Another Water Philosophy
I decided as a sort of counterpoint to my previous, more academicky consideration of Lao Zi, I'd submit this sonnet as well, as not merely a poetic reading of the water philosophy but a rendering in poetry. I'm not entirely sure what I mean by the following, but I guess poetry is better (as far as I'm concerned, anyway) when its intentions are neither obvious nor clear. Another sonnet:
I found myself drowning in a lake and,
unable to dive in and commit the daring
rescue, began to drink the lake dry—
enough to survive, at least. I found that
despite my thirst and the parching grip of
the hot sun, I couldn’t stop my drowning.
I bruised my arms in mauves whipping the water
into a foaming frenzy that beasts and seaweed
watched as it fled in terror from my hands;
but with time and sunshine my eyes and white foam
dissolved back into the ripples where
the white light was tickled into sparkling.
and so I asked the lake to comfort me
as it laid me down gently on the surface.
Just to add something, I wrote this today, in one go, as I usually do. The order of composition was basically the first two strophes, the last couplet, then the rest of the middle, so if it seems a bit wonky (and on a second read it does sound a bit clumsy), that may be why. I still think the (non-) point is sound, though.
EDIT: The following feels a little less wonky to me. I also removed some of the words that were obviously superfluous.
I found myself drowning in a lake when,
unable to dive in and commit the daring
rescue, I began to drink the lake dry—
enough to survive, at least. I found that
despite my thirst for the parching grip of
the hot sun, I couldn’t stop my drowning:
I’d bruised my arms in mauves whipping the water
into a foaming frenzy that beasts and seaweed
watched as it fled in terror from my hands;
but in time that desperate white foam
would dissolve back into the ripples where
the white light was tickled into sparkling.
so, I asked the lake to comfort me
as it laid me down gently on the surface.
12 Comments:
Isn't saying that the "point" of poetry is the sound a kind of clear intention?
I think that what you see as clumsiness in your sonnet could be resolved by finding alternate phrasings for the "and" clauses. I like the image of the beasts watching you whipping foam with your arms, mainly because it seems to me like it could actually happen. It isn't difficult to picture you in some beastly universe.
Oh, by the way, I started blogging again. But my blog still sucks, so I understand if you don't read it.
yes, i agree with your (non-)point of poetry. poetry gives the reader and the poet much more space for imagination, interpretation and therefore the pleasure of creation than academic statements. this is also why i'd rather write poetry though i am rather lame at it.
i like your poetic rendering of the water philosophy; the point here, as i see it, lies in the last couplet. who could help waving her arms around and burying herself deeper in water at the point of drowning? maybe only the dead, the superb swimmer or the daoist master could by laid on the SURFACE of the water.
I have to say the more I read this one, the more I don't like it. it would need a considerable amount of reworking as, I think Sharon is right about this, the "and" phrases make it feel as if rhythmically the poem is about to run on when, in fact, the phrase is cut short. The final couplet is still good, it's not clear whether the person is dead or finally relaxed enough to just float. Either way, you give in somehow.
Okay, I did go ahead and edit it; it's much better now.
Sorry Su, but can't "academic statements" also be at least a little imbued with "imagination" and certainly "interpretation"? Excepting the drivel I wrote this afternoon, which didn't even make sense to me.
Bill, you are right. it depends. I was just sick of the "bad academic statements" I had been reading and trying to write. I changed my mind reading about chaos theory this morning. %$%$%!! I was at this point five years ago! Only the devil knows where I have been all these years!
Who the hell is Bill?
Bill the Cat and thus by extension you.
As always, Sensei is right.
How can you brew up a party with me?!
I meant WITHOUT!
No, I think you were right the first time...
Well, get your ass back to Ann Arbor and you can come. Otherwise, joo gets to deal wit it.
As usual, the longer the comments page gets, the less each successive comment has to do with the post.
There is a world of difference between Garfield and Bill the Cat. Several worlds, in fact.
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