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Collaborative Poetry
Poetry can be quite subjective and in the final analysis, both writer and reader are complicit in its creation. The poetic experience can be somewhat likened to a Gestalt shift, but able to allow a multitude of perceptions and interpretations.
Below is an actual conversation that took place between two people when an author sent a draft of the following poem to an individual for feedback. Well, let's just say the ensuing 'conversation' turned out to be somewhat poetic.
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No More Time
No more time for mortal games
Life's too serious to be ashamed
Forget the riddles and the clues
The hues are bright
It's you for who
Join our forces
Collect names
A time for reckon
No more games
No more leisurely debates about states
No more oppression
No more recession
No more either/or
No more poor
Know what's in store
Cause it's the same
For those who rule, who aim and maim
The universe is ready
No more games
No time to love and breakup
To shatter hearts and makeup
To fight and confront plights
To wrangle and rant
To seethe and plant
No time to ruminate in memories of little feet
Wet upon green dewy grass or dry n' warm soft sand
No time to treasure tiny smiles or hold an old hand
No time for tomorrows and dreams that are grand
No time to build a better place n' land…
Begin again
The stars' cohesive clink
No sense to think
Before we glint
A natural flow of communal glow
Like rain
Here not to wow or put on a show
No more time for game.
The Individual’s Response:
What inspired you to this end?
Or, shall I find the answer within.
I find delight in your ebb and flow
But enlightenment?
Below is an actual conversation that took place between two people when an author sent a draft of the following poem to an individual for feedback. Well, let's just say the ensuing 'conversation' turned out to be somewhat poetic.
----------------------------------
No More Time
No more time for mortal games
Life's too serious to be ashamed
Forget the riddles and the clues
The hues are bright
It's you for who
Join our forces
Collect names
A time for reckon
No more games
No more leisurely debates about states
No more oppression
No more recession
No more either/or
No more poor
Know what's in store
Cause it's the same
For those who rule, who aim and maim
The universe is ready
No more games
No time to love and breakup
To shatter hearts and makeup
To fight and confront plights
To wrangle and rant
To seethe and plant
No time to ruminate in memories of little feet
Wet upon green dewy grass or dry n' warm soft sand
No time to treasure tiny smiles or hold an old hand
No time for tomorrows and dreams that are grand
No time to build a better place n' land…
Begin again
The stars' cohesive clink
No sense to think
Before we glint
A natural flow of communal glow
Like rain
Here not to wow or put on a show
No more time for game.
The Individual’s Response:
What inspired you to this end?
Or, shall I find the answer within.
I find delight in your ebb and flow
But enlightenment?
No.
Not that it's not there,
So far a field you are, that the rest don't dare.
You must shout from that distance for us to hear.
Let clarity in black and white replace colorful metaphor
Or come close to my intellect
Then you may whisper sweet nothings.
The Author's Reply to the Reponse:
Twas the inevitable that stirred me
Yes! Look inside and you will see
But how can thee delight in my ebb and flow
Yet turn thine eye to what I show?
I see,
Not that it's not there,
So far a field you are, that the rest don't dare.
You must shout from that distance for us to hear.
Let clarity in black and white replace colorful metaphor
Or come close to my intellect
Then you may whisper sweet nothings.
The Author's Reply to the Reponse:
Twas the inevitable that stirred me
Yes! Look inside and you will see
But how can thee delight in my ebb and flow
Yet turn thine eye to what I show?
I see,
For glee, thy prefer simplicity
Then for all I shout, thou shan’t hear me.
So for all to see, from skies to fields
I draw rainbows of imagery
Plus, it makes no sense to whisper sweet nothings
For thou choose deaf over intellect.
Then for all I shout, thou shan’t hear me.
So for all to see, from skies to fields
I draw rainbows of imagery
Plus, it makes no sense to whisper sweet nothings
For thou choose deaf over intellect.
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