I like the bittersweet feel from this. Perhaps with the right melody, it can even be made into a song.
It's not really sad so much that I think it seems to be more about leaving the past behind and move on. My question, though, is why the twelfth?

After a refreshing good night's sleep, I've realized that it wasn't the poem that was too heavy, it was me.  My eyelids were drooping.  The poem on the other hand, well, I was going to say bittersweet, but Hiraku beat me to the punch.  Still true.  I get the impression of someone dealing with pain in a healthy way, someone who's going to be fine.  This could be a front though, I see that too.  That whole dead heart/decaying business.  That keeps the poem a little darker than my personal taste, but it's very evocative.  Of course, my knowing what's been happening in your life lately informs my interpretation tremendously.  I'll second what Satyr said about the scheme, too.  I don't read things closely enough to pick out specifics, but reading it in my head, I felt the meter.  I think that worked very well.  Thanks again!

All my poems and songs are in spanish u_u i just have 2 or 3 songs in english, but they are so crappy i don't feel like posting them.

Poems can't be translated, they wouldn't make sense and they wont keep the rhythm, unless somebody adapts them.

But okay, i'll try....

satyreyes wrote:

hyacinth_black wrote:

satyreyes wrote:

About the title.  There's no chance you're alluding to "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird," is there?  I posted the twelfth stanza in the Favorite Quotes thread earlier.  Twelfth blackbird; twelfth songbird.  Sort of a cool coincidence if you weren't, though!

Actually I was.  I absolutely ADORE that poem.  I was reading the twelfth part over in my head and it really got me thinking.  So I started writing.

I changed it to songbird, though, because it seemed to fit better in the situation.

Really?  Wow!  Glad there's another Blackbird fan among us   Why the twelfth songbird, then?  Blackbird Twelve speaks to me of faith in beauty more than bittersweet loss.  Maybe if Blackbird Twelve is about spring migration it works... but this feels much more like a Blackbird Five to me, what with the singing, and the importance of presence and absence.

Wallace Stevens wrote:

V
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blackbird whistling
Or just after.

Oh, God, have I officially crossed the line between literary analysis and wankery?

There's a line to cross?  Oh...

I chose the twelfth one because I interpreted it as being that the river would be time and the blackbird would be things changing.  I'm a bit of a n00b at analysis though.

Slide in.

It's all about being humble, correct?
I'm not just thinking insane,
tats on your back
tits for tats?
Tattooed across your face,
a wacky way
to bring  this and say
"Babe, be mine forever."
I scream and jeer,
shout out queer,
weird and wonderfully.
replace this space.
Empty and shell?
Sell it for all it's worth.
Replace, all that wasn't there.
Nay, Tantric discouragement
is my specialty and I
wield it well.
Hop to the other foot and dance
a sublime tune
Roll on all fours
Show me tattoos.
Fucking for luck
replace all that's left?
As if there was a hole
I'd leave you bereft.
Fuck whatever came along,
and show me your song.
Wiping sweat for days
from your hunger
to please.
Seize, everything that's left.

Last edited by Persephone (06-10-2007 12:22:11 PM)

hyacinth_black wrote:

I chose the twelfth one because I interpreted it as being that the river would be time and the blackbird would be things changing.  I'm a bit of a n00b at analysis though.

Nothing wrong with that   Blackbird is one of the most metaphor-driven poems I know, which (fortunately?) means that it can mean different things to different people.  I'd be hard-pressed to explain what I think/feel the blackbird means, and that's a conversation for another thread anyway.

Persephone wrote:

wait, am I supposed to post think in IFG? I mean there are some dirty words in slide in, I feel horrible, I wish someone could tell me.

You're fine   It takes a lot more than a couple curse words to make IFD material.  Unless it's very profane, very sexually explicit, or very private, it probably doesn't need to go in IFD.  The first poem isn't especially profane, and it is mostly what I'd call "sexually implicit," so we'll leave it be.  And I can't find anything even vaguely IFD-ish with the second one, except the word "damn," which should be spelled "dam" in this context

Worth reading: The Rules.

Last edited by satyreyes (06-10-2007 12:45:58 PM)

most of the really good ones are on my myspace blog. Shameless spamming
I keep them there so I aways have a reference point.
In fact most of my work is online because my computer is incapable of storing anything.

Last edited by Persephone (06-10-2007 01:45:59 PM)

I'm reminded, as always, of something Nietzsche wrote.  He was describing the death of god, saying that even though it had already happened, the event had not yet arrived.  That is to say, god was dead, but we hadn't noticed yet.  Even though it was we who killed him.  Just another reminder that action and appearance are two distinct things.

Persephone wrote:

No shit!
I am a Marine Bio major, I love your poetry, I can actually visualize what I am reading.

I'm a big believer in imagery in poetry.  I have trouble appreciating poems I can't experience with the senses.  Occasionally a poem can really impress me by giving me just flashes of imagery that seem inexplicably tied together -- I'm thinking here of Theodore Roethke's "The Waking" -- but it's rare.  Now that I think about it, that's probably why I'm unhappy with another poem of mine that I've been trying to get right for over a year.

Last edited by satyreyes (06-11-2007 12:44:55 AM)

Oooh! Good work you poets! I love reading poetry. When I do, I can choose the most beautiful, moving passages, and gorge myself on the delightful meaning. But the crap I write, eh, I'll put it in a metaphor so you can understand clearly: a kindergartener’s finger painting compares to the art in the Sistine Chapel the way my pseudo-prose compares to any poetry with actual merit and value. With that preface, here goes: I have one for lovers, and one for haters, haha, I mean, drug addicted friends.

              Untitled:
From the blankets soaked in speeches
About never leaving, I left
The mystery unsolved
My resolve
Was to never search at all
But I find myself looking
For what I felt
I uncovered the beast
So that it can devour me again
Because if nothing squeezes my heart
It does not beat

                    Cocaine
Electrocuted with a smile on your face
Rush to the executioner’s razor embrace
Into the bathroom to do it again
Kill on the outside what is dead within

I reach out to grab you. You march to the edge
My grip is too weak so you fall in the end
Down at the bottom, broken and blue
This is not what I wanted for you
This is not what I wanted to do
This is what I chose, so you shut your face,
Stitch your mouth closed, I’m here in your place

Our demons won’t carry you back to the top
“God save us!” I’m calling, I’m crying. You’re not.
Let it keep raining, you will not drown,
The water will float you away with a crown
Reigning the kingdom of lies, the world around you dies
All the amphetamine in the world cannot open eyes
That are shut forever, at least we’re together

As you look to the sky with your tranquilized eyes
Angels will lift you to the peak of the earth
Into the womb of heaven for your rebirth
The sweet dream I pray for you, I see all of this
While I wait with you in your tragic darkness

I didn’t want this
Just wake up and forget this
Etched into my memory, my skin, my soul
This broke my heart. I will never be whole

Yeah, I've never shown these to anyone! So, even though it abounds with childish rhyming sequences, consider yourselves privileged. Sort of!