Untold Units of Uselessness

[GreaterMandalaofUselessness]

If you were the last person on earth, I would.
But I’d want it understood
that no one else could know.

Perhaps our love would grow?
I’d promise to be true,
and see no one else but you.

We’d have our very own place.
And if you ever needed some space,
there’d be plenty to go round.

And if one day we found
that you were expecting,
you wouldn’t find me objecting.

For what it’s worth,
I’d quite like to repopulate the earth.
Except for a few taboos,

what would we have to lose?

[Revs]

GMoU,

This is sweet and tender, with some subtle irony that I caught on to after a few reads. But I'd like to stick your own earlier comment on you now---isn't this more prose than poetry? It reads like persuasion, rather than imagery.

[GreaterMandalaofUselessness]

Hey Revs,

Glad you liked this one. I like that you found it sweet and tender! You may not be the familiar with the saying - along the lines of: "I wouldn't have you, even if you were the last person on earth", to which the first line of this poem refers.

Is this prose? I don't have a good answer to you except, I guess, that this comedy where the rules are (maybe) different. And of course, once one gets to a level of virtuosity such as mine one is no longer bound by the same rules as everyone else!

Part of me wants to say, well of course this is poetry, it rhymes! I don't know if you saw my last poem Starting to Stalk (I posted two a few hours apart)? Well, that's one's absolutely definitely poetry because it rhymes and has metre. What more does one need?

best,

GMoU

[5th column]

I was happy up until the taboos which got me wondering who she is? To use a word Rachel likes - possibly 'icky'

[GreaterMandalaofUselessness]

Hey 5th,

The final gag may have been too subtle. She's no relation to him. The central conceit here is that there's only him and her left on the planet. So how could they repopulate it? They can have kids, no problems there, but then what ... ? The last line then has a double meaning. So what would they have to lose in order to repopulate? They would have to lose the taboos ...

Of course, the best jokes are the ones the don't need explaining...

And actually, I think the ending takes it off at a bit of a tangent to where it was going, but I got a bit stuck for an ending, so what can you do? You look for the traditional incest gag exit strategy ...

[5th column]

I had spotted the joke on the way to the end but was in such a state of raised-eyebrowedness I got confused

[GreaterMandalaofUselessness]

A prototype in platinum,
the metric movement’s treasure,
the standard metre stands alone:
a measure without measure.

The standard metre has no length,
so Wittgenstein decreed,
it is the source of metre-ness;
Saul Kripke disagreed.

A once enthusiastic youth
attending university,
I pondered questions such as this,
excited by philosophy.

But nowadays the metre’s weighed
against the speed of light,
and it no longer bothers me
which one of them was right.
.
.
.
To save you the time, should you be interested:
The standard/prototype metre
A summary of Wittgenstein and Kripke's dispute

[nuadhe]

Bravo! This is a very funny piece, and I liked it quite a bit (once I googled Wittegenstein and Kripke). I especially liked your clever word play-- the last two lines of S1 had me giggling. You're a master at meter as well; this rolled quite well off my tongue, and also inadvertantly taught me how to pronounce "Kripke." Thanks for sharing this one here.

[5th column]

Perhaps the neatest / tidiest poem so far this Sevens. GMoU is the new Dunc........

[kristalynn]

I really like the last one. It's fun to read. Great job with the meter, which I am afraid to try.

[Revs]

GMoU,

Nowadays your work is killing my back---got to cart some tomes.

I like the sound and rhyme and the witty word play in this. I will get back later with comments on the meaning. Bravo, I feel inspired to try some metre too.

[Ted Ten]

Hi, I'm glad I found time to pull up your thread. You write well, and entertainingly so. Countrysidal has some awesome lines, and I like the almost surreal landscape being described in S.1 -- large trees with small shadows, clouds only wispy, and N. "overflowed / with lists of things to say". Very nice. Then S.2 has the excellent: "the trees are small again; / the birds are pecking broken songs . . ." I think the first three lines of How Stalking Starts are classic. Thereafter I was reminded of May Oliver's discussion the rhymes of Bereft (Frost) and how it wasn't hit the two and scamper on, but slog with three, then four. Anyway, it worked for me. Of course the Post-Apocalyptic Love Song raised some matters, at first humorous, then, well. . . incestuous. As to the dispute, Wittgenstein's tossed off remark is miles beyond the Kripke "analysis", and it can have serious implications for our craft. Or not. I'll be back.

[GreaterMandalaofUselessness]

Thanks everyone for stopping by,

Nuadhe: "master at metre" is a bit strong, but did my ego no end of good. I wanted to use this Sevens to try and get my metre going, so to speak.

5th, I'll take that as compliment

pacabel, thanks. You should give metre ago. I found it very slow and clunky work to begin with, very much like trying to do a crossword puzzle, but over time I'm starting to get my ear in (still that definite crossword puzzle element though!).

Revs, thanks, and I definitely look forward to seeing some metre from you.

Ted, glad you stopped by, thanks for all the kind words and I'm pleased you've been entertained.

Well, today I fancied a rest from iambic metre and light verse, so today I though I have a try at alliterative accentual verse, anglo-saxon style; hopefully I've understood the instructions ...

[GreaterMandalaofUselessness]

My son's asleep.
..........He stirs and turns.
Awake and wistful,
..........I watch his face.
Then shadows shift
..........and show me how
this emerging man,
..........this mystery child,
will someday stand,
..........and stare right back,
and call his challenge,
..........and claim his place,
and make his move:
..........It must be so.
The ancient instincts
..........of apes like us,
the feel of the forest,
..........the fettered path,
calls us to the clearing:
..........It will come to pass.
.
.
.
I found the rules of this Old English form on Wikipedia. Basically, four beats/stresses per line, the first three alliterate, the fourth (generally) doesn't. The line is split into two pairs of beats divided by a pause (caesura). I've broken each line in two to accentuate the caesura, following the example of Richard Wilbur given on Wikipedia.

p.s. I'm really not liking 'ape-child' as a title, gonna change it soon when I can think of something better!

[nuadhe]

I'm going to let someone who is way more articulate in poetic forms (which shouldn't be hard to find as I'm appallingly ignorant on that score) comment on the meter in this one, GMoU. I do like the basic idea behind this poem, though. I have to agree with you on the title-- it keeps making me think of Tarzan, which I'm pretty sure you aren't going for here, though when the line about how the son would "call his challenge" had me wondering. Anyway, It's an interesting foray into a form I'm unfamiliar with-- thanks for the chance to do some exploring.

Best,

nuadhe