~ A Poetry Thread ~

[wegs]

Fairy-Land

Dim vales- and shadowy floods-
And cloudy-looking woods,
Whose forms we can't discover
For the tears that drip all over!
Huge moons there wax and wane-
Again- again- again-
Every moment of the night-
Forever changing places-
And they put out the star-light
With the breath from their pale faces.
About twelve by the moon-dial,
One more filmy than the rest
(A kind which, upon trial,
They have found to be the best)
Comes down- still down- and down,
With its centre on the crown
Of a mountain's eminence,
While its wide circumference
In easy drapery falls
Over hamlets, over halls,
Wherever they may be-
O'er the strange woods- o'er the sea-
Over spirits on the wing-
Over every drowsy thing-
And buries them up quite
In a labyrinth of light-
And then, how deep!- O, deep!
Is the passion of their sleep.
In the morning they arise,
And their moony covering
Is soaring in the skies,
With the tempests as they toss,
Like- almost anything-
Or a yellow Albatross.
They use that moon no more
For the same end as before-
Videlicet, a tent-
Which I think extravagant:
Its atomies, however,
Into a shower dissever,
Of which those butterflies
Of Earth, who seek the skies,
And so come down again,
(Never-contented things!)
Have brought a specimen
Upon their quivering wings.

~Edgar Allan Poe

*who knew he was fond of fairies! swoon (he is my favorite poet)

[wegs]

Please use this thread to post YOUR favorite poetry.

[MacGyver1968]

There once was man from Nantucket.....

[KALSTER]

There once was man from Nantucket.....

Who bought a KFC bucket...


Sorry, not a reader of poetry really. Great initiative though.

[wegs]

There once was man from Nantucket.....

You will be our dear, comical poet :-}}

[sculptor]

by Charles Battell Loomis:
OUGH

I'm taught p-l-o-u-g-h
S'all be pronouncé "plow."
"Zat's easy w'en you know," I say,
"Mon Anglais, I'll get through!"

My teacher say zat in zat case,
O-u-g-h is "oo."
And zen I laugh and say to him,
"Zees Anglais make me cough."

He say "Not 'coo' but in zat word,
O-u-g-h is 'off,'"
"Oh, Sacre bleu! Such varied sounds
Of words make me hiccough!"
He say, "Again mon frien' ees wrong;
O-u-g-h is 'up'
In hiccough." Zen I cry, "No more,
You make my t'roat feel rough."

"Non, non!" he cry, "You are not right;
O-u-g-h is 'uff.'"
I say, "I try to spik your words,
I cannot spik zem though."

"In time you'll learn, but now you're wrong!
O-u-g-h is 'owe'"
"I'll try no more, I s'all go mad,
I'll drown me in ze lough!"

"But ere you drown yourself," said he,
"O-u-g-h is 'ock.'"
He taught no more, I held him fast
And killed him wiz a rough.

[scheherazade]

My favorite is 'Banjo's Poem', set to scenes from the epic film, The Man From Snowy River, perhaps the greatest movie ever made in Australia by Australians. It stars Tom Burlinson, Jack Thompson, Sigrid Thornton and Kirk Douglas. It is a very textured poem, and quite long, though when watching the amazing footage of horses and horsemanship, the story is too soon told.

Enjoy!

[sculptor]

all versions
among the top tier of my favorites

[scheherazade]

There once was man from Nantucket,
Who bought KFC by the bucket.
He said with a grin
as he wiped of his chin,
If it ain't chicken fried, then just chuck it!

[wegs]

My favorite is 'Banjo's Poem', set to scenes from the epic film, The Man From Snowy River, perhaps the greatest movie ever made in Australia by Australians. It stars Tom Burlinson, Jack Thompson, Sigrid Thornton and Kirk Douglas. It is a very textured poem, and quite long, though when watching the amazing footage of horses and horsemanship, the story is too soon told.

Enjoy!

I loved that...absolutely, loved it. Moved me in a way, I hardly expected. You have a beautiful spirit, scheh. Just sayin.

[scheherazade]

Thank you for the kind words, wegs.

Apparently, they shot the footage of 'the descent', as it is known, in one take! That is one of the most phenomenal pieces of riding to ever hit the screen and the whole movie is just a visual delight, especially if one likes horses and scenery. I think it was the second movie that I ever purchased, the first being National Velvet.

Here is a scrap of poetry that I wrote on July 16th this year at 2:39 a.m.

golden mare gliding
late evening ride under
smoke haze red sun sky

[seagypsy]

I have removed my poem because it is uniquely mine, uniquely me. but apparently for all my uniqueness, people still cannot see past my marriage to Neverfly and it is assumed we are the same person. While he isn't likely to be given credit for any of my posts, I don't want to take any chances. my posts are mine and his are his. I hope some day people will be able to recognize the harm in refusing to acknowledge people as anything other than extensions of their spouses.

[babe]

There once was man from Nantucket.....

Who bought a KFC bucket...


Sorry, not a reader of poetry really. Great initiative though.

running with this....

he ordered a thigh
and gave a big sigh

[babe]

Mac
There once was a man from Nantucket

Kalster

Who bought a KFC BUCKET

babe

he ordered 12 thighs
and gave a big sigh


OK someone!! finish it off

[MacGyver1968]

I can't post the version I've heard.

[babe]

I can't post the version I've heard.

hey we're making this up!![QUOTEMac
There once was a man from Nantucket

Kalster

Who bought a KFC BUCKET

babe

he ordered 12 thighs
and gave a big sigh
and said.....where's my gravy it's not in the bucket.][/QUOTE] ok ok ok DO BETTER

[babe]

I can't post the version I've heard.

hey we're making this up!![QUOTEMac
There once was a man from Nantucket

Kalster

Who bought a KFC BUCKET

babe

he ordered 12 thighs
and gave a big sigh

The least they could have done was pluck it.

YOU WIN THE PRIZE!! YAHOO PHDEMON!! Who'd a thought it would be you!!

[babe]

I have found that making poetry up in groups is very fun and interesting so....here goes...and this can be funny or whatever


I stood across a looking glass
And saw an image in my past....


ok next

[babe]

Please use this thread to post YOUR favorite poetry.

I have too many!.....I like MacGyver's thought also...great idea!!! both ways!

[babe]

Not much of a fan of poetry, I often don't "get it". I agree with Jeremy Bentham:

"Prose is when all the lines except the last one go to the margin. Poetry is where some of them fall short of it."

Poetry can be fun...or serious....I recently had a book stolen...that had all of my poetry in it. They were personal....very....in the sense of describing me......I hope to find them or have them returned, as I do not believe I kept any other copies. I won an award for a poem years ago..*S*....Poetry is to the "soul" though for you maybe "Core" would be a better explanation....think of the most romantic thing ever that happened to you, or the most beautiful thing you ever saw or experienced...because that is what poetry is about!

[babe]

Not much of a fan of poetry, I often don't "get it". I agree with Jeremy Bentham:

"Prose is when all the lines except the last one go to the margin. Poetry is where some of them fall short of it."

and it's ok....I'd like you anyways. You're just pretty cool about educating us non science folks.....and it is appreciated, Sir Demon....I may have to make you a pillow out of Sir Ducky's feathers....when he has any back.

[Markus Hanke]

I recently had a book stolen...that had all of my poetry in it

I guess you forgot to give it a tap with your wand and say "Mischief managed !"...

[wegs]

Not much of a fan of poetry, I often don't "get it". I agree with Jeremy Bentham:

"Prose is when all the lines except the last one go to the margin. Poetry is where some of them fall short of it."

Roses are red, violets are blue...I'm sure if we looked...we'd find a poet in you.

[wegs]

Not much of a fan of poetry, I often don't "get it". I agree with Jeremy Bentham:

"Prose is when all the lines except the last one go to the margin. Poetry is where some of them fall short of it."

Poetry can be fun...or serious....I recently had a book stolen...that had all of my poetry in it. They were personal....very....in the sense of describing me......I hope to find them or have them returned, as I do not believe I kept any other copies. I won an award for a poem years ago..*S*....Poetry is to the "soul" though for you maybe "Core" would be a better explanation....think of the most romantic thing ever that happened to you, or the most beautiful thing you ever saw or experienced...because that is what poetry is about!

Sometimes, when I can't express myself as I'd like to another person, poetry will be my translator... lol

[wegs]

Vacant Soul



I'm killing the me
that you claim to see
I'm killing the me
that wasn't meant to be

all that I touch
turns to dust
never find love
only lust

spent all my life
giving all that i am
only to find out
that i never became

I've been who you want
anything you feel
when you decide you are done
I cease to be real

I never became
I was never really born
I'm a shell of a being
that no one will mourn

without a purpose
without a role
without a love
without a soul

I love this. I love poetry like this... Did you write this poem?

[sculptor]

I have found that making poetry up in groups is very fun and interesting so....here goes...and this can be funny or whatever


I stood across a looking glass
And saw an image in my past....


ok next

I held it there quite sadly
I knew it wouldn't last

[wegs]

I have found that making poetry up in groups is very fun and interesting so....here goes...and this can be funny or whatever


I stood across a looking glass
And saw an image in my past....


ok next

I held it there quite sadly
I knew it wouldn't last

There is a vacancy in my stare
Thinking back to gentler times

[sculptor]

(an aside)
One of my mother's admonitions was "It has neither rhyme nor reason"
So, I learned at an early age the value of rhyme and meter

"mom, I broke your mom's plate" would seem to make her sad.
but
"Mom, I broke your mother's platter
I was half way out the door
when i heard the darned thing clatter
as it shattered
on the floor"

Tempered the melancholy of things lost
and with a twinkle in her eye
or was it a tear
she would think about her mother with a sigh
and tell me tales of yesteryear

[scheherazade]

babe

I stood across a looking glass
And saw an image in my past....

sculptor

I held it there quite sadly
I knew it wouldn't last

wegs

There is a vacancy in my stare
Thinking back to gentler times,

schez

Curled up in the porch swing
as the wind caressed the chimes.

[seagypsy]

I have removed my poem because it is uniquely mine, uniquely me. but apparently for all my uniqueness, people still cannot see past my marriage to Neverfly and it is assumed we are the same person. While he isn't likely to be given credit for any of my posts, I don't want to take any chances. my posts are mine and his are his. I hope some day people will be able to recognize the harm in refusing to acknowledge people as anything other than extensions of their spouses.

[wegs]

''The Cowboy In Me" (Tim McGraw song)

I don't know why I act the way I do
Like I ain't got a single thing to lose
Sometimes I'm my own worst enemy
I guess that's just the cowboy in me

I got a life that most would love to have
But sometimes I still wake up fightin' mad
At where this road I'm heading down might lead
I guess that's just the cowboy in me

The urge to run, the restlessness
The heart of stone I sometimes get
The things I've done for foolish pride
The me that's never satisfied
The face that's in the mirror when I don't like what I see
I guess that's just the cowboy in me

The urge to run, the restlessness
The heart of stone I sometimes get
The things I've done for foolish pride
The me that's never satisfied
The face that's in the mirror when I don't like what I see
I guess that's just the cowboy in me

Girl I know there's times you must have thought
There ain't a line you've drawn I haven't crossed
But you set your mind to see this love on through
I guess that's just the cowboy in you

We ride and never worry about the fall
I guess that's just the cowboy in us all

[babe]

I recently had a book stolen...that had all of my poetry in it

I guess you forgot to give it a tap with your wand and say "Mischief managed !"...

I am not manageable!! *chuckle*

[babe]

babe

I stood across a looking glass
And saw an image in my past....

sculptor

I held it there quite sadly
I knew it wouldn't last

wegs

There is a vacancy in my stare
Thinking back to gentler times,

schez

Curled up in the porch swing
as the wind caressed the chimes.

Watching the sunset
With you on my mind

[seagypsy]

I don't know if this will be welcome or not but my other posts were a bit dark. Thought I'd throw some comedy in.

Since songs are poems set to music I hope this counts.

maybe nsfw.... it's a little dirty.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Lock eyes from across the room
Down my drink while the rhythms boom
Take your hand and skip the names
No need here for the silly games

Make our way through the smoke and crowd
The club is the sky and I'm on your cloud
Move in close as the lasers fly
Our bodies touch and the angels cry

Leave this place, go back to yours
Our lips first touch outside your doors
A whole night what we've got in store
Whisper in my ear that you want some more

And I jizz in my pants
This really never happens, you can take my word
I won't apologize, that's just absurd
Mainly your fault for the way that you dance

And now I jizz in my pants
Don't tell your friends or I'll say you're a slut
Plus it's your fault, you were rubbing my butt
I'm very sensitive, some would say that's a plus
Now I'll go home and change

I need a few things from the grocery
Do things alone now mostly
Left me heart-broken, not lookin' for love
Surprised in my eyes when I looked above

The checkout counter and I saw a face
My heart stood still, so did time and space
Never thought that I could feel real again
But the look in her eyes said, "I need a friend"

She turned to me, that's when she said it
Looked me dead in the face asked, "Cash or Credit?"

And I jizzed in my pants
It's perfectly normal, nothing wrong with me
But we're going to need a clean-up on Aisle 3
And now I'm posed in an awkward stance

Because I jizzed in my pants
To be fair you were flirting a lot
Plus the way you bag cans got me bothered and hot
Please stop acting like you're not impressed
One more thing, I'm gonna pay by check

Last week I saw a film
As I recall it was a horror film
Walked outside into the rain
Checked my phone and saw you rang

And I jizzed in my pants
Speeding down the street when the red lights flash
Need to get away, need to make a dash
A song comes on that reminds me of you
And I jizz in my pants

The next day my alarm goes off
And I jizz in my pants
Open my window and a breeze rolls in
And I jizz in my pants

When Bruce Willis was dead at the end of Sixth Sense
I jizzed in my pants
I just ate a grape
And I jizzed in my pants
I went to the, jizzed in my pants
(Okay, seriously you guys, can we? Okay?)

I jizz right in my pants every time you're next to me
And when we're holding hands it's like having sex to me
You say I'm premature, I just call it ecstasy
I wear a rubber at all times, it's a necessity

'Cause I jizz in my pants
(I jizz, yes, I jizz in my pants)
(Yes, I jizz in my pants, yes, I jizz in my pants)
Yes, I jizz in my pants
(I jizz, yes, I jizz in my pants)

Read more: The Lonely Island - Jizz In My Pants Lyrics | MetroLyrics

[jrmonroe]

Let me start off with a very old aphorism from my very old and dear father —

As a rule, a man's a fool.
When it's hot, he wants it cool.
When it's cool, he wants it hot.
Always wanting what is not.

Continuing with a stanza from The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám translated by Edward FitzGerald —

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.

And finishing for now with the funny classic When Father Carves the Duck by Ernest Vincent Wright —

We all look on with anxious eyes
When father carves the duck,
And mother almost always sighs
When father carves the duck;
Then all of us prepare to rise,
And hold our bibs before our eyes,
And be prepared for some surprise,
When father carves the duck.

He braces up and grabs a fork
Whene’er he carves a duck,
And won’t allow a soul to talk
Until he’s carved the duck.
The fork is jabbed into the sides,
Across the breast the knife he slides,
While every careful person hides
From flying chips of duck.

The platter’s always sure to slip
When father carves a duck,
And how it makes the dishes skip!
Potatoes fly amuck!
The squash and cabbage leap in space,
We get some gravy in our face,
And father mutters some foreign grace
Whene’er he carves a duck.

We then have learned to walk around
The dining room and pluck
From off the window-sills and walls
Our share of father’s duck.
While father growls and blows and jaws
And swears the knife was full of flaws,
And mother laughs at him because
He couldn’t carve a duck.

[babe]

Afternoon on a Hill

I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one.

I will look at cliffs and clouds
With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
And the grass rise.

And when lights begin to show
Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
And then start down!


Edna St. Vincent Millay

[wegs]

It's curious isn't it, the different emotions that can stir within us, when it comes to poetry? I like everyone's poems...albeit, for different reasons.

[wegs]

(I wrote these two haikus) Love leaves me aching
For something I cannot have
Love, why do you taunt?

Leaves, bright green and red
Remind me of you and love
Falling to the ground

[wegs]

Summer love (by wegs)

Sticky hot
Steamy, and breathless
Count the days 'til summer
When I will be wet
And glistening from sweat
Writhing in glee, we will be wrapped up in love
At least for a moment
Or two

[scheherazade]

Does the moth court the flame
Or does the flame court the moth?
Enlightened, extinguished in the same instant.

One that I wrote several years ago...

[babe]

Love is apples
Love is trees
Love isn't allergies
That make me sneeze.

babe

[jrmonroe]

A five-minute adventure —

The Green Eye of the Little Yellow God
J Milton Hayes (1884–1940)

There’s a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
There’s a little marble cross below the town;
There’s a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
And the Yellow God forever gazes down.

He was known as “Mad Carew” by the subs at Khatmandu,
He was hotter than they felt inclined to tell;
But for all his foolish pranks, he was worshipped in the ranks,
And the Colonel’s daughter smiled on him as well.

He had loved her all along, with a passion of the strong,
The fact that she loved him was plain to all.
She was nearly twenty-one and arrangements had begun
To celebrate her birthday with a ball.

He wrote to ask what present she would like from Mad Carew;
They met next day as he dismissed a squad;
And jestingly she told him then that nothing else would do
But the green eye of the little Yellow God.

On the night before the dance, Mad Carew seemed in a trance,
And they chaffed him as they puffed at their cigars:
But for once he failed to smile, and he sat alone awhile,
Then went out into the night beneath the stars.

He returned before the dawn, with his shirt and tunic torn,
And a gash across his temple dripping red;
He was patched up right away, and he slept through all the day,
And the Colonel’s daughter watched beside his bed.

He woke at last and asked if they could send his tunic through;
She brought it, and he thanked her with a nod;
He bade her search the pocket saying “That’s from Mad Carew,”
And she found the little green eye of the god.

She upbraided poor Carew in the way that women do,
Though both her eyes were strangely hot and wet;
But she wouldn’t take the stone and Mad Carew was left alone
With the jewel that he’d chanced his life to get.

When the ball was at its height, on that still and tropic night,
She thought of him and hurried to his room;
As she crossed the barrack square she could hear the dreamy air
Of a waltz tune softly stealing thro’ the gloom.

His door was open wide, with silver moonlight shining through;
The place was wet and slipp’ry where she trod;
An ugly knife lay buried in the heart of Mad Carew,
‘Twas the “Vengeance of the Little Yellow God.”

There’s a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu,
There’s a little marble cross below the town;
There’s a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew,
And the Yellow God forever gazes down.

[zinjanthropos]

Just horsing around and came up with this. It's a bit of a cryptic look at a popular nursery rhyme's first line using a thesaurus/dictionary. Should be easy to figure out...

Socket, outlet , plug connection
Together with or in conjunction
A young woman of an earlier era
Made one's way
Heavenward
Emphasizing degree of
Prominence


If you need to know, answer found here

[zinjanthropos]

A little harder: Line in a famous poem, one of my favorites, especially around this time of year.

To whom I am addressing
Complacent-physiognomic
Multitudes
Accompanied by
Awakening
Visual perception


Solution found here

[wegs]

Hey Z, I like both of these.

[wegs]

The Gift Of The Magi by O Henry

[seagypsy]

I have removed my poem because it is uniquely mine, uniquely me. but apparently for all my uniqueness, people still cannot see past my marriage to Neverfly and it is assumed we are the same person. While he isn't likely to be given credit for any of my posts, I don't want to take any chances. my posts are mine and his are his. I hope some day people will be able to recognize the harm in refusing to acknowledge people as anything other than extensions of their spouses.

[babe]

I hit my head against a door
And opened up this funny bone
It made a really funny smack
Next time I hope it ain't my ass.

[zinjanthropos]

Hey Z, I like both of these.

Maybe someone else has before me but I think I may have accidentally discovered a new form of poetry. Sure looks like poetry when you're finished. You can take any line from anywhere and just substitute the words with homonyms or phrases from a thesaurus or dictionary, meanings do not need to be the same as originally intended. Maybe I should get the idea patented. Get it into syndication.

[cosmictraveler]

​

If—

IF you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!' If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

[wegs]

Hey Z, I like both of these.

Maybe someone else has before me but I think I may have accidentally discovered a new form of poetry. Sure looks like poetry when you're finished. You can take any line from anywhere and just substitute the words with homonyms or phrases from a thesaurus or dictionary, meanings do not need to be the same as originally intended. Maybe I should get the idea patented. Get it into syndication.

I'm going to give it a try, later. Yes, you might be onto something here...don't roll your eyes. It's not a shabby idea. ;=)

[wegs]

​

If—

IF you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!' If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

Okay...I LOVE this...totally LOVE it. I'm going to print it, and put it somewhere where I can read it everyday...(I like it that much lol) Really 'speaks' to me...I saw you in the chatbox, cosmic...you are sending this to us from Greece...hope you are enjoying yourself, and have a safe rest of your trip!

[scheherazade]

[Lynx_Fox]

A draft poem from my life in the spirit of cowboy poetry.


Gill Netter
Pony engine strains pulling treasures from the murk.
Five man gill netter crew, 80 miles off shore we work.
Aching cold hands pull cod from nets in a blur.
Phillip, dumb as a gull, flashes a toothy grin.
The captain hollers “queer one” as wave crashes aft.
Held breaths, eyes fixed to stern two men’s shapes hold fast in the white.
“Back to it men,” captain Ron says.
He turns the wheel, the diesel growls as next wave rushes past.
Ron’s a hard man, four kids, rocky divorce and never ending boat payments to make.
Jays a good man, dreams of bowlines and sheep shanks--but a drinker and smoker to.
Mark, young like me, sober and calm with plans for a boat of his own.

Which could I become?

It’s a good crew at getting fish, fair weather or foul
Filling boat from stem to stern till sides rails are awash.
We try not to notice the cod are sort of small
For three hundred years the cod have always been
Fishcrats must be wrong, surely it all can’t end

The last net stacked high to stern
Four men below sleep near the diesels roar
I'm on deck tonight LORAN guiding us to shore

Is this the life for me? Or is there more?
--
I decided to leave that life; some of you regulars know where I’ve been. The New England cod industry collapsed two years later from overfishing. Jay perishing the next winter on another boat holed after running into a floating log at full speed. Ron converted his boat to dragging flounder until he crippled his back falling on an icy deck. Phillip runs a car dealership. Mark got his own boat and now pampers tourist whale watchers.

[shlunka]

All attempts to upload an image of my idyllic face have failed.

[wegs]

scheh -- I love what you posted, there...I'm so moved by the poetry that you've chosen for this thread...things I may never have read on my own, without you posting them. @ Lynx...we are grateful you chose to share your work. It's a very private thing, when we write a piece of poetry. It expresses a depth that we don't often travel to, so thank you kindly for trusting us with it.

[scheherazade]

All attempts to upload an image of my idyllic face have failed.

Perhaps you should PM MacGyver and request a tutorial on 'the dark arts' as I, and no doubt others as well, would be delighted to peruse your visage once you master the intricacies of posting images.

[blackscorp]

All attempts to upload an image of my idyllic face have failed.

Perhaps you should PM MacGyver and request a tutorial on 'the dark arts' as I, and no doubt others as well, would be delighted to peruse your visage once you master the intricacies of posting images.

1 do something weird with your hair
2 go to mirror
3...
I think those dark arts... will start something like this...

[babe]

Make sure you read the entire thing......any a musician will understand

A Night With My Lady

© Jared M. Stein

Her body glistens in the light
I urge to play with her all night
I pick her up and hold her steady
Take a deep breath, we both are ready.

I run one hand up her long neck
Just touching her makes me euphoric
Across her body, my right hand goes
I've been practicing, believe me, it shows.

Her body glistens in the light
I urge to play with her all night
I pick her up and hold her steady
Take a deep breath, we both are ready.

Another deep breath, the tension mounts
Have to stay focused, every moment counts
I am ready lets get movin'
Here it goes, we both start groovin'.

Her body glistens in the light
I urge to play with her all night
I pick her up and hold her steady
Take a deep breath, we both are ready.

I start out slow to get in the swing
As I do she starts to sing
The sounds and feelings grow more immense
The movements, become more intense.

Her body glistens in the light
I urge to play with her all night
I pick her up and hold her steady
Take a deep breath, we both are ready.

She screams and screams, while I am gropin'
My heart stops as I see the door open
My mom walks in and with a frown
Says, Your guitar is too loud, please turn it down.

[cosmictraveler]

kay...I LOVE this...totally LOVE it. I'm going to print it, and put it somewhere where I can read it everyday...(I like it that much lol) Really 'speaks' to me...I saw you in the chatbox, cosmic...you are sending this to us from Greece...hope you are enjoying yourself, and have a safe rest of your trip!

I'm glad you enjoyed it as much as I have for over 50 years now.

[wegs]

This is nothing short of poetic genius!

Make sure you read the entire thing......any a musician will understand

A Night With My Lady

© Jared M. Stein

Her body glistens in the light
I urge to play with her all night
I pick her up and hold her steady
Take a deep breath, we both are ready.

I run one hand up her long neck
Just touching her makes me euphoric
Across her body, my right hand goes
I've been practicing, believe me, it shows.

Her body glistens in the light
I urge to play with her all night
I pick her up and hold her steady
Take a deep breath, we both are ready.

Another deep breath, the tension mounts
Have to stay focused, every moment counts
I am ready lets get movin'
Here it goes, we both start groovin'.

Her body glistens in the light
I urge to play with her all night
I pick her up and hold her steady
Take a deep breath, we both are ready.

I start out slow to get in the swing
As I do she starts to sing
The sounds and feelings grow more immense
The movements, become more intense.

Her body glistens in the light
I urge to play with her all night
I pick her up and hold her steady
Take a deep breath, we both are ready.

She screams and screams, while I am gropin'
My heart stops as I see the door open
My mom walks in and with a frown
Says, Your guitar is too loud, please turn it down.

[babe]

Pet Port A Potty

© Kathy J Parenteau
I took a walk in the city today
to try to pass the time away.
Saw lots of people walking too
stepped right in a pile of doggy doo.
I thought for a moment just what could be done
to clean up the streets of doggie dung.
Maybe I'll invent something really super
even finer than a pooper scooper.
A port a potty for our four legged friends
on every street corner where every road bends.
Then I'll become famous for this awesome invention
at the monthly town meetings my name will be mentioned.
They'll throw a big party and dance in the streets
because never again will there be poop on our feet!

[Cogito Ergo Sum]

It is Armistice today, so here is a WWI poem:


In Flanders Fields:

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders Fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If you break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders Fields

John McCrae (1915)

[babe]

It is Armistice today, so here is a WWI poem:


In Flanders Fields:

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders Fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If you break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders Fields

John McCrae (1915)

You made me cry. It's lovely

[babe]

One rainy day on my way home from school,
I found a big worm and thought it was cool.

I picked up the worm with my bare hand,
held it up high thinking how grand!

The worm was so cute and wiggled a lot,
I put him in my pocket to show Mom what I'd caught.

What will she say when I show her my find?
Will she let me keep it? I hope she won't mind.

Mom was in the kitchen when I showed her what I'd found.
She screamed, "No, way! Put it back in the ground!"

Now I'm so angry, she always says "No",
If she won't let me keep it, then I will just go!

So me and my worm packed a sandwich or two,
ran out the door and down the street we both flew.

We walked to the park and sat on a bench,
I pulled out my worm and noticed a stench.

He looked kind of floppy, but wiggled a bit,
I thought, "Oh my Gosh, my worm is not fit!"

I laid him in the dirt and let him go free.
I guess that my pocket was not the best place to be.

[wegs]

anonymous?

Ember

Each elevenNovember

We allshould remember

Everyservice member

Who left aglowing ember

[babe]

My horse is there in front of me
Clip-cloppin' down the road.
He stops and flips his tail straight up
And drops another load.

My cows dump in the meadow,
My chickens foul their coop,
And flies are buzzin' 'round and 'round
Eatin' all that poop.

The sheep are out there bleatin'...
I gotta' get a grip!
The stupid things are standin'
Knee-deep in their dip!

I swear on this here farm
There's every barnyard species,
And each and every one of them
Is makin' tons of feces.

I'm tired of smellin' livestock.
I'd like to take a nap.
But I can't sleep 'cause I dream of
Hogs wallowin' in their crap.

Now my wife is in the kitchen
Cookin' soup du jour,
But nothin' smells real good to me;
I'm surrounded by manure.

[zinjanthropos]

Here's another one for you wegs: First line of a well known poem

At one time
More formally on
Referring to someone or something
The Witching Hour
Unstimulating
Period of time
Symbolically current
Deliberated about
The indecisive
As well as
The exhausted

Answer

[wegs]

Here's another one for you wegs: First line of a well known poemAt one timeMore formally onReferring to someone or somethingThe Witching HourUnstimulatingPeriod of timeSymbolically currentDeliberated aboutThe indecisiveAs well asThe exhaustedAnswer

Why, thank you. Someone is becoming a poet, hmmm? I like your use of The abstract. :-)

[zinjanthropos]

I like your use of The abstract. :-)

It's more like The subtract.

[babe]

Mary And The Mouse


It started all so sweetly, Mary and the mouse
It took a while to realize she had company in the house
And Tess, she didn't worry
She didn't even care
When Mickey shared her dinner
She never turned a hair

But then he got quite cheeky
And some would say too brave
The noise that mouse was making
Was like a rodent rave
He left no signs of presence
Not even one small crap
But Mary knew the time was nigh
She'd have to get a trap

She got ones that would snap shut
She got some that were sticky
But which of these would do the trick
And put an end to Mickey?
She laced the traps with biscuits
And then she tried some cheese
That mouse was having none of it
He was a little tease

One day she thought she'd got him
Those traps they never fail
But Mary soon found out that Mickey
Only lost his tail
He's moved into the bathroom
That mouse sure is no dope
He knows if he gets peckish
He can nibble on the soap

The story's far from over
The war has just begun
'cos Mary just will not give up
Until this battle's won
She's calling in the experts
To come and do their best
As nothing else has helped her
To get rid of this pest

And if when she returns from Oz
Mickeys eyes they do not bat
There's only one more thing to do
She'll have to get a cat!

[Cogito Ergo Sum]

Death:

If I should die before the rest of you,
Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone.
Nor, when I'm gone, speak in a Sunday voice,
But be the usual selves that I have known.

Weep if you must,
Parting is hell.
But life goes on,
So sing as well.

Joyce Grenfell

[wegs]

Childhood living is easy to do
The things that you wanted, I bought them for you
Graceless lady, you know who I am
You know I can't let you slide through my hands

Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild horses couldn't drag me away...

I watched you suffer a dull, aching pain
And now you've decided to show me the same
No sweeping exits or offstage lines
Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind

Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away...

Faith has been broken and tears must be cried
Let's do some living after we die

Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away...

Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday
Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday (originally a song by the Rolling Stones, but I like The Sundays' version, bett-ah)

[scheherazade]

Have you heard Susan Boyle's version of Wild Horses? Truly magnificent, in my opinion, and lovely horse images in this particular video.

[Robittybob1]

Childhood living is easy to do
The things that you wanted, I bought them for you
Graceless lady, you know who I am
You know I can't let you slide through my hands

Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild horses couldn't drag me away...

I watched you suffer a dull, aching pain
And now you've decided to show me the same
No sweeping exits or offstage lines
Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind

Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away...

Faith has been broken and tears must be cried
Let's do some living after we die

Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away...

Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday
Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday (originally a song by the Rolling Stones, but I like The Sundays' version, bett-ah)

That was a beautiful choice of song. I suppose it was about horses in some fashion. Happy Birthday scheherazade We have all benefited from your wisdom over the years.

[scheherazade]

Here are the lyrics and the performance of another introspective song.

I've Never Been To Me by Charlene


Hey lady, you, lady, cursin' at your life
You're a discontented mother and a regimented wife
I've no doubt you dream about the things you never do
But I wish someone had a talk to me like I wanna talk to you...

Ooh I've been to Georgia and California, and, anywhere I could run
Took the hand of a preacherman and we made love in the sun
But I ran out of places and friendly faces because I had to be free
I've been to paradise, but I've never been to me.

Please lady, please, lady, don't just walk away
'Cause I have this need to tell you why I'm all alone today
I can see so much of me still living in your eyes
Won't you share a part of a weary heart that has lived a million lies.

Oh I've been to Nice and the isle of Greece
Where I sipped champagne on a yacht
I moved like Harlow in Monte Carlo and showed 'em what I've got
I've been undressed by kings and I've seen some things
That a woman ain't s'posed to see
I've been to paradise, but I've never been to me.

Hey, you know what paradise is? It's a lie
A fantasy we create about people and places as we'd like them to be
But you know what truth is?
It's that little baby you're holding, and it's that man you fought with this morning
The same one you're going to make love with tonight. That's truth, that's love...

Sometimes I've been to cryin' for unborn children
That might have made me complete
But I, I took the sweet life and never knew I'd be bitter from the sweet
I spent my life exploring the subtle whoring that cost too much to be free
Hey lady, I've been to paradise, but I've never been to me.
I've been to paradise - never been to me.

(I've been to Georgia and California, and anywhere I could run)
I've been to paradise - never been to me
(I've been to Nice and the isle of Greece
While I sipped champagne on a yacht)
I've been to paradise - never been to me
(I've been to cryin' for unborn children )
(Fade)

Songwriters
Hirsch, Kenneth W / Miller, Ronald N.

[wegs]

Childhood living is easy to do
The things that you wanted, I bought them for you
Graceless lady, you know who I am
You know I can't let you slide through my hands

Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild horses couldn't drag me away...

I watched you suffer a dull, aching pain
And now you've decided to show me the same
No sweeping exits or offstage lines
Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind

Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away...

Faith has been broken and tears must be cried
Let's do some living after we die

Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away...

Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday
Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday (originally a song by the Rolling Stones, but I like The Sundays' version, bett-ah)

That was a beautiful choice of song. I suppose it was about horses in some fashion. Happy Birthday scheherazade We have all benefited from your wisdom over the years.

thank you and agree

Here are the lyrics and the performance of another introspective song.

I've Never Been To Me by Charlene
Hey lady, you, lady, cursin' at your life
You're a discontented mother and a regimented wife
I've no doubt you dream about the things you never do
But I wish someone had a talk to me like I wanna talk to you...

Ooh I've been to Georgia and California, and, anywhere I could run
Took the hand of a preacherman and we made love in the sun
But I ran out of places and friendly faces because I had to be free
I've been to paradise, but I've never been to me.

Please lady, please, lady, don't just walk away
'Cause I have this need to tell you why I'm all alone today
I can see so much of me still living in your eyes
Won't you share a part of a weary heart that has lived a million lies.

Oh I've been to Nice and the isle of Greece
Where I sipped champagne on a yacht
I moved like Harlow in Monte Carlo and showed 'em what I've got
I've been undressed by kings and I've seen some things
That a woman ain't s'posed to see
I've been to paradise, but I've never been to me.

Hey, you know what paradise is? It's a lie
A fantasy we create about people and places as we'd like them to be
But you know what truth is?
It's that little baby you're holding, and it's that man you fought with this morning
The same one you're going to make love with tonight. That's truth, that's love...

Sometimes I've been to cryin' for unborn children
That might have made me complete
But I, I took the sweet life and never knew I'd be bitter from the sweet
I spent my life exploring the subtle whoring that cost too much to be free
Hey lady, I've been to paradise, but I've never been to me.
I've been to paradise - never been to me.

(I've been to Georgia and California, and anywhere I could run)
I've been to paradise - never been to me
(I've been to Nice and the isle of Greece
While I sipped champagne on a yacht)
I've been to paradise - never been to me
(I've been to cryin' for unborn children )
(Fade)

Songwriters
Hirsch, Kenneth W / Miller, Ronald N.

That is a very moving song, and yes, I've heard Wild Horses by Susan Boyle. That song is supposedly about how when The Rolling Stones were traveling on the road a lot (touring, etc) they longed to be...where they couldn't always be. Guess a rock star's life can be tough, at times. Happy Birthday, again!

[zinjanthropos]

I wrote this many years ago. I found it looking through some old files yesterday. I remember what inspired me, it was a kid who had gone missing from the neighbourhood. Anyways, it exposes my little known cultured side. Please feel free to critique, I don't do this every day.

I am neither here nor there
I am somewhere in between
There is no recollection
For a childhood lost

I breathe yet I cannot feel
I gaze upon oblivion
There are only shadows
For a memory stolen

I am too tired to rest
I am still but not asleep
There is no death
For a life forgotten

[wegs]

Z, I think you have some raw talent that if nurtured, who knows what you might produce? Needless to say, I enjoyed reading your poem. Thank you for sharing. I always feel when one shares a poem, especially one in which he/she has personally composed, it stirs a vulnerability in us all.

[babe]

The Kiss

I hoped that he would love me,
And he has kissed my mouth,
But I am like a stricken bird
That cannot reach the southg.

For though I know he loves me,
Tonight my heart is sad:
His kiss was not so wonderful
As all the dreams I had.

[Hill Billy Holmes]

Perserverance;

In days of old
When knights were bold
And Butterflies were not invented
The world was cold
And long was their road
But they were all contented

[babe]

You bound strong sandals on my feet,
You gave me bread and wine,
And sent me under sun and stars,
For all the world was mine.

Oh, take the sandals off my feet,
You know not what you do:
For all my world is in your arms
My sun and stars are you.

[Robittybob1]

You bound strong sandals on my feet,
You gave me bread and wine,
And sent me under sun and stars,
For all the world was mine.

Oh, take the sandals off my feet,
You know not what you do:
For all my world is in your arms
My sun and stars are you.

Did you write this Babe? What do you mean by the poem?

[Hill Billy Holmes]

Girls and poetry Jees. My interpritation of it looks something like this. She was taken for a walk through the heavens during which she was given the world and she is back down to earth now. Jees.

[Hill Billy Holmes]

If left only to interpritation, it could be thought of as she was flipped up and around, like judo or something.

[babe]

You bound strong sandals on my feet,
You gave me bread and wine,
And sent me under sun and stars,
For all the world was mine.

Oh, take the sandals off my feet,
You know not what you do:
For all my world is in your arms
My sun and stars are you.

Did you write this Babe? What do you mean by the poem?

Sara Teasdale did....I have a book of her poetry from when I was a kid. This is one that always touched my "soul". I am very sensitive and very very passionate. Comes with who I am. .....this speaks to me.

[babe]

If left only to interpritation, it could be thought of as she was flipped up and around, like judo or something.

Your inability to understand poetry has been noted. *S*

[wegs]

Poem challenge...can you find a Thanksgiving poem online, and post it here that does NOT have God in it? lol I couldn't find one. Not that there is a thing wrong with thanking God, if you believe in God. But, suppose a person doesn't believe in God? I admit, I didn't dig all that deeply, but of the five websites displaying Thanksgiving 'poems,' none had any that offered a strictly secular message.

[stander-j]

/Double Post

[stander-j]

Lakeshore

The lake is sharp along the shore
Trimming the bevelled edge of land
To level curves; the fretted sands
Go slanting down through liquid air
Till stones below shift here and there
Floating upon their broken sky
All netted by the prism wave
And rippled where the currents are.

I stare through windows at this cave
Where fish, like planes, slow-motioned, fly.
Poised in a still of gravity
The narrow minnow, flicking fin, hangs in a paler, ochre sun,
His doorways open everywhere.

And I am a tall frond that waves
Its head below its rooted feet
Seeking the light that draws it down
To forest floors beyond its reach
Vivid with gloom and eerie dreams.

The water's deepest colonnades
Contract the blood, and to this home
That stirs the dark amphibian
With me the naked swimmers come
Drawn to their prehistoric womb.

They too are liquid as they fall
Like tumbled water loosed above
Until they lie, diagonal,
Within the cool and sheltered grove
Stroked by the fingertips of love.

Silent, our sport is drowned in fact
Too virginal for speech or sound
And each is personal and laned
Along his private aqueduct.

Too soon the tether of the lungs
Is taut and straining, and we rise
Upon our undeveloped wings
Toward the prison of our ground
A secret anguish in our thighs
And mermaids in our memories.

This is our talent, to have grown
Upright in posture, false-erect,
A landed gentry, circumspect,
Tied to a horizontal soil
The floor and ceiling of the soul;
Striving, with cold and fishy care
To make an ocean of the air.

Sometimes, upon a crowded street,
I feel the sudden rain come down
And in the old, magnetic sound
I hear the opening of a gate
That loosens all the seven seas.
Watching the whole creation drown
I muse, alone, on Ararat.

- F.R. Scott

[scheherazade]

Poem challenge...can you find a Thanksgiving poem online, and post it here that does NOT have God in it? lol I couldn't find one. Not that there is a thing wrong with thanking God, if you believe in God. But, suppose a person doesn't believe in God? I admit, I didn't dig all that deeply, but of the five websites displaying Thanksgiving 'poems,' none had any that offered a strictly secular message.

No problem. Type into your search 'Turkey poems, Thanksgiving.'

[scheherazade]

One more for wegs, this one with more 'thanks'.

[wegs]

haha, hooray! Thank you, scheh! I need to come up with a prize.

[scheherazade]

haha, hooray! Thank you, scheh! I need to come up with a prize.

Wegs, dear, I AM a prize, depending on who you ask. (Buffs nails against her sweater and reaches for a sip of rhubarb wine...)

[zinjanthropos]

oops...wrong key hit by mistake...more later

[wegs]

haha, hooray! Thank you, scheh! I need to come up with a prize.

Wegs, dear, I AM a prize, depending on who you ask. (Buffs nails against her sweater and reaches for a sip of rhubarb wine...)

This is true. I agree. There's a poem in there...about rhubarb wine, I can taste it. (no pun)

oops...wrong key hit by mistake...more later

we will wait, aching with anticipation. (not really) lol

[zinjanthropos]

My poetic licence was about to expire when I suddenly came up with this. I wrote it within the last 30 minutes. I think I'll dedicate it to Hawaii and Babe. Who knows, she may think it's about her. Sorry Babe, you won't know.

Sultry siren of the Pacific
Voluptuous vixen
Tantalizing and seductive
Ply your willful subterfuge

Fiery scarlet tresses
Betray the subtle furtive glance
Tormenting and beguiling
Ever yearning and desirous

Take heed young varlet
Lest you be so venturesome
Beware the vulcan archipelago
She awaits ever graceful and elegant

[Robittybob1]

My poetic licence was about to expire when I suddenly came up with this. I wrote it within the last 30 minutes. I think I'll dedicate it to Hawaii and Babe. Who knows, she may think it's about her. Sorry Babe, you won't know.

You must have the heavy duty licence

[scheherazade]

“In youth, it was a way I had,
To do my best to please.
And change, with every passing lad
To suit his theories.

But now I know the things I know
And do the things I do,
And if you do not like me so,
To hell, my love, with you.”
― Dorothy Parker, The Complete Poems of Dorothy Parker

[babe]

My poetic licence was about to expire when I suddenly came up with this. I wrote it within the last 30 minutes. I think I'll dedicate it to Hawaii and Babe. Who knows, she may think it's about her. Sorry Babe, you won't know.

Sultry siren of the Pacific
Voluptuous vixen
Tantalizing and seductive
Ply your willful subterfuge

Fiery scarlet tresses
Betray the subtle furtive glance
Tormenting and beguiling
Ever yearning and desirous

Take heed young varlet
Lest you be so venturesome
Beware the vulcan archipelago
She awaits ever graceful and elegant

You weren't supposed to tell them we had hot monkey sex!! Sheesh!!!!