Recent Reviews for Mor o' Inchrory
Poetry’s Tragedy of Flaws. A Sonnet in Anapaestic Meter. (Poetry) - 6/15/2013 9:41:19 AM|
My vocabulary fails me as I read this. I can only make out that it bemoans the tragedy of so much poetry with flawed intent.
The Makin’s o’ Malts ain Barley Bree. Amended Version. (Poetry) - 6/7/2013 5:18:11 AM
sure you're not Chaucer's reincarnate spirit?
The Makin’s o’ Malts ain Barley Bree. Amended Version. (Poetry) - 5/28/2013 1:23:06 PM
I'm afraid my Scottish is so weak that I cannot tell the difference between the first and the last unless I went line by line, and then I wouldn't understand most of the words.
However, you have labored hard and long to make this as authentic as you can. For that I applaud you because in certain circles you are a poet's poet.
By George Sir! “The Seven Pillars of Wisdom. (Poetry) - 5/20/2013 5:02:49 PM
I don't know. Sometimes (though I am still trying to convince myself), plagiarism is the best form of flattery. Doesn't mean I like it. Thank you, Mor. Love and peace,
By George Sir! “The Seven Pillars of Wisdom. (Poetry) - 5/15/2013 7:56:42 AM
Your poetry is always enchanting and I wouldn't change a word. Thank you for the enlightened word on this little scheme for glory.
When I first read the man's post (boast?) about posting his poems to seven sites, I thought it quite odd that he had to get so much verification and social networking. Unfortunately, I was impressed by his claim to have won poetry contests. It appeared that his obsessive behavior paid off. After I read what you just wrote, I'm beginning to think otherwise and may need to check him out for what it's worth.
Another poet here has been accused of stealing poetry and posting it on his other sites as his own. As a former teacher, plagiarism starts early and is rampant in schools and even practiced in the writing of doctoral dissertations and news reports.
If we suspect that many of our work has been plagiarized, we have to use the full force of copyright laws to make sure that the culprit feels the sting of our wrath.
Pluto’s Chthonian Poet. (Poetry) - 5/12/2013 9:43:00 AM
Once again I have marveled at your tightly written words and rhyme. An epitaph of of sort about a poet's approach to the approach of Pluto (and the underworld?).
Pluto’s Chthonian Poet. (Poetry) - 5/12/2013 6:20:06 AM
The Scottish parlance lends itself perfectly to this piece. The rhythm, and rhyme scheme, and message, speaks volumes of the poets aesthesias, bailiwicks, and priorities. A fine poem for me to ingest this morning at 10,300 ft in the eastern sierras. Peace and continued inspiration ... richard
Love and the Old Aspen Tree. A poem of recounted love. (Poetry) - 4/11/2013 6:45:52 AM
"to then discharge their ions in restless mouille" ... they pissed on themselves?
a fine adventure in language ...
Love and the Old Aspen Tree. A poem of recounted love. (Poetry) - 4/8/2013 7:39:02 AM
Your poems are lesson in language and vocabulary that I enjoyed immensely what I learned from them. To fully comprehend this poem, I would need to read it many times.
Oremus (Poetry) - 3/25/2013 9:33:59 AM
Your complaint is heard and understood.
There are two camps in this fast-paced world. The slam poets who like to get out in the streets and rant loud and fast like hip-hop artists, slipping in the gutter talk and personal vendettas along with their cool renditions.
And then there are those in those rare circles of personal indulgence who, through some self-appointed hierarchy, draft incoherent prose in an effort to impress small circle of like-minded esoteric fools, thinking they are inventing a whole new genre by violating any rules of poetry or punctuation in their quest for recognition. Prizes or not, most of that poetry faded into oblivion quickly.
It's only the poem that stirs passion in the heart, or makes a point so well that it informs and enlightens, using time-honored lyrical and metrical enhancement that can truly be called, great poetry. And even that must stand the test of time.
Internet Poetry Gods. (Poetry) - 3/25/2013 8:49:12 AM
You sure put the use of my dictionary to good use.
Holta Soley's last dying dream- (Poetry) - 3/25/2013 8:29:12 AM
Dealing with the Internet’s Poetic Hierarchy. (Poetry) - 3/25/2013 4:59:53 AM
Who am I to try and better what has already been said of your work.
Oremus (Poetry) - 3/25/2013 4:41:16 AM
How well you have expressed the thoughts of some and how you look upon the daily prattle of those who in themselves have high esteem.
Dealing with the Internet’s Poetic Hierarchy. (Poetry) - 3/19/2013 7:23:46 AM
Oh how you remind me of the genius of Poe
You straddle the fence of genius and another world...
Dealing with the Internet’s Poetic Hierarchy. (Poetry) - 3/17/2013 8:44:03 AM
You are a mighty wordsmith. While I write poetry to improve my vocabulary, it pales when I read your work. I am often at a loss to translate. Like you, I believe that a poem should have a purpose, a beginning, an end, and the lyrical so that the reader not bored by the flat prose of someone's stream of consciousness or gripe.
For you to have explored the Internet and found several sites to place your poetry is quite a feat beyond my comprehension. I post my poems on my website and have been getting quite favorable response from searches for a few of them.
As for AD, there's next to no help with composing a poem on this social network. However, I do enjoy the glowing accolades, however insincere.
Dealing with the Internet’s Poetic Hierarchy. (Poetry) - 3/17/2013 6:37:49 AM
Poetry's pecking order. hahahaha ... love that. And, as you infer, wise replies are almost non-existent, Mor. I don't want to sound cynical, but most just tweet some drivel in an effort to keep others coming to their own page. Don't look for too much intelligent intercourse here. There are still a few, though, who can enlighten you with their selfless insights, and actually influence you creatively. My gosh do I appreciate that when it happens. Much thought put into this, Mor, and fine Scottish expertise is shown in your presentation. You have many nuggets of phraseology here that linger in the synapses ...
"Spindling floccule’s poetic byssus:" if I interpret this correctly you're using your pen (figurative or literal) to capture the last unexpended bits of poetic insight that stick to you before you retire.
"When lenitive language deceives the pen
‘Til words, forgo their figurines of thought:
spreading cereous wings as in Icarus."
i think the cathartic nature of writing is adopted by most. Writer's work things out with words. Your discontents are plainly understood here. And also your cry for more quality, depth, and honor, is evident. For several years (years ago) my writing was nothing but cathartic. All of what I wrote in that period, however, has been retired from public view. I am not the kind of person anymore who shares everything they write. Perhaps one in ten (or less) is shared with the public, and even that seems too much at times. It's a pleasure to read you again. Your work inspires me to look deeper.
All the best to you Scotsman ... richard
Poetry and its Hushed Fool; (Poetry) - 1/7/2013 10:45:42 AM
This reveals the silence of listening and what a person learns in that moment. Richard is right, the amount of times that muted soul exemplifies the true poet looking in from the outside. This is taken to heart, Mor as it should by everyone. Great write...
Holta Soley's last dying dream- (Poetry) - 1/7/2013 9:33:17 AM
"So shrouded in sorrow" there is far too much in life burdened under this wet musty shawl. And often the redressal of our (many) peccadilloes is only an attempt to mollify self (to feel good) and not to promote healing from what we've inflicted upon another. Another fine insight, scotsman. Enjoyed ... r
Poetry and its Hushed Fool; (Poetry) - 1/7/2013 9:14:36 AM
No fool, Mor, just a purist listening intently and hoping to be inspired. I slipped into a poetry nightclub several months ago to listen. I was appalled at what some people consider poetry. I was waiting for beatniks to appear playing bongo drums. Oftentimes silence is golden, to quote the old maxim. But sometimes silence, or Stillness, reveals a profusion of cobwebs inhibiting pure creative expression, and they need to be removed. It's where I am of late. Time to clean out my creative house and reorient. I've begun writing another novel to help with that process. Good insight, Mor. Simple and to the point. All the very best for you. Continued inspiration ... r
O Erato how in passing you must weep-The five-minute sonnet. (Poetry) - 12/31/2012 7:05:34 AM
Weep nae, elder brither, fur sic' is th' nature ay mony men, tae tak' a hin' sae bonnie, an' lash it tae a wheel. Round and round, round it goes, over every imaginable surface, into every morbid mudhole, over rocks and broken glass and roadkill, until at last it resembles not itself. Och weel ... fur sic' is th' nature ay mony men ...
Anither stoat insecht, scotsman, frae yer braw sharp pen ... Blessings ... richard
O Erato how in passing you must weep-The five-minute sonnet. (Poetry) - 12/31/2012 6:21:29 AM
arise from mild duress
When in reflective moods
pure poetry exudes
and to the press of time
affords more words sublime...
I enjoyed reading your lines
like fine and ages wines
or shapely cougars dressed to the nines!
Happy New Year
She not so liken to Burns “Red, Red Rose” (Poetry) - 12/29/2012 8:53:23 AM
I understand properties in this analogous to the forms originator; The Life and Death of the Piper Kilbarchan.
A braw poetic piece foo ay th' beauty an' uniqueness ay Scottish insecht.
Your work, Mor, serves to preserve a lost art, IMO. A once verdant season of poetic expression that few know about, and few care to understand. Only you could draw this intelligent and artistic parallel. I can only bemoan the fact that there are those who would 'malign' what you birth and share. In my Viking heritage such contrariness would require having heads removed with a broadsword. hahaha... It's become a strange world of fast-food words, more akin to narcissistic diary/journal entries than aesthetic poetic expression. Aw weil! May the mythical Erato continue guiding your thoughts and uniquely gifted pen.
Lang life an' health tae ye in th' comin' year. ... richard
She not so liken to Burns “Red, Red Rose” (Poetry) - 12/28/2012 5:23:51 PM
i really enjoyed the composition of the piece
Chomsky- Epimenides- and Poetry’s Imperfect Science. (Poetry) - 12/16/2012 1:32:31 PM
Argh, I have two left feet and as such am completely unable to count a metric foot. The more I try, the worse off I am. I envy those whose prose flows out of their toes! LOL... I couldn't resist.
I hope you enjoyed the scotch. I prefer Polish potato vodka.
All the best!
Chomsky- Epimenides- and Poetry’s Imperfect Science. (Poetry) - 12/15/2012 11:10:11 PM
now this got my motors going ...
Chomsky- Epimenides- and Poetry’s Imperfect Science. (Poetry) - 12/15/2012 9:23:57 AM
"It matters not a tweet what they say to me, I merely write the words and let those others be" Great summation, poet! 47 year old Glennfidditch eh? Are you kidding? Though I am not a drinker anymore, except for an occasional wee nip, I can't help being curious about how that flows over the tongue. The science of poetry, Mor? Aw weil...
Perhaps the Japanese forms with their mathematical/syllabic approach, but not much else.
The Pyrrhic Paradox - a metrical foot of two unstressed syllables. I haven't heard that term mentioned since I was in college. I agree, too, with the 'no need' to stick with the rhymes. You've created some here that are pleasing though. And I feel it is certainly a legitimate part of poetic expression, that takes a specific kind of acumen, and it should be treated with the same respect as other forms. Enjoyed this, Scotsman. Your work encourages the reader to think and delve into other areas rarely explored on this site. You certainly don't just grunt out another daily poetic turd like so many do. i feel you labor diligently over your work, and, because of it, each construct has a certain kind of beauty woven into the essence of it that intrigues this reader.
Thankyou for sharing.
No Armistice Day in the Highlands. (Poetry) - 12/1/2012 8:58:36 AM
I had to edit the link to your family's former home, and found it to be similar to many in the eastern United States built in the 16 and 1700s. I'm so glad you got to go back and do a little historical archaeology to find a beautiful place of your origin.
You speak of poets of the day, and right today with the same passion and sensitivity. Thank you so much for sharing this little bit of history with us. It is obvious that religion has been used by the rich and royalty for eons to get took it their way. Despicable acts continue today.
No Armistice Day in the Highlands. (Poetry) - 12/1/2012 8:43:11 AM
Glenlivet Estate? Aye! Have enjoyed several bottles of Glenlivet in my earlier years. haha! You've called forth a finely wrought historical prose/poem here, Mor. Seems there are new inspirations burgeoning in your creative life. Another vanguard for you to explore and enjoy. Much to be thankful for, and much to bemoan; the best kind of inspiration for a writer (IMO).
To appreciate the phraseology, spirit, and color, I've read this three times and am blessed because of it. Thoughtful sadness permeates the spirit of this. Many look back (me included (at times) bemoaning so much degradation) and see something better from yesteryear. Perhaps a dream that once burned in the writers heart not yet fulfilled. Certainly this is true of my own life. I find this piece reminiscent to me of another poem - a seemingly unrequited cry, too - by another Scotsman, Shaw o'Inchrory:
Verse 7. As I sang of Gaelic's virtues ~ at their God birth o my race
emotion cried true venues ~ as they streamed down my face
My tortured soul a-dying ~ its now full sacrifice supreme
as I, tended love's own embers ~ in a last ~ and dying dream.
Thankyou for sharing your work... richard
No Armistice Day in the Highlands. (Poetry) - 12/1/2012 7:53:39 AM
i think i dreamt this last night ...
Amative Verse of Baccara’s Black Rose. (Poetry) - 12/1/2012 7:45:17 AM
your poem definitely jingles the synapses ...
Internet Poetry Gods. (Poetry) - 12/1/2012 7:44:21 AM
see what not finding your glasses will do ...
No Armistice Day in the Highlands. (Poetry) - 11/30/2012 7:59:16 PM
Beautiful, Mor. I felt a'relative, spell-bound yet passionate, historic, damned and bitter in a human way, relative to past past. But not to future.
Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
Internet Poetry Gods. (Poetry) - 11/25/2012 11:01:40 AM
I am in accord with Richard. For there is much from this poem that my meager mind cannot discern. However, I did sense a bit of discord over the quality of poetry/prose presented here.
I too, have these qualms as the English language and its punctuation and spelling is massacred in favor of trite messages saying little except what the daily weather is. Still, I need someone to edit my work for it to be acceptable for publication, and that is very difficult to obtain in the online environment. I find myself editing my work and still not seeing, “the forest for the trees.” But as someone once told me, “the cream rises to the top.” And from time to time, like the story I read this morning, I find a jewel in the chaff.
Internet Poetry Gods. (Poetry) - 11/25/2012 7:41:52 AM
Hi Mor ...
You have constructed a poem as richly diverse, in spirit and gist, as Eden. And, too, you have threaded it deftly with the philosophic, and much that seemingly remains unrequited in how you feel about poetry and literature. Your phraseology, and choice of words, Mor, are as impressive as a fiery golden sunset, but sadly, if I may note, well past most readers ability to understand. I applaud this.
A purists tears mingling with the quills ink.
No one can appreciate your work without studying it, Mor. Sadly, most people anymore don't have the attention span, or cognitive ability, to do so. I can imagine that your dictionary(s) and thesaurus' are quite dog-eared. haha. Given your 'advanced age' (as you've described it to me) your mind (IMO) is still marvelously incisive, as well as keen to put forth your poetic philosophies and idealisms. I applaud this, too.
"Poetic word; Art’s guide-way to the gods (gods??)
sees prose remain those flat footed plods
by which: we poets still unceasing tread."
People are still willing to try. This is a good thing. Something can be gleaned from anyones work. There are many varied flowers (poets/writers) in the fields of words my friend. And all have their purpose, and their own unique beauty. Art, for the most part, reflects the times. Sadly there is much degradation on this planet - artistically, morally, spiritually - which affects how art and writing is cogitated and birthed.
In those pieces of yours I have had the privilege to read, there is a common thread; you bemoan the debased nature of what poetry/prose has become in comparison to what it once was before the internet. Still ... on the bright side ... if it wasn't for the internet, I would never have had the advantage to read your constructs. It's all a matter of focus.
Never rest your quill, Scotsman.
With respect ... richard
Lament of Doggerel’s Recalcitrant Poet and Metric’s Experimental Haibun. (Poetry) - 11/14/2012 11:20:52 PM
Ockham's Razor always kept me shaved ...
Lament of Doggerel’s Recalcitrant Poet and Metric’s Experimental Haibun. (Poetry) - 11/13/2012 10:28:05 PM
You Still here Mor,
Nice to read you again, its been.....eons
Lament of Doggerel’s Recalcitrant Poet and Metric’s Experimental Haibun. (Poetry) - 11/12/2012 9:24:00 AM
An experimental Haibun eh? haha! A cheeky piece rich with dark humor. I perceive Gaelic high-mindedness, and disdain for Christianity, in the subtext of your satire. Thankyou for sharing this sharp-witted hearty remonstrance towards poets at the vanguard of new expression... Ye ur huir uv a uniquely wired. My poetic response, below, to your lament, Mor...
Alas upon those shores I lay
A stone of fond remembrance
Those times when eagerly we strove
Up paths of youthful merriment
On paper bridges now we strive
In somber sonnets din
Ere what was once the mandrakes tine
Now resides in fate and whim
Lament of Doggerel’s Recalcitrant Poet and Metric’s Experimental Haibun. (Poetry) - 11/12/2012 7:49:21 AM
Powerful words and lashing commentary on the state of poetics today. Much enjoyed.
The Setting Sun, in the style of a sonnet. (Poetry) - 11/3/2012 7:12:06 PM
Your sonnet is on a high level of literary expression. Thank you for sharing your gift, Mor. Love and peace,
The Setting Sun, in the style of a sonnet. (Poetry) - 10/28/2012 9:18:51 AM
Your literary voice, your choice of words, and phraseology, are certainly your own poet. And you are one of very few that I am obliged to seek a dictionary with. Your criticism of one of my sentences encouraged me to change it. An interesting piece here, Mor. Peace and continued inspiration ... richard
The Setting Sun, in the style of a sonnet. (Poetry) - 10/27/2012 11:16:40 AM
Yes, I have noticed that some of our members approaching the end of their lives tend to write a great deal about that plight. I am tempted, but not quite ready to reach that point as I write my autobiography of adventures of my youth that I can no longer partake. I do not look at them with sadness, but look forward to what I can accomplish in a few short years I have left.
The Setting Sun, in the style of a sonnet. (Poetry) - 10/27/2012 12:32:26 AM
This is a complicated write for me a 'non academic' But the fact that its held me here for more than ten minutes is I must think..what makes it an interesting challenging to unravel. I mean this as a compliment.
I'm gonna' get to the bottom of it before long. I never give up.
The Setting Sun, in the style of a sonnet. (Poetry) - 10/26/2012 4:19:36 PM
as far as i can see, your mind hasn't left ...
The Charnel Poet of Truth. (Poetry) - 10/25/2012 8:29:30 AM
I'm glad for Richard's interpretation, because I was without a dictionary. For that I'm going to say that your poem probably has great meaning that I am unable to fathom at this time. Maybe later.
The Charnel Poet of Truth. (Poetry) - 10/25/2012 7:17:14 AM
Very open to interpretation.
'Charnel Poet of Truth' ... a paradox?
A living poet channeling the aesthesias of dead poets?
Charnel - noun: A vault or building where corpses and bones are deposited. Adjective: gruesomely indicative of death or the dead. The choices of words and gist indicate (to me) the writers preoccupation with a certain genre of the classics, and an on-going desire to keep a certain kind of phraseology alive that modernity has rendered mostly moot or irrelevant.
Certainly an interesting construct, Scotsman, one articulated esthetically, scripted meticulously, and impossible to absorb in one reading. Incidentally, the subtext is rich (IMO) and reveals, to me, an image of a writer, on in years, suffering physically, finicky in a good way, and still very passionate about what he considers the purity of earlier poetic endeavor before the internet.
Peace & continued inspiration ...
The Charnel Poet of Truth. (Poetry) - 10/25/2012 1:03:24 AM
nice to read
The Strange Scouse Poet we met in Haworth. (Poetry) - 10/18/2012 7:00:31 AM
While I'm not as familiar as it should be with the English language, and the places you describe, I found your journey highly entertaining and knowledgeable except for my lack of knowledge of even the word, "Scouse." I find something, musical and charming in meter and rhyme. While I find free verse to be flat and unimaginative. There is always a new, “wave,” of something. Some of these waves are revolutionary, but most of them are just nonsense and, as you showing your last two stanzas, don't stand the test of time… Or even a test of rhyme. ;-)
Amative Verse of Baccara’s Black Rose. (Poetry) - 10/14/2012 2:25:34 PM
Egads, seriously, this poem is way over my head, Mor. Good to see you are still writing and drawing inspiration from your archaic English/Anglo-Saxon/Gaelic and romance languages dictionary. ;-)
Amative Verse of Baccara’s Black Rose. (Poetry) - 10/14/2012 10:53:40 AM
I have not read the original, but I find the vocabulary rather difficult to navigate in spite of the beautiful sound it makes when read out loud. All I have to say, is kudos for a finely crafted piece.