gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling, at the risk of sounding like a cornball.  :Wink:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> I liked this one for the reaction to the unexpected courtesy you extended, and the way you so easily put your thoughts into poetry. It gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling, at the risk of sounding like a cornball.


Cookie! You don't just "sound" like a cornball, you _are_ one, but then we're _all_ cornballs to some degree or other. The relevant question is whether you're a sweet and tenderhearted cornball or just the plain garden-variety sort!

----------


## kiz_paws

Oh, and by the way -- I didn't mean that I felt that courtesy from you, Jer, is unexpected. I meant that the woman hadn't expected it. Yeah I know -- I didn't have to explain, but then again, I wanted my thought to be clear as to my meaning.

I think that I am the cornball with the cheese coating; you know the ones? That you pop in the air and catch with your mouth, ha ha!  :FRlol: 

Cornballs of the world -- UNITE!  :Wink: 

Keep 'em coming, Jer.  :Thumbs Up:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Oh, and by the way -- I didn't mean that I felt that courtesy from you, Jer, is unexpected. I meant that the woman hadn't expected it. Yeah I know -- I didn't have to explain, but then again, I wanted my thought to be clear as to my meaning.


I perfectly understood that _you_ understood and indeed it seemed to me clear to read that her first, sort of impersonal smile was replaced by one that meant _Wow! A smile - for free! - from one stranger to another..._

----------


## kiz_paws

**Nods** Indeed

Now, Jer -- can you put into words, the wonderfully blissful feeling one has upon sipping their first delightful cup of coffee of the day? This is something that no one has yet captured...

 :Wink:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*As I bend down to tie my shoe-lace
next to his table, 
I hear a guy speak into his cell-phone:
Five years from now I dont want to hear you say
that I didnt try everything.
Because I tried everything.
I cant be chasing you all the time.
I want you to call me sometimes...

I walk away*

----------


## qimissung

> *A school-girl walks by,
> proud head held high.
> Have you got any good news for me?
> I wonder silently,
> thinking of a good friend of mine
> in Halifax, in hospital, 
> gravely ill*


Isn't that life itself? To be out in it when your own heart is sick.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*At Java U an elderly couple
labour up from their table
and hobble away.
The skin on his face looks waxed;
hers resembles onion-skin paper 
folded and unfolded
over and over again*

----------


## symphony

i love flicking through this album  :Smile:

----------


## kiz_paws

> *At Java U an elderly couple
> labour up from their table
> and hobble away.
> The skin on his face looks waxed;
> hers resembles onion-skin paper 
> folded and unfolded
> over and over again*


Beautiful, these two individuals became real and I watched them slowly make their way home....

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Michel was out in front
of the café this morning
brushing away damp fallen leaves,
cigarette dangling between his lips,
regular-guy hair-cut,
clean-shaven cheeks and trim,
boyish body*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A small, elegantly dressed black woman
hurtles down the street
as if in flight from some transgression
or in pursuit of her destiny*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A couple of high-school girls go by,
one of them a perfect miniature
of a Woman, thigh-high leather boots,
stiletto heels, glossy
black hair, make-up
-–and attitude!*

----------


## kiz_paws

> *A couple of high-school girls go by,
> one of them a perfect miniature
> of a Woman, thigh-high leather boots,
> stiletto heels, glossy
> black hair, make-up
> -and attitude!*


Great snapshot, and I loved the ending.

The line _"a perfect miniature of a Woman"_ was awesome.  :Nod:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A suave grey BMW
sort of hiccups 
over the corrugated asphalt
of an alleyway,
pokes its nose warily into the street
then slinks its way west on Fairmount*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*In my fractured French
I rattle away to Karim
and he, with his warm
Lebanese-Algerian face and soft
brown eyes, attends
as faithfully
as if I were his beloved brother*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*At the poetry reading tonight
I felt a bit more of my life
slip out from under me!
It was all right.
I hadnt been using it anyway.
Still, it was strange to see it go*

----------


## kiz_paws

> *At the poetry reading tonight
> I felt a bit more of my life
> slip out from under me!
> It was all right.
> I hadnt been using it anyway.
> Still, it was strange to see it go*


Have you ever read something so perfect that you wished to hell you had written it? Well this is how I felt when I read this, Jer.  :Smile:  I loved this very much.  :Thumbs Up: 




> It was all right.
> I hadnt been using it anyway.


These were the lines that spoke to me ... how quietly and in a mature fashion, one can let go and make peace with an emotion ....

Hope I make sense...  :Blush:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*At the table in front of me,
in loose camouflage pants,
matching baseball cap,
sneakers and a long
battle-ship grey, cable-knit sweater, 
folded over at the sleeves,
a guy smokes a Turkish cigarette.
Beside him, a shopping cart
filled with refundable
soda-pop cans*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Karim reports
that he showed the snapshot I wrote about him
to his daughter, Amelia, 20.
"Daddy," she exclaimed,
"Youre a good man!"*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*I look up, surprised
to see my old friend, Gerry T.,
approaching. Pouch-faced with age
but with a smile
as expectant as ever,
hes visiting from Ireland,
came by expecting to find me here
at my usual hour and we launch immediately
into a 50-year old conversation 
as fragrant as freshly-risen bread*

----------


## windblown

Your snapshots are brilliant, this one especially so. This experience of taking up a 50- (in my case it would rather be a 30) year-old conversation is one I can relate to very well. To liken it to the fragrance of freshly-risen bread is a wonderful simile.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Your snapshots are brilliant, this one especially so. This experience of taking up a 50- (in my case it would rather be a 30) year-old conversation is one I can relate to very well. To liken it to the fragrance of freshly-risen bread is a wonderful simile.


The pleasure of writing these is for the most part its own reward but it doesn't hurt - no, it doesn't exactly hurt - to receive appreciation such as yours.

And in reference to your cyber-name, this Irish wish: _May the wind be always at your back and the road rise up to meet you!_

----------


## SleepyWitch

I liked that line best, too (a 50-year old conversation). it reminds me about one of my best guy friends, whom I only see once a year but whenever we do manage to meet up it's as if we talked to each other every day.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*This morning a festival 
of warmth. First Robert
(Ro-bear), the dishwasher,
comes by and bestows on me
a smile that is more gum
than teeth, then coming up the alley,
Geeta-of-my-heart waves,
in her other hand
her son, Divender,
just turned five*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Today, as the sun falls away,
I get into easy, episodic conversation
with Hashem, a bird-like young man
from Pakistan, with flowing black hair
and a blanket thrown over 
his slender shoulders,
and his companion, Katya,
robust, smiling,
like a healthy forest plant*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Rounding the corner
I catch sight of a twisted scrap of a man,
swivelling on one crutch,
eyes wild with incomprehension,
beseeching,
his tongue flicking out
rapidly, repeatedly
as if in search for words*

----------


## qimissung

What a nice way to end the day, with a cuppa PrinceMyshkin!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Luke, with his large,
good-humoured face and shiny head
without a hair north of his eye-brows,
sits across the table from Julie,
a girl still shrugging the mantle
of womanhood across her slender shoulders,
the two of them in the sixth year
of their second-date conversation*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A young woman walks by,
her cheek pressed against her cell-phone
as if it were the chest
of her beloved*

----------


## Pendragon

> *Luke, with his large,
> good-humoured face and shiny head
> without a hair north of his eye-brows,
> sits across the table from Julie,
> a girl still shrugging the mantle
> of womanhood across her slender shoulders,
> the two of them in the sixth year
> of their second-date conversation*


Wonderful words that keeps the reader in suspense! Encore! Encore!

----------


## ampoule

Where are you, Prince? Are you out snapping more pictures? The way you see people makes me want to.....see people.  :Wink:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Where are you, Prince? Are you out snapping more pictures? The way you see people makes me want to.....see people.


Ah, that is sweet! It's nice to be missed. There have been a couple of interruptions to my visits to the cafe. Besides, the weather prevents me from sitting outdoors and I haven't yet got used to my indoor lenses.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A girl, as thin
as a wafer, goes by
in one direction, followed,
in the other, by a Khassid,
as shapeless as a pile
of freshly-washed black linen*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*In a doorway,
tucked out of the cold wind,
a man with a ruined face
and watery, beseeching eyes,
attends to his cigarette*

----------


## Makai

Lovely contrast 

"A wafer thin girl..." and 

"...a Khassid,
as shapeless as a pile
of freshly-washed black linen"

The descriptions of two wildly different women, unless of course, the mysterious Khassid is also a wafer thin girl. Delicious to think about.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perhaps the man's cigarette is the only fire available in a frozen cityscape.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Lovely contrast 
> 
> "A wafer thin girl..." and 
> 
> "...a Khassid,
> as shapeless as a pile
> of freshly-washed black linen"
> 
> The descriptions of two wildly different women, unless of course, the mysterious Khassid is also a wafer thin girl. Delicious to think about.
> ...


The Khassid I had seen was male. Kassidic women do not (as far as I know) wear black as their daily garb but the most extraordinarily drab dresses and stockings that resemble the orthopaedic sort, and of course wigs.

----------


## Makai

Thanks for clarifying Prince, I was thinking ir was something else.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A man approaches the café,
reels as if from the cold,
his gloveless hands
drawn deep inside
the sleeves of his parka,
enters, speaks for a moment
with the counterman.
then leaves.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Pom-pom bobbing
atop his wool tuque,
a guy with his entire face
organized around a mile-wide smile
plows his way
along Côte-des-Neiges Road*

----------


## ~Sophia~

I love these short poems of yours. Little cliff hangers! And often profound!

----------


## a_little_wisp

> *Pom-pom bobbing
> atop his wool tuque,
> a guy with his entire face
> organized around a mile-wide smile
> plows his way
> along Côte-des-Neiges Road*


I would like to meet him. I love people! I like these!

----------


## kiz_paws

> *Pom-pom bobbing
> atop his wool tuque,
> a guy with his entire face
> organized around a mile-wide smile
> plows his way
> along Côte-des-Neiges Road*


This is delightful -- your opening line drew me in, and as I read I knew I'd not be disappointed. You always paint such a perfect picture of your visions in your poetry. I pictured the fellow's huge apple cheeks, rosy in the morning frost, and a thick accent français to boot!  :Nod: 

Added bonus -- PrinceMyshkin has spelled the mystery word here once and for all. I never know how to spell tuque.  :Blush: 

p.s. A person from _another country_ was asked one day by a news person with Canadian Trivia questions -- 'what is a tuque'. Only about two people out of ten or twelve knew what it was. And a wopping fifty percent of the incorrect answers were that it was a 'lady's undergarment'... Oh the injustice of the wonderful tuque...  :Biggrin:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Young women
wheel their babies by
in strollers.
Its like a mobile museum
of freshly-painted masterpieces*

----------


## qimissung

I love them all on this page, how you look at an ordinary person on an ordinary day and see a masterpiece.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Leaving the cafe
I come face to face
with a much younger man,
hair like red brick
just after a rain
and a moustache to match.

Nice moustache, I say,
pointing at it. Thanks, he says. 
Broad smile. You, too.*

----------


## kiz_paws

> *Young women
> wheel their babies by
> in strollers.
> Its like a mobile museum
> of freshly-painted masterpieces*


Beautiful.  :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*On the occasion
of his late mothers birthday
my beloved friend, Michel,
chose to quit smoking,
making her, even after her death,
the gift of his life.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A tall, pretty Khassidic woman
stands on the stoop of her house
up the street from me.
Beside her, her tightly bundled
two and a half year old.

I stop and address her in Yiddish
and to my delight, she responds.
Later, I observe that not many Khassidic women
will talk with an unfamiliar man.

“Ich hob nit kein moireh,”
she replies. (I’m not afraid).
In the absence of fear,
I think, walking away,
there is all the more room for love.*

----------


## Virgil

I haven't been here in a while. That last poem is quite nice Prince.

----------


## firefangled

> Ich hob nit kein moireh,
> she replies. (Im not afraid).
> In the absence of fear,
> I think, walking away,
> there is all the more room for love.


Now who is ending their poems prophetically? 

One wonders when this day without fear will come for everyone.

----------


## qimissung

I LOVE how you sum up these people so pithily. And you see them with a such a kind eye. It is apparent that you love people. It allows us to believe that their is hope for humanity.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> I LOVE how you sum up these people so pitily. And you see them with a such a kind eye. It is apparent that you love people. It allows us to believe that their is hope for humanity.


Assuming that "pitily" was meant to be _pithily,_ I thintherely hope you don't have a lithp?

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

Just ahead of me
a young woman
pushed an empty stroller
followed close behind
by a little paddler
in a maroon snowsuit,
Paloma,
a foot and a half tall,
a year and a half old,
singing her own song:
Anh-anh-*anh*, anh-anh-*anh,*

----------


## qimissung

> Assuming that "pitily" was meant to be _pithily,_ I thintherely hope you don't have a lithp?


It's pothible!  :FRlol:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> It's pothible!


Tho happy to hear that! Do you know that in Castile they speak with an intentional lisp, eividently because one of their rulers had one and everyone adopted that possibly to avoid embarassng him.

Thee you later!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*The cafe was almost empty
this morning,
which made me think
of a church 
in which one could feel
Gods loneliness.*

----------


## Supersonic

I really like these and your ability to capture moments seething with ornate melancholy in the least pretentious way.

----------


## a_little_wisp

Oh, _heck_, if _God's_ lonely, then we're all screwed.

(Loved that one Prince - I know the feeling, and yet, I kind of love it. Miss you!)

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

* 

At La Moulerie
a middle-aged woman
in a tall, imperious hat
sits across the table
from an older man,
who mumbles his food.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A 70 year old Chinese woman
from up the street
turns her head
to acknowledge my greeting:
Djo sawn!
Djo sawn!And as she continues on her way
I note in the angle of her walk
the shy young girl she must have been*

----------


## qimissung

Awesome! I can see her so vividly, still a little shy and awkward...

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*I caught sight of a young mans face
at The Mission, yesterday,
blind with self-pity
and rage.

An alcoholic since many years back
who kept trying
to try to try to quit:
booze, or life.

Volunteers swarmed around,
eager to talk him out of it,
as if they, or he,
knew what it was.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*
A little girl,
hardly bigger than
a half-spent minute,
bursts suddenly into tears.
Her father, a lanky Khassid,
bends down
and wraps his arms
practically three times around her.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*
Its funny
how you can be out walking
on Waverley on a bright, sunny day
and you say Bonjour
to a perfect stranger
and when he responds Bonjour
that second syllable sounds like
Whats the point? What,
in Gods name,
was ever the point?*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*I shall affirm
the light, the day, this pebble
that lodged itself in my sandal
and obliged me to stop 
here 
at this particular station
of my cross
to notice this particular
mild-faced child
who rests his eyes a moment
on my face, then carries on,

having blessed me.*

----------


## breathtest

Wow you made this poem about such a simple, but beautiful, every day occurrence that most people would not even think twice about. Well written

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Wow you made this poem about such a simple, but beautiful, every day occurrence that most people would not even think twice about. Well written


Thanks very much. It's my ideal in writing these to stay away from anything overtly Poetic, but to record what strikes me as interesting in as straightforward a manner as possible.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A cyclist comes tearing up the street
at a furious pace, 
treats the asphalt as if it were
continuous with the sidewalk
and goes racing off
into unclaimed space.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*At the café this morning
I had a more than usually serious conversation
with young J-F
who confided in me
that his deepest wish
was to live long enough
to witness the final end
of all humanity.

It took all my tact
to keep from telling him
what deep sadness
I thought he had revealed
about himself*

----------


## ampoule

> *I shall affirm
> the light, the day, this pebble
> that lodged itself in my sandal
> and obliged me to stop 
> here 
> at this particular station
> of my cross
> to notice this particular
> mild-faced child
> ...


Oh my goodness...

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Oh my goodness...


Thank you - both for what I interpret as your appreciation, and for bringing this back to my attention. It was a pleasure both to experience what I wrote, and to write about it...

----------


## blank|verse

While you're certainly no idiot, Myshkin (how's the epilepsy?) and have got a good feel for the poetic, I just think some of your free verse writing is too free, in that it reads more like prose than poetry.

I know there are no 'rules' as such (and you said yourself you wanted to avoid the 'overtly Poetic') but I think that leaves you in danger of not writing poetry at all, just nice prose. You can introduce elements of poetry like rhythm, rhyme and metre without hitting people over the head with them; by being 'subtly poetic' if you like. I think that would improve your writing.

----------


## qimissung

> *I shall affirm
> the light, the day, this pebble
> that lodged itself in my sandal
> and obliged me to stop 
> here 
> at this particular station
> of my cross
> to notice this particular
> mild-faced child
> ...


I like all of these, but this is my favorite. I love your living in the present moment, and the moment as a present, and the idea that it is a station of the cross...life does feel that way...and the little child, and his blessing. Keep writning, keep noticing. You have an eagle eye.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> While you're certainly no idiot, Myshkin (how's the epilepsy?) and have got a good feel for the poetic, I just think some of your free verse writing is too free, in that it reads more like prose than poetry.
> 
> I know there are no 'rules' as such (and you said yourself you wanted to avoid the 'overtly Poetic') but I think that leaves you in danger of not writing poetry at all, just nice prose. You can introduce elements of poetry like rhythm, rhyme and metre without hitting people over the head with them; by being 'subtly poetic' if you like. I think that would improve your writing.


Interesting response, Mr Vrz, and Im happy to encounter a fellow Dostoievskiite, apropos which it might interest you to know that on another site I frequent my nom de plume is Alyosha and that in my own novel entitled A Russian Novel I created a character, Ratin, who was unabashedly based on those other two Holy Idiots.

As for your aesthetics, I respect them, but between what you advocate and the more prosy casual, Ill continue to aim for the latter. The thread is called Snapshots and as any amateur photographer knows, the object of a snapshot is to capture a moment, even if the composition isnt exquisite, the focal plane should be other than what it is, &c., &c.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A young woman
with some sort of facial
birth defect
paused before crossing
in front of my car.
Noticing me
notice her, she returned my glance
with an How dare you look at me!*

(This poem was stolen from Online-Literature.com)

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*
Some mornings are made for loving.
Into the café steps Lise,
the short-order cook,
her ear-length hair
unaccustomedly carefee
along her youthful face.
You look like a girl!
I exclaim, and she feigns chagrin.
I dont want to be a girl,
she says. Im a woman!


Later, at a filling station
I infer that the attendant is probably an Arab
or an Irani.
Keefsaha? I say to him
And after he has finished: Shukran
and get a broad, warm smile in return.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*There I was
alone on the terrace
outside the café
on a damp park bench,
knowing that something
was going to happen,
as it always does, and

if nothing happened,
that would be all right, too*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*I sit in the sunshine
that is practically liquid on my face
and think of the option I have
to not write a poem,
to let the day be, the traffic
rolling by, the two girls
with the amazingly long legs
seated behind me,
the hum of the unseen...*

----------


## kiz_paws

> *There I was
> alone on the terrace
> outside the café
> on a damp park bench,
> knowing that something
> was going to happen,
> as it always does, and
> 
> if nothing happened,
> that would be all right, too*


I smiled reading this. It was the kind of poem that gives me a hug unexpectedly. Merçi beaucoup.  :Smile: 




> *I sit in the sunshine
> that is practically liquid on my face
> and think of the option I have
> to not write a poem,
> to let the day be, the traffic
> rolling by, the two girls
> with the amazingly long legs
> seated behind me,
> the hum of the unseen...*


Well, your snapshot definitely caught those legs alrighty!  :Tongue:  I absolutely loved your opening two lines. Perfectly describes one of those delicious days that we enjoy.

Have a great day, Jer!  :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> I smiled reading this. It was the kind of poem that gives me a hug unexpectedly. Merçi beaucoup.



Thanks for hugging it back!

----------


## qimissung

Life on the street...in your world and hands it seems like a busy, happy place.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A sad-faced neighbourhood woman
goes by, today without her large black dog.
Bonjour, I say with a smile.
Bonjour, she replies, but without a smile.
I remind myself that her son,
or one of her sons, not long ago,
hung himself.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A woman rolls up
in a mammoth, tomato-red
Mustang convertible,
nothing but her head visible 
behind the steering wheel,
like a loose piece of popcorn
facing a tsunami*

----------


## lugdunum

> *A woman rolls up
> in a mammoth, tomato-red
> Mustang convertible,
> nothing but her head visible 
> behind the steering wheel,
> like a loose piece of popcorn
> facing a tsunami*


very funny! nothing to add... I can totally picture her! Well done  :Wink:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*An elderly woman
in a fizzy green coat
hobbles along on a cane
from breath to breath*

----------


## qimissung

I can see her so vividly...

----------


## firefangled

I like the whole of this and two things in particular that make it richer than what could have been a mere observance. The green coat juxtaposed against the struggle to walk.

And in writing this I see it is even more than I thought. This short little poem is this woman's entire life from green to final breaths.

I applaud your subtlety, Prince.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> I like the whole of this and two things in particular that make it richer than what could have been a mere observance. The green coat juxtaposed against the struggle to walk.
> 
> And in writing this I see it is even more than I thought. This short little poem is this woman's entire life from green to final breaths.
> 
> I applaud your subtlety, Prince.


Thank you. Doing these has been an enjoyable exercise, to do them as much as possible without ego, without flash; to be faithful to the objective exterior of my subjects and hope that those exterior details hint at what may be hidden.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Snapshot: Sept.1, 2009 

A man was coming towards me,
about as strange a steed
as I had ever hoped to see:
a tall, rangy dude with a lopey stride,
rawhide Stetson and a strong, square jaw.

There wasn’t a heck of a lot
in his eyes that I could see,
maybe a bit of a wince
as if where he was going
would always be a bit too far away.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

A young woman
with a birthmark
on the calf of her right leg
pauses, as if deep in thought,
before entering the café.
When I go in to pay
shes nowhere to be seen.*

----------


## DanielBenoit

How wonderful that there are 36 pages of snapshots!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*
I was sitting on a bench
outside the Mile-End Mission
hoping to bum a conversation
from some passerby.

Cars shushed or growled by
along rue St. Urbain,
metal and glass anonymous containers
of stories I would never hear.

One of the Mission habitues
brushed the debris from the sidewalk.
Things were happening. Lord, I thought,
This is a city! This is Montreal!
Things are always happening here...*

----------


## NickAdams

> hoping to bum a conversation
> from some passerby.


I really like this.

The first two stanzas suggested something that I didn't find in the third stanza, which surprised me.

I'll read the first two again with the third in mind. 

Again, I really like that line. It makes me think of those individuals that desperately and hesitantly "bum" a cigarette.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

Elderly nun on spindle legs
corner Bernard and Esplanade,
face like one of those sock dolls,
puckered and seamed*

----------


## qimissung

That makes me sad, as if just because she looked like a sock doll, puckered and seamed, her life must have been sad, and perhaps nothing could be further from the truth.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> That makes me sad, as if just because she looked like a sock doll, puckered and seamed, her life must have been sad, and perhaps nothing could be further from the truth.


It made me sad, too, which you picked up on and of course I knew nothing more about her than a five second glimpse through my car window could tell me...

*

A guy comes into the café
with hair so unruly
it would take a troupe of barbers
as disciplined as Lipizzaner stallions
to tame it*

----------


## Taliesin

> *A cyclist comes tearing up the street
> at a furious pace, 
> treats the asphalt as if it were
> continuous with the sidewalk
> and goes racing off
> into unclaimed space.*


It has been long time since you posted the poem and I read it, but I just wanted to say that this poem reminds me a lot of some futurist paintings, like, for instance this

or this

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Little Esmé goes by
in her pink woolen toque,
not-quite-Coke-bottle glasses,
which lend an extra air
of vulnerability 
to her already trusting face.
She is holding her mothers, Anns, left hand,.
her brother, Seymour, holding the other:
Three companionable, happy adventurers
against the cold morning wind.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*At the café a person
with a preposterous nose,
a nose that was like
an entire comedy routine,
aimed that nose
at the newspaper he was reading,
which lay docile, subdued
on the table in front of him*

----------


## Virgil

> *At the café a person
> with a preposterous nose,
> a nose that was like
> an entire comedy routine,
> aimed that nose
> at the newspaper he was reading,
> which lay docile, subdued
> on the table in front of him*


 :FRlol:   :FRlol:   :FRlol:  Oh my is that good!

----------


## Virgil

I haven't been in this thread in a while, but this is very good:




> *Little Esmé goes by
> in her pink woolen toque,
> not-quite-Coke-bottle glasses,
> which lend an extra air
> of vulnerability 
> to her already trusting face.
> She is holding her mothers, Anns, left hand,.
> her brother, Seymour, holding the other:
> Three companionable, happy adventurers
> against the cold morning wind.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Oh my is that good!


Not that I don't appreciate the rest of your comment, but those three icons preceding it gave me great pleasure. There's little I like better than giving someone a laugh. Thanks.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*This guy and I were playing the game
of who has less interest in the other.

I shot him a glance that meant
I don’t know you
all the way back to your grand-father.

He responded with 
I don’t recognize you
or anyone of your race or nationality.

Game, set, match.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

This particular woman
with her particular child
turned west
along a certain street
and continued on.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

How beautiful I am, thought the man in the corner
while the air around him grew warmer
and warmer. He was immune
from judgment, was the tune
behind the melody.

I envied and hated him! I wished him ill.
I wished there were someone
who would break his platinum heart
and make him human.*

----------


## Bar22do

> *
> 
> How beautiful I am, thought the man in the corner
> while the air around him grew warmer
> and warmer. He was immune
> from judgment, was the tune
> behind the melody.
> 
> I envied and hated him! I wished him ill.
> ...


What a frank, masterfully penned, moment of weakness! Cutting contrast between "his" freedom from self-judgment and "your" judgment... 
But, if I may, for if not, do not read what follows, - if we have that much energy to hate and to envy, at time, and since energy is neutral and depends on its use, would it not be a good idea to redirect it to build, all of us, true self love and thus no one would have triggers to envy and wish another ill...??? and we would all be immune from judgment... I know it is more complex but let's imagine we really, all of us, love ourselves...

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> What a frank, masterfully penned, moment of weakness! Cutting contrast between "his" freedom from self-judgment and "your" judgment... 
> But, if I may, for if not, do not read what follows, - if we have that much energy to hate and to envy, at time, and since energy is neutral and depends on its use, would it not be a good idea to redirect it to build, all of us, true self love and thus no one would have triggers to envy and wish another ill...??? and we would all be immune from judgment... I know it is more complex but let's imagine we really, all of us, love ourselves...


A noble thought, but there are two of us in this dark folie a deux: the person I was speculating about, and I. In reality I know nothing about his interior, his 'true' self, so this "Snapshot" is really little if anything more than a candid photo of my own heart on a particular occasion.

As for loving oneself, I have never understood the meaning of that; nor, I think, do I wish to. There are after all something like 6 billion people who may deserve my love more than I do.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A man was caught this morning
walking a public thoroughfare
without a cell-phone
clapped to his ear
(or anywhere on his person).

He will be charged
with intending to precipitate
an avalanche of silence.
*

----------


## firefangled

One of the best of these, I think. Only a small part is due to my dislike of cell phones, the rest is the poetry: "an avalanche of silence" is beautiful.

----------


## blank|verse

Yeah, this reminds me of the last part of a 1,000-line poem called _Killing Time_ (1999) by the British poet Simon Armitage, which was written to mark the millennium, and is scathing of the modern media.

It ends back in his home village in West Yorkshire where 'last week':

nothing happened at all.
An incident room is being set up at the scene,
and security cameras installed.

A nice observation.

----------


## Bar22do

> There are after all something like 6 billion people who may deserve my love more than I do.


I must disagree, for unless you first find it in and for yourself, those something like 6 billion people might wait forever and in vain for your love (yes, it is a statement, but only to oppose yours: "... deserve my love more that I do").

----------


## qimissung

I love this. It is brilliant! "was the tune behind the melody..." What a beautiful line. I have seen people like this occasionally, doing their superior dance, and aware even as I dislike thier attitude that mine is also wanting. Bravo, Prince.  :Smile: 





> *
> 
> How beautiful I am, thought the man in the corner
> while the air around him grew warmer
> and warmer. He was immune
> from judgment, was the tune
> behind the melody.
> 
> I envied and hated him! I wished him ill.
> ...

----------


## qimissung

> *A man was caught this morning
> walking a public thoroughfare
> without a cell-phone
> clapped to his ear
> (or anywhere on his person).
> 
> He will be charged
> with intending to precipitate
> an avalanche of silence.
> *


P.S. I like this one, too.

----------


## kiz_paws

> *A man was caught this morning
> walking a public thoroughfare
> without a cell-phone
> clapped to his ear
> (or anywhere on his person).
> 
> He will be charged
> with intending to precipitate
> an avalanche of silence.
> *


Dear me, your last three lines were wonderful and told me to read the whole thing over again.

Why, and why do I believe that this man you speak of, was you, dear friend!

Oh that _"avalanche of silence"_ will linger on in my head -- LOVE IT!
~~K♥zzo

----------


## Bar22do

I do not think I sent you my velvet ribbon for this one:

_A man was caught this morning
walking a public thoroughfare
without a cell-phone
clapped to his ear
(or anywhere on his person).

He will be charged
with intending to precipitate
an avalanche of silence._

I do it now, though a little intimidated by this _avalanche of silence_, so authoritative. 
Sometime I feel you steal all the best phrases and idioms... or you just have this sense!
Great.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> I do not think I sent you my velvet ribbon for this one:
> 
> _A man was caught this morning
> walking a public thoroughfare
> without a cell-phone
> clapped to his ear
> (or anywhere on his person).
> 
> He will be charged
> ...



I think it was the sometimes saucy Bertholt Brecht who said (approximately) that _all writers copy. The best of them steal outight_. Not that I count myself among the latter.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Dear me, your last three lines were wonderful and told me to read the whole thing over again.
> 
> Why, and why do I believe that this man you speak of, was you, dear friend!
>  
> Oh that _"avalanche of silence"_ will linger on in my head -- LOVE IT!
> ~~K♥zzo


Perhaps the greatest (unnoticed) virtue of this snapshot is that it has brought our beloved Kiz Paws back into view!

----------


## kiz_paws

Awwww  :Blush: 

The "Snapshots" section of the Personal Poetry section is a thread that I really enjoy perusing.

There are few people who are able to see things and say what they see is such a short and eloquent manner.

It is also fun to read the impact the snapshots have on the viewing audience, too!

I salute thee, PrinceM!  :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Muffled against the cold
a man pushes a stroller
in which there is what I take to be
a sweet, three-year old.
I smile at the kid
and get in return
a look that seems to say:

I dont have to smile back at you
if I dont feel like it...
*

----------


## LeDave

> * 
> At the hotel restaurant
> in Paris 
> at the table next to me
> a couple who've been married
> since just before the invention of pain.
> 
> He looks past her shoulder
> into the middle distance
> ...


WOW! This is brilliant, I love it.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

Two guys at the café,
Jordan and Marco,
at separate tables.
Marco is popping with energy,
just returned from a visit
to Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia.

Jordan appears to be locked
in his own private hell.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

Under a beige beret,
behind a moustache
of indubitable antiquity,
an elderly man
limps determinedly
from one leg to the other,
reminding me, somehow,
of a discredited Balkan Lieutenant-Colonel*

----------


## Hawkman

> *
> 
> Two guys at the café,
> Jordan and Marco,
> at separate tables.
> Marco is popping with energy,
> just returned from a visit
> to Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia.
> 
> ...


Who was it said that; 'Hell is other people'
I feel for Jordan.

As for the discredited Balkan Lt. Col.
Perhaps he was. Agatha Christie used to see people that caught her eye and write whole murder mysteries inspired by them with the lives she imagined for their back-stories. Do you do this too, Prince or are you just content to immortalise the moment with your succinct elegance?

H

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Who was it said that; 'Hell is other people'
> I feel for Jordan.


As do I. I lamented the poverty of my attempt to describe him, a much-used cliche, but within my self-defined Snapshots limitations that was the best I could do. You seem to have picked up my intent. He was the one who initiated contact with me. I'd have been too intimidated to do so, and in ay case he often seems to be narcoleptic.

When I finished the cigarette I'd been smoking and excused myself for needing to get back into the cafe and out of the cold, he apologized to me.

"What for?" I asked.

"For not having more to say..."




> As for the discredited Balkan Lt. Col.
> Perhaps he was. Agatha Christie used to see people that caught her eye and write whole murder mysteries inspired by them with the lives she imagined for their back-stories. Do you do this too, Prince or are you just content to immortalise the moment with your succinct elegance?
> 
> H


I'd be delighted if I thought I could make him or any other the subject of narrative prose but for years now I've been psychologically unable to do that, probably because my last novel and several stories for children were all rejected and my imagination is sulking.

----------


## Hawkman

The rejection thing is tough. You’re ahead of the game compared with me though, I can’t even get an agent. I’ve been neglecting my novel as I’m spending all my time writing poetry. (Or at least trying to). My trouble is I can’t write for a commercial audience, only the weird, surreal, quirky stuff for my own pleasure.

I really liked the short you sent me and I would have thought that a collection of tales of James, with illustrations, would have been a goer for the children’s market. I guess all we can do is keep plugging away.

H

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Three guitars, a Dobro,
banjo, bass. Now and then
the banjo player
produces an harmonica
in his left hand
and with his right
his fingers flitter rapidly
to produce a melancholy yowl*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*I sit here, sipping my cigarette,
smoking my allongé,
waiting for a poem.

A bus goes by, another one,
and Im waiting for a poem.

Several people go by, one 
looks at me, but Im
sipping on my memories,
smoking my brain and
waiting for a poem*

----------


## hillwalker

I've just stumbled upon these exquisite snapshots - a bit like finding some original Cartiere-Bressons in one's attic.....

Really fine writing, sir.
They deserve more exposure (forgive the feeble pun).

H

----------


## breathtest

'smoking my brain'. No way. I wrote this line in my notebook the other day in some short poem. I can't believe that. And you beat me to publishing it on Litnet. 

Well i'm glad you did cause that little snapshot is wonderful, better than mine.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> 'smoking my brain'. No way. I wrote this line in my notebook the other day in some short poem. I can't believe that. And you beat me to publishing it on Litnet. 
> 
> Well i'm glad you did cause that little snapshot is wonderful, better than mine.


Oh, "better than/worse than" are SO subjective! Check out this parable:

*After his death, Rabbi Breathtest was met by the Examining Angel.

Please give an account of your life, the angel requested.

Being a scrupulously honest man and aware of the solemnity of the occasion, the Rabbi began:

Well, I was not as courageous as Moses, nor as learned as the Rambam nor as wise as Rabbi Hillel

You will not be judged according to others, the Examining Angel interrupted, but whether you were the best Rabbi Breathtest you could be.*

----------


## Babyguile

Your May 2nd snapshot has overtaken 'Birds in adjacent cages...' as my poem of the thread.

FOR ME, it captures the boredom of the artful mind in the context of everyday life. Hopefuly this person did something about it, like I'm trying to.

----------


## breathtest

> After his death, Rabbi Breathtest was met by the Examining Angel.
> 
> Please give an account of your life, the angel requested.
> 
> Being a scrupulously honest man and aware of the solemnity of the occasion, the Rabbi began:
> 
> Well, I was not as courageous as Moses, nor as learned as the Rambam nor as wise as Rabbi Hillel
> 
> You will not be judged according to others, the Examining Angel interrupted, but whether you were the best Rabbi Breathtest you could be.


wow! this actually resonated very strongly with me. Thank you for imparting this piece of wisdom Rabbi PrinceMyshkin (yes, a rabbi and a prince). 

as for the whole 'better than/worse than' being a subjective thing, let me rephrase my statement in a utilitarian way. 
I like your poem better than the one that i wrote, and i think that a greater number of people will appreciate yours than would have mine.

Your words are important to many people Prince, people on this site as well as people you know personally, and we are all greatful that you share them here.

Peace! and Love! (and stop stealing my lines! haha).

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> as for the whole 'better than/worse than' being a subjective thing, let me rephrase my statement in a utilitarian way. 
> I like your poem better than the one that i wrote, and i think that a greater number of people will appreciate yours than would have mine.


Gimme a break! Let's say a few or even many like my poem better than yours, but just one person is *deeply moved* by yours, wouldn't that make us near enough equal?


> Peace! and Love! (and stop stealing my lines! haha).


Tell you what I'm going to do to make up for that: I'm going to send you privately a quotation that moved me deeply and from which I wrote a poem, and if it intrigues you as it did me, you can write a poem inspired by it. Deal?

----------


## breathtest

> Gimme a break! Let's say a few or even many like my poem better than yours, but just one person is deeply moved by yours, wouldn't that make us near enough equal?


I get your meaning. Even if only one person is moved by what we write, then the goal is achieved. Spreading some of the emotional significance that we feel when writing a poem is the goal, and if one person feels the emotion we tried to get across, then nothing else matters.




> Tell you what I'm going to do to make up for that: I'm going to send you privately a quotation that moved me deeply and from which I wrote a poem, and if it intrigues you as it did me, you can write a poem inspired by it. Deal?


That is certainly a deal. How can i turn down such a tantalising offer?

----------


## qimissung

Bravo, as usual Prince. I like them all, almost the better for moving quickly from one to another, as one walks through a garden.

I will look forward, breathtest, to seeing the poem you write, inspired by the quotation Prince sends you.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

A boy whose face is configured
in a frieze of dense stupidity
plods forward
against a wall of light rain*

----------


## Hawkman

Hi Prince,

With regard to waiting for a poem, for some reason this one calls to mind a Goon Show, where Spike Milligan's character was challenged, "Why are you hanging around here?" to which he replied, "I'm waiting for a No. 153 submarine."

At least your poem turned up!

With regard to the boy in the rain, This chararacter seems to be everywhere. Are they clones do you think?

As always, a pleasure to read your insightful observations... H

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Hi Prince,
> 
> With regard to waiting for a poem, for some reason this one calls to mind a Goon Show, where Spike Milligan's character was challenged, "Why are you hanging around here?" to which he replied, "I'm waiting for a No. 153 submarine."
> 
> At least your poem turned up!
> 
> With regard to the boy in the rain, This chararacter seems to be everywhere. Are they clones do you think?
> 
> As always, a pleasure to read your insightful observations... H


Delighted to have your response because I hesitated to post this Snapshot. Although I've never predetermined what might be a likely subject, most of my previous ones have been, I believe, sunnier or possibly amusing.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

An elderly Jew
sits on a slatted bench
outside the Old Continental
Strictement Kacher,
his hands apparently
at rest on his knees*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A certain woman,
much overweight,
displaying fury
on her mottled red face,
walks her tiny dog*

----------


## hillwalker

These two snapshots - 15 days apart - seem to bookend each other.
Wry observation, nicely condensed into a few choice words.

H

----------


## kiz_paws

> *I sit here, sipping my cigarette,
> smoking my allongé,
> waiting for a poem.
> 
> A bus goes by, another one,
> and I’m waiting for a poem.
> 
> Several people go by, one 
> looks at me, but I’m
> ...


What a delightfully fun this little snapshot is, Jer! The words roll together beautifully, I can picture you sipping that cigarette.  :Nod:  But wouldn't it be nice to have a coffeeshop that would allow the simple pleasure of smoking, drinking coffee, whilst writing such fun things? [as in, in the winter months, which can be quite long where I hang my hat ...]




> *A certain woman,
> much overweight,
> displaying fury
> on her mottled red face,
> walks her tiny dog*


Dear gawd, I hope that the wee canine doesn't bear the brunt of her fury ... ! I always worry about the animals, but you knew that, eh?  :Frown2:  Nonetheless, in so few words, you painted that scene in my mind, I saw her. I saw her!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> What a delightfully fun this little snapshot is, Jer! The words roll together beautifully, I can picture you sipping that cigarette.  But wouldn't it be nice to have a coffeeshop that would allow the simple pleasure of smoking, drinking coffee, whilst writing such fun things? [as in, in the winter months, which can be quite long where I hang my hat ...]


Darling friend, the cafe were I hang out, like all others in Montreal, bans smoking indoors, so only in clement weather may I sit outside and smoke while I sip my espresso... whether I write a poem or not.

You've been away for some time. Welcome back!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

A man lopes by
so tall I imagine him
bent in two,
towering over me*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

I broke off with L. this morning
and then unbroke off with her...

Both were acts of love, kinda,
or one of them was,
but Im not sure which was which.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

A thin young student,
with a face about the size
of a walnut, slips
through the early morning breeze*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

Smiling at black people
is, for me, a form
of inverse racism.
Im white and Im nice,
my smile is intended to convey,
and, in a way, so are you.*

----------


## hillwalker

So much thought and intelligence is conveyed in these little snippets - like an overheard conversation that one cannot help eavesdrop on because it's more than idle gossip.

I really like this latest pair.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

Talking with someone
who chooses to remain hidden.	
I mean,
how many neutral topics are there?*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

Maya shared her smile with me this afternoon.
She was walking by
and I dont know what prompted her
but she smiled
and after a few minutes conversation
we were, like,
the easiest of friends*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

A woman sailed her nose
around the corner of Fairmount & Esplanade,
cleaving the air
ahead of her*

----------


## Hawkman

Oh I like this one, Prince. I can see her now, proud, arrogant and aquiline. Great description. H

----------


## krymsonkyng

> *
> 
> Talking with someone
> who chooses to remain hidden.	
> I mean,
> how many neutral topics are there?*


There's a winner with me.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

Thanks, Hawkman and




> There's a winner with me.


You must have been trying to speak with the same woman, or her brother! Thanks.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Nineteen month old Nana
on my street
has eyes so clear
I believe I can see
God in them.*

----------


## hack

They say you need only believe, my Prince.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> They say you need only believe, my Prince.


I would challenge you to look into this child's mild face and clear eyes, and DISbelieve! Thank you.

----------


## Bar22do

> *Nineteen month old Nana
> on my street
> has eyes so clear
> I believe I can see
> God in them.*


but do you, actually? (I mean SEE? or believe you could but do not?)

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> but do you, actually? (I mean SEE? or believe you could but do not?)


This is a psycho-theological question it is beyond my competence to answer. We are forbidden to know or to speak God's name, and if I recall correctly, the face was hidden even from Moses when he received the 10 Commandments.

All I can say is that I felt compelled to give that child's eyes _the whole_ of my attention and that I felt transcendent love for her and what I thought I saw in her eyes. She and her mother (no father in evidence) live three or four doors away from me. Fate, or circumstances, permitting I will see her again and hopefully she will grow more comfortable with me. Her mother says that she is somewhat shy with men. The second time I saw her, Andrea was beside me and Nana walked up to her as if they were old and trusted friends.

Addenda: Have you ever been looked at with, so to speak, "virgin eyes"? Eyes behind which there was a degree of consciousness but no evident intention to judge you? Eyes that asked "Who are you?" Not _what is your occupation, age, religious or political philosophy, but_  Who are you?

----------


## kiz_paws

> *
> 
> A man lopes by
> so tall I imagine him
> bent in two,
> towering over me*


My goodness I can picture this! I am five two-ish (verging on three, lol). 
So there is a lot of this going on! Thanks for the snap.  :Smile: 





> *
> 
> Talking with someone
> who chooses to remain hidden.	
> I mean,
> how many neutral topics are there?*


Ahhhh but everyone has their story. So neutral protects in a crazy kind of way.
Interesting thoughts. I enjoyed this one.  :Nod: 






> *
> 
> A woman sailed her nose
> around the corner of Fairmount & Esplanade,
> cleaving the air
> ahead of her*


Beautiful job. Short, quick, delivers the punch. 
LOVED IT!  :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> My goodness I can picture this! I am five two-ish (verging on three, lol). 
> So there is a lot of this going on! Thanks for the snap.


Some 5'2" are quite a bit taller than others!




> Ahhhh but everyone has their story. So neutral protects in a crazy kind of way.
> Interesting thoughts. I enjoyed this one. 
> 
> Beautiful job. Short, quick, delivers the punch. 
> LOVED IT!


Thank you for all your comments and welcome back!

----------


## TheEarthIsRound

This is one of the single, most lasting thread in our personal poetry section =)

----------


## qimissung

You are an astute observer of the human animal, my friend. Each one made me catch my breath, or nod sagely, or murmur softly, "wow", and each one helped me _see._

As always, a small pleasure.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

Many thanks The earth is round and qimissung: as for my "astuteness," it is more a matter of recognizing something of myself in every subject of these Snapshots.

*

From across the street I hear
(or do I remember?) a child’s voice
as if I were hearing her
from long, long ago*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

A hefty young man
schleps himself
across the hot, humid street,
his heart
ticking away the minutes*

----------


## Hawkman

There is a marvellous, mischievous bite to this one prince. I love:
"...his heart
ticking away the minutes."

brilliant. H

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> There is a marvellous, mischievous bite to this one prince. I love:
> "...his heart
> ticking away the minutes."
> 
> brilliant. H


I guess I didn't get across what I meant, then, because mischief or any other sort of merriment was far from my mind. It was indeed a very hot humid day and the young man was so overweight that my first thought was that every step he took was shortening his life by a span of time.

----------


## Bar22do

I think it's poignant, I felt that guy's overweight before you explained, probably from "schleps himself" and because of the surrounding summer's humid warmth over here. Your lines ticked minutes away from my own life as I empathized. So to me this is an effective shot. Bar

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> I think it's poignant, I felt that guy's overweight before you explained, probably from "schleps himself" and because of the surrounding summer's humid warmth over here. Your lines ticked minutes away from my own life as I empathized. So to me this is an effective shot. Bar


Thanks, Bar, it's always a pleasure when you comment on one of my offerings.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

Thanks, Hawkman...

*

A stringy young woman,
one long, lean arm
tapering to a cigarette,
stops, makes a shushing sound
and waves that arm in the air
to banish real or imagined birds.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*
Wearing his warrior face,
a young man enters the café,
prepared for anything
--even friendship.*

----------


## Haunted

That's just how I feel sometimes. Going into the outside world is like combat. I admire your perceptiveness, Prince.

----------


## Hawkman

I could have sworn I posted a comment on the 17th July snapshot which is brilliant by the way. With Aug 3rd I have a profound feeling of Dejas vu so maybe I'm ready for the bald one's institution.  :Biggrin: 

Your observational pieces are sharply observed slices of humanity and never disappoint.

H

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

A young man with a watery left eye
appears to be looking at his laptop screen
from two different vantage points.
A couple walk by
with the rubbish of age on their faces.
*

----------


## Haunted

this is so wonderful written, that's also me with one watery eye!

----------


## Bar22do

From my (here third) vantage point - my right eye sharp and alert - I'd certainly prefer:

_"A young man with a watery left eye
appears to be looking at his laptop screen
from two different vantage points.
A couple walk by
with the rubies of age on their faces."_

This matter put right, I have no other complaints. On the contrary.
And wish you well - Bar

----------


## dafydd manton

Funnily enough, (and I cringe at disagreeing with Bar), I preferred Rubbish. I think I know exactly what you mean. I used to be a bus-driver, and I got people like that on the bus all day. Great Image!! (Sorry Bar, Respect!)

----------


## Bar22do

Well it depends what eye does one look at the elderly with (fear, love, disgust, self-concern, irritation, compassion). 
Both "rubbish (of age)" or "rubies (of age)" are modifiers, and - INTERPRETATION, I see and choose to look at what's precious (even though it might sometimes take an effort)... 
And honestly, I've never seen rubbish on somebody's face, not even on the numbest one... and I am on the bus (tramway or metro, and more, like street, park, beach) daily, *Daf*. Plus I can see well  :Brow: . And what I see is a tangle of history (of course), dignity, insecurity, self-determination, pain, joy, loneliness, desire, helplessness, wit, clumsiness, wisdom, weariness, love, bitterness, all - but not _rubbish of age_. 
So, yes, a clever, poetically effective image indeed, but one I disagree with, though, goes without saying, it's the author's full right to choose how he looks at what or whom he sees, as well as to bare his own emotion when confronted with what challenges his eye...

But were it a real photograph...

http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2524/...976baaf4d3.jpg

and better:

http://kids.niehs.nih.gov/illusion/images/illus23.gif  :Wink5: 

Respects to you both - Bar

I love Jacques Brel's moving compassion (and this song's last line's reminder):

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x1e...ish-subt_music

----------


## Hawkman

Hi Prince, a sharply observed and thought provoking (as well as contentious) poem. Thanks for sharing.

Sweet Bar,

Though it breaks my heart to do so, I fear I must disagree with your desire to remove the rubbish from the faces of the old. I fear that to replace it with rubies, would 

a: completely change the meaning of the poem, and 
b: replace a powerful word with an anodyne one.

Of course, given a poetic interpretation, rubies might actually be seen as blood leaking from the wounds of age, although this is a bit of a stretch and only likely in the eyes of those with darker hearts.

Now I would not presume to claim that I knew, categorically, what lay in Princes’ mind when he wrote the line, but I do know what it means to me.

The older one gets the greater the burden of regret, this is the rubbish I carry around. In unguarded moments it etches itself in deep lines on the face. On top of this there are the physical blemishes of ageing, that mar the once youthful pristine flesh. To those of us whose self image is frozen at about 25 or 30, looking in the mirror can give one a bit of a shock. Where did all this rubbish come from, we ask ourselves.

So, though I would rather die than argue with you, can we just agree to differ on this occasion.

Live and be well, H

----------


## Bar22do

Hawk, how come you prosper while you still vigorously argue with me! how is this possible at all!  :Smile: 

I didn't suggest PM replace "rubbish" with "rubies" - and yes, his piece is clever and sharp, though again, interpreted, not observed, like all poetry is, _licentia poetica_  oblige - I meant I'd prefer anything but "rubbish" ("rubies" was the first available alternative, and not at all anodyne!) - don't distort what I said!

I profoundly disagree  :Frown:  with your generalisation:

"the older one gets the greater the burden of regret"

- it might be true for you, it's certainly not for me or for Ploni, etc... and even supposing I see someone carrying his or her "burden of regret", it's still not rubbish in my eyes, it's an emotion to be addressed, soothed if possible... 

As to your: 

_"To those of us whose self image is frozen at about 25 or 30, looking in the mirror can give one a bit of a shock. Where did all this rubbish come from, we ask ourselves."_

the last sentence is another generalisation, o Hawk. When looking into the mirror, we don't *ALL* ask ourselves where all this *RUBBISH* came from, some of us love our changing landscape, accept age, live to the utmost of what this or another stage in life makes available (sometimes we even break the boundries), enjoy differently, but enjoy truly... and it's certainly easier (and healthier) when we didn't freeze our image at 25 or 30 and don't compare. 
Calling all this "rubbish" enfeebles and degrades one, is unproductive, doesn't help anything, but - you might say - "at least I don't lie to myself", "I'm realistic" - false! you aren't! you just pick up the worst option amid so many others available.

So I'm now running to the mirror for my daily loving check up (and count up!) -  :Redface: 

Love your "rubbish", o Hawk, and you'll soon repent for having called "it" names! For your love will smooth what you look at as regretful asperities ... 

With the wise support of:

Anacreon (c.572-488 BC)

_AGE

OFT am I by the women told,
"Poor Anacreon! thou growest old;
Look; how thy hairs are falling all;
Poor Anacreon, how they fall!"--
Whether I grow old or no,
By the effects I do not know;
But this I know, without being told,
'Tis time to live, if i grow old;
'Tis time short pleasures now to take,
Of little life the best to make,
And manage wisely the last stake._

Love - Bar

----------


## Hawkman

Sweet Bar, I was forgetting you are a daughter of Zeus, a muse, immortal and without regret, forever preserved in perfection.

Forgive this mere mortal his regrets and conceits while he morns his lost youth  :Biggrin: 

Eternally yours, a Hawk with droopy wings.

----------


## Bar22do

> Sweet Bar, I was forgetting you are a daughter of Zeus, a muse, immortal and without regret, forever preserved in perfection.
> 
> Forgive this mere mortal his regrets and conceits while he morns his lost youth 
> 
> Eternally yours, a Hawk with droopy wings.


Please see my edited post. For the rest, I aim at completeness, not perfection, whether a Muse or a mere mortal... 

But if I'm really "yours _eternally_"... come on, buck up! Your vigour serves me best! he he.

Bar

----------


## hillwalker

As for the poem, I think it's another perceptive snapshot of what 'baggage' people walk around with for all to see (and decypher as they see fit) - for most of us it's written there on our faces (those of us who do not subscribe to the use of make-up!!). Thought-provoking and subtle as ever, Prince.

H

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

Thanks, Daffy, Hawk, Hillwalker, and




> Well it depends what eye does one look at the elderly with (fear, love, disgust, self-concern, irritation, compassion). 
> Both "rubbish (of age)" or "rubies (of age)" are modifiers, and - INTERPRETATION, I see and choose to look at what's precious (even though it might sometimes take an effort)... 
> And honestly, I've never seen rubbish on somebody's face, not even on the numbest one... and I am on the bus (tramway or metro, and more, like street, park, beach) daily, *Daf*. Plus I can see well . And what I see is a tangle of history (of course), dignity, insecurity, self-determination, pain, joy, loneliness, desire, helplessness, wit, clumsiness, wisdom, weariness, love, bitterness, all - but not _rubbish of age_. 
> So, yes, a clever, poetically effective image indeed, but one I disagree with, though, goes without saying, it's the author's full right to choose how he looks at what or whom he sees, as well as to bare his own emotion when confronted with what challenges his eye...


I've looked at the three links you provided, but my response to you is to emphasize your use of "honestly" and "I see and _choose_" (emphasis added). Who is to judge when one is being "honest" or according to what standards? And, so often, what one "chooses" is what one needs or is predetermined to see.

And PS: The young man's "watery left eye" might serve as a hint at my own fallible eye.

----------


## Bar22do

> Thanks, Daffy, Hawk, Hillwalker, and
> 
> 
> 
> I've looked at the three links you provided, but my response to you is to emphasize your use of "honestly" and "I see and _choose_" (emphasis added). Who is to judge when one is being "honest" or according to what standards? And, so often, what one "chooses" is what one needs or is predetermined to see.


I'm glad you've looked at the three links I provided. 

I could replace "honestly" with "sincerely" if it read better for you; now I'm aware you had a good reason to choose "rubbish" where hill would choose "baggage", and where my own personal preference would go with the latter (or tangle of history...), while I know exactly what you meant, though you wouldn't think it. I believe that to consciously decide which choices one makes is of prime importance; I recently read in a collection of Baal Shem Tov's thoughts that man was given the free choice only to learn to choose the good. I love the depth of this idea, beautifully presented and grounded, among many others, in Rabbi Nahman's story "The exchanged children" (which I warmly recommend to you). 

Finally, let me remind you that except for the disagreeable (to me) "rubbish", I found your latest offering laudable and did commend you for it and now reiterate the commendation.

Best to you - Bar

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> I'm glad you've looked at the three links I provided. 
> 
> I could replace "honestly" with "sincerely" if it read better for you;




I had and have no reason to doubt your "honesty" nor your sincerity, but according to Abraham Maslow: "We cannot be more honest with others than we are with ourselves." And how honest can we be with ourselves when we are simultaneously the witness, the prosecutor, the defense attorney and the judge and jury of that "honesty"?




> now I'm aware you had a good reason to choose "rubbish" where hill would choose "baggage", and where my own personal preference would go with the latter (or tangle of history...), while I know exactly what you meant, though you wouldn't think it.


No, I wouldn't think it no more than I would think I know exactly why you see "rubies" where I believed I saw "rubbish." Either of us would have had t0o recapitulate the whole of the other's life-history to understand perfectly why he/she made one observation rather than another.




> I believe that to consciously decide which choices one makes is of prime importance; I recently read in a collection of Baal Shem Tov's thoughts that man was given the free choice only to learn to choose the good. I love the depth of this idea, beautifully presented and grounded, among many others, in Rabbi Nahman's story "The exchanged children" (which I warmly recommend to you). 
> 
> Finally, let me remind you that except for the disagreeable (to me) "rubbish", I found your latest offering laudable and did commend you for it and now reiterate the commendation.
> 
> Best to you - Bar


I thank you for the appreciation you expressed and will look for Reb Nachman's story but in response to the Besht may I remind you of Spinoza's "We are free only to understand that we are not free."

----------


## Bar22do

> I had and have no reason to doubt your "honesty" nor your sincerity, but according to Abraham Maslow: "We cannot be more honest with others than we are with ourselves." And how honest can we be with ourselves when we are simultaneously the witness, the prosecutor, the defense attorney and the judge and jury of that "honesty"?
> 
> 
> 
> No, I wouldn't think it no more than I would think I know exactly why you see "rubies" where I believed I saw "rubbish." Either of us would have had t0o recapitulate the whole of the other's life-history to understand perfectly why he/she made one observation rather than another.
> 
> 
> 
> I thank you for the appreciation you expressed and will look for Reb Nachman's story but in response to the Besht may I remind you of Spinoza's "We are free only to understand that we are not free."


The great Rabbi Mordechai Bimstein once said "freedom is slavery at its highest". Espinosa's thought on freedom completes the Besht's, but it's only when we look behind the words that we can begin to grasp, and grasp less than a dog's single lick from the ocean... Moses called himself "G'd's slave", for him freedom was to enable the divine element (you'll have to forgive me not to find a better term) to manifest freely through his medium, made relatively whole (not perfect). The whole Sufi tradition is based on the concept of freedom man gives the divinity to operate through him. But the idea behind is man search of wholeness and consequent breaking through to a broader picture of what's called Creation. Anyway, who's great enough for these things...!

As to the question of "honesty", we all have preconceptions and project them, but our developed (developing) awareness enables us to take responsibility of how we interact with our surroundings and how we change this interaction into a more harmonious one. 
We certainly are not subjected to our life history the moment we refuse to and take it as our duty to co-build it (and for the predetermination part, there is much wisdom in the old saying "since you cannot change the world, change your inner image of the world and then you'll change the world"). "My" "rubies" are more the effect of a continuing work on myself and the resulting conscious decision to focus on the positive and good in people, rather than the effect of a rose petals' carpeted life... And let me guess, if you'd only interacted with the couple, the first you'd do would be to smile at them and engage in conversation, and it would have been enough they return you a smile for you to erase all the _rubbish_ from their faces and your own frustration, and to see beyond their dull, wrinkled puzzles, lives worthwhile living, complex and rich. In Hebrew "face" is "panim", meaning "inside"... But again, who's great enough for these things... 

Be well - Bar

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> The great Rabbi Mordechai Bimstein once said "freedom is slavery at its highest". Espinosa's thought on freedom completes the Besht's, but it's only when we look behind the words that we can begin to grasp, and grasp less than a dog's single lick from the ocean... Moses called himself "G'd's slave", for him freedom was to enable the divine element (you'll have to forgive me not to find a better term) to manifest freely through his medium, made relatively whole (not perfect). The whole Sufi tradition is based on the concept of freedom man gives the divinity to operate through him. But the idea behind is man search of wholeness and consequent breaking through to a broader picture of what's called Creation. Anyway, who's great enough for these things...!
> 
> As to the question of "honesty", we all have preconceptions and project them, but our developed (developing) awareness enables us to take responsibility of how we interact with our surroundings and how we change this interaction into a more harmonious one. 
> We certainly are not subjected to our life history the moment we refuse to and take it as our duty to co-build it (and for the predetermination part, there is much wisdom in the old saying "since you cannot change the world, change your inner image of the world and then you'll change the world"). "My" "rubies" are more the effect of a continuing work on myself and the resulting conscious decision to focus on the positive and good in people, rather than the effect of a rose petals' carpeted life... And let me guess, if you'd only interacted with the couple, the first you'd do would be to smile at them and engage in conversation, and it would have been enough they return you a smile for you to erase all the _rubbish_ from their faces and your own frustration, and to see beyond their dull, wrinkled puzzles, lives worthwhile living, complex and rich.


This is a) an objective possibility but b) more importantly the credo - however arrived at - of your belief in love and in the goodness of your fellow beings. But since of the 1,000s of people who cross my vision, I won't likely have the opportunity to investigate the inner lives of more than a few dozen of them, I'm forced to rely at times on split-second images of them as those images interact with whatever fleeting mood I'm in.




> "I can live with doubt and uncertainty and not knowing. I think it's much more interesting to live not knowing than to have answers which might be wrong... I don't have to know an answer. I don't feel frightened by not knowing things, by being lost in a mysterious universe without any purpose, which is the way it really is as far as I can tell. It doesn't frighten me."


Feynman, Richard, quoted in Gleick, _Genius: The life & Science of Richard Feynman_, p. 438

----------


## dafydd manton

Prince, I'm happy that you've disagreed with what I said! It wasn't meant in an ugly sense, but you have, as ever, explained it with rapier-like precision. I shall walk out backwards, bowing!! Well done, my liege!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Prince, I'm happy that you've disagreed with what I said! It wasn't meant in an ugly sense, but you have, as ever, explained it with rapier-like precision. I shall walk out backwards, bowing!! Well done, my liege!


Can't imagine what you're referring to. The last comment you made here




> Funnily enough, (and I cringe at disagreeing with Bar), I preferred Rubbish. I think I know exactly what you mean. I used to be a bus-driver, and I got people like that on the bus all day. Great Image!! (Sorry Bar, Respect!)


doesn't contain anything I disagree with.

----------


## Delta40

I haven't read any posts but I'm in awe of someone who gets 639 replies to their poem!!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> I haven't read any posts but I'm in awe of someone who gets 639 replies to their poem!!


Indeed you haven't! That's 639 replies to 195 poems - or roughly 3.27 replies per poem!

----------


## Jerrybaldy

I blame the format Prince. Its hard to find the original verse on ongoing threads. I think if each had been individually posted the total would have been much, much higher and more people would have read and enjoyed your work. I know the arguments against, but as a reader I much prefer to be able to find the poem at the start.
best wishes
Jerry

----------


## dafydd manton

I don't think we need take a vote on that!! Jerry is *gasp* right.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> I blame the format Prince. Its hard to find the original verse on ongoing threads. I think if each had been individually posted the total would have been much, much higher and more people would have read and enjoyed your work. I know the arguments against, but as a reader I much prefer to be able to find the poem at the start.
> best wishes
> Jerry


http://www.online-literature.com/for...ad.php?t=32797

----------


## Jerrybaldy

> * 
> At the hotel restaurant
> in Paris 
> at the table next to me
> a couple who've been married
> since just before the invention of pain.
> 
> He looks past her shoulder
> into the middle distance
> ...


Prince, My fellow Jerry I see  :Smile: 
I wish I didnt connect quite so well with this poem. But I did and thought it was a brilliant and sparing study into the sadness that goes along with the warmth of a long held love. 
I loved it
Jerry B

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Prince, My fellow Jerry I see 
> I wish I didnt connect quite so well with this poem. But I did and thought it was a brilliant and sparing study into the sadness that goes along with the warmth of a long held love. 
> I loved it
> Jerry B


Obviously the couple in this snapshot caught and held my attention - and started me along what I had not originally planned as this long, long thread. Thanks.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

A handsome young father goes by
with the younger of his two sons.
A few minutes later, alone, he returns,
walking more slowly,
as if lost in thought.*

----------


## dafydd manton

I get that "first day at school" feeling. I can still remember it. Beautifully crafted, Prince. I love your snapshots.

----------


## blank|verse

Wonderful, Prince - brought Hemingway's famous 'Baby shoes' piece to mind. Excellently observed (as always) but this just has a little bit more.

----------


## Jerrybaldy

As a weekend dad for many years, I found this very touching Prince.
Awful lot said in few words. 
cheers
Jerry

----------


## dafydd manton

Hadn't thought of that, Jerry. Stupid me - same situation, although I haven't seen them in over 10 years. Suddenly, I don't feel quite so clever!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

Thank you, Blank|Verse and Jerry, and may I take this opportunity to say how much pleasure I get from observing people and deducing or intuiting what I can about them, but




> Hadn't thought of that, Jerry. Stupid me - same situation, although I haven't seen them in over 10 years. Suddenly, I don't feel quite so clever!


Dafy, you may be even MORE clever than you credit yourself because your first post was most likely the correct one, as it was a Thursday when I observed that man and his child, and school has just resumed here. I originally had a line about them being on the way to the child's kindergarten, but omitted it.

----------


## dafydd manton

Either way, Prince, it is a beautifully succint poem, as ever. Your standards never cease to amaze me.

----------


## hillwalker

Long may you continue to people-watch, Prince. Like yourself, we can only surmise at what you were witnessing and it's kind of you to allow us to fill in our own blanks.

----------


## Hawkman

I too got the school time reference, but I wanted to venture into a Dickensian past when parents in dire straights would sell their children...

Very moving and as always intimately observed Prince. Live and be well, H

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

Many thanks, Dafy, Hlllwalker & Hawkman.

----------


## angliholic

Extremely philosophical and thought-provoking!

How sad the knot is!
But without tying the knot, it might be sadder!

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

An aged woman,
with apologetic eyes,
shuffles toward the next exit.*

----------


## JackieGinger

> *
> 
> A handsome young father goes by
> with the younger of his two sons.
> A few minutes later, alone, he returns,
> walking more slowly,
> as if lost in thought.*


this is outrageously moving to me, personally. Almost too strong an image for me to handle...

----------


## breathtest

Prince! I haven't visited this thread in a while. A long time actually. And just reading through, i'm so glad i came back. I feel as though i have observed the same things you have just by reading these poems. You seem to take a scene and describe it perfectly in so little words. It leaves me wondering what you would write about me if you saw me in the street! Maybe i would know more about myself just by reading what you wrote. haha. 

I love to people watch too, it's surprising how much emotion you can feel. Thank you for sharing these.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

Thanks Angliholic and Jackie, and Breathtest:




> Prince! I haven't visited this thread in a while. A long time actually. And just reading through, i'm so glad i came back. I feel as though i have observed the same things you have just by reading these poems. You seem to take a scene and describe it perfectly in so little words. It leaves me wondering what you would write about me if you saw me in the street! Maybe i would know more about myself just by reading what you wrote. haha. 
> 
> I love to people watch too, it's surprising how much emotion you can feel. Thank you for sharing these.


This is one of the most flattering responses I've had to these Snapshots. Perhaps if you sent me your Google Earth coordinates and I could figure out how to use it, I could zoom in and make a snapshot of you? :Icon Bs:  Or maybe you could find me at my Cafe, Fairmount St corner Esplanade in Montreal?

----------


## breathtest

Prince, i regret that i live so far away from Montreal, or you could be sure i would stop by that cafe.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Prince, i regret that i live so far away from Montreal, or you could be sure i would stop by that cafe.


I don't follow you: you live no further away from Montreal than I do from London!

----------


## breathtest

well i guess distance is subjective

----------


## kittypaws

How do you do it? I mean write so well.

Glad I got the chance to read your write.

Kittypaws

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

Thanks, Kittypaws.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

Thank you, JackieGinger and Breathtest, my fellow people watcher> I would be nervous trying to capture you in the 5 or 6 lines to which I try to limit myself... Here's a challenge you might want to take up:

Imagine yourself as you might be in my eyes (or iin your own) if you caught sight of yourself walking by!



> Prince! I haven't visited this thread in a while. A long time actually. And just reading through, i'm so glad i came back. I feel as though i have observed the same things you have just by reading these poems. You seem to take a scene and describe it perfectly in so little words. It leaves me wondering what you would write about me if you saw me in the street! Maybe i would know more about myself just by reading what you wrote. haha. 
> 
> I love to people watch too, it's surprising how much emotion you can feel. Thank you for sharing these.


*

Black folk will almost always
respond graciously when you smile at them
although they may know
its your way of asking forgiveness.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

A guy goes by
with a sour face
and a big white dog.
The dog is on a leash.
The sour face, alas, is not.*

----------


## Haunted

I say he should be leashed and told to stay. Guys can get into so much trouble...

----------


## hillwalker

Of course, it could have been the dog taking the human for walkies in which case.....

----------


## Delta40

> *
> 
> A guy goes by
> with a sour face
> and a big white dog.
> The dog is on a leash.
> The sour face, alas, is not.*


lol. but does the owner look like his dog?

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

Thanks Haunted, Hillwalker and Delta40

*A yellow schoolbus stops
and tiny khassidic kids
race across the street
to board it
while their turbanned mothers
wave and wave
until the bus is almost out of sight.*

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*
A heavy-set black woman,
swathed in winter clothes,
takes each step 
as if it were measured
to the millimetre,
then turns in 
to her place of paid servitude.*

----------


## Haunted

A long-awaited Snapshot!! This one and the previous one stir up one's ethnic awareness. The "millimetre" not only vividly takes our eyes downward to the difficult steps the black woman is having when she walks because of her weight, it's also a fitting commentary of how little progress some black people still have in "walking" out of servitude.

----------


## cafolini

> lol. but does the owner look like his dog?


Delta, pleaaaaase. Ha! You are hard to please on truly ideal statements.

----------


## Hawkman

It's a nicely observed piece, Prince, but isn't it interesting how by including the words, "black" and "servitude" it immediately raises social and racial concerns. If the woman had been white the reader would simply have interpreted servitude as ordinary work. All those lucky enough to have jobs serve their masters in order to earn a living, as wage... no, I'm not going say it, I'm not going to use the S word!

----------


## Jack of Hearts

This reader didn't know this thread existed. It's all the *Prince* you could ever want!






J

----------


## blank|verse

Yes, nicely observed and good to read as always, and I agree with *Hawk's* comments about racial connotations.

In the first, I was a little unsure of the line 'to board it'; the poem would lose something without it, but I wonder if that can be expressed a little less prosaically?

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> It's a nicely observed piece, Prince, but isn't it interesting how by including the words, "black" and "servitude" it immediately raises social and racial concerns. If the woman had been white the reader would simply have interpreted servitude as ordinary work. All those lucky enough to have jobs serve their masters in order to earn a living, as wage... no, I'm not going say it, I'm not going to use the S word!


Forgive me if unlike you I do use the "S" word. I assume you're referring to the contemporary phrase "wage slavery," to express a criticism of the capitalist system. In fact, however, I want to apologize for this poem because of what I now see more clearly as a glib analogy I made between the outright slavery and the bonded variant suffered by that woman's ancestors, and the "wage slavery" that she and other middle-class people - black and white - are subject to. If she was indeed the descendants of slaves, then she might well regard her current situation as infinitely superior.

I well remember an exchange I had with a black man in Toronto. He and I were walking toward each other. We'd have collided if one of us did not deviate, and I veered to one side and said, "Excuse me," to which he responded in a heartfelt way, "Sorry. Sorry," as if he'd committed a dangerous gaffe by obliging a white man to step aside for him!

----------


## Jerrybaldy

To me and maybe only to me the lines were perfect and all that followed was over analysis but I guess thats a part of what we post for. One of your fans. J #2

----------


## Hawkman

> I well remember an exchange I had with a black man in Toronto. He and I were walking toward each other. We'd have collided if one of us did not deviate, and I veered to one side and said, "Excuse me," to which he responded in a heartfelt way, "Sorry. Sorry," as if he'd committed a dangerous gaffe by obliging a white man to step aside for him!


I once ran into a trio of black US servicemen who were a bit lost and they asked me for directions, I have to say they were the most friendly, courteous and polite people I ever remember meeting. Of course, they were only armed with a fifth of scotch at the time.  :Smile:

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

Thanks Haunted & Cafolini

*I watch my neighbours son
on his way to school
without his older brother.
His shoulders hunch
toward each other
as if to keep his loneliness close.*

----------


## blank|verse

That's interestingly phrased, *Prince* - 'keeping his loneliness close'. One would assume the child would want to be rid of his loneliness, but in the circumstances, maybe this is all he feels he has. Thought-provoking as usual.

----------


## Hawkman

Another woderfully observed piece, Prince. Flawless in expression.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

Thanks, Hawkman and


> blank|verse[/B];1090012]That's interestingly phrased, *Prince* - 'keeping his loneliness close'. One would assume the child would want to be rid of his loneliness, but in the circumstances, maybe this is all he feels he has. Thought-provoking as usual.


I kind of imagined that loneliness for his older brother was vicariously holding on to him.

----------


## breathtest

Another wonderful piece. I find that loneliness is a strange thing. You can want to be rid of it, but when it is gone you just might miss it. It can be comforting, especially a shared loneliness, (I'm thinking of your intended meaning, Prince, of his brothers loneliness holding onto him), and I think this piece speaks of that paradox.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*A sort of shrivelled radish
of a woman
notices me
noticing her
as she walks by.*

----------


## Haunted

_shrivelled radish
of a woman_

Prince kudos for delivering another unique and unforgettable image, even in a fleeting moment.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*Johnnie comes into the Mission
as soon as it opens,
his body curved around the smile
in his smashed-up Inuit face,
which wants to be loved
but is ready to hit back
when he feels himself to be insulted.
*

----------


## Apostrophe

Good one, but the last line isn't necessary. Stronger to end with "hit back." But then, can a face hit? Perhaps "bite back" might work better? Very good visuals here.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Good one, but the last line isn't necessary. Stronger to end with "hit back." But then, can a face hit? Perhaps "bite back" might work better? Very good visuals here.


I don't think I'd keep "hit _back_" unless I specified a provocation. This was one of my mornings to volunteer at the Mission. Johnnie lives just across the street, drinks (beer?) regularly and has problems with "anger management" but there is somehing unspoiled and maybe naive about him.

----------


## cogs

ooo, i'd like to hear about that in a poem. i didn't get enough of it near the last of the first one.

----------


## Hawkman

"his body curved around the smile
in his smashed-up Inuit face,
which wants to be loved"

Is so evocative. Marvellous descritpion in context. I like this immensely.

Live long and prosper - H

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

*

A spindly Chinese woman
walks the block,
back and forth,
back and forth.

It will take a long time
to pass yet another day.
*

----------


## Hawkman

Rather a sad image. I can't help wanting to know more about her.

----------


## qimissung

Ahh, this one makes me ache to read it.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

> Rather a sad image. I can't help wanting to know more about her.


Thank you. She lives a few doors down from me, must be in the neighbourhood of 70. Lives alone but has a son and possibly a few other relatives who come to visit. Sometimes sweeps the walks of neighbours on either side of her. Speaks not a word of English but at times addresses me in spirited Mandarin or Cantonese, seemingly confident that if she speaks with enough conviction, I'll get the message.

----------


## aliengirl

> *
> 
> A spindly Chinese woman
> walks the block,
> back and forth,
> back and forth.
> 
> It will take a long time
> to pass yet another day.
> *



She seems to me a personification of boredom. What a sad life!

----------


## hallaig

Like all your stuff, it is well thought out and creates real impact. Am I alone in thinking 'pass yet another day' jars a bit? I'd hoik the 'yet' out.

----------


## PrinceMyshkin

I was aware that "yet" did not flow but I wanted to emphasize that this had been going on for yet another day. Thanks for your comment.

----------


## hallaig

> I was aware that "yet" did not flow but I wanted to emphasize that this had been going on for yet another day. Thanks for your comment.


It's implied, though, is it not?

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## PrinceMyshkin

> It's implied, though, is it not?


Sure it is but I wanted, if possible, to mimic the plodding of her feet over sidewalks she'd walked many times before. In her mind, I imagined, everything carries the memory of having been done before.

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## PrinceMyshkin

*

An unusually tall,
thing young man
with a pimpled face
scowls his way
into the café.*

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## PrinceMyshkin

Sorry. Double post.

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## Bar22do

This builds around "scowls (his way)" thus opening your snapshot to a world of possibilities!

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## tailor STATELY

"thing" or "thin" ? I wonder what made him scowl so. One hopes he found a sympathetic friend waiting for him; or improved his mood with a meal and drink...

Thank you for sharing.

Ta ! _(short for tarradiddle)_,
tailor STATELY

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