Manifestation
 

There was a brief discussion not long ago about how impossible it is to write a poem about the moon anymore. As a guy with old-fashioned tastes, I beg to differ. Here are a few thoughts:

“pressing”—Since your central trope is fabric, the moonlight, unlike the loose bedsheets, seems to be pressing on lit surfaces. Is that the idea?

“sharpened”—I guess you mean “came into focus,” but since it’s a sphere, I first got the impression that it had narrowed, which of course contradicts the expansion and pulling away into a greater dream.

“sprung up”—Online dictionaries tell me this is an acceptable simple past for “spring,” especially in North America, but I’m afraid I wince. In the same line there’s either a missing syllable or a trisyllabic “subtly.” The meter is well established by this time, but I find this jarring.

“ripened”—I wonder whether a ripened queen makes too mixed of a metaphorical salad.

I personally enjoy the traditional feel.

Carl, yes I've been hitting hard with moon-related poems lately! (And there are more where those came from.)

Well, I meant the moonlight was pressing on surfaces (and air) that becomes lit by it. Actually, initially, I chose the word trying to describe the sense of stimulation and urgency that the moonlight brought. But then I realized that it could also be taken as part of the metaphor of the sheets, pressing physically (within the metaphorical context) against everything. Is this uncomfortably unclear?

Oh. Hmm. I'll think about that. Good point (no pun intended). [Update: I'm trying using "boldened" unconventionally.]

Oh--so you'd use "sprang," I guess. Hmm, I like the visuals of the two s's and u's in "sprung" and "subtly," but I guess if this proves problematic to others, or if I myself become too insecure about it, I'll change it.

I intended the latter, which is the way I've always pronounced it; it requires an extra effort for me to try to jam it into two syllables. Merriam-Webster lists both pronunciations, while the Cambridge Dictionary lists the American form as trisyllabic and the UK form as bisyllabic. Interestingly, MW accompanies the written bisyllabic form with an audio that sounds distinctly trisyllabic! (It doesn't offer an audio for the trisyllabic form.) But in contrast, Google's Oxford Dictionaries entry lists a trisyllabic version only, and the accompanying audio sounds bisyllabic. :confused: Meanwhile, Oxford Learner's Dictionaries lists both American and UK versions as trisyllabic, and its two accompanying audios also sound trisyllabic. It seems that I can't completely win or lose on this one.

I've wondered this too, although "ripe" is a term that's applied to people as well as fruit--"a ripe old age," and I think I've even heard it used to describe a woman, or features of a woman (cheeks and other things), in her peak. In any case, it's worth thinking about this more. [Update: right now, at least, reverting to a former "full-fledged" seems my best bet. Its first two senses address the literal moon and the metaphorical queen aspects, respectively: 1) fully developed and 2) having attained complete status.]

I'm glad you enjoy the traditional feel! The first version of this, written at age 14, was downright 18th century, so I guess you could say this poem has gradually ripened into greater modernity, actually.

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It's a dream that wakes and finds life can be a dream, right? (Can we dream a dream about dreaming?) Well, maybe that's not exactly what you're trying to say, but then again, dreams are always open to interpretation — ha!

Interesting use of "rumples" as an adjective. My image is that you've kicked the sheets and blankets off the bed and they are lying on the floor — though I'm pretty sure you have a different image. I just like the image of all the sheets and blankets completely kicked off the bed as if the dream itself had done it. I imagine the N sitting up, looking up. I'm very children's story-minded so this has echoes of Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak when Max, who has beed bad and acting wild, has been sent to bed without any dinner and falls asleep. He dreams his room becomes a wild jungle and a boat (I have no idea how a boat appears out of nowhere in a jungle) appears that takes him far away across the sea to an island where the wild things are waiting for him.

Not sure how one can "ramble dimly" but I still like it for its odd connotations.

S3L2: I'm not sure you need an ellipsis. Perhaps a colon to compliment the colon in S1L1?

"Threadless sheets" of light is such a textured image!

I could write about dreams every day — except for the fact that the real ones escape me every time I try to remember them. They are much too quick on their feet. They (dreams) are fey-like, to steal a word from Jan's riveting "Street Vendors" quatrain. In fact that is all they are: fey. "Dreamscape" is the picture in the dictionary next to the word "fey"
I enjoy your way of seeing things. Sharing one's dreams can be a bit like showing home movies to the neighbors, but yours are the absorbing kind that cause me to feel dream-like. To feel fey. (There's that word again.)

To wake from sleep and remember its dreams is the ultimate poem. But the dream trope also suffers from tread-wear. I think you manage to keep your head above water with this one. But I think, too, that there is room here to improve its buoyancy. I hope to come back when I have more time to think on it. Dream on : )


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I think “sheets” makes physical pressing the primary sense, but I did also register the sense of “urgent” or “pressing on the attention.” I suppose it’s more poetically unclear than uncomfortably.

I’m frequently out of synch with the movement of language. For instance, I continue to want “data are” (it’s a Greek plural, after all), but everyone I ask tells me I should get over it.

I’ll have to listen to myself. I wouldn’t be surprised if I said it with three syllables too, but in verse I insist on two. Your position is well substantiated, and I doubt I’ll get much support here.

Rejuvenated juvenilia! I wrote a poem when I was 16 or 17 and another at 19 or 20, but neither could be turned into anything half this good.

Carl, I see that you’ve answered me since I started my reply to Jim—awesome! I’ll post what I have for Jim for now so I can take a meal break, and then I’ll get back to you.

Jim, I’m really glad you enjoyed the surreal aspects of this, the shape-shifting of dreams and reality.

Yes! And perhaps that life at its truest and most alive feels like a dream, but that's just because we're not used to it.

I actually have, more than once—I’ve even dreamed about dreaming about dreaming! Those times, when I finally really, totally wake up, it feels like crying wolf and I barely even believe it. What could be incontrovertible proof that one is really awake? It certainly can’t be anything as simple as “I think, therefore I am.”

You got me all tied up in mental knots with that one. :D

I was using it as a noun, actually--I mean, “in rumples” is an adjectival phrase, but “rumples” itself is still a noun here, technically. Maybe what you really meant is that it was interesting to hear it used as an adjectival noun phrase when you’d expect it to be presented as an adjectival verb (as in “it lay rumpled”). I actually thought of this construction only after a couple of years of wrestling with this line—the metrical constraints finally brought me to it.

Oh, wow! I’d actually just meant that I’d shoved all the bedding to one side of me in bed. (This is a faithful rendition of the real historical incident that this poem describes.) But I’m fine with you imagining the bedding on the floor. It’s certainly more dramatic! I love the associations you drew with Where the Wild Things Are—it’s in the range of mood that I’m aiming for. (Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve read that book.)

Okay; I meant "to ramble with dim awareness." I was trying to set up the dark part of the dark/light, unawareness/awareness conceit, but I also was aware of the muddiness of this phrase, and I kind of liked how it matched what it described.

That’s what I originally used, but then I realized that what follows doesn’t describe the “greater dream” as a whole, only the source of that dream. However, I do like the feel of the colon there—it seems instinctual—and maybe my scruples about the technicalities of using a colon to introduce a partial vs. the more commonly-seen complete reference are unwarranted. I’d be interested in opinions on this. Maybe a colon here would fall in the category of a King James-style usage, such as Cameron often employs to simply lead up to some related thought.

Textureless texture, eh? It does make me feel texture, though.

Well, keep in mind that this poem isn’t about a recalled dream. (I actually don’t remember the literal dreams depicted in this poem.) But I have journaled mine nightly or nearly so for periods of time and I can typically recall my dreams in excruciating detail when I try—enough for just one dream to fill pages. I think that the discipline of trying to remember dreams gradually sharpens one’s ability to do so, but I’ve found that it’s important not to bang on the door of memory in a self-conscious, nervous way—one has to enter the psychic state of the dream in order for it to become fully available.

Yes, I love that word “fey,” and I’m so glad Jan reminded me of it. I’m going to have to start giving it a workout in speech and writing alike!

While this poem isn’t about a remembered dream, yes, it’s risky to take on the dream topic in general. I know it’s not the first exploration of this theme, but to me, it’s fascinating enough to be worth some serious plumbing.

I’ll be interested to hear what sorts of thing you have in mind.

Carl—okay! Back and nicely fed here.

Hmm, poetically vs. uncomfortably unclear . . . I’ll have to ponder the distinction. But your reaction was about as much as I’d hoped for, I think--are you okay with sheets pressing physically as a metaphor for strong moonlight? Finding a way to dynamically fill the space of this line has been quite a challenge, and what I have is far better than anything I’d come up with prior. Which doesn’t mean, of course, that I mayn’t do better still.

I’d side with you on that one, but I think my use of “sprung” is different, since some dictionaries do sanction it, especially for North America (where I am). However, it wouldn’t be a disaster to use “sprang” instead—I’d get assonance with “expand.” Still, I’ll just leave it as “sprung” for a while, if only to see how others react. It’s funny you say “out of synch with the movement of language,” since many now spell this word “sync.” :D

Oh, that sounds decidedly unfair. This double standard would get a poet in trouble at a poetry reading. But I do think there’s such a thing as a word that hovers in between bi- and trisyllabic, and really, that’s how I view “subtly.” I mean, this question did pass through my consciousness as I was writing.

I’ve done that a few times—my gargoyles poem is another example. I think anything can be renovated to good effect—it just depends on how exhaustive the overhaul is! :p

PS--What do you think about the colon issue Jim and I have been discussing?

Lastly, I've tried subs for two words you questioned.

Alexandra, you seem to have an anomaly in S2 in your rhymes. In S1, there seemed to be a slant rhyme in lines 1 and 3, but in S2 there is no rhyme at all in those lines. I think it would be easy to get one. You could do something like

Did any see a sudden shift appear,
or did it imperceptibly expand?

That would get rid of the ambiguous "subtly," which bothered me, too.

Susan

Inelegantly phrased, but what I meant was that you wanted a poetic (con)fusion of meanings, and my reaction confirmed it, so I think we’re all right with that one.

I must have been tired. Not only would I normally write “sync” (I hope), but “data” is a Latin plural, not Greek.

In my philosophy of punctuation, an ellipsis stands in for something unspoken, maybe just a pause for thought, while a colon is a right-pointing arrow. (I don’t know if that’s Cameron/King James or not.)

Interesting use of “boldened,” and a bird queen is a quieter mixed metaphor than a ripe queen.

Carl,

Whoops, I’d meant to say “poetically vs. uncomfortably unclear.” Talk about inelegant phrasing! But I see that you got what I meant there--and in the poem. Great!

Oh, yes—I knew that but had overlooked it.

Okay, so you don’t see what follows the colon as needing to refer to the whole of whatever preceded the colon. Good. Due to feedback plus my own gut preference, I've gone ahead and reinstated (from a pre-posting draft) that colon.

Yes, the expression "full-fledged" has come to be applied so generally that I'm hoping its bird association in this poem is minimal. “Ripened,” on the other hand, has seldom expanded in its application beyond the context of fruit (even though “ripe” has).

Thanks again!


. .. Meanwhile, the moon is still quite full (peak yesterday) in unclouded skies . . .