[stylist] For what it's worth: Poetic prose post

Tue May 6 19:17:40 UTC 2014

We all have our unique styles and voices. It's what distinguishes our
writing. And readers have a broad spectrum of interest, and not
everything will appeal to every reader. Nothing wrong with this, grin.

Bridgit

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Barbara
HAMMEL
Sent: Monday, May 05, 2014 9:03 PM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: Re: [stylist] For what it's worth: Poetic prose post

During this bit of conversation I have come to realize something. I am a
very concrete thinker, hence the reason why I don't understand Bill's
poetry because he is by no means a poor writer. My question is, is it
possible to learn how to understand allusions and metaphors and
symbolism. Well, I do get allusions, but symbolism is why I don't
appreciate many poems, old or new. I passed up all those choices for
poems in my poetry class because I just don't get it. Maybe if I could
grasp symbolism it might add something to my writing. Unlike you, I get
right to the point and have no problem exposing my bare emotions that
way. But, your symbolism works very well for you and your imagery -- and
Chris's is something I sure wish could master. Barbara

Sent from my iPhone

> On May 5, 2014, at 5:03 PM, "Bridgit Pollpeter" 
> <bpollpeter at hotmail.com> wrote:
> 
> I guess I assume the knowledge of some religious symbolism, forgetting

> not everyone is familiar with it. I use the crown of thorns like Jesus

> wore, the wound in the side Jesus was given while on the cross, I 
> refer to my body as a vessal, an idea found in most religions, the 
> earth requiring blood sacrifice as found in many past pagan cultures, 
> a reference to Eden. I use these concepts and images to act as 
> metaphors for my situation.
> 
> Bridgit
> 
> -----Original Message-----
> From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Barbara

> Hammel
> Sent: Monday, May 05, 2014 4:00 PM
> To: Writer's Division Mailing List
> Subject: Re: [stylist] For what it's worth: Poetic prose post
> 
> 
> And, for what it's worth, I got none of the symbolism.  That part went

> over my head until your explanation.  I just understood the piece for 
> what it
> 
> was.
> Barbara
> 
> 
> 
> 
> Writing free verse is like playing tennis with the net down.--Robert 
> Frost -----Original Message-----
> From: Barbara Hammel
> Sent: Monday, May 05, 2014 3:56 PM
> To: Writer's Division Mailing List
> Subject: Re: [stylist] For what it's worth: Poetic prose post
> 
> Now, I got this one right away, even before I read your description. 
> You are vague, but not too vague.  Yet in some respects you spelled it

> out clearly. Barbara
> 
> 
> 
> Writing free verse is like playing tennis with the net down.--Robert 
> Frost -----Original Message-----
> From: Bridgit Pollpeter
> Sent: Monday, May 05, 2014 3:01 PM
> To: 'Writer's Division Mailing List'
> Subject: [stylist] For what it's worth: Poetic prose post
> 
> Wrote this a while ago. I actually forgot about it, but thought I 
> would share it with you lot. I see it kind of, sort of being in the 
> vein of Bill's and Chris's pieces, dealing with the earth and life in 
> their own ways. Spoiler alert: Will explain it's intent afterwards for

> those who want it, smile.
> 
> 
> Sacrifice
> 
> Holding our breath, we plunge into the darkness. Suspended, heartbeats

> bruising our soul, we are nailed to this action. The horizon is 
> vertical and pale, divulging no secrets. We must wait, fettered to 
> time.
> 
> Signs of relief speak a secret. They whisper promises swelling our 
> hearts. We're chambers unable to contain this jubilee, and yet we must

> wait. Secrets only told by touch. Our hands, our lips, our bodies 
> shout in unison; a long awaited chorus.
> 
> Sickness molds me into a vessel. I rejoice in the waves of nausea. 
> Swirling dizziness is a precious gift. The tender, sore spots cause a 
> smile to spread. My body radiates the secret. We count the weeks in 
> silence, scared to commit this joy to words.
> 
> Exhaustion weighs me down. A fuzzy, haze incapsulates me. Ross's warm 
> hand strokes my back as the world sinks into the depths of my slow, 
> steady breathing. I surrender to my captor. Our countdown almost to an

> end, I revel in this slumber to strong to avoid.
> 
> Colliding with reality, the secret has changed. Held safe, warmth is 
> love , but a crack breathes this secret back into the ether. Wetness 
> is the kiss of betrayal. Eden's tranquility soiled by rebellion. A 
> blood sacrifice is required.
> 
> Wounds scabbed over threaten to release a payment. Circle of thorns to

> clarify this sacrifice. Like a wound in the side, blood pours this 
> secret from my vessel.
> 
> Author's note: I would consider this poetic prose, meaning it has a 
> poetic lyricism about it, but is structured as prose. It does not hold

> to any poetic forms. This is nonfiction, though very much an internal 
> dialogue with hints of scenes, or actions. It's about the joy of 
> finding out you're pregnant but afraid to be overly joyful about it. 
> In the end, there's a miscarriage, the sacrifice required. I briefly 
> use some pagan and Christian symbolism. This is a much more emotive 
> piece. I see it loosely relating to the archeology thread as blood is 
> required as a sacrifice to the earth, that blood is needed for life, 
> and I was called upon to make that sacrifice, hence some of the pagan 
> symbolism, smile. It also has strong allusions to Christian symbolism 
> too, though Christian and pagan symbolism agree a lot more than most 
> want to admit, grin.
> 
> Bridgit P
> 
> 
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