B-dawg
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Afterlife Knowledge Member
Posts: 596
Missoula, Montana
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And for this I thank you, my young friend. It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words. But I'd append a new axiom to this statement... "A poem, is worth a MILLION words." Who can deny this? A poem captures the yearnings and expressions of humanity's collective soul, in such a way that even one afflicted with dyslexia (such as yourself) can appreciate... and its scope is INFINITY (the infinity of the human soul, that is... so to say that a poem is worth a million words, is something of an understatement, no?) It is said, my young friend, that poetry soothes the soul, and sets the spirit flying free. (Hey! Sounds like something familiar, doesn't it?) Prose, by contrast, is so... LIMITED. I could say, for instance... "Spitfire, your mother should have kept her thighs together." But that's so OBTUSE! Where's the subtlety, the expression of the soul overcoming the mundane? It could have been DIFFERENT had the East become dominant over the West in cultural matters instead of vice versa, Spitfire. The tail has been wagging the dog ever since the West overtook the Orient in terms of technology and weaponry. It wasn't always this way. Centuries ago, my young friend, the Japanese developed a form of poetry which condensed the entire enterprise of poetry, and the very soul of the poet, into three short verses... One of five syllables, the second of seven, and the third of five. It is called haiku. (I'm sure you have heard of it in Remedial English at Numbnuts High sometime in the last four years, unless you were sleeping through class, like I did back in the day (Study Hall) when I was in high school. I'm assuming that with you being 18, and this being September, that you graduated last May. If you didn't and had to repeat the year, then I suggest you spend it learning proper grammar, punctuation, and spelling. You don't want to sound (to the mind of the reader) like the bronze medalist in the 50-yard stumble at the Special Olympics when you write... which you DO, my dear Spitfire, oh how you DO.) But back to haiku. Haiku, for the better part of the last thousand years, of Japanese history, has inspired mighty Samurai to heroically vanquish vast Mongol hordes... has inspired humble peasants to serve their Shogunate with the grim smile of of determined patriotic grit on their faces... and has inspired drunken Japanese businessmen to happily puke on their wing-tip shoes in back alleys behind brothels purveying illicit sensual delights. Sweet dreams (and triumphant reality) are indeed made of this... Which is why I can think of nothing better, than to offer a haiku expressing my feelings concerning your presence in this august forum of ours. Here it is... ***************** I stroll through the oaks Did a fairy just flutter? Squeaks of a titmouse... ***************** Have a nice day, titmouse.
B-man
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