lemon yellow grass

Holy Gods! I've had a few messages from members saying they felt absolutely intimidated by Fulton's writing and they would probably bow out of this one. She is so thick in metaphor and rich in vocabulary, just as this is, nomoth. I have been looking forward to your entry, knowing you have what it takes.  
 
Excellent emulation in regards to death. That last line though. . .omg. . .the regret is palpable.  
 
Oh, and technically, your enjambments are absolutely divine, as always.

Well it took quite a bit of reading her to find a piece i felt i could try and emulate. I understand that reluctance, she is so original and unique in style. Once i found this piece, which was the last one I read of hers, i found this 'easier' than the Yeats piece whose use of the mythical is way beyond me.  
 
Thanks so much. Once in there, it is so much fun to stretch and learn about oneself.  
 
so grateful again A.

It really is, if poets would just step out of their box and brave the intimidation. There's one who messaged me that posted the poem, but not to the comp. I am hoping he posts to the comp. It's the braving that matters, the stretching one's writing legs.

I must say, nomoth, yours have definitely stretched since you first started posting here. The change has been nothing short of remarkable!

yeh i know, I see it too thanks.

I have had just best encouragement and critiques (from yourself of course and others) and being within this community....with some of the best insanely moving writing i have read anywhere, seriously....is very inspiring.

And yes I hope he would post his poem too to the comp.it can be pleasantly surprising how well ones poems are received as to how one judges them.

Thanks again A

You're very welcome, Andrew. Thank you so much for being a postivie light in DU, and for braving the classics! We deeply appreciate you.

This hurts my heart. I was telling a friend earlier, that poets are purveyors and prophets of meaning. To translate the quiet desperation of being, its vast unknowings, that we find ourselves within, in our fragile garb, possessed of an awareness that walks a razors edge between oblivion and ubiquity, nothing and everything, nowhere and everywhere, to capture that essence in a single scene, a sparse touch of detail and a voice that speaks without ego agenda, that is calm and present, is something so precious.

I recently RL'd a poem I read last year about Dementia which hit me hard:  https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/354083-collecting-data/

that was so in my mind when writing this, about who we are, what expectations we have about selves even when life says something so different and why the hell this should be. Just to capture a millisecond of that feeling...i dont know.

Thanks so much Daniel.

I was reading your conversation with Ahavati and kind of giggled to myself because I couldn't find one Fulton piece that I really understood, much less thought I could emulate. Yeats on the other hand was a bit easier for me.
I will have to read and reread your piece to gain an understanding, but I know it's magical. Good luck in the comp.

lol. Thanks Eerie, I really hope you can enter something for the comp.

I really do not think I was close to emulating her, particularly her metaphor.  I never tried to de-crypt her words, I do not think they were meant to be wholly understood. I just tried to get that vague feeling around it.

 I followed her form of course. I really saw her as poems a kind of 'witches spell' in her own fashion, in that it would only matter to her if she understands what she is saying, (an internal mumbling)  but when all those ingredients she adds in there are put together, they  work some overall 'magic' effect.

again, I hope you can produce something, I would so love to read it. I could never write like this a year ago and i consider you a real beautiful and commanding writer already. I send all my best :)

Thank you so much for that beautiful complement. I’ve only recently been paying attention to form and structure of my poems; I suppose I see it as “serious” writing. I do still throw words at a paper because I am thick with emotion and need to get it out, and sometimes that’s just messy (both the emotions and the poems). I find myself wondering more often if I should keep the messy tucked away, but for now, there will be both.
I am still cruising through Yeats to find what speaks to me, but will no doubt find “the one”. Fulton is not for me lol.

As us taffs say, this is mint. From image, presentation (can almost smell yellowed pages) to words, this is one of my favourite pieces of art I have encountered on here. The internet has changed much (some for good; some for bad) but it is criminal how the cyber screen seems to have replaced the physical book. Would rather nail my testicles to plank of wood that read kindle. Rob

A tough task indeed...but you have a truly masterful poem here N...reminded me of the first noble truth of Buddhism...life is full of disatisfaction...everything is so impermanent really.
🙏 Harry

Sorry that I never got around to commenting on this, nomoth. This is full-on in-your-face Fulton that does great justice to the inspiration poem. Having perused the abovely comments, your remark about the Witch's spell caught my attention. You are exactly right. She throws all these ingredients into a cauldron and it results in a delicious brew of an inner monologue. Each ingredient is a side that tells the story of box or any geometric shape that is the overall poem.

Goodluck in the judging!

Thank you Johnny.

appreciated as always.