Tag: writing in the raw

Oct 12 2007

writing in the raw: where IS melvin?

i don’t have much tonight. i thought i’d write about writing on the blogs. like how to structure these essays or diaries. how to make them work better. but suddenly, i don’t want to anymore. I want to jam about Jay Elias’s essay, Of Politics and People

Many of you may wonder why I have been so dogged with my “Quotes for Discussion” posts over the last year.  I usually offer them up without context or commentary, and they are tangential to the point of the sites where I post them at best.  Further, few people, including few of you, bother to read them or discuss them.  And even more, sometimes the quotes, and my purpose in posting them, is very hard to gather.  So, I’ll tell you why.

I post those quotes to remind us about people, and to try to get people to think about them, often in a different way than usual for politics.  Because it is easy to speak of political policy and strategy without thinking about these things, about the crucial role that people will have in them.

It is my belief that most political programs and ideas fail because they are not conceived or implemented with people in mind.

emphasis mine (and also a bit out of order of the original)

And I want to go on about Delivery in jessical’s Pony Party: Oh Superman, In a Box.

Oct 05 2007

writing in the raw: the power of one

Horror happens every day… and it can shrivel your very soul. This is dedicated to those among us defying the horror.

Sep 28 2007

Writing in the Raw

pfiore8 asked me to take her place this week for Writing in the Raw.  So here are some of my thoughts on poetry and a few suggestions for writing quick sketches followed by poems when I tried the exercises.

I was listening to the new American Poet Laureate, Charles Simic, last night on The News Hour as he was interviewed by Jeffery Brown and he had some interesting commentary on poetry and the writers of such.  I like to collect some of the better quotes of poets trying to explain their craft and what it means to them and society in general.  No one quote ever fits all possibilities of poetry, but there are several that resonate with me:

Poetry is just the evidence of life.  If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.  ~Leonard Cohen

Poetry is what gets lost in translation.  ~Robert Frost

Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes.  ~Carl Sandburg

The poem is the point at which our strength gave out.  ~Richard Rosen

Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason.  ~Novalis

Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.  ~Carl Sandburg

Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.  ~Thomas Gray

Sep 21 2007

writing in the raw: now

Turn it up a little louder… because here i am

i’m not going to explain anything to you … why explain it???

i’ll seduce you with wanting to know more… and let you figure it out on your own

Sep 21 2007

writing in the raw: harry the dirty dog

First, second, and third grade. We lived in an apartment and I shared a bedroom with my two sisters. The school yard was behind us and there was a hill, smooth and worn as the spot on poppy’s leg, where his hair was gone. And to the right as you went up the hill were the woods.

One of my goals in life at 7 or 8 or 9 was to ride a HORSE. Simple. Get on and take off. Not having a horse, I used to be one, in the school yard. Snorting, pawing the dirt, galloping and then running, and trying to run so fast that I’d gather up everything I had to break through the very skin holding me in…

If we weren’t in the school yard, we’d be in the wood. The trees would take us in, sharing their shadow and the sunlight. We’d play hide and seek, look for pieces of glass from discarded beer bottles, pick up rocks, and use sticks as swords.

Sep 18 2007

writing in the raw: disruption

disruption. the black bear in your back yard. the canada geese on the golf course. millions of iraqis sitting on the world’s second largest oil reserve. the spider crawling across your wall. the neighbor blowing his leaves for an ENTIRE afternoon.

Sep 14 2007

writing in the raw: the touch

I’m listening to a musician, new to me. Sam Prekop… heard his music playing as i passed by a small shop. i walked in and asked… who is that. Sam Prekop. Oh.

So now i’m listening to Who’s Your New Professor. I love it. I love the acoustic guitar. And the acoustic piano. The tone… the depth of the music. And listening, i hear the electric elements there too. but it is the acoustic parts that are warmest, most intimate.

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