Half a Night

Not bad at all - actually quite profound.

delicate, sensuous, charged, powerful, sweaty, even sexy.

Ferzi:
As I read this beautiful poem I was immediately reminded of a recent poem Pass me the blanket and if you forgive me I will change some words there and reply to this?


Half a soul

flame
over the grave
of the fallen lover

flame
over the torch
heralding an event
or flickering a path

flame
of mirth and joy
in the child’s eyes
in beloved’s smile

usher in hope
reflect warmth

the flame
in her* eyes
burns coldly
this flame is sans soul

(her=the protagonist in your poem)
as for the you in your poem...cannot add to what you have written...

bspnd,

t

Thats why I support gay marriages!
Never sleep with lesbians!!!

The cries of a man hater!!!!!
Right out of gay literature.

Good Poem.
Unfortunately the reality is not that poetic..kind of feels dirty to like literature based on suffering

Farzana:

It`s spooky but nice. I like it.

Rashid Mughal

eek..that was a little gruesome, but beautifully told!

Bleeding...

Farzana, great imagery in your beautiful peace. Wow!

Back in 1996, I wrote a poem which was posted on chowk under the title Life Is A Hitch. At that time, Umair Khan and Safwan Shah did not allow the word ``Bitch`` on chowk; so they changed it to ``Hitch``. Wow, times-are-a-changin` ! I have waited eight long years to re-post my original poem with the original title :)- Here It Is:

Life is a Bitch

Life is a bitch
for all its caress!
Flirting it does but then
gives away nothing;
for all the groping (!)
But then what else to do,
`cept grope!

Vain they say this life is all about, still
its` illusory beckoning keeps us tied.
For all the groping, one gets hold of some
handful of straws or some rocks.
Once in a while, one comes across a gem,
somewhere! Silver lines appear, but
once near it, the shadow falls on it.
Try to be detached,
it `d trail behind you!

Rock like I withstand,
the passionate onslaught it makes.
Angry bitch it is, it turns
its back on me.
A volcano erupts within,
leaving me bruised.

My resilience keeps me intact,
a doggedness possess;
I climb this rocky terrain,
One step at a time.
Sands of life are slippery,
it slides me down by ten pace!

Like a fish I try to slip,
from the hold it has on me,
but like a shark it tries
to pounce and swallow me;
with a ferocity
I know not `n ne`er knew!

I tried to flee, like a swift, the bird;
like a child, throws a stone to hurt.
Undaunted I flew higher,
like a falcon it hovered around me!

Bitter truth dawned on me!
The more you run,
the more it chases;
the more you drown,
the more it chokes;
Bitch, no doubt,
but leash is in you hand!

Never ever drown `n get intoxicated in it;
just keep a distance `n flirt with it.
Realized my soul when I looked LIFE
in the face;
She smiled benevolently
and healed my soul.

A few hours ago, a line came to mind: ``His shadow loomed over my naked body.``

Now, what could this mean? Several things, mainly the obvious. But for me it was a simple reality...I was in the shower, and outside the window there was this worker (plastering of the building facade is going on) doing his job; despite the shut ventilators and a curtain his shadow fell on the glossy tiles. And that line came to mind...

Therefore, I wonder whether I should explain this poem `my way` or let the readers reach their own conclusions. Shall think about it...and will certainly post some individual replies. For the moment, thanks for the comments.

PS: How I wish those who did not ``get it`` interacted here and made things more interesting:-)

F

Hi Farzana . . .

a) When naked, I don`t think one can usually hang around looking for shadows. More pressing things at ., . .hhhm . . . hand.

b) On the death bit, maybe you can consider accepting re-incarnation as a mantra, and also get to choose your gender next time around?

Which brings me to q of the day . . . if reborn, would you like to be:-

a) the same gender?
b) another gender?
c) exchange gender with your spouse/partner?
d) be the same gender as your spouse/partner?

Damn, where`s that poll when you need it the most?

yours respectfully,

``can do better``.

I love this poem. It`s one of those read and read again ones, that make sense in pieces.

I wish you would and I wish you wouldn`t explain it your way. You know? I really wish you wouldn`t, I guess, in the end. Because now I have dead girl in my head and I want to figure out what to do with her.

..... i knew there was a reason why i never liked poetry......... finally, it has managed to ruin what little sex life i had!............ thanks!

Powerful. Intimidating.

Its beautiful no doubt!

P.S: I tried to read between the lines and NOW `m really curious in knowing the writer`s conclusion to it :)

#10 Farzana

I didnt get it initially

But, now, (almost) everything falls into place

What did you have in mind with

It takes a lifetime
to realise
obsessions are not certainties.

For those who don`t care about poetry, here is something I got in the mail...

Subject: FW: Mr. Perfect....


Recently a ``Husband Super Store`` opened where women could go to choose a husband from among many men. It was laid out in five floors, with the men increasing in positive attributes as you ascended.

The only rule was, once you opened the door to any floor, you HAD to choose a man from that floor; if you went up a floor, you couldn`t go back down except to leave the place, never to return.

A couple of girlfriends went to the shopping centre to find some husbands...


First floor

The door had a sign saying, ``These men have jobs and love kids.``

The women read the sign and said, ``Well, that`s better than not having a job or not loving kids, but I wonder what`s further up?``


So up they went.

Second floor


The sign read, ``These men have high paying jobs, love kids, and are extremely good looking.``

``Hmmm,`` said the ladies, ``But, I wonder what`s further up?``


Third floor

This sign read, ``These men have high paying jobs, are extremely good looking, love kids and help with the housework.``

``Wow,`` said the women, ``Very tempting.``

But there was another floor, so further up they went.

Fourth floor

This door had a sign saying ``These men have high paying jobs, love kids, are extremely good looking, help with the housework and have a strong romantic streak.``

``Oh, mercy me,`` they cried, ``Just think what must be awaiting us further on!

So up to the fifth floor they went.

Fifth floor

The sign on that door said, ``This floor is empty and exists only to prove that women are impossible to please.``

Jang:
[Unfortunately the reality is not that poetic..kind of feels dirty to like literature based on suffering.]

This is an interesting subject. Is the reader a voyeur for reading such lines or is the writer an exhibitionist? Do either of these take away from the inherent suffering and its projection? Does the suffering get exaggerated in its saying and can catharsis truly be a collective purge? One must not see all poetry as `poetic` in the mould of it being romanticised. This one clearly is not.

If it feels ``dirty``, then one is sensitive to its resonances.
- - -

warpster:
[What did you have in mind with

It takes a lifetime
to realise
obsessions are not certainties.]

An obsession is when you want something badly, are in a constant state of craving for that to the point the `object` makes you self-absorbed (as it does to the ``you`` in the poem...the preceding line explained that ``you are too drenched to notice she rains too``) or in the case of her, the obsession turns into a dead-end from where she has to return. This going towards the cul de sac and having to trace her steps back is part of the self-destructive obsessiveness. Which is why it takes a lifetime and not merely an experience. (Hope this has not complicated things further!)
- - -

temp:

This is the first time I have used the third person in a poem and although I was initially uncomfortable, I now feel that I can relate to ``her`` with some amount of compassion and an equal measure of disgust. In your poem you have said that she is ``sans soul``...I would not think so. I do not need to explain to you that she is not dead, she comes with the residue of the past and her awakening becomes a harbinger of a return to it...the future is another morque, another past. If she were without a soul, or a body, she would not have been so tactile and so `alive` to the possibility and potential of death. Don`t you think so?

Love,
F

i liked it farzana.
my favorite line was

`You are too drenched to notice
she rains too. `

are you anywhere in this poem? i mean, besides being the author, character wise..if yes, how much would you say?
lallaalalalalalaaaaa

peace

this poem is too complex for me.

It would take a necrophiliac to enjoy this poem. Trust you to make even sex seem disgusting. This is the chowk version of the movie ``Monster``.

I liked the line ``obsessions are not certainties`` though. This line could come in handy sometime...

ferzi:

sans soul also has more possibilities...am surprised you limited it to.....

khair


maryam:

a writer always lurks somewhere as the creator of the piece just as God can be seen behind everything in nature...

the onus is on the reader to search


...t

Hello Farzana Sahiba
Hope you are doing well. I was on a self-imposed exile from Chowk (which lasted a whole 2 days;) )but I came across your poem and had to ask one thing,
Is the poem in reference to women forced into prostitution?? ``She awaits another morgue night.`` She is forced into night after night of torture?

Or is this about women in general, because some do say ``marriage is a legal form of prostitution.``
Anyways, loved the vicious morbidity of your poem. Take care.

Faiza Hussain

Alright. Here we go. Dead girl has made sense to me now. And I love it even more, for its trickiness, its refusal to state the obvious and make you think about itself. Excellent work. ``half-baked desires``; ``flavoured lies``. It`s spot-on and brilliant. And this is my favourite:

It’s requiem for spring smiles
as she gathers autumn leaves
in the dirt roads
squeezing her thighs.

Ferzana!!!!

“Had this been a lesbian poem, then the `she` would not be talking to a ``dog``, but another b!tch. “

The word should have been “Pig” instead of dog. Bich has no meaning in the milieu. “Dog” is mildly admonishing and mostly endearing. People often say “you dog!” sounds so gay. You may hear “you pig” too but that is pure reproach.


“Roll over, dog”

Rollover is one word.

Roll over in two words is used in financial context.

“memories in rigor mortis?”

“Is it death you take to bed”

I will be as discreet as I can. If I am not, I am not!
Occasionally, gay girls go on rebound and on a binge. Men often sense at the point of contact, girls freeze for a sec and constrict.
Like a virgin would do the first time. The diff being a virgin is in anticipation and a gay woman is drowning in guilt. So the momentary death in your work sounds gay!

Words are too strong, not feminine at all.

“…gay literature...wonder why you are”
I reckon you don’t live in the US. Gay lit. Currently leads the lit. created in the US.

“since one is comfortable in one`s skin (and with it, I might ad),”

Ah ha!
Oprah Winfrey declares: ``I am not in the closet. I am not coming out of the closet. I am not gay.``


what could it be
that makes you see through me
allows you to view inside
to see the tears silently cried
oh my transparent soul
overshadowed by thoughts of control
inner visualizations of we
not wanting to believe the prophesy
craving the motivation to change
to escape the paranoia of blame
how quickly we are allowed to ignore
the good times that were there before
i foolishly thought that we were immune
but our relationship has been fire consumed
my eyes are no longer covered with a hood
your past pain is being understood
-anon

My eyes trickle over your sculpted hips
like cool spring water caressing
sun-warmed river rocks.
I marvel at the purity
of your ivory skin.
Your body,
so long untouched
is flawless like the landscape
after a midnight snowfall.
I want to walk across it
with feather-light fingertips;
careful to leave no blemish,
no sign I was ever here.
Only,
we would know.

A few more thanks...and am glad that there are women and men who do not feel the necessity to trap you in slots. I am not the kind to hide from anything and certainly not from what I am...

maryam:

I do not think one can write this sort of poetry without either being a part of the experience or a witness to it. However, words give the experience/witnessing a sharper edge.

temp:

``sans soul`` certainly has many possibilities, but I felt the reference to the ``she`` in my poem would do with my definition. But then you can always add to her...hamesha ki tarah:)

Faiza:

This is not about women in prostitution; it is not even about the exploitation of the body, but the often observed nullification of a woman`s being - she becomes a creature of the past, a ghost, and instead of haunting she becomes the haunted. I have used the physicality to underline what lies beneath...I could have used emotional language, been more suble, but it would not have worked...

PS: Hope it is smiling time again for you...you shall overcome!

kyla:

I guess the ``trickiness`` worked:-)

F

ferz:

hamesha ki tarah:)?…you leave me no choice…so I scramble down to the baithak to look up a quote in a heavenly book…cannot find it…you know the one that runs something like this …“Go, tell them they will always act like men; for they know naught! Go, tell them that She will (always) have the final word.”

hermeneutists are still arguing whether it is a small s or capital…but either way…our fate is sealed…(hamidm bro feel free to ruminate)...

bspnd

t

The Dead Gal has made all the difference!!

Brilliant indeed :)

People are reading too much into this poem, wondering about the symbolism and what it can mean in an abstract sense. I think you are barking up the wrong tree. This is a literal poem about Necrophilia. About a man that likes to f**k corpses.

Right?

How in goddess`s name was this confused for a lesbian parable?

Does one need to belong to a group to read its literature?

Finally, Farzana, while there are some interesting moments in this poem, I think the confusion of the readership of the meanings of the poem should be a cue to revise this.

best,

but then again. . .must it be just one interpretation?

when a poem is read `literally` it stops making sense. as does fiction. heck, life as some of us know it.

half a night, half a life. . .

No, there need not be one interpretation...I just have a problem with the idea that anything strongly worded automatically means its ``lesbian``. And on top of that, whats up with all these folks with gaydar? Everyone`s an authority in attributing the most extreme behavior to a group they dont belong to...

The poem itself is confusing, although as I wrote before, it has some strong moments. ``Flaky crust`` is a phrase used for pie ads in the US, for example. It doesnt have the same resonances as other phrases in the poem.

terrorists in cyberspace........

......... i sure am glad i don`t have to take a test on this poem ......... years ago i learned to hate poetry because you always had to guess what the poet was trying to say ............ trying to say?....... i often wondered, ``why the heck doesn`t the poet just come out and say it?.... goddamn it!.........what is holding her back from pouring it all out ...........cat got your tongue?....... get on with it, save us the suspense!............. what is this?.... some kind of sadistic and systematic torture for schoolboys who have dirty thoughts during algebra class ?............

............ and then you grow up and think your worst days are over and you never have to read one more unbalanced line of poetry ......... and you begin to think that maybe, just maybe, now that you are all grown up, you don`t have eat spinach or read the koran which is perhaps the worst book of poetry ever written by a man with wings .............but no, sir!...... it seems that these poets just won`t go away !............ they follow you around, torturing you with their wretched tortured thoughts .......... everywhere; they are everywhere - on the backs of busses and rickshaws, on the walls of public toilets, on bubble gum wrappers and inside fortune cookies ................and now they are in cyberspace ............

Samina:
I write poetry to convey my feelings/state of mind, therefore, arrogant as it may sound, I do not feel the need to revise it to lessen the readers` confusion. One uses language in different ways -- when I have ventured to write poetry about what could be termed the `outside`, or larger reality, they are more straightforward (``Every Nightmare has a Reason``, ``Who wants peace, Baybeh?``). I would let people interpret it the way they want and if I have explained my version, it is only to give my interpretation...and perhaps add to the confusion!

You saw ``some strong moments``, some others saw many more perhaps and yet a few did not see any...if I reacted to it being termed gay literature it is because I found that such facile and deliberately misleading responses (``Words are too strong, not feminine at all``=woman is man-hater=woman is gay=woman has no sexual/feminine currency) perpetuate silly stereotypes. I have not felt the need to really respond strongly to those who think it is about necrophilia, because that could well be the literal reading.

Re. a phrase like ``flaky crust``, I am sure it is not restricted to American pie ads, but is used in everyday language too in most English-speaking societies. I felt it best conveyed what I was trying to say, that the past can crumble so easily and be probed and intruded into...Besides, on somebody else`s poetry board I took up for cliches if they are used innovatively or can best express something. Thanks anyway for the input...

PunjabiZulu:
[This is a literal poem about Necrophilia. About a man that likes to f**k corpses.
Right?]

No. But if it floats your boat, fine...heck, you can even imagine it done under a Banyan tree :)

temp:
[“Go, tell them they will always act like men; for they know naught! Go, tell them that She will (always) have the final word.”]

Alas, having the final word, she still has to live with the `illiteracy` of the unknowing.

On another note...``You`ve got to kiss a lot of frogs before you find the prince. But he probably isn`t going to be interested in some frog-kisser.``!

Love,
F

Now hamidm (shoo, shoo...brushing away all his tortured moments with peacock feather broom, mumbling a verse that a winged female angel has whispered to me) has put ideas in heads...

1.A truck driver just approached me...
``Behenji, you will do vadaa kaam by writing angrezi shair-o-shayari on my backside. Request hai ji...``

``But Paaji,`` I tell him, ``My poetry is so confusing, no Rabba-shabba, no Horn Ok please, no Kake da Dhaba, no Maa da Ashirwaad, no Mera munda Pintoo...so why you are asking for this ulta-pulta thing from naacheez me?``

``Oye, simple ji...peoples reading from back, getting into deep soch ke kya hai ji, kuchh samajh nahin aata, then they not overtaking or jaan boojh ke honking, so I can listen to ``Yamla pagla deewana`` in peace.``

2. I was approached by the Municipal Corporation for their public toilets for the greater good of mankind project.

``Madam, very kindly I make humble suggestion to you to pliss write your versification on wall of mutralaya.``

I was stunned, ``But sir, you are a government servant, you should not encourage any writing on the walls. Besides, no one would read my poems anyway.``

Shaking his head up-down, side-side, he grinned, ``You know what madam, people looking at words, not understand, look carefully again with eyes becoming small and eyebrows going up...in this position they will also look down still concentrating.``

``So?``

``So what madam...you are ladies style, how to tell you...but you know mens not aiming properly always, so now with eyes in that position everything will fall in place. This is public service, pliss.``

``I am honoured, sir. Should I continue to do this on Chowk too?``

``Chowk? Ah, I know men pee-ing even in open..you think they will aim better with poetry? There it is not mattering, little drops here and there...there your writing won`t help concentration. But surely if it is on every wall, then they will have to hide behind bush...so it will help fertilisation and irrigation. Madam, you are true public spirited lady. You must get nighthood.``

#33

``Everyone`s an authority in attributing the most extreme behavior to a group they dont belong to... ``

“anything strongly worded automatically means its ``lesbian``”

No not at all! But what are you implying with most extreme behavior? Are you equating being gay to extreme behavior? If so then you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.
It is okay if you know as you may belong to… nothing wrong with that.


The theme here seems to be transition as the title “Half a night” suggests and the writer has tried to create a transition “woman being haunted becomes haunted or the obsession turns into a dead-end from where she has to return”
The symbols of transition are rigor mortis, half-baked, flaky crust, requiem, and spring so she is basically true to her originally theme but the choice of strong words makes the whole thing sounds like a gay theme.

Is that incidental? Possible! I am not familiar with her other work. This may be a persistent theme and others may have related that to necrophilia.

The problem comes in when the writer attempts to make transition, an obsession. Obsession is not transition. It may not be there in the end, still obsession is permanent. She knows that too:

“It takes a lifetime
to realise (ignore the typo here)
obsessions are not certainties.”

From now on, the poem is a hotchpotch of ideas. I know I will be vilified for accusing the writer of picking ideas from all over the place and adding fluff to it. The addition of fluff has twisted the concept in the poem to the extent the writer is unable to explain it herself.

The use of strong words from a woman writer is surprising. The point was not to imply that the writer is gay (I still don’t get it. What’s wrong in being one?). The writer is clearly stuck in the thought. Most of the women writers use soft word for strong thoughts also. I think the trend among the writers from the subcontinent, is to use words that make an impression on the reader. This writer has taken that to heart and the use of words is more or less an ego trip now.

What amazes me is that the writer is taking a surreal pride in her writing being depicted as necrophilia but goes in instant and vehement denial when gay influences are pointed in her work.

Confusion all-around.

PS. Hamidm! I feel for you. “trying to say?.” Saaf Chuptay bhi nahin…..

HP. . .
writing is an ego trip of sorts. .more for some, less for others. it also appears to be a similar journey for critics as well.

the use of `strong` words from a woman should not be all that surprising. one experiences strong words from women in the world that reflects where some of our poetry and fiction comes from. your reaction is even more surprising.

interesting the qualities we place on words when they come from different points of view, aren`t they. what are `soft` words anyway? why should a harsh world, or event not be described just as it is: harsh? why continue to stereotype women as using `soft words`? what, pray tell, is wrong with women talking about realities as they see them?

when a man beats up a woman physically and psychologically, how would you suggest the woman describe the experience?

this poem was confusing to me only in that i wished for a certainty to know exactly what `kind` of woman experienced this, knowing for half a certainty that this was about women that i myself know. not necrophilia or necrophiliacs. the fact that i myself could relate to this somehow made me wish it had not been explained.

and by the way roll over, when it is a command may be two words as well.

Farzana, you being a Bombayite too will understand when I say ``Chamka nahin``. Like hamid, I am poetry-dyslexic. Actually that`s not quite true, I liked the sound of this effort, the cadence (oh how I love that word), but not quite sure of it`s about necrophilia (think not!), prostitution (you say not) or just that hackneyed one about a woman who dies every night raped by her beastly husband (probably, but not expected from you)....

Loved your post#36 though. You should try humour writing.

A few points:
The theme is not transition; `Half a night` denotes incompleteness/interruption.

`Realise`, as it has been spelled, is not a typo; this writer prefers to use British English spelling rather than American English.

It is extremely sweet to transpose the two following statements: ``The use of strong words from a woman writer is surprising. The point was not to imply that the writer is gay (I still don’t get it. What’s wrong in being one?)``. But at the very beginning the tenor was quite different: ``#4 by HP on March 26, 2004 11:28am PT
Thats why I support gay marriages!
Never sleep with lesbians!!!

The cries of a man hater!!!!!
Right out of gay literature.``

This writer does not take ``surreal pride in her writing being depicted as necrophilia but goes in instant and vehement denial when gay influences are pointed in her work.``

She has used death so obviously as a metaphor that people might read it literally, and mortality does interest her; but she did not even think of anything remotely gay while writing and re-reading it several times, so she does not accept the accusation of ``gay influence``. It does not mean she ``goes into denial``, which denotes something entirely different.

(There is a shair that goes, ``Marney ke baad bhi meri aankhein khulee rahee/Aadat padee thi inhein intezar ki.`` Written by a male...)

She feels the need not so much to explain as to give her point of view, which is surely as valid as those of other interpreters. For more, it is in post #35.

She has in the past been called several names on such anonymous fora, so she does not take umbrage, but certainly does not want her work to be so completely distorted or to be told that use of strong words is unfeminine; though what the heck feminity/femininity is or ought to be is for women to decide.

Farzana,

You are of course, more than welcome to write for yourself.

As this was posted on the front page, we are cued to take it seriously and try to understand what the various meanings of this poem are. It seems a bit disingenious to present something to the public and then say you really dont care if they understand what you are writing.

Here are the questions I apply to any poem I read, printed or otherwise:

1. What is the stanza scheme? If it is free verse, is there an intentional pattern to the verse? It seems you are alternating seven lines with one or two sentences/phrases. Why are some of these lines questions, phrases and sentences? How do they work in the overall scheme of the poem?

2. ``the past a flaky crust
where she lives
on the charity of a slave:
memories in rigor mortis?``

I dont know what this means.

3.`` heat turning to steam
in the deep folds of
a ribbed, flavoured lie.``

I dont know what this means.

4. ``when you bleed her bits
and call her a bitch?``

Is the sudden rhyme scheme here intentional? Is this someone else`s voice?

The tone and imagery here seem to be hinting at something macabre....but the crypticism of the language and mixed metaphors doesnt not help at all.

correction:
does not help at all

Thanks Saminasha!

The first sentence of my post #37 was initially “This poem, if it is a poem” I edited it out thinking that the writer builds a wall when unpleasant facts are pointed in her work or technique. We saw that in her response to hamidm where she tried to diss him in the guise of sarcasm. Now there may be some background to it as people on this board are carrying on with a persistence chip on their shoulders so I am not gonna go too deep into that.

I would still maintain that the writer must rethink her approach while selecting words for her thoughts. She should think first and then see what works better, instead of selecting words first and then fit some ideas into them.

Poetry is not about creating catch phrases.

soundmeister:

Chamkane ke liye nahin likha tha :) Try humour writing? Hum tau hanste-hanste likh letey hai sab kuchh.
- - -
#41 by Saminasha:

[Farzana,
You are of course, more than welcome to write for yourself.

As this was posted on the front page, we are cued to take it seriously and try to understand what the various meanings of this poem are. It seems a bit disingenious to present something to the public and then say you really dont care if they understand what you are writing.]

Excuse me, but where have I said that I do not care? In fact, I have clearly mentioned that there are various interpretations and mine too is valid. I merely stated that I did not think I would revise it to lessen the readers` confusion. Anyway, this post of yours is clearly an afterthought. Since you have issues with almost every part of it, I wonder why you had rushed to post this earlier:

[#33 by Saminasha on March 29, 2004 8:28am PT
No, there need not be one interpretation...I just have a problem with the idea that anything strongly worded automatically means its ``lesbian``. And on top of that, whats up with all these folks with gaydar? Everyone`s an authority in attributing the most extreme behavior to a group they dont belong to...

The poem itself is confusing, although as I wrote before, it has some strong moments. ``Flaky crust`` is a phrase used for pie ads in the US, for example. It doesnt have the same resonances as other phrases in the poem.]

If you have not ``understood`` most of it, then I wonder how you found any strong moments at all.

PS: Surely you do not imagine I would need your validation to write for myself or to publish what I write?

- - -
Re. #43 by HP:

Another afterthought! Your post #37 was attempting an analysis...I wonder why you waste your time doing so for ``catch phrases``.

Besides, don`t forget your initial problem with this piece of writing. Just riding on someone`s back is quite pathetic really...as for hamidm, he can defend himself rather well, being one of the sharpest shooters around.

About having a chip on the shoulder, you have not been here long enough to watch the ones of some interactors.

Stay around...you might acquire one yourself. I will not judge you by your interactions here since ``confusion`` clouds one`s vision and leaves little room for anything else to be noticed.
I mean, how can one say anything to someone who objects to women who use strong words?

Be happy...
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Faiza:

If you are still peeping in, I should have taken your response in full...while it is not about prostitution, your other point about marriage as legalised prostitution could be a valid reading and insight (though SM does not expect this from me!). Khair, phir kabhi...

Thanks everyone for interacting...I need to leave this board. I do not like hogging boards, even my own...

from #43

I would still maintain that the writer must rethink her approach while selecting words for her thoughts. She should think first and then see what works better, instead of selecting words first and then fit some ideas into them.

Poetry is not about creating catch phrases.

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poetry is about different things to different people. it is first and foremost about expressing a thought. and that gentle reader, has been expressed here. you may not agree with the way it has been expressed. . .and you are entitled to that.

english may not be your first language, as it isn`t many of ours, but here`s the thing. .as readers and critics it is fine for us to not like a piece, and to find certain structural or phraseological (i know that is not a word) problems. fine! we were speaking of language earlier and this hard vs. soft and all that jazz. . .well here again we come across someone deigning to tell the poet how she should express herself. what she MUST do and what she SHOULD do in a way that appears more condescending than constructive, unfortunately.

i do not do poetry. . .i read it with not always the greatest comprehension. if it doesn`t make me think, or arouse my senses in any way, it doesn`t interest me. i think poets string their words together as they see fit, as long as they feel that a thought is being conveyed. once again, a particular thought was being conveyed here. . and there were various interpretations of that one thought.

you seem to imply that Farzana doesn`t think before she selects her words. . .i put to you that she did think about how these words were to be put together. . .the idea came before the words. i frankly don`t see how it could have happened otherwise. `oh i just think i`ll put `in rigor mortis` here because it looks good!` are we really going to say that`s how this creation came about?

and catch phrases come from poetry. . .where, prithee, do such phrases like `a thing of beauty is a joy forever` and `a little learning (knowledge?) is a dangerous thing` come from if not from poetry?

like i said i don`t write poetry. but i`ve read enough of it, and enough critical theory torture to reach the conclusion that some poets and writers will develop their own style. . that there is no such thing as purity in poetry or fiction anymore. . .and that there have been poets and writers who over the centuries have presented works to a public that either didn`t understand or just didn`t like the way the poet expressed himself/herself. is it really about building a wall?

#44

Wow!!! That’s some serious chip!!! I guess it is just a matter of time before the cussing starts and choice words are hurled around.

I can understand the frustration. Everybody loves their creation and nobody wants to believe that they wrote something sub par. Some authors and writers have monstrous egos. They acquire that ego after doing some worthwhile writing, not after putting some ludicrous work together and posting it on a website for appreciation.

Are we just supposed to say “bhot Achcha! bhot Achcha!! Wah wah! Wah wah!!” to make the queen® happy?


I did not know that…

Farzana,

I think these pieces are evocative, clearly and imaginatively written and beautiful:

``You are too drenched to notice
she rains too. ``

``It’s requiem for spring smiles
as she gathers autumn leaves
in the dirt roads
squeezing her thighs.``

Its regular workshop/feedback/discourse practice to let a writer what works for the reader and what doesnt. You can check my ilog to see what my idea of a successful poem and they come in all forms. Also, please note-I have to accept the limitations of my own work.
I was under the impression that we were here to note all our literary successes and yes, offer constructive feedback.

I`ll abstain from sharing my honest responses from you if it bothers you.

rgds,

Samina:

I had left this board, but your last response (#47) needs to be replied to. You say, ``I`ll abstain from sharing my honest responses from you if it bothers you.`` Haven`t we had disagreements on several issues before, just as we have agreed on some? It was the tenor of your post #41 that bothered me, expecially since my response #35 to you was neither flippant nor dismissive, as you seem to have read it. I clearly mentioned that while you saw a few strong points, some might have seen many more and yet others none at all.

You have been here long enough and noticed that, unlike several other writers, I do enjoy interacting and am at pains to explain my political positions too, even when the opposition has been disgustingly offensive.

We will disagree with what constitutes a `successful` poem, but I have always been open to feedback. Especially, if it is honest. So do not abstain from giving your insights only if you think the content bothers me. It does not. So do keep writing whenever you feel like it...

Best,
F
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nooralain:

You have not directed any post to me, but you have made some interesting observations about the process of writing. And I am glad you have met some women like the one in the poem...they are for real. And, to use a cliched phrase, reality bites.

TC,
F

Oooh

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catfight!

Since when did writing and expressing become politically or intellectually correct/ incorrect?
Words, phrases, catchy or not, fitting into thoughts or thoughts fitting into them, doesnt really matter, as long as you end up saying something well enough and the reader associating with it somehow. No creative idea or thought is wrong...ever...it just has its suitability.

It’s requiem for spring smiles
as she gathers autumn leaves

It is so beautifully said, i feel , it leaves no room for me to ask the poetess to rephrase it. it might not be a great peice of work, but where ever it stands...it has its place.