Neil Hester

All poems © Neil Hester unless otherwritten

Name:
Location: North Carolina, United States

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

A Poem, Some Movies...

Mmkay~ First, a run of links (common procedure): Some Cheesy, Fun Films I Like from Jess (which runs in a bit with Great Notes on Greatness); The Practicalities of Critique and Criticism 5 from Art; and MFAs & MBAs = BS from Anthony. Also, welcome Michael P.F. van der Galiën to the blogroll *pulls out the sham-pa-gin*~

In the spirit of cheesy, fun films, here's a short list of films I like that are certainly not great (or even good) artistically:

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Paulie: Very witty dialogue; parrots are cool.

The Matrix Trilogy: The fight sequences get me every time (and the first one is actually a pretty good sci-fi). Also, I have a strange liking for Keanu Reeves; indifference to almost everything is the perfect role for him!

Donkey Kong Country- Legend of the Crystal Coconut: Hit me now; then again, it's got some bizarre and laughable animation, and some hilarious dialogue and musical numbers.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle movies: Turtles or parrots... turtles or parrots? Good, silly fun.

Aristocats: Jazz cats are cool. Especially Thomas O'Malley; *that* is one slick cat.

~~~~~~~

I could probably go on for a few more, but you get the picture. I'm not a big moviewatcher, though, so my choices are a bit limited. Now, to supplement this post, here's a new poem that I *probably* won't edit anymore:

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Our Meadow

Sapphire flowers, blue-green bright
Blanket, and blanket-clouds reign
Grey over damp petals. Delight
is too weak a word for such a sight!
I will go there again.

In the center: a gazebo, a wishing well,
Three benches, wrought with graceful wood
And honest stone. And some small spell
Bid a fateful coin into the faerie cell.
I will go again; I should.

The glory of the mighty afternoon
Knelt below elated, pallid lace;
And, rapt with perfect swoon,
Adorned her with an early sapphire moon.
—I cannot stand this place!

With all my love, with all my tenderness and grace
I cannot write myself into this perfect place!
Though I’ve wept, and though I’ve tried
And tried again, my longing can’t conduct
This happy hell; for I cannot construct
My lovely bride, my lovely bride
Who truly was– and died.

By Neil Hester

~~~~~~~

I'll be sure to remember the April entry this time around; take care 'til next,

~LAEvanesce

Thursday, March 22, 2007

O Come Emanuel

James Emanuel- heard of him? If you haven't (which is likely), you've missed out. Brought to my attention by this Cosmoetica article, he has great skill in both free and formal verse; yet, he is neglected and has not received his due in the least. To give a couple selections:

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Experience

"To all things great and glorious":
his wine moved to his lips.
"There are so few," she answered;
her brim touched his fingertips.

They stared the fire into an ash;
their glasses bent their hands
while they, enchanted wistfully,
re-travelled many lands.

~~~~~

For The 4th Grade, Prospect School: How I Became A Poet

My kite broke loose,
took all my string
and backed into the sun.
I followed far as I could go
and high as I could run.

My special top went spinning
down the gutter, down the drain.
I heard it gurgling sideways,
saw it grinning in the rain,
my string wrapped around it
while I reached for it in vain.

My dog got thin and went away.
He took his leash- the wrapping string
that we pretended was a rope-
and went as far as he could hope
to find the sickbed where I lay.

And now, when I remember strings
and how they bind together things,
and how they stretch (like reach and run),
and hold (like hope) and give (like sun),
I tie together things I know
and wind up with a poem to show

By James Emanuel

~~~~~~~

Jessica also did a post on Emanuel, and Omniversica did a show featuring him. I'd like to get a copy of his Collected Poems, but the checks at Amazon haven't yielded anything yet~ I ought to get a hold of one eventually, though.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emanuel
Shall come to thee, oh France.


...Not quite the same, is it?

Take Care,
~LAEvanesce

Thursday, March 15, 2007

Okay, So I Lied

"Anyhow, Spring Break's next week, so expect some more elaborate entries and a couple new poems;" and yet, here I am, an entire week later and not an entry inbetween. Though I have written some poetry...

First, some links (also: "How To Increase the Content of Your Post and Help Your Friends' Attention By Featuring Other People" [HTICYPHYFABFOP]): From Jess Schneider, The Dentist (I rather enjoyed it) and Bad Published Writer Photos; from Art Durkee, Erotica vs. Pornography; from AnoNick, Conservapedia (ouch); and Anthony Zanetti's Art vs. Pornography (I might do a bit on this sometime, but Art, along with Anthony, cover it pretty well. Maybe I'll put together a quiz/poll to gather some data [and, I'll get to go find skanky borderline erotica/porn pictures! All right!]) and Screw the Lighthouse (someone should do a "Screw the White House" bit... okay, corny, I know). Whew.

LAEvaside: "FABFOP". Fab fop. Fa... heh. [/laevaside]

Okay, so I said something about a poem. However, the one I was going to post this time I will likely expand upon, so, to push a sort of theme, here are a few light poems that really throw around the big words:

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Ode to Spot

Felis Cattus is your taxonomic nomenclature,
an endothermic quadruped, carnivorous by nature.
Your visual, olfactory and auditory senses
contribute to your hunting skills, and natural defenses.

I find myself intrigued by your subvocal oscillations,
a singular development of cat communications
that obviates your basic hedonistic predilection
for a rhythmic stroking of your fur, to demonstrate affection.

A tail is quite essential for your acrobatic talents;
you would not be so agile if you lacked its counterbalance.
And when not being utilized to aide in locomotion,
it often serves to illustrate the state of your emotion.

O Spot, the complex levels of behaviour you display
connote a fairly well-developed cognitive array.
And though you are not sentient, Spot, and do not comprehend,
I nonetheless consider you a true and valued friend.

By Data, "Schisms" (Star Trek)

(Credits to Jeff for the find, as well as a correction)

~~~~~

I Didn’t Understand That

Inarticulation is a great abomination
When what could be christened personal phraseology
Surrenders to a jargonistic, hideous cacophony.
Have mercy on the piteous, discordant works, you say?
I fear that any clemency may weaken my conveyance
And give way to the emergence of the disharmonic they.

By Neil Hester

~~~~~

If You're Anxious For to Shine in the High Aesthetic Line

~~~~~

Major-General's Song

(Credits to Jeff [the magnificent])

~~~~~~~

If anyone knows of other such poems, do tell; I'll edit it in and give you credit for the find. Take care,

~LAEvanesce

Thursday, March 08, 2007

March~

As said, I now give you... March! Unfortunately, I forgot to do this at the beginning of the month, but it shall be done. Now, to look a little March trivia:

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  • March begins with the sun in the sign of Pisces and ends in the sign of Aries.
  • International Women's Day occurs March 8.
  • March begins on the same day of the week as February, excepting leap years, and as November every year.
  • There is an adage that March "comes in like a lion, but goes out like a lamb", referring to the weather that some regions experience during the month. This saying is meant to demonstrate the unpredictable weather which often occurs as the seasons change.
  • March's birth flower is the jonquil.
  • In ancient Rome, March was called Martius, so named after Mars, the Roman god of war.
~~~~~~~

...And now, the couplet:

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Marchlam

March in like a lion, March out like a lamb;
March starts with a fish and ends with a ram.

~~~~~~~

That took all of two/three minutes ~_^ Hope you paid attention to the jazz above~ Anyhow, Spring Break's next week, so expect some more elaborate entries and a couple new poems; take care 'til next,

~LAEvanesce

Sunday, March 04, 2007

A Reflection on "A Reflection on..."

First, a few links and bits; A Writer's Life and Women Who Get PMS (the more useful one, at least for guys; be enlightened!); Does the Audience Matter? 4; and Banning Wikipedia as a Research Source (an appropriate step). Also, I realize that I missed the March "month" entry; that will be next entry. This week has been saturated with orchestral activity, and the task simply slipped my mind. Either that, or I think February has 31 days. Ha!

Now, "A Reflection on Conversing Mirrors". I'd like to look at this poem twice, in its first (and rather old) draft and its final draft:

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A Reflection on Conversing Mirrors

Conversing mirrors are upon themselves,
Intangible glass within intangible glass,
Endless discussion of meaningless nothings
Posing as distant untouchable somethings.
All encompassed multiply greatly
Like incomplete lies, defining infinity,
A false parade of endlessness.
Perfect, instant forgery, seen without substance,
Like dreams that reflect the dreamer,
the mirror reflects the mirror.

By Neil Hester

~~~~~~~

Bad, terrible, awful poem. Clunky rhythm, way too much wordy abstract stuff going on. Later on, I read this while sifting through my work, and thought, "It's a good concept, actually; it's just poorly wrought". I scrapped everything but the first two lines and the title, wrote from scratch besides that, omitted the first line later and changed up a couple wordings after receiving critique from Jessica Schneider, and...

~~~

A Reflection on Conversing Mirrors

Intangible glass in tangible glass. They stand
And talk of love which we only touch
The beginning of, and of such
We cannot hope to see the end.

Inbetween, the doppelgangers
Grace their crystal-set creators,
Each as real as next, each
Farther off, smaller
Than that before,
Until there is
none.

I dreamt last night
I almost touched
The end,
but
I

By Neil Hester

~~~~~~~

Now it's a rather strong poem. Very little to none as far as superfluous words go, and a good shape and hanging ending. Thing is, if I had just looked to rework the first draft piece by piece, it would have taken a while to reach these sorts of results (and the style would probably have to change anyhow). I left out one draft of this poem; it only had three. Sometimes it's best to just scrap the whole blessed thing and salvage the concept, plus a few phrases/lines here and there. Don't get attached; if it's really bad, it'd probably be more effective to trash and rewrite most of it, or, in cases of prolixity, merely cutting extraneous words, lines, even stanzas from the poem, then splicing together the rest with a little shuffle'n'weld, a la This Old Poem.

"Shuffle'n'weld"... that's a strange phrase.

Take Care,
~LAEvanesce