Tuesday, 3 November 2009

Etta's Week 2: Verbing rain

I just want make sure you're well fed / I just wanna make love to you.


First serious daytime rain for a while. On Facebook I started with a pittance of rain. Someone in a heavier shower came out with a nice largesse. The rain having grown heavier here but not yet a downpour I returned with sniggering .

There is something comforting about transferring context. We may well have blustering rain, a drivel of rain, a blather of rain, sharp gusts of rain that is rain on tenterhooks. Rain barrages. Dints of rain, blurts of rain. Alternatively, we could have rain on points, rain that pirouettes in a whirlwind, rain that chirrups like sparrows, rain that shuffles, a boiling of rain, indeed a thorough bollocking of rain.

You name it, we have it.


Poet in Residence said...

Today we had a bollocking of sleet with a bit of snow thrown in.

It might be to do with the Chinese seeding their clouds, which they do now and then because of their water shortage. It works too. The other day they got a traffic chaos of snow in Bejing.

Desmond Swords said...

I've just read Tim Love extemporise on the topic of 'effective imagary', listing some of the various freight that shifts to work poetically for him.

He ended on Geoff Ward's description of surrealist metaphors as being when "two terms are juxtaposed so as to create a third which is more strangely potent than the sum of the parts" - which is what we are doing here when formally juggling words using some butterfly poetic of random seizings and dealings: in order to come up with the arresting and orginal image which, as Ward (an anglicization of the old British word for bard: bhard.

Love mentions that it is: great when it works (perhaps Pound's Metro image is an example) but hard to pull off and risks total failure.

Love implies this is not a thing we should embrace, total failure - but 'I' think it is, as the cockpit of the mind trying to imitate the Horace code, moulding into shapes which are both at once, orginal and wholly ancient.

The music of what happens, being an example of timeless stone-age enchantment and thoroughly contemporary timelessness, simultaenously.

The game is an instinctive one in which we yield two as-opposite words as possible, which can be arrived at with a grand intellectual scaffold of theoretical jacketing and proofing that can straighten out the kink of mystical attack all possess as a collective we comparison and ineffable 'I' appearing on a track of associative illogicality only dreamers abstract originally enough to trans-end double bluff to the triumvirate image that lends itself to beyond an ornamental dead-end, and into pure plagarism of three signs that jar-jar just so: thought enough to wind up to air in a toilet of rain broadcasting its failure, as shit hits the one fan who is never really there, 'I' the...


word verification

The Plump said...

It's pissing down in Manchester.

George S said...

It's pissing down in Manchester.

One of the oldest and loveliest sentences in the English language, as spoken in Chaucer's time:

'Itte pysseth doun in Manchestere'.

Manchester micturant...

You might remember I am in Manchester next week. Do you want a free ticket for the reading on Monday evening? They are asking me if I want any places reserved. I spend one night after the reading then conduct a workshop next morning before they delicately drop me on a train back to where I came from.

The Plump said...

Yes please George. I was going to pay, but am happy to claim blogger privileges, especially as I will be bleary eyed from an Over the Hill Club weekend in Staithes. Teach on Monday afternoon so will be around in town from just after 4.00.

George S said...

It's done, Plump. It starts at 6.30 pm (doors open 5.30) in the John Thaw Studio Theatre. The ticket is waiting for you, just give your name. As to the place...

The link is here:


I think it is part of the Martin Harris Centre

The Plump said...

Thanks. See you then, clutching an ego boosting edition of the New and Collected :-)

Jonathan Wonham said...

Not forgetting spindly rain...

One Google sighting: over "the sucky bogs of Maam Cross".

Quite appropriate somehow!