Hrm. Well, here goes, I guess.
May. 27th, 2003 01:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
x_multiplemanI've got the first bit, kinda, for the poem for Professor Braddock. Everything up through the false cause-effect logic. I'm just stuck on the piece of talk and the adjective-noun thing. Have ideas for some of the rest of it but I'm trying to keep it in order.
In the branches of the tree there's a cathedral for the breeze
Glowing sunlight through green stained glass and the sermons of the bees
And the branches are pew benches with their sticky pads of sap.
After communion (gold-sweet honeycomb) I settle for a nap.
I dream of Grandpa Jessup cutting clouds through Germany
(In a storm a tree's a danger, not a cathedral, you see)
So I wake up to the green and gold and "Just a dream," I think.
(Thunder causes milk to sour; I don't want to call a jinx.)
"You have to be yourself, Jamie," but soon I'll be myselves
Once the cold hand of tomorrow empties out the leafy shelves.
Little Jumper doesn't know this yet; head pillowed on his knees
He lets his eyes fall shut again, goes flying with the bees.
The stony wind comes flying now, la belle air sans merci
And I hit the ground hard, shooting past the shrieking of the tree.
I wake up, sit up, choke back Grandpa's favorite Army oath:
Two roads may part now in a wood . . . but I can take them both.
It's supposed to be about the day I fell out of the tree and found out I was a mutant but I haven't gotten that far yet (that's what the prediction part is going to be.) And some of the lines were a lot like pulling teeth to write and they sound kind of random, I think.
If I edit this later when I come up with more stuff, and make it so people can tell what stuff got added when, does that count as showing the editing process?
(Edit, about 1:15 AM, which is gonna bite me in the morning but I couldn't sleep. Finished. Took me a while to come up with the non-English part and the allusion to another poem, but lucky for me Piotr posted all that Robert Frost stuff earlier.)
In the branches of the tree there's a cathedral for the breeze
Glowing sunlight through green stained glass and the sermons of the bees
And the branches are pew benches with their sticky pads of sap.
After communion (gold-sweet honeycomb) I settle for a nap.
I dream of Grandpa Jessup cutting clouds through Germany
(In a storm a tree's a danger, not a cathedral, you see)
So I wake up to the green and gold and "Just a dream," I think.
(Thunder causes milk to sour; I don't want to call a jinx.)
"You have to be yourself, Jamie," but soon I'll be myselves
Once the cold hand of tomorrow empties out the leafy shelves.
Little Jumper doesn't know this yet; head pillowed on his knees
He lets his eyes fall shut again, goes flying with the bees.
The stony wind comes flying now, la belle air sans merci
And I hit the ground hard, shooting past the shrieking of the tree.
I wake up, sit up, choke back Grandpa's favorite Army oath:
Two roads may part now in a wood . . . but I can take them both.
It's supposed to be about the day I fell out of the tree and found out I was a mutant but I haven't gotten that far yet (that's what the prediction part is going to be.) And some of the lines were a lot like pulling teeth to write and they sound kind of random, I think.
If I edit this later when I come up with more stuff, and make it so people can tell what stuff got added when, does that count as showing the editing process?
(Edit, about 1:15 AM, which is gonna bite me in the morning but I couldn't sleep. Finished. Took me a while to come up with the non-English part and the allusion to another poem, but lucky for me Piotr posted all that Robert Frost stuff earlier.)
no subject
Date: 2017-12-27 05:40 pm (UTC)May 27 2003, 12:40:26 UTC
Och, that's lovely! There's something pricking at the back of my mind, I feel I ought to be singing it and I almost remember the tune....
If you think of something specific you'd like for the piece of talk, I could come say it aloud to you so you can say you've heard it in dialect. *thinks* Playful trees? Or maybe that's not odd enough....
x_crowdofone
May 27 2003, 12:54:30 UTC
The first couple of lines kinda popped into my head and I managed to get them written down before they popped back out again. I'm not sure where the rhythm came from but once it got started it was a lot easier to keep going than change it around.
. . . And I never even thought of asking somebody to say something for the piece of talk. I've been racking my brain all day trying to remember something that would fit. You sure it's not cheating? ;) Now I have to figure out what a good line would be. Hm. Maybe getting my brain yanked around by Ms. Frost'll jog something loose.
x_rahne
May 28 2003, 10:11:07 UTC
Doesn't look as though you needed the help with talking. I like the full version.
I think Professor Braddock's going to be upset with me, though; I haven't thought of any changes to mine that still seem to fit.
And I picked up a little volume of Edgar Allan Poe in the evening. It gave me nightmares and a headful of jangled-up chanting. He's very disturbing, often, but I'm trying not to be talked out of the notion he might have been having fun with some of the word-sounds....
x_crowdofone
May 28 2003, 10:27:25 UTC COLLAPSE
Thanks. :)
I don't think I got all the instructions really, but I can't think of anything to change either. It sort of . . . settled in my head once it was finished, you know? But I'm talking to her this afternoon (hopefully without too much of a headache from class) and she'll probably point some things out.
Poe's creepy. I haven't read much more than "The Raven" but that was creepy enough for me--I like the way it sounds read out loud, though. He had a very good sense of rhythm. Which is probably part of why he's so creepy, the rhythm sort of crawls inside and squats.