From: noreply@pugleaf.net.invalid   
      
   On Tue, 09 Dec 2025 13:30:57 -0500, mpsilvertoneyah wrote:   
      
   > > Will-Dockery wrote:   
   > > Winterworld Descending by Will Dockery on the PPB blog:   
   > >   
   > > https://gdancesbetty.blogspot.com/2017/10/winterworld-descen   
   ing-will-dockery.html?m=1   
   > >   
   > > ***   
   >   
   >   
   >   
   > I'm unable to access Dunce's blaaargh at work, so I'll have to work from an   
   older version pulled from google groups.   
   >   
   >   
   >   
   > >Stopwatch   
   > >   
   > >My wayward muse,   
   > >I am still in the bewilderness.   
   >   
   > This is not an intelligible sentence.  Are you addressing your muse?  Or are   
   you referring to your muse?   
   >   
   > (I've read the entire poem, and it never becomes clear.)   
   >   
   > Also "bewilderness" is not a word.  IIRC, you claimed that you'd coined a   
   new word; a mixture of "bewildered" and "wilderness."  That would actually   
   have been clever if "bewildered" were not already derived from the same root   
   as "wilderness."   
   >   
   > Here's what George's trusted source says:   
   >   
   > "Bewilderment comes from the verb bewilder, meaning to become lost or   
   confused, tracing back to Old English roots related to the "wild" or   
   'wilderness' (like being lost in the woods)."   
   >   
   > Rather than coming across as witty wordplay, it merely points out your lack   
   of education and consequent poor understanding of words.   
   >   
   > >Leave it to me,   
   > >A mute passing notes to a blind man.   
   >   
   > I understand that this is a variation on the popular saying about "the blind   
   leading the blind," but I don't understand what it means here.   
   >   
   > Leave what to you?   
   >   
   > Grammatically, you would be the mute passing the notes.   
   >   
   > This makes no sense if you are addressing, or still referring to, your muse.   
   >   
   > You muse would be the "mute" (on account of her "waywardness") and you would   
   be the blind man (unable to write her notes down).   
   >   
   > I *think* the gist of this stanza was intended to convey something along the   
   lines of the following: your muse had deserted you, and you feel lost -- like   
   a blind man being passed notes from a mute.   
   >   
   > This is a very difficult "poem" to correct, and one I suspect will prove   
   unsalvageable -- but I'll give it the old college try.   
   >   
   >   
   > My wayward muse,   
   > Why have you forsaken me?   
   >   
   > I feel as lost as a babe in the wilderness;   
   > A blind man taking memos from a mute.   
   >   
   >   
   > The idea (assuming that this is the idea) is clearly expressed -- although   
   the reader is now drowning in cliches.   
   >   
   > Of course two of the three cliches are merely rewordings of those you'd   
   introduced.  The first, introduced by me, is in keeping with them -- both as a   
   cliche and for adopting a similar biblical tone.  (In case you're unaware of   
   it, both "a voice crying    
   in the wilderness" and "the blind leading the blind" come from the New   
   Testament.)   
   >   
   >   
   >   
   > >Time has a demand - she's yelling   
   > >Through shutdown clocks frozen at noon.   
   >   
   >   
   > Is "Time" the "she" who is "yelling" (as the sentence implies)?  Or is "she"   
   your muse (who was previously described as "wayward"/missing and "mute")?   
   >   
   > Again, nothing in your poem ever makes this clear.  I'm guessing that your   
   muse has suddenly returned and found a voice (if only to nag).   
   >   
   > "Time has a demand" is an unnatural/unrealistic phrase.  Have you ever said   
   to someone "George has a demand?" or "The boss has a demand"?  Since this   
   appears to be a poem about writing a poem (like a coffee table book that   
   becomes a coffee table), you    
   should change "demand" to "deadline."   
   >   
   > "Deadline" is not only a publishing-related word, but the "dead" portion of   
   it plays into the apocalyptic doom implied by clocks shutting down at noon.   
   >   
   >   
   >   
   > >The memories here are snow dust   
   > >Under the tiny glittering moon.   
   >   
   >   
   >   
   > This passage is very problematic.   
   >   
   > First off, we don't know where "here" is.  Somewhere in the "bewilderness?"   
   >   
   >   
   > Secondly, if Time's clocks have frozen at "noon," the sun would be at its   
   peak and moon would not be visible.   
   >   
   > Since your opening stanza didn't rhyme, I don't understand why you've   
   suddenly broken into rhyme here.   
   >   
   > Be that as it may, your options are either to find a new rhyme ("June" or   
   "spoon"), or continue the poem as free verse.   
   >   
   > I strongly suggest the latter.   
   >   
   >   
   >   
   >   
   > My wayward muse,   
   > Why have you forsaken me?   
   >   
   > I feel as lost as a babe in the wilderness;   
   > A blind man taking memos from a mute.   
   >   
   > Suddenly she returns:   
   > "Time has a deadline!" she yells.   
   > "His shutdown clocks are frozen at noon."   
   >   
   > My memories vanish like snow dust   
   > In the blazing sun.   
   >   
   >   
   >   
   > >Time for Winterworld descending -   
   > >Ignite time with a Werewolf bullet so slow.   
   >   
   > At this point, the poem has become unsalvageable.  It's descended into   
   garbled nonsense about werewolves.   
   >   
   > The first line should be "(It's) Time for Winterworld to descend."  You   
   don't say, "It's time for George falling" or "It's time for Will drinking."    
   You say "It's time for George to fall" and "It's time for Will to drink."    
   Dropping the "It's" is    
   perfectly allowable.  Using the incorrect verb tense, is not.   
   >   
   > But "Ignite time with a Werewolf bullet so slow." is simply atrocious.   
   >   
   > From what little sense I can find in this portion, I'm *guessing* that   
   Winter is going to descend, thereby setting Time on fire with a werewolf   
   bullet shot in extreme slow motion.  I mean WTF???   
   >   
   > There's no coherent story (narrative) here.  A poet cries out to his muse,   
   who has abandoned him.  His muse returns, only to yell at him, telling him   
   that he has a deadline to meet.  Time runs out, and wintry apocalypse descends   
   upon his world (inner    
   world?).  The icy bullets of winter slowly burn time away.   
   >   
   > Does this make any sense to you?   
   >   
   > The kindest thing I can say about it, is that it follows a sort of loose,   
   dream logic, wherein the surrealistic "events" follow one another through   
   minor/random associations.   
   >   
   > I'd say that you were a Surrealist, but I don't believe you're intelligent   
   enough to have any artistic theory in mind.  More likely, you jotted the   
   individual fragments down while as they came to you while you were stoned.   
   >   
   >   
   >   
   > My wayward muse,   
   > Why have you forsaken me?   
   >   
   > I feel as lost as a babe in the wilderness;   
   > A blind man taking memos from a mute.   
   >   
   > Suddenly she returns:   
   > "Time has a deadline!" she yells.   
   > "His shutdown clocks are frozen at noon."   
   >   
   > My memories vanish like snow dust   
   > In the blazing sun.   
   >   
   > Winterworld is descending --   
   > Her silver bullets set fire to time,   
   > But time burns ever so slowly.   
   >   
   >   
   >   
   > >Flaky leaves spin by me -   
   > >Past the ceramic building down below.   
   >   
   > The leaves aren't the only flaky things here, Donkey.   
   >   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)