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Re: not titled (Rach)

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  • albiaicehouse
    Rach, That s perfect. Now I have some insight. That is young, 6, to start writing poetry. Some of my first creative writings were probably in my early teens,
    Message 1 of 10 , Sep 2, 2007
      Rach,

      That's perfect. Now I have some insight.

      That is young, 6, to start writing poetry.

      Some of my first creative writings were probably in my early teens,
      the kinds of things I was thinking when I was 6. One was what it was
      like to be a piece of paper that gets recycled. My hero wanted to
      come back as a book of serious literature, but came back as a piece of
      Christmas wrapping, which was quite a thrilling, short incarnation. I
      did another one from the point of view of an alarm clock.

      Lather, though, cathartic writing, yes, I definitely have done many of
      those. After a while though it is frustrating that the personal
      creativity juices peak when I'm in emotional pain.

      So over time, I've slowly found ways to be expressive about pain for
      others, and happiness for everyone, and even the down-right mundane.

      albi


      --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "Rach" <her_rachness@...> wrote:
      >
      > hi,
      >
      > well, strangely, i've never been asked my purpose in writing before.
      > I started writing when i was very young, at 6.
      > Do i know why?
      > No.
      > I wrote on and off for years, and only came up with maybe 2 poems I
      > am very proud of. The last was in 2005. I've only just started
      > writing again. I don't write fiction and everything i've ever written
      > has been extremely personal. So I guess my purpose in writing is for
      > cathartic release or just to find another way to let the demons out.
      > I'm not much of a problem sharer, see.
      >
      > anyway,
      >
      > hope that gives you some insight.
      >
      > many thanks
      >
      > Rach
      >
      > --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, albiaicehouse <no_reply@>
      > wrote:
      > >
      > > Rach,
      > >
      > > Yes, I meant your Yahoo member profile. Or just tell us a bit about
      > > yourself and your purpose in wrting.
      > >
      > > albi
      > >
      > > --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "Rach" <her_rachness@> wrote:
      > > >
      > > > hi everyone
      > > >
      > > > Thank you all for commenting on my poem. As I said, it is the
      > first
      > > > thing I've written since 2005.
      > > >
      > > > So, with regards to some of your comments
      > > >
      > > > Suzianne - "does not drive home a point" and "It appears that
      > this
      > > > goes in several directions" I'm glad you said that because those
      > were
      > > > my reservations.
      > > >
      > > > albi - "I went to your profile and didn't find much. Would you
      > > > consider putting more there or in here about yourself?"
      > > > what did you want to know? did you mean my yahoo profile?
      > > > "Some people like to write in abstract forms, just as some like
      > to
      > > > paint in abstract forms. Is that what you prefer?" --- I think
      > the
      > > > form has a lot to do with my personality, i think abstract is the
      > way
      > > > i was distancing it from myself a little.
      > > > yes and looking back at older work, they are mostly abstract
      > writings.
      > > >
      > > > no you're not dense, everything u commented on seemed very
      > > > appropriate. thank you.
      > > >
      > > > gwen - "Is this poem of personal survival, or a dream like
      > > > scenario??"
      > > >
      > > > a bit of both i think. when it spoke of "drugging" - the speaker
      > was
      > > > bringing about a point of weariness in the poem - drugged and
      > dazed,
      > > > dreamlike.
      > > >
      > > > I had exactly the same idea about changing the wording to "hiss".
      > I
      > > > hadn't thought of slither - but i like it.
      > > >
      > > > thank you all for being so helpful and kind with your help.
      > > >
      > > > --- In ticket2write@, "Susan Donahue" <suzianne411@>
      > > > wrote:
      > > > >
      > > > > Dear Rachael,
      > > > >
      > > > > I don't quite know where to start with this piece. It is so
      > full
      > > > of
      > > > > emotion, but does not drive home a point. There are particular
      > > > lines
      > > > > and word choices that impress. It appears that this goes in
      > > > several
      > > > > directions. Perhaps, you really have material here for more
      > than
      > > > one
      > > > > poem. Consider using pieces to construct separate poems, each
      > with
      > > > > its own direct message.
      > > > >
      > > > > I am glad that you are writing again. Few things cleanse the
      > soul
      > > > > and ease the mind as well as committing words and thoughts to
      > > > paper.
      > > > > I look forward to seeing more from you.
      > > > >
      > > > > Suzianne
      > > > >
      > > > >
      > > > >
      > > > >
      > > > > --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "Rach" <her_rachness@>
      > wrote:
      > > > > >
      > > > > > hi all,
      > > > > >
      > > > > > i have made my first attempt for over two years to write
      > > > soomething
      > > > > > and here it is. please comment, critisize and suggest if you
      > feel
      > > > > > compelled to. it has taken a week to get this so far with it,
      > as
      > > > i
      > > > > > have been suffering some sort of block the past two years.
      > > > > > it has no title, any suggestions?
      > > > > >
      > > > > >
      > > > > >
      > > > > >
      > > > > > who would ask for this
      > > > > > i am tied to the stake
      > > > > > dark tongues slithered around me
      > > > > > flames hissing; dare i try to move
      > > > > > disaster; it's imminent
      > > > > >
      > > > > > how can i be here
      > > > > > a reward for indentured servitude-
      > > > > > faithfully i play the weaponed maze
      > > > > > beaten lillies curled; i cannot touch them
      > > > > > broken petals vividly unloveable
      > > > > >
      > > > > > they are scared of him too
      > > > > > with his vitriolic labours of lessons
      > > > > > an old school afficionado
      > > > > > my back; his blackboard
      > > > > > a cigarette; a worthy pen, i'm sure
      > > > > >
      > > > > > what holes my lungs are full of
      > > > > > he's been breathing for me
      > > > > > at five i took a razor to my tongue
      > > > > > soon after the vampires came
      > > > > > summoned on the scent of new blood
      > > > > >
      > > > > > proffered; like any well meaning servant
      > > > > > even the lillies are subservient
      > > > > > for what would the dead do
      > > > > > without the living to eat from
      > > > > > what would he do if he did not have me
      > > > > >
      > > > > > what would i do if he did not tell me
      > > > > > how to wear my hair, my dress, my expression
      > > > > > if his boots did not resemble thunder
      > > > > > rumbling around the walls
      > > > > > my own private clarion call
      > > > > >
      > > > > > would i know my own name
      > > > > > would he, if he did not hurt me
      > > > > > if i did not live on the precipice
      > > > > > of a man with ice in his veins
      > > > > > and a rock in his chest
      > > > > >
      > > > > > lies peeling from his skin
      > > > > > like that one he would never touch
      > > > > > that precious golden duplicate
      > > > > > did he give birth overnight
      > > > > > now both their bodies hurt me
      > > > > >
      > > > > > two ill winds ululating
      > > > > > conspiring, drugging, murdering me
      > > > > > i crawl into the mouldy sack
      > > > > > pretending that i can flee
      > > > > > what, what, what would they do without me
      > > > > >
      > > > >
      > > >
      > >
      >
    • Carol
      Hi Rachael, Since your profile yields no information as to your country of origin, I m going to guess that you re from either Great Britain or Canada. I say
      Message 2 of 10 , Sep 3, 2007
        Hi Rachael,
        Since your profile yields no information as to your country of origin,
        I'm going to guess that you're from either Great Britain or Canada. I
        say that because some of the word choices used in this piece do not
        pass through my spell checker without raising red flags. You might
        look at the spelling of these two words—lillies and unloveable and see
        if they are correct.
        As far as the piece is concerned, I have a couple of questions. Are
        you trying to speak from a past life or is this more current in the
        gothic field? The reason is simple—cigarettes. Paper was very
        expensive, and although tobacco was undoubtedly available during the
        Victorian age, the cost of paper was so high that only the very rich
        could afford it. Snuff was the popular means of tobacco use and I
        suppose, chewing tobacco also—yuck.
        The stanza in which the narrator mentions cigarettes, on the other
        hand, is the strongest and clearest. Drives the javelin right through.
        Obviously, the narrator fears for her life. Is that the reason she
        speaks in pronouns of he, they, and i?
        Have you ever read Anne Rice's novel Interview with the Vampire? The
        protagonist of your piece reminds me of Claudia, the young girl turned
        vampire. Yes, there is also a movie in which a very young Kirsten
        Dunst plays Claudia quite convincingly. But do read the book, for it
        provides more sensual details as well as new age gothic style.
        I do agree with Suzianne in principal that you could have several
        poems from this longer piece. You could break it up into sections
        which give the reader a chance to absorb the idea before rushing
        headlong into the next.
        The only title which comes to mind is the word "Beloved." How else
        would anyone tolerate such treatment?
        Carol

        --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "Rach" <her_rachness@...> wrote:
        >
        > hi all,
        >
        > i have made my first attempt for over two years to write soomething
        > and here it is. please comment, critisize and suggest if you feel
        > compelled to. it has taken a week to get this so far with it, as i
        > have been suffering some sort of block the past two years.
        > it has no title, any suggestions?
        >
        >
        >
        >
        > who would ask for this
        > i am tied to the stake
        > dark tongues slithered around me
        > flames hissing; dare i try to move
        > disaster; it's imminent
        >
        > how can i be here
        > a reward for indentured servitude-
        > faithfully i play the weaponed maze
        > beaten lillies curled; i cannot touch them
        > broken petals vividly unloveable
        >
        > they are scared of him too
        > with his vitriolic labours of lessons
        > an old school afficionado
        > my back; his blackboard
        > a cigarette; a worthy pen, i'm sure
        >
        > what holes my lungs are full of
        > he's been breathing for me
        > at five i took a razor to my tongue
        > soon after the vampires came
        > summoned on the scent of new blood
        >
        > proffered; like any well meaning servant
        > even the lillies are subservient
        > for what would the dead do
        > without the living to eat from
        > what would he do if he did not have me
        >
        > what would i do if he did not tell me
        > how to wear my hair, my dress, my expression
        > if his boots did not resemble thunder
        > rumbling around the walls
        > my own private clarion call
        >
        > would i know my own name
        > would he, if he did not hurt me
        > if i did not live on the precipice
        > of a man with ice in his veins
        > and a rock in his chest
        >
        > lies peeling from his skin
        > like that one he would never touch
        > that precious golden duplicate
        > did he give birth overnight
        > now both their bodies hurt me
        >
        > two ill winds ululating
        > conspiring, drugging, murdering me
        > i crawl into the mouldy sack
        > pretending that i can flee
        > what, what, what would they do without me
        >
      • Rach
        Hi thanks for your comments. Yes, great britain is where I live. About the past life, current life question. I am a great beleiver of subconcious theories and
        Message 3 of 10 , Sep 3, 2007
          Hi

          thanks for your comments.
          Yes, great britain is where I live.
          About the past life, current life question. I am a great beleiver of
          subconcious theories and ideas. I was writing from a current point of
          view. However it would be so easy for me to say i was alluding to a
          problem that goes back farther than the speaker can remember.
          I personally think that is more the case as during that stanza my
          mind was filled with the influences on the "he" in the story -
          the "he" that maybe had been this way all his life.

          No, not read the book but I think i may well purchase it now.....

          Albi, your comments are very inspiring. I hope one day I will be as
          perceptive and flexible as yourself.
          Yes 6 is a young age, but I was writing a diary then too.

          thanks

          --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "Carol" <carol_emt87@...> wrote:
          >
          > Hi Rachael,
          > Since your profile yields no information as to your country of
          origin,
          > I'm going to guess that you're from either Great Britain or Canada.
          I
          > say that because some of the word choices used in this piece do not
          > pass through my spell checker without raising red flags. You might
          > look at the spelling of these two words—lillies and unloveable and
          see
          > if they are correct.
          > As far as the piece is concerned, I have a couple of questions. Are
          > you trying to speak from a past life or is this more current in the
          > gothic field? The reason is simple—cigarettes. Paper was very
          > expensive, and although tobacco was undoubtedly available during the
          > Victorian age, the cost of paper was so high that only the very rich
          > could afford it. Snuff was the popular means of tobacco use and I
          > suppose, chewing tobacco also—yuck.
          > The stanza in which the narrator mentions cigarettes, on the other
          > hand, is the strongest and clearest. Drives the javelin right
          through.
          > Obviously, the narrator fears for her life. Is that the reason she
          > speaks in pronouns of he, they, and i?
          > Have you ever read Anne Rice's novel Interview with the Vampire? The
          > protagonist of your piece reminds me of Claudia, the young girl
          turned
          > vampire. Yes, there is also a movie in which a very young Kirsten
          > Dunst plays Claudia quite convincingly. But do read the book, for it
          > provides more sensual details as well as new age gothic style.
          > I do agree with Suzianne in principal that you could have several
          > poems from this longer piece. You could break it up into sections
          > which give the reader a chance to absorb the idea before rushing
          > headlong into the next.
          > The only title which comes to mind is the word "Beloved." How else
          > would anyone tolerate such treatment?
          > Carol
          >
          > --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, "Rach" <her_rachness@> wrote:
          > >
          > > hi all,
          > >
          > > i have made my first attempt for over two years to write
          soomething
          > > and here it is. please comment, critisize and suggest if you feel
          > > compelled to. it has taken a week to get this so far with it, as
          i
          > > have been suffering some sort of block the past two years.
          > > it has no title, any suggestions?
          > >
          > >
          > >
          > >
          > > who would ask for this
          > > i am tied to the stake
          > > dark tongues slithered around me
          > > flames hissing; dare i try to move
          > > disaster; it's imminent
          > >
          > > how can i be here
          > > a reward for indentured servitude-
          > > faithfully i play the weaponed maze
          > > beaten lillies curled; i cannot touch them
          > > broken petals vividly unloveable
          > >
          > > they are scared of him too
          > > with his vitriolic labours of lessons
          > > an old school afficionado
          > > my back; his blackboard
          > > a cigarette; a worthy pen, i'm sure
          > >
          > > what holes my lungs are full of
          > > he's been breathing for me
          > > at five i took a razor to my tongue
          > > soon after the vampires came
          > > summoned on the scent of new blood
          > >
          > > proffered; like any well meaning servant
          > > even the lillies are subservient
          > > for what would the dead do
          > > without the living to eat from
          > > what would he do if he did not have me
          > >
          > > what would i do if he did not tell me
          > > how to wear my hair, my dress, my expression
          > > if his boots did not resemble thunder
          > > rumbling around the walls
          > > my own private clarion call
          > >
          > > would i know my own name
          > > would he, if he did not hurt me
          > > if i did not live on the precipice
          > > of a man with ice in his veins
          > > and a rock in his chest
          > >
          > > lies peeling from his skin
          > > like that one he would never touch
          > > that precious golden duplicate
          > > did he give birth overnight
          > > now both their bodies hurt me
          > >
          > > two ill winds ululating
          > > conspiring, drugging, murdering me
          > > i crawl into the mouldy sack
          > > pretending that i can flee
          > > what, what, what would they do without me
          > >
          >
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