Narratives
Narratives we tell to show
who we believe we are deceive
the listeners who are forced to go
with that one version they receive,
because we’ve may others we
can tell to different people to
impress them with our pedigree
and perspicacious points of view.
Do we from truth take long excursions
by changing tales about ourselves,
to find as many different versions
as books in volumes on our shelves?
No, there’s some truth in each refrain,
for every life is like a ballad
with different verses that explain
its variations, each as valid
as the next one, contradictions
all harmonized with disappearance
of prejudice about the fictions
that help to give the facts coherence.
Inspired by Benedict Carey, who writes about narratives we tell of our lives (“This Is Your Life (and How You Tell It, ” NYT, May 22,2007) :
For more than a century, researchers have been trying to work out the raw ingredients that account for personality, the sweetness and neuroses that make Anna Anna, the sluggishness and sensitivity that make Andrew Andrew. They have largely ignored the first-person explanation — the life story that people themselves tell about who they are, and why. Stories are stories, after all. The attractive stranger at the airport bar hears one version, the parole officer another, and the P.T.A. board gets something entirely different. Moreover, the tone, the lessons, even the facts in a life story can all shift in the changing light of a person’s mood, its major notes turning minor, its depths appearing shallow. Yet in the past decade or so a handful of psychologists have argued that the quicksilver elements of personal narrative belong in any three-dimensional picture of personality. And a burst of new findings are now helping them make the case. Generous, civic-minded adults from diverse backgrounds tell life stories with very similar and telling features, studies find; so likewise do people who have overcome mental distress through psychotherapy. Every American may be working on a screenplay, but we are also continually updating a treatment of our own life — and the way in which we visualize each scene not only shapes how we think about ourselves, but how we behave, new studies find. By better understanding how life stories are built, this work suggests, people may be able to alter their own narrative, in small ways and perhaps large ones. “When we first started studying life stories, people thought it was just idle curiosity — stories, isn’t that cool? ” said Dan P. McAdams, a professor of psychology at Northwestern and author of the 2006 book, “The Redemptive Self.” “Well, we find that these narratives guide behavior in every moment, and frame not only how we see the past but how we see ourselves in the future.” Researchers have found that the human brain has a natural affinity for narrative construction. People tend to remember facts more accurately if they encounter them in a story rather than in a list, studies find; and they rate legal arguments as more convincing when built into narrative tales rather than on legal precedent.
5/22/07
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Stories
Every year has its own stories in this life,
Every month has its own stories in this life,
Every week has its own stories in this life,
Every day has its own stories in this life,
Every hour has its own stories in this life,
Every minute has its own stories in this life,
And like the muse of the mind as we grow up;
So, we are all with stories to tell in this world.
As white as snow,
As red as blood,
As balck as charcoal,
As green as the grass,
As blue as the sky;
But everybody has stories to tell in this world!
And like the muse o love in the land of beauty,
For each year has its own story.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Stories
The stories
Night bed its mats
And also we are
Wait and see
The narrative begins with the story
The stories of long time ago
Between fact and fiction
The stories from the ends of the earth
And depth of the ocean
We draw the characters and imagine
Live roles
And sail far and far
And overwhelmed with happiness
And the longing pulls us
And eyebrows painted terms on our faces
The story behind the story
Delight our nights
The stories of my grandmother.
poem by Mohammed AlBalushi
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It's probably why I'm a short story writer. I tend to remember things in the past in narrative form, in story form, and I grew up around people who told stories all the time.
quote by Tobias Wolff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Journeys Traveled
I have traveled many places
from here to there almost every where
seen places and people, never thought i would
from army bases to castles to to the sands of a desert
peace time to war time and lonely times
traveled by planes, trains, buses, taxis, cars and foot
the splendid mountain to the sand dunes
extreme cold to the scorching heat
one thing I take from all these journeys
is remember to take in everything you can
the mind will absorb anything you want.
mental pictures of beautiful scenery, gorgeous people
crowds in the streets to the loneliest path
breathe taking ever so lasting
make every journey unique and interesting
fun and learning come hand in hand
the stories you can tell of past visits
they can be past down thru the family line
to show how much each journey meant to you
pictures tell a 1000 words, but stories bring it to life
imaginations can bring the journeys to everyone's mind
enjoy each one as we all take the many beautiful journeys thru life
my journeys all come back home with me
for i love to tell the story to everyone around
good or bad the stories are told
For to see you express a smile or a tear
brings joy to me, my journeys tales will always live
poem by Michael Peterson
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Dear Poet Friends.
Stories & movies are created by known or unknown man & woman
Good or bad story for each need as a yin-yan
All are teaching something to the one its needed,
Calm, happy, mysterious, ruff, tender or who is agitated.
We all find those stories we have to learn from,
That's how we grow and blossom.
Everybody is on a different road walking,
Find those who will help you in your spiritual growing.
It was said, in the last days we'll edit each other,
Finding friends who came with similar feather,
Like the birds, we find each other's friendship,
Communicate through our poems to get on life a firm grip.
As I see the person with many tragic in the past,
Comes out stronger and wiser and longer they last,
Then those with an easy life and little confusion,
They are spoiled, proud, stubborn, greedy and full of tension.
I like the positive, calm, peaceful, hopeful friends,
Who has faith and hope in God's goodness to the ends,
They know they are children of the Universe,
And they face life bravely, calmly & curious to see next what happens.
poem by LaSoaphia QuXazs
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People We Meet
It's weird the people you run into
everyday a new person or one from the past
simply amazing when and where
Libraries, stores, bars, anywhere
from a little hello or a face from the past
A lovely little chat can bring memories back
what we call the good ole dazes
it puts a warm feeling when you touched someone
knowing they remember you, you remembering them
finding out you have a lot in common
but so different in the past
social status changes over the years
but we all still find out we're still the same
money does change the past, changes the future
but touching a person's live can be endless
we were mean and cruel to some in our past
but maturity and experience may have taught us to be better
Hold no or grudges towards the past
look to the present and to treat people the same
people make the world the way it is
so we need to show the young the way
treat classmates, neighbors, strangers right
the way you want to be treated
they may treat you better back
for strangers we touch may be our friends in the future
make a gesture to someone and the gesture may be returned
love to touch a ole classmate's, neighbor's or stranger's life
kindness and friendliness starts with you
make day with a post, a hello, a letter
memories good or bad can make us a better person
meeting people one by one make me write of times we met
the stories we do tell of yesteryear.
poem by Michael Peterson
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Already
Swizzle is the day...
Where you going to live alone away from people
Do you have enough in this life
Staring at the roof that read your ignorance
Gratitude for your omission is that Day
Day of death in your story
Recent stories
Life....
Why do you want to enjoy immortal?
Though there is no immortality but the power trust
Enjoy the confidence of all because
Means a long moment when the value of the trust is lost
Truth abundant nerve center of your trust
or you
Have found stories back your light
Have you meditated silently meditated
Have you thought concentrating
Restructure the soul at a time when all the running time
Moving towards all trust
I do not want you out
As I had then
poem by Irvan Hermawan Saichu
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Well, religion has been passed down through the years by stories people tell around the campfire. Stories about God, stories about love. Stories about good spirits and evil spirits.
quote by Andrew Greeley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stories
Through every window, we look out
what we see on the other side
holds many stories waiting to unfold.
Stories of great achievements
within someone’s life.
Stories of gathering love
found with in open arms.
Stories of perusing heartaches
where someone has gone away.
Stories a million fold
that surround every living thing.
Stories we are not aware of,
but happen before our eyes.
Stories to share with all
from those who can see them unfold.
The next time you look out a window
try and see what is really there,
the stories that are everywhere.
26 July 2009
poem by David Harris
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The Storyteller's Word
In a decent book, I can lose myself,
For, at least, a good couple of hours.
A well told story, for young or old,
My mind will quite hungrily devour.
I’ve always loved a real page turner:
A story, which, is totally compelling.
Sometimes, there’s a story, true or invented,
Which, simply, deserves, and needs telling.
Sometimes, a person in a book,
To me, can feel like a true friend;
You share their life and adventures,
And feel rather sad, when it all ends.
A story can stir up a mixture of emotions:
I’ve cried tears, and gasped with surprise.
I’ve found myself completely captivated,
As a story unfolds before my very eyes.
A good story, has the ability to transport you,
To different places, and to different times.
You just never know where you may end up,
When you sit and read those immortal lines.
Stories should never be kept locked away:
With others, they should be readily shared.
There is no other past-time, known to man,
With which, reading a book, can quite compare.
Whether a story is based on a person’s life,
Or whether, it has been quite purely invented,
A story can make such an impact upon you,
That, forever, in your memory, it is cemented.
I’ve always adored a really well written story,
Regardless of, by whom, or when, it was written.
Snuggled up, with a book held in your hands,
It is so easy, to become completely smitten.
A story can make you lose all track of time,
When, in a book, you are totally immersed.
I love reading a story, and really drinking it in;
For reading books, I’ve developed a real thirst.
There are many stories, the world over,
Which, are still waiting to be heard.
Nothing on earth, is quite so powerful,
As the power of the storyteller’s word.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Tough Old Bird
She was up in her years and her hair was completely gray
All she had was her memories which was quickly fading away.
Life had taken its toll on her, and the years made her hunched backed.
But she was a tough old woman, even after her heart attack.
Children would gather around her, and she’d tell the
Stories of days gone by-she would always get you
To laugh, she didn’t even have to try.
Memories of the 1920 s when gangsters ruled the streets
Where people were afraid to walk, if there
Wasn’t a cop on the beat.
Yet with all the violence they had a grand old time.
Speak easy clubs hidden in the dark alleys
Where most would not dare to go
But you could always find any type of gambling
Drinking, or musical show.
She had seen the great depression and every type of recession.
Clothing styles changing all the time
Food by the pound sold for a dime.
Ice cream and fruit carts being pulled down the streets
MY OH MY -what a wonderful treat.
Then the 1st world war came, and she
Wondered who was to blame.
American men running to volunteer to fight
for freedom- their lives they would share.
She was around for every conflict and war
And could write stories and books
Of everything that she saw.
But she was just happy to share her stories
And jokes with the children who would gather around.
They would listen to her and not make a sound.
She loved to see the children s faces all aglow
Every time she put on her show.
She knew her life was close to the end
And these children were her dearest friends.
So she left a story for each one to tell
And to this day, they do it very well.
poem by Louis Rams
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Children's Stories
Children's stories seem just that,
Only stories,
Nothing more,
And nothing less,
But what we do not see,
Is that they are more,
They give children things to believe in,
They give them rules to life,
They tell them mistakes,
So they dont have to make them too,
They show them lessons,
They give reason to ways,
Childrens stories,
Give children reasons to live.
poem by Angel Lockheart
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Finding Truth
They say that everyone lies
It is said that everyone will hurt you
They say honesty is the best policy
But what happens when we find the truth?
What if we find something we don't want to?
What if we find our life has been a lie?
What if we find all we ever worked for was for nothing?
What happens when we find the truth?
Is it possible to find truth within a person?
Can one person bring light into your world?
Can that one person make everything right?
Can finding that one person be like finding truth?
If it is possible then i believe i found truth
Truth to my life
Truth to everything i've searched for
Truth for the rest of my life.
The lies are over
My life complete
Truth to who i am
Which is all i ever wanted to know...to know just who i am.
This is dedicated to my g/f Gini, i love her so much.
poem by Ben mcelfresh
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Bus Ride
Differences make everyone
People you meet people you see
People everywhere
Can make you see
Make you see the differences the world can give us
Make you see the differences each other can give us
If you Watch you can see the differences in the way people act
The way people talk
The way people perceive each other
If you listen you can hear the way people can change themselves
You can hear the lies and distorted truths
Complete strangers telling far off stories
Sharing life times true and fake
For that short moment of time
You can be whoever you want to be
poem by Robert Snively
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Stories
when we were young stories were told
That I'd kiss you sweet like
People said there was a connection between us
Now that we're old stories are told
Of how I hold you tight
Whenever I see those people I tell them they were right
Stories will be told
From when our children are young
until they're old
About our endless love
We must have had a blessing from above
Stories will be told until we're old
Stories will be told until the end of time
Stories will be told until we're old
Stories will be told until the end of time
Until the sun won't rise
Oh
song performed by by Hanson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faded Pages
Recently I started retyping
a manuscript of short stories
I had written twenty years ago.
The pages were faded;
too much time being opened to the sun.
As I typed, I smiled
at the things I had written
and the dialogue I had created.
The stories are about a cat
and looking at the world
through his eyes and thoughts.
I had even created him a language
that I had to write a glossary
at the back of the book to explain
what some of the phrases meant.
There is a vast array of characters
and most have a funny turn.
I also remember what prompted me
to write the stories long ago.
My original intention was to write
one story and one story only,
but a friend of mine at the time
persuaded me to write another and another.
Before long, a volume was finished
with enough stories to start another.
From a one off story I have written over sixty now
about the cat and all his friends.
Now as I flick through these faded pages,
which I haven’t read in years,
I find myself being reunited
with many long lost friends.
26 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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Fiction and Truthiness
He said:
'The best fiction reminds us of what truth ought to be
and simultaneously calls that truth into being
if it doesn't yet exist.
Poetry is heightened awareness of that Fiction-Truth
heightened because we often are blind to truths we need.
Story telling is the art form which reminds us we are in fact
a small band before the fire, holding back the dark. There we invent
stories of hope to get us through the night.
The writer lives inside what-is- not- yet as a hedge against bad times
which may currently exist, and preserves for the future precious meanings murdered sometimes by the present.
Speaking is a capacity of the thorax, writing is the way the soul speaks.
When speech is silenced we only have our imaginations against bad times and this has saved the world time and time again.
People die, ideas don't; that is the purpose of fiction.
The miracle of life is that I can shake your hand while dreaming of home.
The only true gift of life is that out-pouring of love from us humans into anything. Thwart that and meet Hell.
Truth is not linear; truth now may not be truth later; truth then may not be truth now, Truth travels but it is not the world that has changed it is that the world has changed us.
Find a man obsessed with the absolute truth of anything, religious or scientific, and I will show you a fanatic.
Truth is not enough even if it is true.
Find a man who thinks he is right about anything totally and I will show you a man with a stick ready to use it to prove he is right.
How many times have our ideals of what ought to be allowed us to kill, hurt and harm flesh and blood.
Ideology is a serious disease resulting from a prolonged exposure to Idiots.
The purpose of truth is to make human and life on this planet possible.
Untruth is what destroys human life and this planet.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Role-Play
Some people
Ask me
If all my
Poesies
Are my
Life's
Stories…
Most of them
Are…
But many I also
Write…
Placing myself
In others' lives
Seeing their
Perspectives,
Trying to
Become them
And writing
As if, they
Were me…
It's not always
Easy…to visualise
Others' problems…
There is a
Subtle -
Difference
Between
Empathy
And
Sympathy.
Yet I try to
Role-play
And see
How best
I can
Represent
Them to
Thee…
Do I succeed?
Not always…
But sometimes
Some people
Come up to me
And say…
They wonder why
My poetry reflects
Their life's story…
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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The Chronicles Of Life And Death
You come in cold,
You're coverd in blood
There all so happy you've arrived
The doctor cuts your cord,
Hands you to your mom
She sets you free into this world
And where do you go
With no destination,
No map to guide you
Wouldn't you know
That it doesn't matter;
We all end up the same
These are the chronicals of lifeand death and everything between
These are the stories of our lives,
As fictional as they may seem
You come in this world,
And you go out just the same
Today could be the best day of your life
And money talks,
In this world
Thats what idiots will say
But you'll find out
That this world
Is just an idiots parade
Before you go,
You've got some questions,
And you want answers
But now your old,
Cold, covered in blood,
Right back to where you started from
These are the chronicals of life and death and everything between
These are the stories of our lives,
As fictional as they may seem
You come in this world,
And you go out just the same
Today could be the best day of
today could be the worst day of
today could be the last day of your life
These are the chronicals of life and death and everything between
These are the stories of our lives,
As fictional as they may seem
You come in this world,
And you go out just the same
Today could be the best day of
Today could be the worst day of
Today could be the last day of your life
Its your life
Your life
song performed by by Good Charlotte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Golden Book
If life is an endless cycle,
How come it stops?
For there is no stop,
Merely a pause
Because the human mind,
Is an endless cycle of stories
Stories which are forgotten,
Remembered only when one reaches the light
The light being a golden book,
Of ones history of happiness
Within this book of eternity,
Lies a deeper truth
Life is forever
Life is endless
Life is eternal
Life is worth living
But life is limited, possibilities are endless
For life is short,
Merely a chapter in the golden book
(written by me and Andy Klenk)
poem by Paul Celano
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