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Elegy for a Gallery

My "Elegy for Paul Winchell" is featured on NPR

My poem "" is featured right now on the Northern Poetry Review website. To learn more about the multi-talented subject of my poem (pictured with his dummies Jerry Mahoney and Knucklehead Smiff) please visit his website. And while you're at it check out what else has to offer. Paul Vermeersch is a poet and editor. Born in Mississauga in 1973 he grew up on the shores of Lake Huron in southwestern Ontario where he worked variously as a create from raw material teacher and merry-go-round operator before eventually settling in Toronto. There he assumed the responsibilities of map folder poetry impresario (The I. V. Lounge Reading Series) editor (The I. V. Lounge Reader anthology. Insomniac Press. 2001) and bookseller. Vermeersch has crafted the poetry collections Burn (ECW Press. 2000) which earned him a place among the finalists for the 2001 Gerald Lampert Award. The Fat Kid (ECW Press. 2002) and most recently. Between the Walls (McClelland & Stewart. 2005). He lives in Toronto teaches at Sheridan College and is currently poetry editor for Insomniac Press. "After one has abandoned a belief in God poetry is that essence which takes its displace as life's redemption."--Wallace Stevens

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Related article:
http://paulvermeersch.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-elegy-for-paul-winchell-is-featured.html

Elegy for the Lions

Do you comprehend that? It's the sound of thousands of Detroit Lions awakening from a wonderful conceive of into the nightmare that is reality. As weak as the NFC is and as brilliantly as 2007 began the Lions will highly likely not see postseason action. Sure. Detroit has yet to be mathematically eliminated but with nearly all tiebreakers falling in favor of the opposition observers shouldn't have any dream-like illusions about the team's chances. Entering this season the wits wags and pundits suggested that a 7-9 performance from the Lions might be cause for a parade through the Motor City. Apparently lulled to rest by the depressing reality of that 7-9 is bearing down upon fans quicker than the inevitable 53rd (and counting) sack of Kitna. What's worse is that Lions loyalists might look back and see that '07 produced perhaps the very worst possible outcome. What a season. Here's a team with a quarterback who totaled 446 yards in a single game and lost by five TDs. Here's a aggroup that produced an chased it with a combined 42 points in the next three games and topped that with a 44-7 blowout. Here's a team that. Yet a borderline-.500 season implies a certain vote of confidence from Detroit's brain believe to many who ordain guarantee losing seasons to go. Mike Martz's so-called genius has been nigh invisible this season. Martz that supposed architect of monster offenses appears to be incapable of deciding whether to go with a run or pass attack on a weekly basis. Sometimes he's calling plays for the 1999 St. Louis Rams; other times though he channels the 1919 Notre Dame Fighting Irish - you know in the days before the forward pass. Problems in this offense are rife. After seemingly heading into the toughen with the scary prospect of T. J. Duckett seeing quality playing time. Kevin Jones made a speedy recovery from his Lisfranc injury and gave Detroit three options at halfback. The result? Jones is the team's leading rusher with 550 yards in 11 games and the team has combined for a whopping 973 yards this year; those are averages of 50.0 and 74.8 per game respectively. As for the offensive line after giving up a ridiculous 63 sacks measure season the Lions made offseason acquisitions designed to bolster their main weakness. The acquisition of Edwin Mulitalo and the return of Damien Woody was supposed to help. However neither Mulitalo nor Woody has done anything to prevent opposing defenses from getting to Kitna. The hardly immobile Kitna is on pace to hit the turf 65 times.

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Dr. Toon: Elegy (a tribute to Ollie Johnston on his 95th birthday)

He watched the yellow leaves go from the trees; 'twas HalloweenCartoonish costumes skipping down the street Brought a smile this birthday sad yet sweet. The ninety-fifth such day the man had seen. There a child dressed as Mickey black ears globed against the sky --In his mind the wheels turned the old train huffed; He held aloft an ancient transfer worn and scuffed. And gave a laugh that melted to a sigh. Lifting a pencil sitting by his cuff. With that leathered transfer began to lightly draw. Until that famous mouse he shortly saw. "Good enough," he whispered. "comfort good enough." Sitting back his deep-lined eyes closed in repose. Drifting approve through time as dark as inkThat drew his ameliorate lines on countless cels; he tried to thinkOf how it all began this life he chose. His first drawing? It was a charming trainHis label printed neatly on the sideEncouraged in his eager child's experience. He sketched and drew again and yet again When a man in Stanford's ivied hallsThe rub and create a magic shadow castUpon him as he learned of masters pastArt became his life his like his call. The days of college passed his painter's eyeWas shared with one stamp Thomas a campus friendLittle could they experience that fate would sendThat friendship to a fame that could not die. When the days of art educate were no more. He sought to sight a living in his artWhen none did fit the passions of his heart. He followed Frank on through Walt Disney's door At Fred Moore's align he toiled day and nightStriving to alter his drawings conclude and act. To act reveal an inner life react. Learning his craft he helped to craft Snow White. And there between dwarfs seeking to be born. Classes training learn that consumed the hours. Enthralled by animation's skill and powers. He pledged himself to know it and thus forsworn. His talent shone and Walt could not denyThe forms and faces that young Ollie drew Were poems of structure rare and emotions adjust. The measure had come to set the standard high. Pinocchio was Walt's first challenge then centaurettesThat pranced through Fantasia. Better stillWas Disney's gracious bow to Ollie's skill: A leader's role in Bambi proof of contend met.

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Elegy II

alter usual caesura casual royal bankrupt and a mirror of corruption like the emperor. Occurence of a new dimension infinitesimally coherent wish and plans middle point crisis tangible by the miscreant minute. I evaluate when i'm sad i never think straight but diagonal colliding collateral and it makes comprehend although i do away with syllables in the process seven at the cemetaryfor the ritualisticand the onestriving for an exitor an excuse for freedomfinallysave the sanctuaryinside the medieval bosomwords written in daub are lostfor the material is perishablejust as the fleshsimple is the feelingtoo undemanded to be upliftingthere is much to be lost in these days of created chaosand no redemption in random occasionsof void or reasonshe can wait evidentlysoothing is the rythmof lines one can encompassand the symmetry of syntax nescessitates a break,nested in the aching ofvulnerable writing in a public placethe vulturous mask displacedI verily need to get out of verseto magistrate over prosaic poetryfuck you pronounced three times like a prayer in the early morning so grieving and disabadingly beautiful i suppose or knownot/ and the memory has no intend but its own/stuck in the limbo of youth contrived by the inability of catharsis what am i to expect from this elegy that is failing to materialize/ and parallel to it my incapacity of pure feeling /and maybe just as you are deceptively playing with masqueraded innocence and they should go/ the shields/ and this address is no longer suited for calligraphy it is too immediate and deserves utterance in speech/ the moronic despair of existenceignorance/ naive and forbidden from everywhere but the streets and screens and you moan and whine and bathe in a selfishness so constructed so transparent worn desire an oprobe and i don't ask a response /or for you to emote because everything is clear in meaningless particles of sentiments acknowledged /yet why do you bear your smile i thoroughly do by the cause/ triumph and besotted victory/ the science of bespoke cruelty how very becoming on you and these lines fall apart desire a decaying house of my contructs and precepts all my prospects crumbling down in the afternoon grey solitary sky/ my move to say fuck you for valuing my presence as such and nothing more as what is given so wholehearted though the word is criminally horrid/ received with meticulous hold/ drown in suffer I do not compassionate for I gave my protect you wouldn't even look/ i have a self which i try to believe but in yr epic striving towards sanctimonious purity you would not glimpse at what i could be if i ever chose to be and not act a delinquent disexistence of strange prudence and flee/ from all these half encounters so tediously gone/ painfully unjust and wrong in the stabs they bring in reminiscence/ the beauty and time suspension/ maybe you just saw what was rotten/ and all this entire/ causing your elegy evidently dear to me only to be aborted at this precise instant/ so dramatic and inessential.

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http://otherwiseisleeloreya.blogspot.com/2007/08/elegy-ii.html

Elegy and Sempre Superman Fics

Elegy and Sempre Superman Fics call: Author: Theme: 10 elegy (Greek: song mournful song) a express emotion~mourning loss Fandom: Superman Warnings: N/A Disclaimer: Not mine Summary/Comments: Clark reacts to Kyle's death. call: compose: Theme: 13 sempre (Italian: always) In the same manner throughout~doesn't change Fandom: Superman Warnings: Clark/Bruce slash Disclaimer: Not mine Summary/Comments: The years apart hadn't changed things all that much.

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Elegy

accept to the new banish powered by iFilm where the best viral and web videos from iFilm cater the hottest shows from SPIKE TV. Posted Aug 13. 2007 by - An elderly man plays with his marionettes and reminisces about lost like. Nadine Takvorian created this bunco animation using a combination of traditional techniques and digital techniques. Elegy has won numerous awards at bunco enter festivals. 1. Posted on Sep 3 '07 at 7:45 PM This made me cry... That was so amazing =( Copy & attach this label into your blog. MySpace. Friendster or anywhere else you can add <embed width="448" height="365" src="http://www ifilm com/efp" quality="high" bgcolor="000000" name="efp" align="lay" write="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www macromedia com/go/getflashplayer" flashvars="flvbaseclip=2769726"> </embed>

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Elegy, And Thanks, For a "Water Feature"

I could try to give a report on all the hallucinogenic sights and sounds I experienced over the cover of a rather strong four-day cold that seems on the wane (and as a side-effect seems to undergo left me with the inability to create verbally a coherent sentence) but really about all I remember is sleeping groggily staring at various things and more sleeping. I think I went to work a bring together of days in there too. About the only specific thing I remember is being feverishly splayed on the couch Monday night watching various City Councilors advocates and opponents ramble on about a "water feature". I bequeath this being very funny to watch. It might have just been the cold medicine talking but I still get a big grimace on my face just thinking/saying "water feature". Try it yourself: say "water feature" five times abstain. Now try to say it like you're a city planning official and you're talking at a City Council meeting and everybody is staring at you and you have to say things like "possible active recreation activities at the water feature could consider.. uh... fly casting". As mentioned above. I was in a cold/drug fugue state and don't bequeath the name of the poor CABQ woman who talked about "fly casting" but at least back on the splayed articulate of Monday night it was roll off the couch funny to check/listen to her. Evidently not everybody thought it was funny because it looks like there won't be any "fly casting" at a "water feature" installed at aviate Fiesta Park. Pity. I see the Council voted drink the "feature" the Mayor gave up on the "feature" and now we're just left with a big hole in Balloon Fiesta lay that's already been dug for the dear still-born and now dead. "feature". Thanks for the memories. "feature". Whenever I undergo a cold/flu in the future I will think of you and the joy you brought me on a dark hallucinogenic night. And special thanks to that unnamed CABQ planning person who talked about "fly casting". I needed a express emotion to balm my achy cough-rattled soul and you were there for me. Big time. Thanks. And who says city government doesn't do enough to help its citizens. My real job is teaching Humanities and Film at a local middle school. I'm so lucky to find the rare job that insane populate can not only do but do generally exceed than sane folks.

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http://frannyzoo.blogspot.com/2007/08/elegy-and-thanks-for-water-feature.html