| + a kind of denial | Anca Anghel Novac [03.Apr.04 17:35] |
| "We're nothing but the ideas of an old man who wanted to live again and agian..." Something to think about... I've got your message and would dare to say that it is interesting the way you try to understand the world. I was wondering about the title. Why should a diffent kind of thinking be a denial ? Good poem indeed ! Note: "who wanted to live again and agian"- there is a typo | |
| = aren't we all? | Bethany Lerie [04.Apr.04 01:02] |
| this is an excellently different viewpoint; is it we the creations who are in denial? sometimes, I do believe it is so. I agree with Anca, I really enjoyed the last line! | |
| = About the idea of the poem | Anca Maria Morcovescu [15.Apr.04 15:14] |
| Oana, I was always (still am!!!) amazed how people try to blame God for their lives, for being what they are, for their mistakes, for their limitations. Indeed, we are limited when we are to speak of our earthly body, as you make reference to it in your poem: "and dress myself and go to school or church and sleep with the lights on and drink my coffee black and kill for eating and other things that make me human turn me in a whore of life and for life and against it." Yes, we are human, but we also have the alternative that goes beyond this human body. We are not only matter. Our smell is not matter, but our nose is; our sight is not matter, only our eyes are. Should I go on? I do not think so... I think you know what I mean to say. And then, I think there is a contradiction in the poem: "We're nothing but the ideas of an old man who wanted to live again and again during his eternal death." It is a nice image, like the whole poem, a different approach of the world, as the other readers said, but... This man, God in your poem (as I understand it) is either old, or dead. This is a little bit confusing. He cannot be both, because "old" designates a long period of time, but connected to life, while "death" speaks for itself; and, yet, he can be old and dead because we want to think so, we want to think that if we die, God dies; is that really so?? WE die every minute; we started dying the very next minute we were conceived, consuming our remaining life--which we like to call different things, like: childhood, adolescence, maturity, and so on; and we also live because we have the choice, because we have the freedom. He cannot relive his eternal death; you know why? Because he never Died. He just passed a border, from matter to non-matter, and vice versa. This will not happen in our case. What happens to us is what I have just said: we die every minute, so we are the ones who live our death every moment of our life. And do you know why we die? Because we only stick to our nose, our material eyes, failing to enjoy the sight, the breath, the non material gifts (I am not saying “things”, because these are not things) we have. You say "But who cares if God turned His obsessions in flesh and blood." Do you think that somebody who gave us freedom is still obsessed with us? I believe not. In this poem you have the choice to do the things you mention: "and dress myself and go to school or church and sleep with the lights on and drink my coffee black and kill for eating and other things that make me human turn me in a whore of life and for life and against it." What is the real point is do you really know why you do them? Did you really used your freedom and CHOOSE the things that are really worth doing? Or do you do them properly? Do you see only the material side of these things, or do you see beyond them? Beyond the fact that you have to go to school? or to church? If you choose to do these things, at least try to KNOW, believe they really mean something to your real self, and that they are not just a way of wasting your CHOICES. God let Adam and Eve free. He did not lock them in a cage to stop them from eating from the Tree. He let them FREE. And they CHOSE what to do. And after they ate from the Fruit, God gave them more freedom by letting them GO, leave the Garden of Eden. They had used their freedom from the Garden of Eden. More freedom was expecting them on the other side of the gates. And so they were again free. And the more freedom a man has, the more he is likely to waste his life, his choices, himself. A philosopher said: The opposite of the virtue is not sin, but freedom”. Oana, I admire your courage, but beware how you use your choices, your freedom. Be yourself, Anca | |
| = got me wrong | tonca oana [22.Jun.04 16:03] |
| That is poetry...is not confesion, I am not blaming...Do you think it is cofusig?How else do youwant it to be?Is not a pryer...maybe it isn't even about God...It's poetry...Not a realistic memorial(whatever you want to call it) novel I am sorry you feel that way... | |
| = Do not be sorry. No reason for it. | Anca Maria Morcovescu [01.Jul.04 12:21] |
| Oana, I am glad you replied to my thoughts. Do not be soory. Every reader might understand your poem differently. I just saw it the way you already know. Maybe somebody elese would agree with me, maybe not. You say your poem is "not a prayer...maybe it isn't even about God...It's poetry". Well, you might be right. Even so, every poem is about something,and in this case, the tone and the ideas showed in the poem lead me to the interpretation above. I see it that way and you do not have to feel sorry about it. Oana, every WORD is important. You have to be very careful how you pick up the words if you want to lead the reader to a certain target idea. Words have a meaning of their own, besides the new meanings the poet sometimes finds for them by placing them in the vecinity of other words. But, the most important meaning, for some readers, is the first one, the one you build on. The reader can see in a word within a poem something you have never thought about; it is, most of the times, a subjective interpretation of a poem. The poet has to be himself, indeed, and write what he /she feels. The reader will do the same when interpreting. Oana, there are poems that come to existence out of a game of words picked up at random, or not necessarily at random. This game is always dangerous. Do you know why? Because you never know what meaning, idea, message it might convey. I am not saying you wrote your poem in this manner. You know this better, because you are its creator. (I sometimes do this, and I am amazed of what ideas come out of it. So I know it is dangerous, and I try to stay away from this, becasue it might not say what I want it to say). But, it is very important to remember that words are very tricky and tracherous sometimes. We might think we are playing with them, when, in fact , they are playing with us. That is why we have to be careful with them and with us. Oana,I will come back again to read some other works of yours. Take care, | |
| = don't blame | Diana Pacuraru [04.Feb.05 00:28] |
| I like to see the Highway as a high state of bliss. Can you blame me if I do? :) | |