I am Stephen. I live in Bristol, UK. I decided to shorten my profile...to this: Wildlife, haiku, travel, streetart, psychogeography and my family. Not necessarily in that order.
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9 thoughts on “Natural dispassion”
Finding a cracked egg, is like when a writer checks to see, if someone they thought would buy their book, bought their book – and they didn’t. 😥
While you could do nothing for the bird, you can for the writer. It’s not too late! There’s still time!
Obviously the visits will continue! (As will general silly comments – they just happen. Who knows why?) As all know, your blog is splendiferous. To even think that a person would stop reading it – just because you happen (after countless shameless marketing efforts) to buy their quite wonderful book – well, such a thing would be unthinkable.
Your comments always make me chuckle out load. I read the ‘free’ sections of your book on Amazon, and it looks interesting whilst at the same time making me realise how superficial most of my poetry is. Perhaps I could learn from a master?
First, many (if not most) M. Sakran comments are of a humorous nature and meant to promote laughter. Any that show depth and insight, are exceptions.
Second, the ‘free’ parts of the book are interesting. Who knows (wink wink) the ‘paid’ parts might even be better?
Third, on the contrary, your poetry is not at all superficial. It is amazing the depth that can be found in a poem that looks simple at first.
For instance, in looking at today’s poem, there are a number of insights (hold on, deep thoughts are about to happen):
First, you chose a blackbird as the bird. Presumably this is a local bird and shows a connection to place. Also, a blackbird is generally a solid dark colored bird. It isn’t multicolored or bright. You could have referenced any bird, but chose this one. It fit well with the idea of alarm.
Second, you referenced alarm calls. Normally, in an urban setting, alarm calls come from cars. They are sometimes seen as an annoyance that is ignored and a representation of crime. The alarm in your poem is partly like that and partly not. The alarm of the bird is there to signal something bad is happening, but unlike car alarms, it isn’t something that happens so often that it is ignored. Although, probably not the intent of the title, most people have a “natural dispassion” when it comes to car alarms. This is contrasted with the call of the bird which had significance.
Thirdly, in the third line of the poem, you express a sense of helplessness. There is a bit of fatalism to it. You wanted to help but could not. This can be expressive of the human condition. How many times do people hear of something bad in the world, but it is too far away or too late to help.
In an interesting note on form, you expressed the third line in a passive voice. You said “too late my intervention” rather than “my intervention was too late”. The reason for this seems to be the idea of having the poem be a 5/7/5 haiku. While this was done for form (presumably) it calls back to the idea of helplessness. The voice used is passive, not active. This is like the helplessness seems to be.
In the last line, there is a sense of finality. There is a sense of beyond repair. This goes back to the previous ideas in the poem and continues the sense of helplessness.
An interesting point of the poem, is that whatever was causing the blackbird to sound an alarm, was unseen. It is not mentioned. Was it a cat? Another bird? A person? Or possibly, in a twist, was it you? The poem could have reflected the idea that sometimes trying to help causes harm. Although this departs from the ideas previously, it is interesting to consider.
Additionally, who was meant to hear the alarm, also in not said. Is this because no one listens? This goes back to the ideas before.
Lastly, the poem is about not caring, in the form of dispassion, however, there is obviously a concern for the welfare of the bird and its offspring. The title can make one think about their own actions in the world.
As you can see, even the simplest seeming poem can have quite a bit of depth.
Finally, yes you could learn from a master. Hopefully you can find one somewhere, because, well … this poet is as far from masterful as can be. Thanks for the idea though.
Thank you for that. Your insights are…well, insightful. Being serious for a second, I don’t think ever in my life has a creative piece of work I have done been analysed and commented upon so thoroughly, and I am genuinely touched by the time and thought you put into this. Most of your conclusions are on the nail, but one or two vary slightly from my intention, but interpretation is everything.
You have earned your book sale several times over…I’ll see to it soon.
First, Wohoo! Many thanks unto you. Hopefully you enjoy the book.
Second, it’s actually enjoyable to analyse poetry. There is often so many layers to even the simplest seeming ideas. It’s amazing what can be seen in a poem. It’s really nice that you enjoyed the examination of it.
When analyzing poetry, there is usually a difference between a reader’s interpretation of a poem and the writer’s intention. In some sense, that’s part of the idea. It can be quite interesting for a writer (as it seems to have been in this case) to see the differences. It can often show a new light on things and reveal ideas about the writer and readers’ thought processes. Again, it is nice that there was some little bit of light from this.
In closing, a couple of things:
1. This interaction has been fun and thank you for your nice words. You can expect continued generally silly (sorry, insight is very rare for this writer) comments in the future.
2. Thank you again for buying the book. Lots of work goes into something like that and it is nice to know that at least some people will read it. Hopefully you like it.
Ha! I just had an interesting conversation with Ogloch about cannibalism and the eating of ones young. A tragedy unfolded in your eggcellent poem, but I suppose a belly needed to be filled.
Natural adventures 
Finding a cracked egg, is like when a writer checks to see, if someone they thought would buy their book, bought their book – and they didn’t. 😥
While you could do nothing for the bird, you can for the writer. It’s not too late! There’s still time!
(hint hint click here: Nice Book hint hint 🙂 )
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You crack me up…sorry! When I buy the book – might be soon – I hope you will continue to visit.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Obviously the visits will continue! (As will general silly comments – they just happen. Who knows why?) As all know, your blog is splendiferous. To even think that a person would stop reading it – just because you happen (after countless shameless marketing efforts) to buy their quite wonderful book – well, such a thing would be unthinkable.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your comments always make me chuckle out load. I read the ‘free’ sections of your book on Amazon, and it looks interesting whilst at the same time making me realise how superficial most of my poetry is. Perhaps I could learn from a master?
LikeLiked by 1 person
First, many (if not most) M. Sakran comments are of a humorous nature and meant to promote laughter. Any that show depth and insight, are exceptions.
Second, the ‘free’ parts of the book are interesting. Who knows (wink wink) the ‘paid’ parts might even be better?
Third, on the contrary, your poetry is not at all superficial. It is amazing the depth that can be found in a poem that looks simple at first.
For instance, in looking at today’s poem, there are a number of insights (hold on, deep thoughts are about to happen):
First, you chose a blackbird as the bird. Presumably this is a local bird and shows a connection to place. Also, a blackbird is generally a solid dark colored bird. It isn’t multicolored or bright. You could have referenced any bird, but chose this one. It fit well with the idea of alarm.
Second, you referenced alarm calls. Normally, in an urban setting, alarm calls come from cars. They are sometimes seen as an annoyance that is ignored and a representation of crime. The alarm in your poem is partly like that and partly not. The alarm of the bird is there to signal something bad is happening, but unlike car alarms, it isn’t something that happens so often that it is ignored. Although, probably not the intent of the title, most people have a “natural dispassion” when it comes to car alarms. This is contrasted with the call of the bird which had significance.
Thirdly, in the third line of the poem, you express a sense of helplessness. There is a bit of fatalism to it. You wanted to help but could not. This can be expressive of the human condition. How many times do people hear of something bad in the world, but it is too far away or too late to help.
In an interesting note on form, you expressed the third line in a passive voice. You said “too late my intervention” rather than “my intervention was too late”. The reason for this seems to be the idea of having the poem be a 5/7/5 haiku. While this was done for form (presumably) it calls back to the idea of helplessness. The voice used is passive, not active. This is like the helplessness seems to be.
In the last line, there is a sense of finality. There is a sense of beyond repair. This goes back to the previous ideas in the poem and continues the sense of helplessness.
An interesting point of the poem, is that whatever was causing the blackbird to sound an alarm, was unseen. It is not mentioned. Was it a cat? Another bird? A person? Or possibly, in a twist, was it you? The poem could have reflected the idea that sometimes trying to help causes harm. Although this departs from the ideas previously, it is interesting to consider.
Additionally, who was meant to hear the alarm, also in not said. Is this because no one listens? This goes back to the ideas before.
Lastly, the poem is about not caring, in the form of dispassion, however, there is obviously a concern for the welfare of the bird and its offspring. The title can make one think about their own actions in the world.
As you can see, even the simplest seeming poem can have quite a bit of depth.
Finally, yes you could learn from a master. Hopefully you can find one somewhere, because, well … this poet is as far from masterful as can be. Thanks for the idea though.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for that. Your insights are…well, insightful. Being serious for a second, I don’t think ever in my life has a creative piece of work I have done been analysed and commented upon so thoroughly, and I am genuinely touched by the time and thought you put into this. Most of your conclusions are on the nail, but one or two vary slightly from my intention, but interpretation is everything.
You have earned your book sale several times over…I’ll see to it soon.
LikeLiked by 1 person
First, Wohoo! Many thanks unto you. Hopefully you enjoy the book.
Second, it’s actually enjoyable to analyse poetry. There is often so many layers to even the simplest seeming ideas. It’s amazing what can be seen in a poem. It’s really nice that you enjoyed the examination of it.
When analyzing poetry, there is usually a difference between a reader’s interpretation of a poem and the writer’s intention. In some sense, that’s part of the idea. It can be quite interesting for a writer (as it seems to have been in this case) to see the differences. It can often show a new light on things and reveal ideas about the writer and readers’ thought processes. Again, it is nice that there was some little bit of light from this.
In closing, a couple of things:
1. This interaction has been fun and thank you for your nice words. You can expect continued generally silly (sorry, insight is very rare for this writer) comments in the future.
2. Thank you again for buying the book. Lots of work goes into something like that and it is nice to know that at least some people will read it. Hopefully you like it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ha! I just had an interesting conversation with Ogloch about cannibalism and the eating of ones young. A tragedy unfolded in your eggcellent poem, but I suppose a belly needed to be filled.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is the way.
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