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 | Blogs > gowerboy > thoughtsfromtheedge > spoor |
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in the last corner intimate like the soul hidden but not hiding an animal desire more terrible than loss |
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 5/14/2008 3:06 am |
what a gem you are sparkling brightly nioce post thanks for reading and as per Dave Allen "May your God go with you"
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5/14/2008 3:16 am |
Lost your Marmite jar again, mate? MM actually mentioned you when we were in Singers and talking about the pros and cons of Marmite, Vegemite and Bovril. In the immortal words from 6th Sense ... I see stupid people.
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5/14/2008 3:38 am |
I don't get the title. But I really like the poem. Peace .. elaine67
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5/14/2008 4:42 am |
Is this after losing at canasta, sonnyboy? Edna Jones (And yes, we did mention you in the same breath as Marmite, but we'd never accuse you of having Marmite breath) I'm dyslexic. I scream Ho Dog instead of Oh God in the throes of passion.
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5/14/2008 4:55 am |
 Never take life seriously. No one ever gets out alive anyway.
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5/14/2008 4:57 am |
I'm touched by this but with a sense of mystery as to what has moved me. Poetry, leaving you in most cases, to deduct through your own associations and not necessarily that of the writer.
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5/14/2008 5:48 am |
Humm, very deep. Are you hiding your intimate soul?
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5/14/2008 7:33 am |
what a gem you are sparkling brightly nioce post I remember why it's so nice to have you around again now.
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5/14/2008 7:37 am |
Lost your Marmite jar again, mate? MM actually mentioned you when we were in Singers and talking about the pros and cons of Marmite, Vegemite and Bovril. cannot be compared against the vegetative qualities of them others. Now, Vegemite, while bewilderingly popular amongst yer Antipodeans, is usually judged too smooth and bland for the discerning palate. Marmite is king. (I hope the conversation picked up again quickly)
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5/14/2008 7:40 am |
I don't get the title. But I really like the poem. From the Afrikaans, dontchaknow.
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5/14/2008 7:43 am |
Is this after losing at canasta, sonnyboy? Edna Jones (And yes, we did mention you in the same breath as Marmite, but we'd never accuse you of having Marmite breath) Have you read "When I'm An Old Woman, I Shall Wear Purple" by Jenny Joseph?
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5/14/2008 7:43 am |
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5/14/2008 7:51 am |
I'm touched by this but with a sense of mystery as to what has moved me. Poetry, leaving you in most cases, to deduct through your own associations and not necessarily that of the writer. It came out of reading some poems by Miguel Hernandez. He was a poet born not too far from here, in Orihuela. He wrote about the land and blood and passion, often in the local dialect. He was a Republican and disappeared in 1942, probably shot and buried in a shallow grave by some of Franco's boys. Reading poetry in another language is difficult, but sometimes that further remove leaves you open to even stronger impressions than usual (if that makes any sense).
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5/14/2008 7:51 am |
Humm, very deep. Are you hiding your intimate soul?
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5/14/2008 8:29 am |
Not that there's anything wrong with Marmite breath, of course. Have you read "When I'm An Old Woman, I Shall Wear Purple" by Jenny Joseph? I already gobble up samples in shops--last time it happened was at the Maxim's counter at Matsusakaya while we were in Tokyo a few years back. They were giving out free chocolates, so of course I had to grab as many as I could. Here's hoping they've forgotten what I look like by now. I'm dyslexic. I scream Ho Dog instead of Oh God in the throes of passion.
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5/14/2008 9:44 am |
Aren't we all?
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5/14/2008 11:28 am |
I have, indeed. WHF, though, admitted to wearing purple during her younger Goth days. I already gobble up samples in shops--last time it happened was at the Maxim's counter at Matsusakaya while we were in Tokyo a few years back. They were giving out free chocolates, so of course I had to grab as many as I could. Here's hoping they've forgotten what I look like by now. Underneath it read: Do Not Feed. (WTF was a Goth? Oh, that's priceless...stop me laughing, she has swords...)
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5/14/2008 11:34 am |
Of course we are...at least until the right person comes along to share it with.... have you found yours yet? always a part of you that remains separate, in the corner.
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 5/14/2008 12:04 pm |
what can be more terrible than loss  jealousy?
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5/14/2008 12:30 pm |
Oh, you tease. I remember why it's so nice to have you around again now.  thanks for reading and as per Dave Allen "May your God go with you"
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5/14/2008 12:58 pm |
Thwaps Gower with Hakim. Oy, I still wear purple. It is my second fave colour ... on some days my fave even. And Last I checked am still younger than you two.  And re Goth, hey, I was an art student. It is mandatory to do the Goth thing at least once. I was once also a biker chick. The only one on the team who was. Double Stop laffin', Gower! In the immortal words from 6th Sense ... I see stupid people.
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5/14/2008 6:16 pm |
Thwaps Gower with Hakim. Oy, I still wear purple. It is my second fave colour ... on some days my fave even. And Last I checked am still younger than you two. And re Goth, hey, I was an art student. It is mandatory to do the Goth thing at least once. I was once also a biker chick. The only one on the team who was. Double Stop laffin', Gower!  THAT woke me up big time ROFLMAO! I got visuals of you with tattoos wearing leather now LOL! I'm dyslexic. I scream Ho Dog instead of Oh God in the throes of passion.
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5/14/2008 10:11 pm |
No tats but definitely lots of leather and denim. Was the only stewardess who got off the plane, changed into my gear and hopped on my best friend's bike off into the sunset. I was actually told not to "associate with such riff raff" as it would ruin the airline's image. I shall not mention which one. Best time I had. Made some good mates. Unfortunately quite a few of them are dead now. In the immortal words from 6th Sense ... I see stupid people.
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5/15/2008 12:08 am |
Are you trying to confuse me on purpose? LOL... thanks for the welcome back  Sensy between the stars, beyond the planet mars, there Sens will be
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5/15/2008 3:25 am |
And of course 'spoor' is Dutch, if you translate it, it just means track or trail. It can also mean a track, rail, spur. End of my Dutch lesson. Great poem again!!
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5/15/2008 6:23 am |
Hidden but not hiding. Is the animal hunter or prey? Enjoy the ride. All you take with you when you leave is the experience.
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5/15/2008 8:02 am |
what can be more terrible than loss jealousy?What I had in mind was a feeling so overwhelming that it was even more powerful than the sense of loss you feel when you lose something or someone so close to you it feels like an amputation. More or less.
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5/15/2008 8:02 am |
why thanks
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5/15/2008 8:04 am |
Thwaps Gower with Hakim. Oy, I still wear purple. It is my second fave colour ... on some days my fave even. And Last I checked am still younger than you two. And re Goth, hey, I was an art student. It is mandatory to do the Goth thing at least once. I was once also a biker chick. The only one on the team who was. Double Stop laffin', Gower! Art student, goth, biker chick...what team was this? *bites knuckles as tears course freely down face*
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5/15/2008 8:06 am |
Biker chick? THAT woke me up big time ROFLMAO! I got visuals of you with tattoos wearing leather now LOL! But perhaps for different reasons. perhaps
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5/15/2008 8:07 am |
No tats but definitely lots of leather and denim. Was the only stewardess who got off the plane, changed into my gear and hopped on my best friend's bike off into the sunset. I was actually told not to "associate with such riff raff" as it would ruin the airline's image. I shall not mention which one. Best time I had. Made some good mates. Unfortunately quite a few of them are dead now. Must be all the altitude.
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5/15/2008 8:07 am |
Are you trying to confuse me on purpose? LOL... thanks for the welcome back Sensy How are ya, sensy?
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5/15/2008 8:11 am |
And of course 'spoor' is Dutch, if you translate it, it just means track or trail. It can also mean a track, rail, spur. End of my Dutch lesson. Great poem again!! says that the word comes from the Afrikaans. But that's probably because we don't want to admit to having borrowed anything directly from the Dutch. Stop me if I'm Boering you. (I kill me)
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5/15/2008 8:16 am |
Hidden but not hiding. Is the animal hunter or prey? subconscious (hidden), rather than one you are trying to suppress (hiding). In that sense we are all prey to subconscious desires.
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5/15/2008 8:24 am |
That's one possibility. What I had in mind was a feeling so overwhelming that it was even more powerful than the sense of loss you feel when you lose something or someone so close to you it feels like an amputation. More or less. 
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5/15/2008 8:25 am |
Oy, you two! Keep that up and I will be thwapping you not with the flat of Hakim's blade. Team Up-Themselves Stewardesses. Brand products togging, insipid conversation spouting, superficial values lowering bunch I had the misfortune of being teamed with. The fact that my best friend was a biker who used to come fetch me after my flights really rankled and they kept lecturing me about not fitting in with "The Team". *Roll eyes* Tears will not save you, Gower. In the immortal words from 6th Sense ... I see stupid people.
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5/15/2008 9:03 am |
I'm going on strike for your stolen ball to be re-attached. I may be absent for a while.
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5/15/2008 9:27 am |
how good is your Spanish? Would it help you understanding Portuguese? There is a song of Chico Buarque (Pedaco de Mim = Piece of Myself (?)), with a great lyric talking about the pain of separation. It describes this pain in so vivid ways, it hurts. In a certain moment it says that the feeling of longing is like feeling pain at an amputated member. Your answer made me remember that. You find the song in youtube and the lyrics in Internet ... I don't know a good translation for that and my English sucks The lyrics are a little tricky in places, but I get the gist. Exile is like losing a piece of yourself. Seems the man had to leave Brazil for a while because of problems with the regime at the time. And then I found a translation at gatochy blogspot Oh, piece of me Oh, half torn away from me Take your gaze with you For missing you is the worst torment It's worse than oblivion It's worse than becoming crippled Oh, piece of me Oh, half exiled from me Take your signs with you For missing you hurts like a boat That slowly completes an arc And avoids coming ashore Oh, piece of me Oh, half torn away from me Take your shadow with you For missing you is the reverse of giving birth Missing you is tidying up the bedroom Of the son who has died Oh, piece of me Oh, half amputed from me Take what there is left of you For missing you is a throbbing pain It's like being stung In the part that I have lost Oh, piece of me Oh, adored half of me Take my eyes away For missing you is the worst of punishments And I don't want to carry with me The shroud of love Goodbye
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5/15/2008 9:30 am |
Oy, you two! Keep that up and I will be thwapping you not with the flat of Hakim's blade. Team Up-Themselves Stewardesses. Brand products togging, insipid conversation spouting, superficial values lowering bunch I had the misfortune of being teamed with. The fact that my best friend was a biker who used to come fetch me after my flights really rankled and they kept lecturing me about not fitting in with "The Team". *Roll eyes* Tears will not save you, Gower. SuperBikerGothStewardessGirl! Where's the cape? I want to go whoosh!
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5/15/2008 9:32 am |
I'm going on strike for your stolen ball to be re-attached. I may be absent for a while. her balls to come and find you. And you don't want that, believe me. (or maybe you do)
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5/15/2008 9:38 am |
Bwahahahaha ... there is no escaping the evil *cack* ... where's the mint? How many time have I told you not to use the cape as your diaper? In the immortal words from 6th Sense ... I see stupid people.
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5/15/2008 9:44 am |
Your English most certainly does not suck. The lyrics are a little tricky in places, but I get the gist. Exile is like losing a piece of yourself. Seems the man had to leave Brazil for a while because of problems with the regime at the time. And then I found a translation at gatochy blogspot Oh, piece of me Oh, half torn away from me Take your gaze with you For missing you is the worst torment It's worse than oblivion It's worse than becoming crippled Oh, piece of me Oh, half exiled from me Take your signs with you For missing you hurts like a boat That slowly completes an arc And avoids coming ashore Oh, piece of me Oh, half torn away from me Take your shadow with you For missing you is the reverse of giving birth Missing you is tidying up the bedroom Of the son who has died Oh, piece of me Oh, half amputed from me Take what there is left of you For missing you is a throbbing pain It's like being stung In the part that I have lost Oh, piece of me Oh, adored half of me Take my eyes away For missing you is the worst of punishments And I don't want to carry with me The shroud of love Goodbye the song is part of a play he made for the theater, named Opera do Malandro. It includes some other good pieces.In this one the thing about tidying up the bedroom of a son who is already dead touches me deeply. Perhaps because I've seen how that hurts my mom ... then the boat avoiding come ashore ... sigh
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5/15/2008 9:56 am |
Bwahahahaha ... there is no escaping the evil *cack* ... where's the mint? How many time have I told you not to use the cape as your diaper? This superheroing business isn't all it's cacked...I mean, cracked up to be. *sigh*
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5/15/2008 10:03 am |
you are amazing fast with those things the song is part of a play he made for the theater, named Opera do Malandro. It includes some other good pieces.In this one the thing about tidying up the bedroom of a son who is already dead touches me deeply. Perhaps because I've seen how that hurts my mom ... then the boat avoiding come ashore ... sigh That line got to me too. It sideswipes you. The first part about tidying a bedroom seems a little ridiculous and then comes the hammer blow. Sorry to hear that your mother has had to experience something like this, and, of course, you.
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5/15/2008 11:32 pm |
My etymological dictionary (try saying that when you're drunk) says that the word comes from the Afrikaans. But that's probably because we don't want to admit to having borrowed anything directly from the Dutch. Stop me if I'm Boering you. (I kill me)
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5/16/2008 5:17 am |
The Afrikaner were Dutch. They settled there during the period the Dutch East India Company sailed the oceans. Words like 'wildebeest', 'apartheid' are originally Dutch -- I'm not sure if that's something to be proud of. A 'boer', btw, is the Dutch word for farmer. The supporters of the soccer team here in Eindhoven (PSV) are proud of their provincial character....so they sing a song: 'boeren, boeren, boeren.' The second, third and etc verses are the same.....so is the chorus....and the bridge........yes we've got a way with words!!! always attributed to Afrikaans rather than Dutch. I think it's because we assimilated the words at around the time of the Boer War, beginning of the 20th century, directly from the Boers themselves. Aardvark is a good word.
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