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Thread: Matt's "Some more of me poetry" Pam Ayres tribute thread (IFT)

  1. #1
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  2. #2
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    1) From a distance

    How could they know, back then, laying down this killer track, serious
    in their serious afros and too-wide lapels, the bass-player tight
    to the groove, the drummer all hi-hat and syncopated rhythms,
    the singer pouring his voice into the microphone, conjuring something

    indefinably special from the mediocre lyrics, and Mike at the mixing desk
    stroking the dials, putting a shimmer on the sound, and all of them intent
    on making this right, knowing they had something here, something real –
    how could that know that all these years later I would be listening,

    or almost listening, annoyed and on hold in a helpline queue, impatient
    to be connected to the broadband engineer who’d tell me that sorry,
    my broadband still wasn’t coming anytime soon. Also, this paperback
    here in front of me, this fat fantasy novel, no masterpiece maybe,

    but still, all those years of effort, the author wedding
    her word processor, grimacing through gone-cold coffees, honing the intricate rules
    of her fantasy universe and inventing runic languages, how could she know,
    as she pushed her cat off of the keyboard for what will have felt like

    the hundredth time, ploughing through her thirteenth draft, underlining
    typos, untangling knots in minor plot twists, or distracted
    by something happening on the street outside her window –
    how could she know that I would keep her book permanently on my desk

    beneath my computer monitor, raising it up to that sweet spot,
    marginally closer to eye-level than the two old house bricks
    I’d been using before.
    All lives are like this, I think, from a distance.
    moderator

  3. #3
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    Oh, thank ****. I seriously thought for a moment I was going to have to post irritant-memes in Watering Hole for 30 days.

    And Yay. I like reading your poetry. I also know that my parents have that book you so blithely image-cite. They keep asking to read my poetry. I have still not shown them any. I am listening and learning, O Ayres-Master.

    (I will return to fluff)
    Sarah

  4. #4
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    Love the idea, and the execution. Very insightful, and something for all of us to keep in mind as we pursue NaPo.

    BrianIs AtYou
    I think I think, therefore I might be.

  5. #5
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    What now?! Pam. THE Pam.... Our American cousins won’t know what a heinous crime you’re committing...



    Meanwhile - back to the poem: The longest one sentence poem in history. And what a killer ending.

    Lovely to be Po-ing with you again.
    Resigned

  6. #6
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    I just cackled with joy twice, once that you’re here, under the radar it felt... and secondly at the monologue of N. Achieving the honesty of your N is a goal of mine. Happy NaPo

  7. #7
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    I like how this works through encapsulating concrete moments in time, also looping time around through a series of possible events & potential narrators, with different solid anchor-points which link the moments (like the book, which links the author with the narrator, and the help-desk queue, linking the narrator with a moment in time). V post-mod. But the twist here is that there are no claims to fame from the makers of the music or the author (and the narrator is a linking figure until the end) - there's a sense that this is about mediocrity and the chance nature of things becoming 'known' or not, too. I like best how this bends time, though.

    Sarah

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    Ahahahahahahahahahaha! Ha! Fantasticly funny. Thank you
    Theoretically Mystical

  9. #9
    Sorella is offline Fun and felicitous PFFA patron
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    Matt, at last!

    I looove Pam Ayres -- and your poem is a classy start to NaPo indeed.

    Sorella

  10. #10
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    Another Pam fan here - we used to listen for her on Radio Four. This is a ramble worth following to its end, and I'm so glad you're finally here.

    I used to keep my wild flower field guide under my laptop - just the right size.

  11. #11
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    Classy. Pam would be proud. What's a meme?

  12. #12
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    killer serious serious too-wide syncopated indefinably mediocre
    real all these fat gone-cold intricate minor sweet
    A nice use of adjectives, not too many - just the right amount.

  13. #13
    M is offline Fun and felicitous PFFA patron
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    This is my first time reading your work. Very impressive! I love the contemplative nature, wondering -- did they know when they put all of their effort into this song, this novel, that this is where it would be years later? I especially appreciate the breaks here:

    how could she know that I would keep her book permanently on my desk

    beneath my computer monitor, raising it up to that sweet spot,


    Yes! A plot twist all of its own. I'm a total sucker for line breaks like this. Lead me to one assumption, shatter it with the next line. I very much look forward to more of your work.

  14. #14
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    Sarah, Brian, Neil, Ben, Gabrielle, Sorella, bop, Malinda, oldman & M

    Many thanks for popping by!

    I'm a little surprised by the out-flowing of love for Pam. Personally, I was primarily paying tribute to the title of her collection, which I think is excels in its accuracy. Still, I shall try to do her proud.

    Sarah, I didn't actually see your irritants in the Water Hole until last night, so I was a bit confused by your comment. I'm not sure they'd have worked though: I really liked the badgers. Wasn't intending this to be about mediocrity; that the song was pretty good (lyrics aside), which is rare for being on hold. More about how what we strive for, what's important to us ... isn't. From a distance.

    M, pleased to meet you!

    Matt
    Last edited by GreaterMandalaofUselessness; 04-02-2020 at 03:17 PM.
    moderator

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    2) Song on the radio

    In the garden next door the dog is barking a marathon
    at the marathon-barking dog in the garden
    after that. It’s enough to make me for wish a plague

    on all dogs. And in the next room, my flatmate,
    with too much time on his hands, has had his hands
    on his double bass for over an hour. Almost as long

    as the kids in the flat upstairs have been playing
    trampoline on my ceiling. To complete this soundscape,
    a song is playing over and over on the radio

    in my head. It’s Lennon, from his Plastic Ono days,
    and I like that album, but you know this kind of radio,
    it plays the chorus on repeat, or even just one line—

    or sometimes, as it’s doing today, a single word:
    I-e-i-solation



    -----------------------------------
    If you're looking for an ear-worm, here's the song.
    moderator

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