tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4405728521414052211.post4193452312508956835..comments2024-01-11T00:58:01.513-08:00Comments on Dina Sleiman ~ Stories of Passion and Grace: Resources for Writing/Editing - Writing Class Series Week 6Dina Sleimanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05214446103057806111noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4405728521414052211.post-83650480123698812072011-03-30T19:22:25.152-07:002011-03-30T19:22:25.152-07:00I think I was mostly confused about the purpose of...I think I was mostly confused about the purpose of the piece. I was concerned it might be a novel excerpt, but I think it works as a prose poem. Perhaps the language could be even a bit tighter.Dina Sleimanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05214446103057806111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4405728521414052211.post-77978923493436183952011-03-30T18:11:37.721-07:002011-03-30T18:11:37.721-07:00Yes, it is called Dymer. A first edition sells fo...Yes, it is called Dymer. A first edition sells for about $2000! Somehow I will find a copy to read.<br />Your confusion troubles me as a writer. I want to clear it up. Since you are an accomplished poet and used to seeing through weirdness etc. I am even more interested in how I could do that for the benefit of future readers. <br />However, I don't expect you to spend time on something that won't make either of us any money. You have already been more than generous with your time! Most sincerely, HenriettaHenrietta Frankenseenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4405728521414052211.post-11781366341922688082011-03-29T14:22:00.131-07:002011-03-29T14:22:00.131-07:00I think its called Dymer.I think its called Dymer.Dina Sleimanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05214446103057806111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4405728521414052211.post-18515908596044783502011-03-29T10:48:08.824-07:002011-03-29T10:48:08.824-07:00Yes, definitely a prose poem. Stream of consciou...Yes, definitely a prose poem. Stream of consciousness. A tidbit tossed off. A 'make of it what you please'. <br />Isaiah and Paul often wandered between prose and poetry to express the complexity of God. <br />I shall look up C.S. Lewis's narrative poem, do you have a title?Henrietta Frankenseenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4405728521414052211.post-59025395454131587832011-03-29T05:36:36.846-07:002011-03-29T05:36:36.846-07:00It's lovely and very poetic. It is provocative...It's lovely and very poetic. It is provocative and gets me asking a lot of questions. However, on the other hand, it leaves me a little confused. <br /><br />I guess I'm wondering what the genre is. For example, this might make a beautiful prologue for a novel, but the novel itself should probably be more to the point and easier to understand. <br /><br />Or it could be broken into lines for a poem, in which case I might suggest removing some of the narrative links and leaving it even more mysterious and symbolic. <br /><br />Right now I would probably call it a prose poem.<br />In a way, it reminds me of C.S. Lewis's long narrative poem.<br /><br />Beautiful.Dina Sleimanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05214446103057806111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4405728521414052211.post-83190234793159035542011-03-28T18:53:46.671-07:002011-03-28T18:53:46.671-07:00Wow, not many comments. They must have e-mailed t...Wow, not many comments. They must have e-mailed to you their submissions. <br />I shall post to you a little piece I wrote for a contest. Unfortunately, membership in a society was required to enter and money was required for membership. I did not enter but the piece has rankled for an audience ever since. The given subject was the Blue Moon:<br /><br /> Blue moon, Blue moon, come again, Round too soon........<br /> The words drift to me with the desert wind.<br /> My mother crooned them; the woman who sold me singing my little brother's lullaby.<br /> The other slave here, though she calls herself a wife, chained me to the mortar and I spent much time grinding grain. When the master did not take me. <br /> Its quite natural, there is no fight in me. I've learned my place.<br /> When I began eating more grain than I ground she chained me to the large amphora that sits outside the tent door. It always has water in it so I'm never thirsty. Sometimes she feeds me. Enough to satisfy the master's inspection. He won't take me for a little while now.<br /> She has no children. She is old and shriveled and ugly. <br /> Children take the status of their mother, not their father otherwise mine might be a great man. Perhaps he will have intelligence or beauty to raise him above his mother's chains, generations of his people have been freeborn and influential. Only his mother....<br /> I am a nothingness seen by the Great One by the Beer-lahai-roi three full moons ago. Slavery to Him is honour enough for me.<br /> The moon and I are waxing together, it rises earlier and earlier each evening and I rise not at all.... Too heavy. The child moves a great deal, a strong and adventurous soul seeking passage. Unlike his mother....<br /> My people are wise in the arts of Time and measure the moons against the suns. A blue moon hounds the suns until it bites their tails. I am certain my roundness shall spill at the next fullness, and I believe it is to be a blue moon. The threads I pulled from the tent hem have woven a calendar for me. <br /> Tail bitten, arcs served, what shall become of us under the yearning sky?<br /> Shall I sing to my own, Blue Moon, Blue moon, come again....?<br /> I cannot not be round too soon.Henrietta Frankenseenoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4405728521414052211.post-41971643706928108062010-08-16T10:31:14.607-07:002010-08-16T10:31:14.607-07:00Yes, you should be making in the thousands like I ...Yes, you should be making in the thousands like I did with my first novel. Too bad we can't afford to actually cash in :) Hey that reminds me, when you get around to reading my Dandelion manuscript, keep in mind that I do have some deleted scenes still on file, especially during childhood and in London with the tournaments and stuff like that.Dina Sleimanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05214446103057806111noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4405728521414052211.post-1507939691953817192010-08-13T10:33:00.553-07:002010-08-13T10:33:00.553-07:00If I paid myself $.25 for each word I cut, I'd...If I paid myself $.25 for each word I cut, I'd so be raking it in right now. Or maybe so in debt to myself?Roseanna Whitehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02245767775900250399noreply@blogger.com